To The Dogs
The reception area had been designed with an eye to vomit and violence: wipeclean surfaces, plastic chairs bolted to the floor, the counter shielded behind a Perspex screen. A cracked digital clock high on the wall clicked through the seconds, calculating time wasted. It was five past four. Dark outside, stark inside. Off-peak time for crime.
Jim sat in the seat furthest from the door. He glanced at his watch, confirming again that it tallied with the clock. Over an hour had passed since he had been told to wait there. He rubbed his face, felt the rasp of bristles against his palm. The sleeping pill he had taken in Beijing had towed him under before his (delayed) flight had lifted from the runway. He had slept through the in-flight service and was not quite free of the pill’s effect, despite the changeover in Schiphol and the drive from the airport into the city.
He braced his palms against his lower back. His spine clicked, and he sighed. His last meal had been a bowl of noodle soup, twelve or thirteen hours ago, but worry about Eliot filled the gap with nausea where hunger should be.
A policeman stepped from the backroom, peered through the screen and went away. Jim looked at his phone, saw another missed call from Maggie. He texted still waiting and pressed send. The phone buzzed alive. He slipped it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, felt it shudder and die against his heart. He would not survive another conversation with his wife, the round of questions for which he had no answer. Paddy Kennedy walked into reception. The lawyer’s mouth was set in the smile-that-was-no-smile he wore when he was on the losing side.
Jim sprang to his feet. "What’s happening?”
Paddy put a hand on Jim’s arm and steered him back to the row of chairs. “In the cells over the weekend, in court Monday.”
A pickaxe chipped at Jim’s skull. “Nothing we can do?”
Paddy shook his head. “There were more pharmaceuticals in his flat than a Boots warehouse. You and Maggie will have to brace yourselves. Eliot’s looking at a custodial sentence.”
Jim knew how the law worked but he had been hoping for a miracle. He exhaled. “Jesus Christ."