Chameleon

Chapter 19

Stevey Johnston was scared to death.

Rick was dead and he stood to go down for it. But that was ridiculous! He'd had nothing to do with it. How could he anyway, with two broken arms?

That fat bastard, Bannerman, said they had proof, but there couldn't be, unless someone had gone to a lot of trouble to set him up. But who would hate him enough to do something like that?

Stevey stopped counting when the list of names numbered more than twenty; it was too depressing. He shivered and pulled the blanket closer around his shoulders. All his clothes had been taken for examination. That didn't cheer him up either. They could do all sorts of things these days. If he'd so much as sneezed in Rick's presence within the last month, it would be enough to put him at the scene of the crime.

A key jangled in the lock and the cell door swung open. Bannerman bustled in, followed by an efficient looking woman I her mid-fifties.

'Where's your manners?' Bannerman demanded. 'Stand up when a lady enters the room.'

Stevey stood up.

'Good,' said Bannerman. 'Now, drop the blanket so we can have a good look at you.'

Stevey stared at him blankly. 'I've got nothing on under here,' he said.

'So?' Bannerman replied flatly.

'She's a woman,' Stevey explained.

'Full marks. Won't need to test his eyesight now, will we, Doctor?'

'A doctor? Is that true?' Stevey asked.

'Yes, she's a doctor, but if she was a butcher she'd have seen better looking carcasses than yours hanging up in her shop window! Now, stop being coy and get rid of the blanket.'

'Young man, I am a bona fide medical practitioner,' Dr Barrett confirmed, 'and if you would just do as the Inspector asks we can get this charade over and done with.'

Reluctantly, Stevey let the blanket fall to the ground.

Dr Barrett took a slow walk all the way around him, scrutinising carefully.

'Very well,' she said at last. 'I've seen enough.'

'And I've seen more than enough,' Bannerman added. 'All right, sunshine, cover yourself up before you frighten the horses.'

* * *

'Does it hurt?'

'How did you do that?'

'Can you do anyone?'

'How did you do that?'

'Can you teach me how to do it?'

'How did you do that?'

'Can you turn into animals as well?'

'HOW THE FUCKING HELL DID YOU DO THAT?'

Mike looked like he was about to explode; the force of his shout felt like it had shredded his vocal chords.

Charlie shrugged. 'I don't know how I do it,' he answered. 'I think I was born that way.'

'We have to think,' Mike croaked. 'I mean, this is a whole new ball game. The potential here is not just big, it's huge, it's mega, it's...bloody brilliant!' He collapsed, exhausted, into an old deckchair. A slow, dreamy smile crossed his face.