Read Online Snatched by Dreda Say Mitchell - Free Book Online Page A

handcuffs in his pocket.
    The doctor gently chided him. ‘Flipped isn’t a word we like to use Mr MacDonagh. It’s a perfectly natural reaction to the situation in which you find yourself. I’m confident you’ll make a full recovery.’
    Mac whimpered. ‘I don’t think so. It’s over for me.’
    ‘Of course you will. In the meantime, you’ll understand that your superior, Mr Delaney, has insisted that your room has to be locked and you have to be accompanied by a police guard at all times – although I’m not entirely sure where they think you’re going in your condition . . .’ He looked at the cop by the bed with contempt. He in turn looked away with a guilty expression.
    The doctor continued, ‘In the meantime, get plenty of rest. A nurse will come and supervise you when your medication is due so you won’t have to remember to do it. I can also promise you that I’ll be writing a letter to your Mr Delaney warning him that putting suspects in a prison cell when they’re in your mental condition is a sure fire way to organise breakdowns and suicides.’
    Mac was meek. ‘I appreciate that.’
    The doctor administered a number of his pills to Mac before leaving. He greedily swallowed and swilled water to wash them down.
    Mac gave a pitiful glance over at the cop who retaliated by protesting, ‘Don’t blame me mate . . .’
    Mac closed his eyes and rested.
    So far, so good.
    He knew full well how boring a gig like the one his guard had been given was. He’d done it himself often enough. Sitting for hours in a van, keeping surveillance on a suspect who might or might not emerge. Sitting for hours in a van waiting for the signal to launch a raid, a signal that might never come. Sitting for hours by a bed waiting for a witness with vital information to awake from a medically induced coma. It was mind-numbing work.
    A half hour later, Mac opened his eyes and looked at his guard. ‘Don’t mind me. If you want to surf the net on your phone or read the papers, be my guest. I’m in the game myself; I know what a job like this is like.’
    The cop nodded but didn’t take him up on his suggestion. But ten minutes later, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Ten minutes after that, they began chatting. Then they were laughing and swapping surveillance stories. Mac was careful to keep his voice soft and weak and to occasionally cough. By the time, a nurse appeared, the two men were well on their way to becoming colleagues rather than prisoner and jailer. The nurse gave Mac some more pills and watched while he took them. His request for more pain killers and sedatives was declined but when Mac began to seem on the verge of blubbing, she gave him another couple while making a careful note of what she’d done. On the way out, the nurse asked the guard whether he would like a cup of tea and biscuit. He said yes. A few minutes later, she was back with tea, biscuits and a sandwich.
    Mac wasn’t sure whether he should wait until the next time the nurse paid them a visit.
    No. If he was going to make his move it had to be now.

Twelve
    Mac groaned with pain, hands tightly holding his stomach. The cop looked up in alarm from the sandwich he’d just begun. He jumped up and stood over the bed, unsure what to do next.
    ‘Get me a nurse . . . please . . . I’m on fire.’ When his new friend began hunting for the red button to summon help, Mac cried louder. ‘Jeee-suus. Get a doctor, I’m dying . . .’
    In a panic, the cop ran to the door, unlocked it with his key and dashed down the ward shouting for a nurse.
    Mac moved quickly. Under his tongue were all the pills he’d been given and he’d used his teeth to break them into piece. He reached across for his guard’s tea and spat the various pieces into the mug. It was about a dozen pills in all – pain killers, sedatives and various others that he assumed were to control his behaviour. The pain in his limbs made him groan for real as he tried to stir