The Siege of Reginald Hill Read online

  The whispering in my ear stopped abruptly. Yes, Hill, Hill was there. I opened my eyes—or rather, winched my eyelids up—there he was. Frowning at me. Yes, Mr Hill, I laughed. I am so happy right now you just wouldn’t believe it, and I simply cannot wait to die, but not for the reason you think!

  The grey concrete room seemed Technicolor, as though I’d turned into a mantis shrimp and suddenly had sixteen colour-discerning cones in my eyes instead of a mere three. Hues overwhelmed me, beauty overwhelmed me, and Hill… Confused, selfish, evil old man he might be, but his soul remained beautiful with potential, un-actualised but still waiting, waiting for one drop of the Spirit to seep in and let it bloom…

  My puny love for him was swallowed up by a roaring torrent of LOVE—pure, unadulterated—filling my heart to bursting. Lord, please, save him, I beg You, don’t let him be lost, my beloved brother, Your beloved child…

  “Care to share the joke?” Hill asked.

  The Dismantler stared at me as well; they all stared at me. Could they see Him shining in my eyes? Or merely joy?

  Well, I had something terribly, terribly important to tell them. “Do you kn…” Okay, speaking was…possible, but incredibly difficult. It came out a feeble, mumbling rasp. I dumped the lengthy, eloquent homily forming in my mind—way over the heads of this particular congregation, anyway—and simplified: “God…loves…you. Really loves…all of you. So do…I… And He…wants you…to love Him…” I trailed off in physical exhaustion, though mentally and spiritually I’d never felt so energised in my life.

  “He’s still thinking about God?” Wallis. “I always assumed they’d forgotten all about that nonsense by this point!”

  “He’s lost his marbles!” Jonas.

  “He’s a flaming priest!” exploded Hill. “He didn’t have any marbles to start with! Dismantler, carry on!”

  I tried to smile at Hill, at Croft, still hovering behind him, at Jonas, at the Dismantler, but my mouth muscles weren’t working terribly well. In the interests—or at least the spirit—of modesty, I ignored Wallis. Letting my eyelids close again, I floated contentedly with the Lord as they continued to rip apart my other hand. My awe at God’s awesomeness swelled and swelled inside me, until I just had to let it out. I started to sing a Te Deum.

  “We praise you, O God…” The worst, most quavering, most stumbling, gasping, Te Deum I’d ever sung, but the most…appreciated? Yes.

  “…The white-robed army who gave their lives for Christ, all sing your praises…”

  “This is ridiculous,” snarled Hill. “Dismantler, if you’ve slipped him a painkiller I will put you on this gurney, do you understand?”

  Terrified spluttering from the Dismantler…

  I opened my eyes again. “It…does really…really…hurt,” I assured Hill as earnestly as I could. “Don’t…be angry…with… him…”

  “Then why are you smiling and laughing and singing all of a sudden?”

  “Because God…is good…all the time!”

  “You think God is good now? Lying there? You were screaming in agony a moment ago, and there’s plenty more of that coming up, I assure you.”

  “He is…glorious. He is…love itself! He loves…you. Please repent…Mr Hill…please do…”

  “Argh!” Hill threw his hands in the air in frustration. “Perhaps the old paralytic had its good points after all! Dismantler, back to work. Thumb and forefinger, come on, finish off…”

  I let my unenergetic eyelids close again and nestled in Love, letting them get on with it.

  “…You overcame Death’s power, and opened the Father’s kingdom to all those who believe in You…”

  My body wasn’t important, I understood that now. The Lord would give it back to me one day, whole and undamaged, and until then my soul would be safe—to say nothing of radiantly, indescribably happy—in His keeping. There was no need to worry. About anything, anything at all…

  “What next, sir?”

  Silence. “Take a few toes. If that doesn’t make any impact on him, we’ll try the big guns. Or rather, the big gun. Even a priest’s got to get a little upset about that.”

  That horrible, excited titter came from the Menace. Was she enjoying this? From what Margo had told me about her, probably. Whereas, Hill? His satisfaction came from the revenge and from a job well done—this was his profession, after all. Interrogation. Changing people’s minds. ‘Re-educating’ them. Breaking them. He only enjoyed watching me suffer because my suffering hurt Margo. Because it got him what he wanted. It almost seemed worse, in a way.

  Someone who gave in to their own dark and twisted desires always seemed worthy of pity, while the person who coldly did evil purely for their own gain… Surely a much more calculated, conscious sin? Still, I offered up another prayer for Wallis, as well as yet another for Hill.

  The dismantler started on my big toe. Same leg he’d stolen the muscles from. It didn’t feel very nice. But the Lord was still with me—oh, how He was with me—so it was easy to bear. In fact, my jubilant mind began soaring to the music of a favourite classic worship song. How well it expressed what I felt now:

  You lead me up above the clouds,

  To the unseen mountain’s peak

  There in the mist I meet with You

  Give You my heart to keep…

  Huh, it turned out I could still hum. Badly, but I could. Easier than singing…

  I fix my gaze on You as the storms roll in,

  Your breath strips away black clouds of sin,

  On the bare mountaintop, I cling to You,

  You hold me tight in Your arms and never let go…

  “If one of you did slip him morphine, I mean it, you are dead…”

  “I don’t know what’s the matter with him, sir, but he hasn’t had anything, I swear… I mean, you would have seen! It would be on the video!”

  “Well, you can be sure I’m going to check. This is turning into a farce.”

  Lord, I long to stay with you upon the heights

  Dwell forever on Your highest peak,

  Yet lead me deep down into the depths,

  Where You will, I’ll go, high or low,

  In places dark my heart will grow

  Ever closer, one with You,

  My Saviour and my God…

  “Fine, leave those toes. It’s time for something even he can’t ignore.”

  “Yes, sir.” The Dismantler sounded relieved, clearly confident things would proceed as expected from here on.

  They’re not thinking this through, are they? They’ve made it quite clear they’re going to kill me, so what does it matter what order they do it all in? I’ll never miss any of it once I’m dead.

  All the same, certain parts of my anatomy would have clenched up in helpless anticipation if I’d had enough muscle control. Lord, you are with me. Let them do what they will.

  I sensed the dismantler leaning over me again but kept my eyes closed. Seeing would only make things worse. They’d trained us well…

  “Are you keeping an eye on his heart readings?” Hill’s voice again. “They don’t look too sharp to me.”

  A pause. Dismantler checking the monitors…

  “He’s okay, sir. It’s almost time for the next dose of serum, that’s all. Now, if we could only get Sorting up and running again, we’d have a machine to take care of all that.”

  “Dream on. The High Committee dance to his sister’s tune these days and no likely end in sight.”

  A sigh from the dismantler as he turned back to me…

  Clang…confused sounds—shouting, scuffing, clattering—several thuds. An odd silence…no, the sound of heavy breathing. All very strange.

  I’d just started to consider cranking my eyes open again when strong hands seized my shoulders—but very gently—and a familiar but choked voice called my name, speaking in a language that struck strange—but sweet—against my ears after all the Esperanto. Latin.

  “Kyle? Kyle, bro, talk to me, come on…”


  I got my eyes open and focussed as quickly as I could. “Bane! It’s lovely…to see…you. Wasn’t expecting…you…”

  “You’ve got yourself kidnapped by the most evil man alive and you weren’t expecting me? You wound me, bro.” But as his brown eyes darted down the length of me, then back up to my face, his usual dark gold skin tone faded to a washed out grey. “Oh Kyle, we got here as fast as we—”

  He sounded so anguished I wanted to comfort him, only— “Hill! Where’s Hill?”

  “He can’t hurt you anymore, you’re safe—”

  “No, no…is he…alright? You mustn’t…shoot him. Bad heart! You…didn’t? Did you?” Horror gripped me at the thought of Hill dead on the floor, and his soul… His soul…

  Bane’s expression turned sour. “A chance would’ve been a fine thing.” He sounded wistful. “Old buzzard didn’t give us one. Stuck his hands up in the air so fast.”

  “Sure? You mustn’t…hurt him.”

  Brow wrinkling, Bane stepped back and to the side, gesturing reassuringly.

  Ah… My panic eased. Hill sat there in his chair, only now he had his hands up, and a guy in commando gear held a nonLee trained on him. One of Bane’s squad, no doubt. Two guys had Croft rammed against a wall as they fastened restraints onto his wrists—I couldn’t see Jonas or the Menace, so they were probably flat on the floor, unconscious. The dismantling team huddled nervously in a corner, covered by several more of Bane’s men.

  Something about it worried me, but the thought wouldn’t coalesce.

  How on earth had they even… No, thinking was too hard. I was just going to lie quietly with the Lord. He could take me if he wanted or leave me here for poor Bane to try to put back together. Still, despite my stupendous longing for that total union, right now, I needed to stay here. Stay with Hill. Save him…

  Another Vatican Secret Service agent—that was the department my brother-in-law’s operations officially came under—had just plonked a large first aid kit down on a nearby trolley, his face as ghastly as Bane’s. Yes, a mite underequipped—and probably undertrained—for this, unfortunate man.

  “Let’s grab the…parts…and get him straight to hospital,” said the medic. “He needs proper surgeons.”

  “Yes, but for pity’s sake give him some morphine!”

  “Love to,” the medic was already opening his bag, “but he might’ve had some already. He seems pretty with-it, and an overdose or a strange cocktail of drugs could kill him.”

  Bane swung back to me, swiping a distracted hand through his short matt black hair. “True… Kyle, mate, have you had morphine?”

  “Morphine?” I murmured. “That would rather…defeat the point…right?”

  “Well, what have they given you?”

  “Something grey…” Speaking was getting harder and harder. Exhaustion welled up from the depths of my belly, swallowing every part of me. Everything echoed strangely in my ears. I couldn’t get a proper breath.

  I was dimly aware of Bane, swinging around to Hill, pointing a nonLee, his voice gone menacing. “What’s he had?”

  Hill looking back coldly. Saying nothing.

  “Listen, you!” snapped Bane, switching to Esperanto to give Hill no excuse not to answer. “Despite years of trying, I am not as nice as my wife, understand? And even leaving past history aside, may I remind you that is my brother-in-law you’ve been torturing. Trust me when I say I would simply love to shoot you a couple of times with this thing and see what it does to that weak heart of yours…”

  “Bane…no…” I whispered.

  “…so I suggest you tell me right now exactly what you’ve given him!”

  Hill smirked. “Nice bluff, Bane—you really should be on the stage—but I’m not buying it. Dear Kyle just told you—and I’m confirming it now, in case you’d any doubts—that I have a rather dicky ticker. I also have my hands up and am behaving myself completely, so there’s simply no way you’re going to pull that trigger. You don’t want another death on your conscience, not even mine.”

  “I really hate you!” Bane muttered under his breath.

  Anxiety flooded me at that…that ugly word. “Bane…” I protested weakly, catching his attention this time. “Bane, you mustn’t… Mustn’t hate…”

  “Kyle, seriously? Take care of my soul later, for pity’s sake!” Bane swung to face the dismantling staff this time. “So, you lot. Any of you fancy a reduced sentence for being cooperative?”

  Their eyes shifted from Hill to Bane a few times, clearly weighing up the pros and cons. Then one of the assistants spoke up. “He hasn’t had morphine. Mr Hill accused us of giving him some, because he was singing away so happily, but he really hasn’t had any.”

  “Singing?” The VSS medic looked flabbergasted.

  So did Bane. “Kyle, bro, you were singing? What are you on?”

  I managed to smile at him, just slightly, despite the dark shadows crowding my vision. “Holy Spirit,” I whispered. “Jus’…Holy…Spirit…”

  “I don’t like his vitals,” said the medic. “We’ve got to do something…”

  “He was due his next dose of the serum,” said the cooperative assistant. “It’s full of stimulants. Without it, his body’s going to crash into shock, hard and fast. I’d say he’s starting to go.”

  “Look, let’s forget the morphine,” said the medic. “He’s going to pass out soon. I’ll do what I can, but let’s just get him to hospital ASAP. They can check what’s in his blood and dose him accordingly.”

  Hospital… That niggling worry solidified. “Bane!” He reappeared at once. “Wallis! Medical…condition. Bracelet…”

  Bane squeezed my shoulder gently. “Calm down, Kyle. We checked it. Diabetes. So the nonLee won’t have hurt her. Just relax, okay?”

  The room was swaying. The gurney was swaying. I still couldn’t breathe, and I was so cold, so so cold… The medic bent over me, doing things, while Bane took a few MedPacks from the cooler and transferred them to portable freezer units.

  “Right, and where are his fingers and thumbs?” Bane’s voice, coming from a long way away.

  Silence.

  “Well, where are they?”

  The dismantling team’s frightened faces swam in my vision.

  “Tell me where they are!”

  “Sir?” The medic’s voice; uneasy, queasy. “I think I’ve… found them. What’s…left of them.”

  “Argh, no! Do you think they can…put them back together?” Incredulous silence from both medic and dismantlers. “Right. Stupid question. Argh! Alright, let’s get him out of here. You three, with us; we’re going on ahead. You six, bring Hill and the others—and that insulin.”

  Bring…no… “Bane…” The room had gone very dark indeed. I could hardly make out Bane’s face as he leant over me. “Bane…keep…Hill…must…keep…Hill…with…me… Have…to…”

  He might’ve been frowning, but it was too dark to be sure. “What do you mean, have to? Is there…some kind of booby trap, or something?”

  “Or…something. Promise… Promise, Bane? Please…”

  “Alright, alright, I promise. Hill stays with you. Just calm down, okay? You’re safe now…”

  I was safe before… I meant to whisper it, but I’d misplaced my mouth…then the darkness swallowed up everything…

  …except Him.

  …Blazing sun…blue sky…bumping…

  …jolting…jarring…pain…an engine…intense, un-cooled vehicle-interior heat on my skin…but so cold…so cold…

  …corridors…anxious faces, dark against light green gowns…white habits and veils…faces…faces…faces…lights…so bright…something pressed over my mouth and nose…strange air…all swimming, blurring…

  …dim noises…voices…beeping…creaking…gentle hands…

  …Quietness. Well, gentle beeping, nothing more… But, no. Birdsong. A familiar wild chorus from…somewhere.

  A dim ache enveloped me, along with a great sense of well-being. Not the well-b
eing He brought…that…was still there as well. Fainter. But still He cradled me. Oh Lord… My heart expanded in love…then crashed earthwards. Bitterest disappointment gripped me, with that awful realisation. I was earth-bound still. Alive. So far from Him.

  If so, that was His will. Something important… There was a reason why, and it was important… I struggled to tame my reaction, to console myself, resign myself, before I broke down and bawled.

  Yes, I didn’t want to do that. I’d scare the…nurses? Was I in hospital? The beeping said so. And the smell of disinfectant, tingling in my nostrils. Dim memories crowded in, sharpening rapidly…of pain, injury…the Lord holding me… Yes, I’d been hurt. I must be in hospital.

  Hurt… Hill!

  My eyes tried to fly open… Okay, patience, Kyle.

  I inched my lids up, a fraction of a millimetre at a time. The pillow tilted my head just enough for me to see… A small, light room. A big bay window taking up much of the longer wall. Door across from it. Dark blue privacy curtains currently drawn almost all the way back—the same for the bed on the other side of the window—the only other bed, standard hospital equipment beside both—a two-bed room. And, was it? Snow white hair, lined face… Yes!

  Reginald Hill lay in that other bed. Hard to see from this angle, but…asleep? Were there…? Yes, two sets of gentle beeps pierced the room’s early morning quiet. Hill lived. As did I, like it or not. I relaxed again, my head snug in the pillows.

  “K…Kyle?”

  My eyes moved much faster than my head as it tried to turn towards that dear voice. “Margo! What…what are you doing here?”

  My sister smiled—bravely? “Bane said you didn’t need him anymore, you needed your sister. He went home to look after the children, so I could come.”

  “I’m so pleased to see you.” I smiled back at her, trying to share some of the radiant happiness that still choked me. Yes, being dead would have upset so many people I loved. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. I’d believe it if I repeated it to myself often enough, no doubt.