The Truth About Celia Frost Page 20

  “You can’t use human beings like that!”

  “Do you have any idea of the courage it took to take that step? Don’t you think other scientists would secretly applaud me for doing it, while they’re too cowardly, wasting their time using rodents and monkeys. But the irony is that if my methods were ever exposed, those same scientists would have to be seen to condemn me. And the ignorant, idiotic public, who’ve been crying out for a cure, will be the ones to be outraged; demanding to have me locked up. But you’d better believe that those same people will be the first to queue up to be treated with my virus. In the end, they won’t care how the results were achieved, as long as they have their cure. They’re all hypocrites! I’m the only one with any integrity. So you see, Celia, I’m no monster. I did what had to be done. I need you, of all people, to understand that.”

  “I understand the difference between right and wrong and what you’ve done is wrong!” Celia raged.

  “You’re being naive. Wouldn’t it be simple if everything was really as you see it? Black and white, right and wrong. But I’m afraid life is more complicated than that. Those messy grey areas keep getting in the way.”

  “But you have children of your own – twins. I saw a photo of them when you were on the news. Don’t you look at them and feel sick about what you’ve done; don’t you look at me and think about every baby you ever experimented on?”

  For the first time the professor turned her eyes from Celia, her voice unsteady. “If I’d allowed my emotions to cloud my judgement then I would never have achieved my goal. What I have done is for the greater good of humanity.”

  “And what about me? What’s going to happen to me?” Celia said quietly.

  “I need to study you, Celia. Discover how and why the Saviour Virus works in you. Every part of you will tell me more. Your body holds the key to the most important cure in the world.”

  “So you’re going to keep me locked up here, pick me apart while I’m still alive. And what then? What happens when you’ve finished with me? Will you bury me on the moor too? Is that where you put all the other babies you killed?”

  Distress darkened the woman’s face; unwanted tears welled up in her eyes. “This place is full of ghosts,” she whispered. “But with you I can exorcize them. You’re proof that their sacrifice was worthwhile. Having the Saviour Virus will justify what I did. I promise you won’t be in any pain. You’ll be sedated. You won’t be aware of anything.”

  Celia desperately tried to stay clear-headed.

  “You can’t do this to me,” she blurted out. “My mum knows about you. When I don’t come home, she’ll call the police, tell them everything. They’ll come looking for you, they’ll find out what you’ve done. You’ve got to let me go.”

  Hudson smiled. “I will always be grateful to Janice Frost. If she hadn’t kidnapped you, I would have destroyed you, destroyed my virus.”

  “She didn’t kidnap me, she rescued me! She’s spent her life protecting me.” Celia suddenly felt overwhelmed by shame, thinking of all the loathing and contempt she’d shown Janice.

  “Janice won’t be phoning the police, Celia. She’s dead,” the professor announced bluntly.

  Celia stared at her, open-mouthed.

  “The man who brought you to me then went back to your flat and killed her.” She watched as a look of horrified disbelief invaded Celia’s face. “I had no choice,” she continued. “I couldn’t risk her exposing me. I can’t go to prison. With you, Celia, I have my Saviour Virus. I want to go down in history as the scientist who developed a cure for cancer, not be remembered for my methods, not be shunned by the medical community and the world for my bravery.”

  “My mum is dead,” Celia repeated to herself.

  “So you must understand, Celia, no one is coming to rescue you. And when you don’t reappear, the police will assume that you’re just another runaway teenager who escaped from a crazed parent. You have no one left in the world who cares about you, no one who will bother looking for you.”

  Celia stared into the distance as if catatonic.

  “Celia.” The professor bent down and stroked Celia’s hair. “Together we can wipe out the most terrible disease in the world. What greater achievement is there?”

  Celia sat motionless, unable to process what she’d been told, as the scientist walked to the table and picked up a syringe filled with a clear liquid. Dexterously she screwed a needle into the end, before partially depressing the plunger, sending a jet of liquid shooting into the air.

  The professor returned to the wheelchair, holding the syringe. She spoke soothingly. “You’ll slip into the most beautiful, peaceful sleep.”

  Celia couldn’t speak. A thick quiet hung in the room, only disturbed by the noise of the generator. Her mind was numb, her body a lead weight, drained of the will to fight. The scientist recognized submission in the girl and had to stifle the euphoric sense of victory growing in her.

  “I knew that I could make you understand. I knew that you could accept what has to happen.” She smiled serenely. “You’re a hero, Celia. Because of you, millions will be saved.”

  “I love it out here,” Janice said tipsily, leaning on the rickety table that lived on the balcony. “I spend hours out here, smoking, having a think. I feel...untouchable, like me and Celia are safe from the world up here in the clouds.” Her face suddenly fell. “But now it’s all come crashing down.”

  “Think positive, Janice. Celia will be back before you know it,” Frankie replied.

  But she wasn’t listening. Janice was caught up in her own reverie. “Do you see those beautiful birds in their golden cages?” she said, pointing randomly at the balconies opposite. “I try not to look at them, because they make me feel sad. If you watch them, you see how they frantically flutter around in their tiny prisons, damaging their feathers against the bars. They don’t sing like normal birds, you know. I can hear the difference. I can hear the distress in their song. They look out and see other birds able to soar in the sky, and what must they be feeling? Their hearts must be breaking.”

  Frankie remained a brooding bystander.

  “Then I feel even more depressed, because you know what?” There was no need for Frankie to respond. “I know that I’ve done the same thing to my Celia. I may have saved her, but for what? So she has to spend the rest of her life trapped in a cage I’ve built for her, watching everybody else have their freedom. What kind of life have I given her?” she asked with self-loathing.

  “Whatever you did, I’m sure it was for the best,” Frankie said soothingly.

  “It was because I’m terrified for her, you see...and for what could happen.”

  Frankie remained silent.

  “Do you want to know what could happen? Because I will tell you, Paul. I need to tell someone,” Janice said anxiously.

  Frankie shrugged. “That’s between you and Celia.”

  Janice let out a punch of a laugh, slapping him on the shoulder. “That’s one of the things I like about you, Paul. You’re a listener, not a questioner. You’re one in a million. You’re a good, honest soul. Not like me, oh no. I’m a liar!” She pointed a finger at herself. “I’ve lied and deceived the only person in the world I love and she’s been such a wonderful girl to me; I just don’t know what to do now she knows the truth.”

  She slumped over the railings, but quickly raised her head as the ground swam below her. Frankie stood back, watching her unravel.

  “How am I going to find her, Paul? She could be anywhere.”

  “Shame you’re not a bird. Then you could fly off and look for her.” His syrup-coated tones slipped the image into her addled mind.

  She lit up, the crazy idea seizing her. “Yeah, you’re right,” she said excitedly. “Help me up.”

  Frankie’s heart started to pound as she put her small, rough hand in his and clambered onto the rickety table. She giggled uncontrollably as she attempted to get up on her feet, her legs like jelly.

  Frankie shushed her.
“Quiet, Janice, you’ll wake people up,” he whispered, terrified that they would be spotted, searching for lights going on in other flats.

  She gave him a theatrical wink and put a finger to her lips with a stage whisper. “Shush!”

  He held onto her bony hips to steady her and, once she was standing upright, he let go and stepped back into the shadows. She towered above the railings, her arms outstretched like a bird preparing for flight. She filled her nicotine-stained lungs with the night air and raised her head to the majestic moon.

  Frankie’s stomach churned but, as he watched, he couldn’t help noticing how she seemed transformed up there on the table, her bag-of-bones body now held with balletic poise, her features softened by the silver light of the moon. Without being conscious of it, a smile spread across his face, pleased to see her so liberated.

  “I’m feeling seasick,” she cackled, the table quivering like a tightrope with her slightest movement. Frankie’s heart was in his mouth. He knew that all it would take was one jolt and he’d send her plummeting to her death. His trembling hand crept towards the table top, his mouth so dry he was unable to swallow his self-disgust.

  “Just one small step and I’ll be lifted on the wind, soaring above the ground, able to find my Celia,” she announced giddily, the table wobbling.

  It’ll be over in seconds, Frankie convinced himself. With all that booze down her, she won’t feel a thing and I’d be gone, unnoticed into the night. Nemo’s right: it’ll just be a tragic accident of a drunken, broken woman. His hand hovered under the table. Do it! Get it over with! he ordered his resisting limb.

  When he looked up, she’d turned her head over her shoulder and was squinting at him. “Paul, are you okay?” she slurred. “You don’t look well at all. Help me down and I’ll make you a nice cup of tea.”

  As she reached her arms towards him, the table wobbled violently, rocking back and catapulting her forward.

  Janice screamed as her body flew head first over the balcony. Immediately the distant ground was rushing up to meet her. There was nothing she could do, no time to even think, until she felt the jolt... She swung there, twenty floors above the ground, like a squawking chicken being held upside down. All the blood rushed to her head and the swaying ground became a blur. She didn’t know what had happened, only that any second her fall could continue. Frankie’s body was wedged against the railings, his face puce, his hands locked around her ankles. His hands began to slip as she flailed around, terrified. He had to get a better grip.

  “Hold still!” he ordered through gritted teeth. It was a terrible risk, but he knew that he had to momentarily let go with one of his hands if he was going to have any chance of keeping hold of her.

  Janice felt him release one of her ankles and screamed. “Don’t let go!”

  She felt the impact of his vicelike grip clamping onto her leg. Grunting and groaning, Frankie levered her up and slid her back over the railings, where she landed on top of him.

  Janice looked down on the man she was sprawled over, her face still rigid with shock, but her eyes dizzy with gratitude. “I...I...” she managed, before her cheeks puffed out, her stomach heaved, and a stream of vomit spewed out all over Frankie Byrne.

  “I’m sooo sorry!” Janice cringed as she saw his stinking top.

  “It’s the least I deserve,” he muttered, carefully extricating himself from his sick-covered shirt, revealing a greying vest. “I couldn’t do it,” he whispered, relieved. “When the moment came, I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t even think about it; I saw your feet lift off that table and my instincts took over. You see, that proves it; I’m not a killer – despite everything, I’m not a killer!” he said triumphantly.

  Janice was bemused. “What are you talking about? Of course you’re not a killer; you’re a hero, Paul. You’re my hero!” She beamed and threw her arms around his thick neck. He prised her off and sat her back on the balcony floor.

  “Will you listen to me, Janice?” he said gravely.

  “Yes,” she answered, unnerved by his manner.

  He looked her unflinchingly in the eyes. “I came here tonight to kill you.”

  Janice gave a nervous laugh. “That’s not very funny, Paul.”

  “My name is Frankie...Frankie Byrne. I’m a private investigator. My job was to find you and Celia. But believe me, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I wouldn’t have taken the case if I’d known it was going to end like this.”

  Janice suddenly felt as if he’d plunged her head into a bucket of ice water. Of all the emotions bombarding her, she couldn’t help feeling crushing humiliation at being deceived into thinking this man may have cared about her. How desperately she’d wanted to believe it, how pathetic she felt. “Who are you working for?” She dreaded the answer.

  “I don’t know for sure. We’ve never met; the client wanted to be anonymous. But they said that they were the only person who could deal with Celia, with the virus.”

  “You know about the virus?”

  “I know everything,” he replied.

  “Who told you?” she demanded.

  “You did.”

  “That’s a lie. I haven’t told you anything!” she shouted.

  “I bugged your flat, Janice,” he said, ashamed. “I’ve been listening in to everything that has happened here.”

  Her flesh felt like an army of ants was crawling over it. She scrambled away from him, huddling in the corner of the balcony, her sharpening mind started to piece it together. “You know where Celia is, don’t you?” Her voice quaked.

  “Yes. I took her to this place in the middle of nowhere. The client has confirmed that she’s with Celia.”

  “She?!” Janice shouted. “The client is a woman? It must be Hudson.”

  “I can’t know for sure; maybe other people are looking for Celia – people who can help her.”

  Janice pounced on him, raining down blows on his barrel chest with her inadequate fists. “Of course it’s her! That woman will kill her. You’ve sent Celia to her death!” she cried, hysteria tightening around her windpipe.

  Frankie restrained her by the wrists and held her at arm’s length. “Shush, Janice. Listen.”

  They both fell silent as they heard the knocking at the door.

  “Are you expecting anyone?” Frankie asked suspiciously.

  “Celia!” Janice rushed to the door and flung it open, revealing a weary-looking boy.

  Despite the headache tablets and ice pack, Sol’s head still throbbed. He’d tried to do as his brothers had instructed, but he couldn’t lie in bed any longer when he knew that Celia was in some kind of trouble. He had to tell Janice. He had to check if Celia was back.

  Janice gazed at the boy.

  “Miss Frost, I’m sorry for coming round at this time. You don’t know me, but I’m Celia’s friend, Sol. Has she come home yet? I’m really worried about her.”

  “I do know you,” Janice replied, as if speaking her thoughts out loud. “You’re the boy in the drawing. You’re the boy who makes Celia smile.”

  The baffled boy just nodded politely, aware of Janice’s mental health problems. He was ushered into the flat, where the atmosphere felt like a war zone. He watched, uncomfortably, as Janice circled the vaguely familiar man in a vest.

  “You’re right to be worried about her, Sol,” Janice said, not taking her dagger-eyes off Frankie. “This man has put Celia’s life in danger.” She thrust her finger angrily at the accused.

  “Calm down, Janice. I can sort this out.” Frankie’s mind was racing. “The client will be expecting to hear from me, to confirm that I’ve done the job. I don’t want her to get twitchy. I’ll call her, try and find out if Celia’s okay. Now, you two, don’t even breathe. I need complete silence.”

  Janice and Sol stood petrified as Frankie called Nemo and launched into his chilling dialogue.

  “It’s done. Janice Frost is dead...”

  By the time the brief call had abruptly ended, Sol was staring,
slack-jawed, at the worried-looking man.

  “Tell me about Celia! Is she all right?” Janice barked.

  “I...I don’t know. She didn’t say,” Frankie said guiltily.

  “She could be dead. Hudson might have killed her already,” Janice screeched, searching for her phone. “Tell me where you took her. I’ll get the police over there.”

  “No,” Frankie said firmly. “Let me phone the police. I know all the details. It’ll be quicker.”

  Janice hovered around him.

  “Give me some space, Janice! I need to concentrate. I don’t want to forget anything important.” He strode into the kitchen to make the call, emerging a couple of minutes later. “The police are on their way to get her. Get your bag, we should drive over there.”

  “Hang on!” Sol piped up. “If you’re going to get Celia then I want to come too.”

  “What do you think this is?” Frankie growled. “A school trip? I’ll take Janice, I owe her that, but I don’t need a kid tagging along too.”

  “Sol, you should wait in the flat. Someone should stay here in case they send police round to get more information,” Janice said.

  Frankie quickly interjected. “On second thoughts, maybe we should take him. He might come in handy.”

  “Thank you,” Sol said, surprised but flattered that the big man should consider him an asset. “Now let’s stop wasting time and go and get her,” Frankie ordered.

  Janice felt a pang of gratitude. Frankie could have got away if he’d chosen to. Instead, by phoning the police, she knew that he’d resigned himself to prison. “You’re doing the right thing,” she said.

  Frankie looked down at his shoes. She could have sworn that he was blushing.

  Ever since they’d reached the moor, all Frankie could see out of the corner of his eye was Janice, rocking like a distressed child.

  “Bloody hell, Janice!” Frankie said, through gritted teeth. “Have a cigarette to calm yourself down. That rocking is driving me insane. Its pitch-black out there, I’m going 110 mph and I’m trying not to crash into these stupid sheep that keep coming out of nowhere, so for God’s sake, stop it!”