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Authors: David George Richards
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again, and that same picture of his wife.
Dr Jones was there too, and Sir Richard Hargreaves and Brian
Morgan. There was also a picture of a striking looking red haired
woman. ‘Helen Worthington,’ it said underneath.
She looked at
each picture and read each little biography underneath, taking each
of them in turn until she reached...
Her heart
jumped. Rachel definitely felt it jump in her chest, and suddenly
it was beating faster than before. She looked at the picture of the
man with the boyish grin that had caused the reaction. He had dark
hair and eyes. He was quite handsome.
‘Robert
McCord,’ it said underneath. ‘Born in Chicago, USA in 1960. Grew up
in the gangland areas of the city. Qualified as a lawyer in 1989,
and became well known for his defence of Greg Conners in the 1992
Chicago banking fraud. Came to the UK in 1995. Worked briefly for
Alex Williams in 1996 when it is rumoured that they became bitter
enemies, which maybe one of the reasons why he is accepting no fee
from his clients, Gina and Rachel Carter. Currently has an office
on Brazennose Street in Manchester overlooking the statue of
President Lincoln. “To stop me getting homesick,” he says.’
Rachel read the
little biography a second time before looking at his picture again.
She put her hand on her chest, feeling the heart beating just that
little bit faster. Then she looked at the picture of Sarah
Williams. ‘Worked briefly for Alex Williams,’ the biography had
said. ‘When they became bitter enemies...’
Suddenly she
knew. She couldn’t explain why, or how. She just knew.
Chapter
Twenty-One
News of the
Wanderer
Dr Jones and
Nurse Kaye were discussing whether or not Rachel was ready for
physiotherapy when the telephone call came.
“I think you’re
right,” Dr Jones said as he walked with Julia Kaye back towards the
nurse’s station, where another nurse was already waving the phone
at him. “She is ready for physio. But I’m worried about how we’re
going to continue keeping all this from her once she gets mobile
and starts to see more people. And there’s the press trying to
sneak into the hospital every five minutes.”
“I think she
knows,” Nurse Kaye said.
Dr Jones took
the phone from the outstretched hand of the nurse behind the
counter. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes. I don’t
know how, but I have my suspicions.”
Dr Jones paused
with the phone in his hand. “Well, I am surprised,” he said. “She’s
taking it all very well if she does know.” He thought for a moment
before making his mind up. “Physio will give her something else to
think about. We’ll start her tomorrow morning. Let me know when
Gina gets in. Thanks Julia.”
Dr Jones
pressed the phone to his ear as Nurse Kaye walked away. “Hello, Dr
Jones here,” he said on the phone. In reply he was greeted by loud
whistling and crackling noises and a very faint voice. “Who’s
that?” he said putting his finger in his other ear. “Speak up, man!
I can hardly hear you!”
“Is that you
Philip?” the faint, crackly voice said. “It’s David.”
“David?” Dr
Jones repeated under his breath. Then it dawned on him, and he
grabbed the phone with both hands. “David! Where are you man?
Where’ve you been? Everyone’s been looking for you!”
“So I hear,” Dr
David Askwith replied. “An American reporter told me this morning.
We met by chance, I had no idea what was going on.”
The line was
terrible; Dr Jones could hardly hear his colleague’s voice. “You’ve
got to come back!” he said loudly. “Do you hear me? You’ve got to
come back now!”
“It’s not that
easy, Phil! I’m a bit stuck here. Would you believe it, I was just
passing through Albania when all the shooting started! Mind you,
it’s my own fault! People said that it was brewing. Now I don’t
think I’ll be able to get out, at least not until the shooting
stops and it’s a bit safer! They need a few extra doctors here,
anyway.
Dr Jones was there too, and Sir Richard Hargreaves and Brian
Morgan. There was also a picture of a striking looking red haired
woman. ‘Helen Worthington,’ it said underneath.
She looked at
each picture and read each little biography underneath, taking each
of them in turn until she reached...
Her heart
jumped. Rachel definitely felt it jump in her chest, and suddenly
it was beating faster than before. She looked at the picture of the
man with the boyish grin that had caused the reaction. He had dark
hair and eyes. He was quite handsome.
‘Robert
McCord,’ it said underneath. ‘Born in Chicago, USA in 1960. Grew up
in the gangland areas of the city. Qualified as a lawyer in 1989,
and became well known for his defence of Greg Conners in the 1992
Chicago banking fraud. Came to the UK in 1995. Worked briefly for
Alex Williams in 1996 when it is rumoured that they became bitter
enemies, which maybe one of the reasons why he is accepting no fee
from his clients, Gina and Rachel Carter. Currently has an office
on Brazennose Street in Manchester overlooking the statue of
President Lincoln. “To stop me getting homesick,” he says.’
Rachel read the
little biography a second time before looking at his picture again.
She put her hand on her chest, feeling the heart beating just that
little bit faster. Then she looked at the picture of Sarah
Williams. ‘Worked briefly for Alex Williams,’ the biography had
said. ‘When they became bitter enemies...’
Suddenly she
knew. She couldn’t explain why, or how. She just knew.
Chapter
Twenty-One
News of the
Wanderer
Dr Jones and
Nurse Kaye were discussing whether or not Rachel was ready for
physiotherapy when the telephone call came.
“I think you’re
right,” Dr Jones said as he walked with Julia Kaye back towards the
nurse’s station, where another nurse was already waving the phone
at him. “She is ready for physio. But I’m worried about how we’re
going to continue keeping all this from her once she gets mobile
and starts to see more people. And there’s the press trying to
sneak into the hospital every five minutes.”
“I think she
knows,” Nurse Kaye said.
Dr Jones took
the phone from the outstretched hand of the nurse behind the
counter. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes. I don’t
know how, but I have my suspicions.”
Dr Jones paused
with the phone in his hand. “Well, I am surprised,” he said. “She’s
taking it all very well if she does know.” He thought for a moment
before making his mind up. “Physio will give her something else to
think about. We’ll start her tomorrow morning. Let me know when
Gina gets in. Thanks Julia.”
Dr Jones
pressed the phone to his ear as Nurse Kaye walked away. “Hello, Dr
Jones here,” he said on the phone. In reply he was greeted by loud
whistling and crackling noises and a very faint voice. “Who’s
that?” he said putting his finger in his other ear. “Speak up, man!
I can hardly hear you!”
“Is that you
Philip?” the faint, crackly voice said. “It’s David.”
“David?” Dr
Jones repeated under his breath. Then it dawned on him, and he
grabbed the phone with both hands. “David! Where are you man?
Where’ve you been? Everyone’s been looking for you!”
“So I hear,” Dr
David Askwith replied. “An American reporter told me this morning.
We met by chance, I had no idea what was going on.”
The line was
terrible; Dr Jones could hardly hear his colleague’s voice. “You’ve
got to come back!” he said loudly. “Do you hear me? You’ve got to
come back now!”
“It’s not that
easy, Phil! I’m a bit stuck here. Would you believe it, I was just
passing through Albania when all the shooting started! Mind you,
it’s my own fault! People said that it was brewing. Now I don’t
think I’ll be able to get out, at least not until the shooting
stops and it’s a bit safer! They need a few extra doctors here,
anyway.
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