Implant (DI Gardener 3)

Gardener smiled. “That’s just what I was thinking. Let’s face it, they’re both a nasty pair of bastards. Each of them must have a hidden agenda.”

“Which throws up another question. Where does that bent bastard Ronson fit in?”

“Maybe he has an agenda as well. A background check on him might turn up something of a surprise.”

“It’s like human Sudoku,” said Reilly.

At the mention of the puzzle, Gardener remembered the cards pinned to the wings of the chair. They were obviously very important, and he was desperate to find out what they meant.

The office door opened and Andrew Jackson walked in. He was taller than Gardener, slim with a very rugged complexion, possibly an indication of too much work and not enough rest. His hair was ginger, combed forward from the middle in an effort to disguise his premature balding. Underneath the open white smock and stethoscope, he wore a pair of grey chinos, a white shirt with a grey tie, and a pair of black slip-on shoes. His voice was mellow, and his accent clipped.

“Thank you for being patient, gentlemen. Come with me, there’s something I’d like to show you.”

“Where are we going?” Gardener asked. “Is she still alive?”

“Please.” The doctor indicated for them to follow him out of the office.

Both men followed Andrew Jackson down a white tiled corridor and into a side room.

The body of Sonia Knight was laid out on a gurney. A thin sheet covered her naked and hairless body. Despite the horrors she must have experienced, she seemed more at rest than anyone Gardener had ever seen.

He was disappointed. The killer had struck again. They’d had a living person in their grasp, but were unable to keep her that way.

Before approaching Knight, Jackson turned to face the two detectives.

“Have you any idea what the hell is going on here?”

“Let’s say we’re in the middle of an investigation, and to be quite frank, I’d prefer to ask the questions,” replied Gardener, trying not to cause offense.

None seemed to have been taken.

“Mr Gardener, I don’t know who’s responsible for this abomination, but I’ve never seen anything as barbaric as this in all my practicing years.”

Andrew Jackson opened Sonia Knight’s mouth to allow both detectives a better view. Gardener leaned in close. In the centre of her mouth was a small object no bigger than a matchbox. It was silver in colour, and almost the same shape as a beetle. On top of its body was a small, clear plastic sheath, into which all the cables were connected.

“Am I seeing things?” asked Gardener. “Or does every one of those cables in her mouth run into every one of her teeth?”

“You’re not seeing things. Each tooth has a cable inserted into its centre.”

“And what’s that in the middle, the silver thing?”

“I’m not sure.” Andrew Jackson picked up a small round mirror on the end of a steel rod – the type used by dentists – and placed it in Sonia Knight’s mouth.

He moved around very carefully, as though the wires would detonate at any moment and blow them all to Kingdom Come. After drawing in a couple of deep breaths and clicking his tongue a couple of times as he examined the object, Jackson stared at the detectives.

“It’s an ICD.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m sorry, to give it it’s full title, it’s an implantable cardioverter defibrillator.”

“Which is what?” asked Gardener.

“A battery-powered electrical impulse generator, which is implanted in patients who are at risk of sudden cardiac death. It’s programmed to detect cardiac arrhythmia, and to correct it by delivering a jolt of electricity.”

“So, it’s different to an implantable insulin pump?” Gardener asked.

“Very. Where did you learn about those?”