Devil's Touch Part 20

"Oh, my poor head."

This time he manages to sit up. The pill gla.s.s falls to the floor and the sound makes his face twitch. Then the thoughts from the night before slowly return and he smiles. He opens the drawer in the nightstand.

"Empty! I really need something to get me started."

He looks back into the drawer as if something would just turn up out of the blue if he wanted it enough, but that doesn't happen. Instead he becomes aware of his headache again.

"Hmm. OK, I guess painkillers are a good start as well."

He sits and thinks for a while before slowly getting up from the bed, and finally a scornful laugh is released when he leaves the bedroom and walks into the bathroom. A few minutes later he returns with determined steps and one hand to his forehead.

"I really need something to get me started. Then I will put some pressure on James later."

He starts rummaging through the pile of clothes at the end of the bed. Some of it is still wet from last night.

"Aarhh! Where is it?!"

He throws one piece of clothing after another on the bed. Finally he finds his phone and looks at it for a long time.

"Of course. No power."

Feeling ready to give up, he pushes the clothes down on the floor and sits down on the bed. Still naked.

"Not even that seems to work for me."

He pulls out the drawer in the bedside table.

"Right, there it was."

He leans back and plugs in the phone.

"There. Oh!"

He puts down the phone on the bed and walks over to the pile of clothes on the floor. He looks at it for a long time, striking his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Where did I put that card?"

He squads down and starts looking through the clothes again.

"Did I lose it?"

He starts over. This time more systematically, all the while realizing that he'll have to send it all to the dry cleaners. He smiles.

"I think I'll seduce the pretty one at the dry cleaners next time. I can always wave around my gold cards. There it is."

He flicks the card between his middle- and index finger on his right hand and lets the left one slip down over his stomach before sitting down on the bed again. He dials the number on the card and waits full of tension as it rings a couple of times. Finally, someone answers. The voice on the other end sounds strange. Not at all like he remembers it from their meeting at the elevator yesterday. He listens intensely to the voice.

"No, no! Don't hang up. We met last night at the elevator in the hospital. What?! You can't hear me...? I'll try and speak up."

Eric sits up.

"We met last night in the hospital at the elevator."

Eric swallows loudly. "How am I doing?!"

"Yes, thank you. I'm feeling much better."

"No, I'm not, but I don't intend to discuss that with you."

"I never introduced myself. My name is Eric Taylor. I would like you to follow James Schmidt. You probably know him from the media. I would like you to tail him. I want to know everything he does. I can spell his name if you want."

Eric is silent while the man on the other end answers.

"You have to start right away, it's important. I think he's... he's done something illegal. It's important that I know everything."

Eric looks at his alarm clock.

"Yes, it's a quarter past ten."

Eric feels how his body collapses. Then he takes the phone away from his ear and looks at it before putting it back to the ear.

"You can start at seven."

He sits completely still without moving a muscle.

"OK, if you really can't start any sooner. But then I need you to follow him around the clock."

Eric breathes faster and faster. Then he holds his breath.

"Yes, that's my number."

"I must remember to disable the caller ID!"

"Yes, I would like to have a report. My email address...?"

Eric is gasping for breath. He picks up the business card and turns it over.

"I'll send you an email. Just send your fee in the email. As long as you promise to start at seven tonight."

Eric nods to himself.

"I really need that information."

He breathes in and out as he strokes his forehead.

"It's important. Goodbye."

Eric breaks off the call without waiting for an answer. A strange feeling of power mixed with fear fills him. "I need something!" He looks back down at the phone. "Hmm, she's probably asleep, but if she wants to make some money she needs to bring me something. I need it more than ever." He strokes his stomach again and presses speed dial. "Pick up. Pick up." He sighs.

"Yes, I know you're usually asleep this time of day, but I'll soon start to shake if I don't get something. I'll pay you double if you come over now."

He listens and suddenly her voice sounds sweet and s.e.xy.

"Hey."

He stops and looks down at the hand that has been stroking his stomach.

"Do you provide other services as well? I'll pay you well."

He tightens his lower lip while waiting for the answer.

"Come on. You're hot."

There's silence in the other end.

"Really hot, actually."

Then he smiles as he shakes his head.

"That's some price, but OK. When can you be here?"

He hangs up and shakes his head as he laughs.

"Everything is for sale for the right price."

He gets up, scratches his a.s.s and walks into the bathroom.

"How did I get to be such a pig?"

The laughter fades when he closes the door.

Chapter 15.

The doors of the elevator close and Fredericsson looks down at his shoes. "It's as if I have just been in this very same elevator on the way down. That was last night and now it's noon." Fredericsson thinks back to the night before when he had followed Eric to the elevator and had deliberately stared at him as the doors were closing. "There's something in his eyes that tells me that kid knows more than he's saying."

Fredericsson's phone is ringing. He sighs, but when it keeps ringing louder and louder he finally pulls it from his pocket.

"Fredericsson."

He puts his head back and stares at the ceiling, feeling all the while as if he's moving downwards.

"Can't you a.s.sign that case to someone else?"

He sighs deeply.

"Yes, sure I know who that is. But she says that she saw him yesterday afternoon. A few drops of blood isn't exactly murder. When would that have happened?"

He swallows and nods.

"But we don't know if it's actually murder. The man just hasn't come home."

Fredericsson laughs.

"Maybe he's seeing someone that his secretary doesn't know about."

His smile freezes.

"Yes, I know he's a well-known figure. Yes, I know what the press would make of it if we don't react at once. But still, can't it wait until tomorrow?"

Fredericsson quickly looks at his watch and feels how tired he really is.

"Can't you send someone else? I didn't get much sleep last night."

He scratches his neck and it feels sore. The voice on the other end gets more insisting.

"OK, OK. I'll go there right away."

The elevator doors slide open and he steps out and looks down the hall in front of him. He stops.

"Have you talked to Eric, the guy you didn't question yesterday?"

He turns to face the elevator again.

"No? You have nothing on him? Just his false name..."

He snorts.

"He's cooler than I thought he was. Find out who he is. Maybe the doorman knows, and if not, start with the tabloid magazines. He was in that building for a reason. I mean, not everybody gets past that doorman."

He shakes his head.

"Let me know as soon as you have something."

He nods.

"Yes, yes. Just keep me posted."

Evy tries to keep the sound of her crying down. As the tears stop, she's feeling confused, empty and afraid. The nurse lets go of her shoulders.

"Go take a look in the mirror. It's really not as bad as it sounds when we talk about it. You'll get a scar, but I think you'll be able to cover it with make-up. Go take a look."

Evy cautiously touches the bandages on her neck before slowly sitting up in the bed.