The Old Man and the Escaped Criminals

Albert wasn't quite all he appeared to be.

The problem was later blamed on hackers, although some say government incompetence was the real problem.

Whatever the cause of the problem, the fact is that in a computer in a data warehouse near Slough, several bits got flipped and three of Britain’s most violent prisoners were scheduled for release.

“This can’t be right.” the prison governor muttered to himself, staring at the computer screen.

He made a few calls but no-one could give him a definitive answer. As far as he could tell, his legal responsibility was to arrange their release, and that was that.

The last person he spoke to was the Home Secretary, who was confused due to dealing with an outburst of rioting and thought the prisoners the governor was talking about must be among a bunch of prisoners granted early release by the Prime Minister, to free up prison space.

And so it was that Grip, Raze and Kev found themselves in a van, being transferred from HMP Wakefield to HMP Pocklington in preparation for their release into society, HMP Pocklington being a category C prison intended to house people guilty of only minor crimes.

It is to be regretted that the governor didn’t actually inform them of their impending release, leaving them under the impression that they were only being transferred to another prison.

Somewhere outside York, the prison van was forced to make a detour due to the road being blocked by some kind of protest, and the driver soon made a wrong turn and ended up trundling along a single-lane road in the countryside. He didn’t immediately spot the tree that had blown onto the road in the previous night’s storm, and the van careered into it, instantly killing the both the driver, and his colleague who sat next to him at the front.

The rear of the van was divided into two sections; a larger section where the three prisoners sat in handcuffs, and a smaller section next to the doors where a lone guard sat, keeping an eye on them.

Alan Chelling had only been in the job for six months. When the accident occurred, Alan received a nasty bang on his head but was otherwise unhurt. He quickly unlocked the outer doors and ran around to the front.

There, the poor man was confronted with the awful sight of two of his colleagues with smashed-in heads.

Being a sensitive type, he immediately vomited, then, wiping his face with a paper tissue, pulled out his phone and discovered he had no signal. Then he unclipped the emergency pager from his belt and found it had got broken during the accident.

It’s quite clear that at this point, Chelling should have simply waited for the police to arrive. The van was tracked via GPS, and it would only have been a matter of perhaps an hour.

However, as mentioned, Chelling had received a significant knock on the head, followed by a severe shock, and he was aware that the prisoners were about to be released anyway. This combination of factors, together with the fact that Grip was pretending to have been severely injured and Raze was begging Chelling to let them out into the fresh air, explains why Chelling decided to unlock the inner cage.

“Get his keys.” said Raze, once they were all standing outside the van, Grip having undergone a miraculous recovery.

“Hey, you can’t just —” began Chelling, stammering, but Raze was able to take the keys to their handcuffs without resistance.

The three men then began to walk off.

“This is highly irregular!” shouted Chelling.

“Sue me.” shouted Raze.

Albert Richards observed the nettle carefully before adding another dab of green to his watercolour. The nettle stood in a vase on his dining table, and a little wooden stand supported the card on which he was painting. His cat, Fischer, sat purring on his lap.

“Just a little bit more white on the stem, don’t you think, Fischer?” he said. “Yes, if I blend it with the darker green I think we’ll obtain the results we want.”

Had he only turned his head eighty degrees, he would have seen the three prisoners determinedly progressing towards his cottage across the field.

“I’m exhausted.” said Kev. “We must have walked at least five miles.”

“We’ll get in there and clean up, get a change of clothes.” said Raze. “Then you can go and carry on murdering or whatever it is you do. No-one’s going anywhere till we’ve changed out of prison uniform.”

“I don’t see who made you the boss.” said Kev.

“He’s the boss.” said Grip. “Show some respect if you want to keep your teeth.”

“All right, all right.” said Kev.

Albert jumped when they knocked at the door.

“Curious.” he said. “I wonder who that could be, Fischer. TV licence people, I shouldn’t wonder. As if we’ve any interest in the nonsense they show on television.”

Fischer sprang off his lap and he went to open the door. As soon as he did so, Raze pushed the door wide open and the three men walked into Albert’s house uninvited.

“Hang on, just a minute.” Albert protested.

“We’re commandeering this place.” said Raze.

“You’re absolutely not.” said Albert.

“Yeah? What are you going to do about it, old man?”

“I shall phone the police!” said Albert, and he went to pick up his telephone.

A tremendous blow struck the side of his head. He looked up from the floor to see Grip standing over him.

“This is our house now and you’ll do as we say.” said Grip.

Albert delicately touched his ear and brought a shaking hand in front of his eyes to see the blood on his fingers.

A ball of fur flew at Grip’s head, hissing and yowling. He grabbed it and threw it to the floor, where Raze kicked it clean into the corner and then advanced on it threateningly. Fischer shot off somewhere at high velocity, beating a tactical retreat.

“If that cat comes back here I’ll eat it for lunch!” said Grip, enraged.

“Please …” said Albert. “There’s no need for violence. I’ll cooperate.”

“Get up.” said Grip.

Albert rose unsteadily to his feet.

Raze grabbed him and threw him viciously onto an old sofa.

“Stay there.” he said.

“I need a drink.” said Grip, and he grabbed a wine bottle from the windowsill containing an off-white liquid. The bottle was marked only with a handwritten label that said “Sambucus.”

“What’s this?” said Grip.

“Please don’t drink that.” said Albert, his voice shaking. “It took me months to make.”

Grip pulled out the cork and took a long swig, throwing his head back.

“Not bad.” he said. “What’ve you got to eat?”

“There’s a pie in the fridge.” said Albert.

Grip opened the fridge and took out a pork pie, which he began stuffing into his mouth, in-between taking further swigs from the wine bottle.

“Tastes awful.” he said, halfway through the pie, and he threw it back into the otherwise-empty fridge.

“Let’s just borrow some clothes and get out of here.” said Kev.

Raze was gazing thoughtfully at the sky, which was distinctly darkening. Little spots of rain were falling against the window.

“No.” he said. “It’s probably crawling with police out there. Are you expecting any visitors, old man?”

“N-no-one.” Albert stuttered.

“We’ll stay here for a while till the fuss dies down.” said Raze.

“You two can stay here.” said Kev. “I have things to do.”

“You’re going nowhere.” said Raze. “If they find you, they’ll find us. We’re all staying here for a bit. Then you can go.”

He turned to Albert.

“That OK with you, old man?”

He slapped Albert around the face, then slapped him on the other side with the back of his hand.

“Yes.” said Albert. “Please. You can take anything you want.”

“Yes, we can.” said Raze, laughing.

For two hours they tormented the old man, demanding he produce more food although he insisted he had none, and rummaging through his belongings, until finally their activities were cut short by the sound of an approaching car on the uneven road that led to Albert’s cottage.

Grip stuck his head out the window and said, “It’s the filth. What are we going to do?”

Raze looked around and spotted Fischer curled up on a high shelf, watching the proceedings nervously.

“We’ll hide in the cellar. Get the cat.”

“What do we want a cat for?” said Grip.

Raze took Albert by the shoulders and stared menacingly into his eyes.

“We’re going to take the old codger’s cat with us into the cellar and he’s going to convince the pigs there’s no-one here.” he said. “If he squeals, the cat’s going to endure a very unpleasant end before they come and get us.”

“That’s actually very clever.” said Kev. “The cops won’t care too much about a non-human hostage. You must be a student of game theory.”

Raze shot him a withering glance.

“Right.” said Grip, and he stood on the sofa in an attempt to reach Fischer. Fischer responded by scratching him viciously and hissing.

“Little bastard nearly had my eye out!” he said.

Kev picked up a blanket from the sofa and threw it to him.

“You have to wrap them in a sheet.” he said. “I’ve had problems with them before.”

Grip threw the blanket over Fischer and Albert watched helplessly as Grip took the hissing, spitting bundle down the stairs into the cellar, followed by Kev and then Raze.

Raze stopped at the top, turned to him and said, “Get rid of those pigs if you ever want to see your cat again in one piece. Come and tell us when they’ve gone.”

They shut the cellar door behind them.

The bell rang, and Albert answered the door. A policeman stood there, together with a policewoman.

“Sorry to disturb you.” said the policewoman. “We’re looking for three escaped convicts. Have you seen any suspicious people around?”

“Oh no, nothing like that.” said Albert.

“If you do see any suspicious characters, could we ask you to call 999 or the local station immediately, sir?” said the policeman.

“Oh, I’ll be sure to do that.” said Albert.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, sir.” said the policewoman, and with that, they departed.

“I don’t know why we’re even bothering.” said the policewoman as they were walking back to their car. “They were going to be released soon anyway, I heard.”

“I don’t know either.” said the policeman. “Let’s go and get a coffee somewhere.”

Albert shut the front door and went to sit in the large combined kitchen and living room where, moments ago, he had suffered the presence of the three men. After thinking quietly for a short while, he made himself a tea and opened a compartment he’d made in the arm of his easy-chair, removing a packet of chocolate digestives. He sat at the table for a while, dipping them into his tea.

An observer might have noticed that, although shaking slightly, Albert didn’t appear quite as nervous or as worried as might have been expected under the circumstances.

Meanwhile, the men were looking around the cellar in amazement.

“It’s a whole laboratory.” said Grip. “What do you think he uses it for? Maybe he cooks up drugs.”

“Doesn’t look the type.” said Raze, picking up a beaker with a milky orange liquid in it and swirling it round thoughtfully. He sniffed it and jumped back abruptly. “Stinks something awful.” he said.

Kev was flicking through a book he’d found on a shelf.

“I’d say he leans more towards biochemistry than inorganic or regular organic chemistry.” he said.

“You some kind of chemist?” asked Raze.

“I’ve taken a few classes.” said Kev. “It happens to be useful in my line of business.”

Suddenly Fischer shot out from under the blanket, having worked himself free from the parcel Grip had made for him.

“I thought I told you to control that cat!” said Raze angrily.

“Maybe you should control the cat yourself.” said Grip, irritably.

“You’d better listen to me if you value your freedom.”

“People, stay calm.” said Kev. “The cat’s got under the cupboards somewhere. As long as the old man still thinks we’ve got him, it doesn’t matter.”

Grip and Raze were staring at each other threateningly.

“I’d just like to know why they’re talking so long.” said Kev.

“That’s a good point.” said Raze.

“They must suspect something.” said Grip.

“Maybe there’s another way out of here.” said Raze.

While they were engaged in fruitlessly trying to find another exit from the vast laboratory cellar, the door opened at the top, and Albert’s voice called down to them.

“They’ve gone!” he shouted. “You can come back up now.”

The three men made their way up the stairs.

“What’s going on with your cellar, old man?” asked Kev.

“Where’s my cat?” said Albert.

“Relax.” said Raze. “He’s down there, cowering under a cupboard somewhere.”

Albert ran down the stairs to check on Fischer.

Grip took another swig of Sambucus.

“Give me that.” said Raze. “I need a drink.”

He took two big gulps and passed it to Kev, who finished it off.

“Must be some more booze in here somewhere.” said Grip.

“I’d be willing to bet he has ethanol.” said Kev.

“What’s that?” said Raze.

“Pure alcohol to you.” said Kev.

“Tell me something, Kev.” said Raze. “You seem like an educated man. What were you in for, exactly?”

“They claim I killed some women.” said Kev. “Serial killing type of a thing.”

Raze laughed.

“And did you?”

“I couldn’t possibly comment.” said Kev, smirking. “Anyway, what were you in for?”

“Found my woman with some random bloke, so I tortured him to death and gave her a beating. Stupid cow reported me.”

“You going to look her up when we get out of here?”

“I might just do that.”

“And you, Grip, my friend?” asked Kev.

“I’m not your friend.” said Grip. “Thing is, I’ve got a temper. Last bloke to get on the wrong side of it didn’t last long.”

Kev laughed.

Albert found Fischer watching the world with big frightened eyes from the space underneath the cupboard where he kept bottles of solvents and distilled water.

When he saw Albert, Fischer leapt out and purred around his ankles.

“Who’s a brave boy?” said Albert. “Don’t you worry, these gentlemen won’t be around too much longer I shouldn’t think. I’ll get you some nibbles.”

When he ascended the stairs again, Raze said to him, “We’re going to need some proper food, old codger. And more booze.”

“I was about to do shopping.” said Albert. “I’m afraid I have a habit of becoming too absorbed in my experiments and I tend to forget to eat. As for alcohol, I only have pharmaceutical grade.”

“Bring it up then.” said Grip.

“Can you order food from somewhere?” said Raze. “Does anywhere deliver?”

“There’s a place that does pizza three miles away.” said Albert.

“Better get on it then.” said Raze.

“It’ll look suspicious if one old man orders a bunch of pizzas.” said Kev. “What with the police sniffing around and all.”

“Dammit.” said Raze.

“At least let’s have the booze.” said Grip. “And one pizza. That’s not suspicious.”

“He might try to poison us.” said Kev. “I suggest we order the booze with the pizza.”

“Good idea.” said Raze. “We’ll have a bottle of proper wine. That’s the most booze that won’t look shifty.”

It was while Albert was on the phone ordering pizza that Grip began to feel unwell.

“What’s wrong with you?” said Raze.

“My head’s throbbing.” said Grip.

“Go and lie down then.” said Raze.

Grip stumbled off towards Albert’s bedroom, massaging his head with one hand.

“I’m bored as hell.” said Raze. “Don’t you have a TV somewhere?”

“I don’t bother with that kind of thing.” said Albert, putting the phone down after ordering pizza and wine.

“What do you do then? You must do something. I bet you play chess against yourself. I know your type.”

“Chess?” said Albert. “Oh, no. I can’t be doing with all that constantly having to think one move ahead of your opponent, anticipating their moves and laying traps for them. Much too much strain on the old brain.”

“Well, this sucks.” said Kev. “No TV, no food and no proper beverages.”

“One pizza.” said Raze. “I’m thinking one of us should go out and buy food.”

“Look at the size of him.” said Kev. “What are you, old codger, an elf? We’ll never fit into his clothes.”

“I have an idea.” said Raze.

“Do tell.” said Kev.

“We’ll hold his cat hostage and he can go into town and buy us some clothes and get some food.”

“How is that less suspicious than buying three pizzas? He’s supposed to go into town and buy clothes for three men, all bigger than him? I could do with some decent shoes too.”

“It’s either that or starve for three or four days and then walk out of here in prison kit. We just need tracksuits and trainers.”

“Maybe I can fit into some of his clothes.” said Kev. “Then I can go into town and get clothes for you and Mr. Grip in there. I’d be willing to take the chance.”

“Do you think I’m stupid? You won’t come back. No, we’re sticking together in here till the police stop looking for us.”

“As you wish.” said Kev. “I was just trying to be helpful.”

When the pizza arrived, Grip was still lying down. Kev went to fetch him. He returned swiftly with a look of alarm on his face.

“Grip’s not well.” he said.

“What do you mean?” said Raze.

“You’d better come and see for yourself.”

Albert put the pizza box and bottle of wine down on the table.

“Old man, you can go first.” said Raze, and he grabbed Albert by his collar and pushed him towards the bedroom. “Don’t want you trying anything.”

In the bedroom, they stood looking at Grip, who was lying on the bed wheezing and panting.

“What’s gone up with his eyes?” said Raze.

“My eyes?” wheezed Grip. “What about my eyes? What’s up with my eyes?”

“They just look a little bloodshot.” said Kev.

“Were you feeling ill when we were in that van, Grip?” asked Raze.

“No, I felt fine in the van.” said Grip. Then he said, “Bloody hell.” and he tried to get up, and then almost fell over. Kev helped him up off the floor.

“Where are you going?” said Raze in astonishment.

“Bog.” he said, and he staggered out of the room, clutching his stomach.

They returned to the living room, Raze randomly shoving Albert along the way.

From the bathroom emerged the sound of Grip retching and moaning.

“Must be the pie.” said Kev.

“How long have you had that pie, old man?” said Raze.

“Quite a while, I should think. Yes, he’s probably ill because of the pie.”

Raze observed Albert curiously. Something wasn’t ringing true, but he couldn’t quite put his finger it. What was it about the old man’s manner that disturbed him?

“Maybe the old fool poisoned him.” said Kev.

“I haven’t!” Albert protested. “How could I?”

Raze silently went to the fridge and took out the remains of the pie that Grip had thrown back into it. He assembled it carefully on the plate that Grip had carelessly thrown on the kitchen counter and offered it to Albert.

“Eat it.” he said.

“I won’t!” said Albert. “It’s clearly off.”

Raze took the pie and began stuffing it into Albert’s mouth. Albert coughed and choked. Raze held the old man’s mouth shut and, putting his face close to Albert’s, hissed, “Swallow it or I’ll throttle you here and now.”

Albert obediently swallowed. After six gulps mixed with spluttering, the pie in his mouth was successfully transferred to his stomach.

He sat quietly rubbing his neck and staring accusingly at the two men.

“Now we’ll see if it was the pie or not.” said Raze.

“Nice.” said Kev. “If he gets ill, who’s going to go and buy us clothes?”

Raze slapped Kev’s head with an open hand.

“Ow!”

“Why don’t you let me do the thinking.” he said. “You’ll live longer.”

The sounds of Grip emptying his digestive tract from both ends echoed along the short corridor that led to the bathroom.

For two more hours Grip’s condition continued to worsen. Several times he attempted to go back and lie on the bed, but was soon forced to return to the bathroom.

Eventually Raze went to check on him. Grip was slumped by the side of the toilet, which was covered in excrement, his arm hanging over it as if he was past caring.

When Raze entered the bathroom he showed no sign of having noticed.

“Grip!” shouted Raze.

Grip’s eyes slowly rotated upwards.

“I think I’m dying.” he said. “Call an ambulance.”

Raze shook his head.

“That’s not happening. You’re not dying. You’ll feel better once you’ve got it all out properly.”

Kev sidled up behind him.

“First you feel like you’re dying, then you wish you would die.” he said jocularly. “We’ve all been there.”

“You can’t leave the old geezer alone, you idiot.” said Raze.

Kev took Albert’s telephone from behind his back and held it up.

“Nothing he can do without this.”

Raze grabbed his arm and pulled him back in the direction of the combined living room and kitchen.

Once they were out of Grip’s earshot, he said, “He actually does look like he’s dying.”

“It must be the pie.” said Kev. “It has to be.”

“Yeah, except the old codger’s not ill at all, is he?”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying maybe what you said earlier had something to it. Maybe he’s poisoned us.”

“Only other thing he consumed was that homemade wine.” said Kev.

“Yes.” said Raze. “Exactly. The homemade wine. We all drank it.”

“We’re assuming it was homemade wine. Fact is, it could have been anything.”

“Why would he have poisonous booze in a wine bottle on his windowsill?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” said Kev. “He’s clearly some kind of chemist. Have you noticed he keeps looking at the empty bottle and smiling. I’ve noticed it.”

“Bloody hell.” said Raze.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“We need to get him to tell us what was in that bottle.”

They went back to the living room, where Albert was sitting quietly in the middle of the old sofa. They sat down on either side of him.

“So here’s the deal.” said Raze. “We need to know what was in that wine bottle. You’re going to tell us, or things are going to get very unpleasant.”

“Nothing!” said Albert. “Just wine. It was … “ Albert’s eyes searched the room and the window outside, finally landing on a bush that was flowering in his garden. “… elderflower wine. From that bush out there.” He pointed. “Just harmless homemade wine.”

“I think you’re lying.” said Raze.

“I’m not!” he said. “It was just wine! He’s ill from eating the pie.”

“Why aren’t you ill?”

“I do feel a bit ill. Quite sick actually. I think I might vomit.”

“I don’t like it when people lie to me.” said Raze. “Kev, do you like it when people lie to you?”

“I don’t like it either. It makes me very angry.”

“Tell you what, Kev. You like killing things. Why don’t you go and kill the cat. That’ll help move things along. Get us to the truth faster.”

“No!” said Albert.

Kev rose to his feet.

“Please! Leave Fischer alone!” said Albert. “Please!”

“What was in the bottle?” said Raze.

“Aflatoxin.” said Albert. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! It was aflatoxin. In a ten percent ethanol solution.”

“What in the devil’s name is that?” said Raze.

Albert breathed heavily.

“It’s … it’s …”

“Calm the hell down and tell us what it is.” said Raze.

“I’ve heard of it.” said Kev. “It’s some kind of poison.”

“What’s it doing in a bottle on your shelf?” shouted Raze, shaking the old man.

“I do research on behalf of the government.” said Albert. “I have a special licence for it. I research neurotoxins. I was fermenting the substance on the windowsill. It needs light to develop properly. I didn’t know he was going to drink it.”

“We drank that stuff too.” Raze shouted. “What’s going to happen to us?”

Albert looked at him uneasily, then at Kev, then at the window, and finally at Raze again.

“It destroys the liver first. Then the parts of the brain responsible for emotional control and movement. Death usually occurs within forty-eight hours, but it might take longer. You’ll be paralysed of course, and you’ll hallucinate.”

Kev ran for the door.

“Where are you going?” Raze thundered.

“Hospital, then back to prison.” said Kev.

“Get back here!”

He grabbed Albert by the collar.

“Tell me there’s an antidote.” he growled.

“Yes.” said Albert. “There is an antidote, but it may be too late for your friend. I’m so terribly sorry. Or it may not. It’s hard to say.”

“Do you have the antidote?”

“No.” said Albert.

Kev put his hand on the door handle.

“I’m out of here.” he said.

“But I can make some.” said Albert. “It’ll take perhaps half an hour.”

“We drank that stuff several hours after Grip.” said Kev. “We should be getting ill by now.”

“Yes, you might be OK.” said Albert. “I wouldn’t worry.”

A soft moaning emerged from the direction of the bathroom.

“Here’s the deal.” said Raze. “Make the antidote. If me or Kev get ill, I’m going to cut your nose off. If Grip dies, same deal. And we’ll kill your cat. So you’d better hurry up.”

“How’re you going to cut his nose off if you’re dead?” said Kev.

“Shut the hell up.” said Raze. “You’ll cut his nose off if I die. I’ll cut his nose off if you die.”

Albert stood up slowly.

“I’ll do it now.” he said.

Half an hour later Albert came back up the cellar stairs to find Kev pacing about anxiously, biting his nails, and Raze staring silently out of the window. The pizza box was empty, as was the wine bottle that Albert had ordered.

“I’ve done it.” said Albert, holding up a slightly greenish liquid in a small conical flask.

“Give it to Grip first.” said Raze.

They went to the bathroom, where they found Grip sprawled face-down over the open toilet, unconscious.

“Get him off there.” said Raze, and Kev gingerly pulled Grip off the toilet and propped him against the wall, wrinkling his face in disgust.

“I think he’s dead.” said Kev.

Then Grip groaned and opened his eyes.

“I think I’m going to puke.” he said.

Albert took a small plastic cup from beside the sink and used it to mix a small quantity of the antidote with water.

“Give him this.” he said, handing the cup to Kev.

“Why am I the frigging nurse?” he said.

“You just are.” said Raze. “Do as he says.”

Kev held the cup to Grip’s lips and poured the liquid into his mouth. When he’d finished, Grip gagged and Kev sprang back.

“It’s vital he holds it down.” said Albert.

“I’m going to hurl my guts up.” said Grip groggily.

“No you’re not.” said Raze. “I’ll smash your face in if you do.”

Grip managed to shoot a look of rage and disdain at him, but lay back against the wall sighing and belching, and succeeded in keeping the liquid down.

“Let’s put him on the bed.” said Raze, and he and Kev dragged Grip back to the bedroom and lay him on Albert’s bed.

“How do you feel?” asked Raze, once Grip was lying there looking up at them.

“Slightly better.” said Grip.

“Right.” said Raze. “Dole that stuff out, old man. And remember what I said.

“I’ll mix you both a glass.” said Albert.

Back in the kitchen, Raze drank the antidote out of one of Albert’s old glasses. Kev, however, balked.

“I’m not going to drink that stuff.” he said. “I feel fine. I don’t trust him.”

“Suit yourself.” said Raze. To Albert, he said, “If anything happens to me, Kev here will cut your nose off and kill your cat. Keep that in mind.”

“It’d be a pleasure.” said Kev. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve cut off a nose.”

“Don’t you even have a pack of cards, old man?” said Raze.

“I don’t have the time for games,” said Albert, “nor anyone to play against.”

“What about a radio?” said Raze.

Albert shook his head.

Raze swore.

“What about books?” said Kev.

“I do have a couple,” said Albert, “although I’m not much of a reader. I’ve got War and Peace, and the Bible.”

“I seriously think we were better off in prison.” said Kev.

“Bring them here.” said Raze. “Better than just sitting here like ruddy prunes.”

Albert fetched the books from his bedroom.

“I’ll take War and Peace.” said Raze, throwing the Bible at Kev.

For an hour they sat reading, Albert lost in thought. Occasionally sounds of Grip shouting and making strange noises reached their ears.

“This is the most boring book I’ve ever read.” said Raze.

“You’ve read other books?” said Kev.

“You watch your tongue.” said Raze menacingly.

Suddenly there was an enormous roar from the bedroom, and the sound of the bedroom door opening. Grip ran into the room.

“What the …” said Kev.

Grip’s face was bright red and his eyes yellow. He lunged at Raze.

“You got me into this!” he shouted. “It’s your fault.”

Kev sprang back as the two men began to struggle with each other.

Theyfought viciously, Grip trying to gouge Raze’s eyes out and Raze trying to strangle Grip.

“Help me you idiot!” Raze shouted.

Kev went to the kitchen drawers and pulled out a knife. Then he stood above the two men who were wrestling on the floor, turning over and over.

Kev sighed.

“I prefer them when they’re not moving so much.” he said.

Eventually he spotted his chance and carefully, almost surgically, inserted the point of the knife into Grip’s jugular. A huge gush of blood jetted out, flying almost two metres in a spectacular arc, Kev nimbly jumping back to avoid being splattered with it.

Grip let out a scream of pure rage and the two men continued to struggle.

“Again!” shouted Raze. “Stick him again!”

Kev went around the other side of the two men to avoid the spurting blood and, carefully picking his moment, stabbed Grip’s neck with the point of the knife.

Grip let out an enormous, almost inhuman scream, and sank into oblivion.

Raze pushed Grip’s body off himself, panting.

“My God, the state of you.” said Kev.

Raze was completely covered in blood, the whites of his eyes standing out vividly through a mask of red.

“You took your damn time!” said Raze.

“Not my field of expertise.” said Kev.

“I’m going to clean myself up.” said Raze. “Clean up this mess.”

“You heard him.” said Kev, as Raze made his way to the diarrhoea-splattered bathroom. “Better get a mop.”

Albert took a mop and bucket from under the sink, filled the bucket with water and began mopping the blood.

“Is this a normal effect of your potion?” said Kev nervously.

“Oh yes, absolutely typical I’m afraid.” said Albert. “Before the paralysis sets in, subjects often becomes uncontrollably angry.”

“You’ve tried this on other people?”

“Rats.” said Albert.

“I didn’t see any rats downstairs.”

“No, I don’t have any at the moment.” said Albert.

“So you’re saying this is going to happen to me too.”

“Depends how much you drank. You might be all right. How do you feel?”

Kev paused and thought.

“I’ve felt better.” he said, and he flopped into an easy-chair and opened the Bible again.

Raze came back into the room, wearing a pair of Albert’s trousers which were ridiculously tight, and one of Albert’s woollen sweaters, which was also ridiculously tight.

“You look quite a sight.” said Kev.

Raze went up to him and punched him in the face.

“Ow!” said Kev. “Why did you do that? I’ve chipped a tooth!”

“Because I don’t like you.” said Raze. “Why aren’t you helping him?”

“There’s only one mop. You know, you don’t look so well.”

Raze’s face was red even though he had washed the blood off it, and his eyes were starting out of his head.

“Yeah, well, some idiot just tried to kill me.”

“May I check your pulse?” said Albert.

“What?” said Raze, the word almost exploding from his mouth.

“Your pulse. It may be that you need another dose of antidote. I’d like to check, to be sure.”

Raze angrily held out his arm and Albert put down the mop and held two fingers on the pulse in Raze’s wrist, timing it against his watch.

“Yes, I think one more dose.” he said. “Then you’ll be fine. I’ll go and make it now. No need to worry.”

Albert opened the cellar door and went down the steps, closing the door behind him.

“What are you looking at?” said Raze to Kev.

“No, nothing.” said Kev, and he lowered his eyes back to the Bible.

A quick-tempered man acts foolishly said the words on the page.

“Finish cleaning up.” said Raze.

“Not my job.” said Kev.

Raze marched over to him and slapped the side of his head.

“You’ll do as I say!” he shouted, his voice cracking slightly.

“I don’t think I will.” said Kev.

Raze abruptly vomited, the vomit spilling onto Kev’s legs.

“Dammit, Raze!” said Kev.

“I don’t feel well. I feel sick. My head’s swimming.”

“You’ve messed up my prison uniform. What am I going to wear now?”

Raze abruptly sprang at him, emitting an animalistic howl, trying to choke him. Kev’s eyes bulged out of their sockets, but he slowly and methodically felt around for the knife he’d left on the arm of his chair, picked it up, and stuck it firmly into Raze’s head.

Raze staggered back, blood gushing out over his ill-fitting clothes, and fell backwards over Grip’s body. He gasped loudly, then he was still.

“What an awful mess.” said Kev, shaking his head and pursing his lips.

The cellar door opened and Albert emerged, carrying a beaker containing more antidote.

“What happened?” said Albert.

“He went mad and I had to finish him. You know what, I will have that antidote after all.”

He took the beaker from Albert and drank it.

“Will it be enough?” he said.

“Well, you’re more wiry than him, so I should think so. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make us a cup of tea.”

Kev obediently back down on his chair and gazed at the bodies of Raze and Grip with a slight smile on his face.

“Milk, two sugars.” he shouted.

“Coming up!” Albert replied.

After some minutes Albert returned, carrying a mug. Kev reached for it but his hand missed the mug. He tried again, and found his fingers wouldn’t close around it.

“You’ve poisoned me.” he said, woodenly.

“‘Fraid so.” said Albert.

Kev tried to get up but managed to rise only halfway before falling back heavily into his chair.

Then he began to laugh.

“The poison was in the antidote all along, wasn’t it?” he said.

“Yes.” said Albert, laughing. “My elderflower wine really is quite harmless.”

“But Grip …”

“Oh, the pie made him sick. I was incubating an interesting variant of e-coli on it.”

“Then why didn’t you get sick when you ate it?”

“I had already taken antibiotics as a precaution.”

“How did you know we were all going to drink your wine?”

“Educated guess.” said Albert. “And I smelt it on your breath.”

Kev smiled lopsidedly.

“Well played.” he said.

“Thank you.” said Albert.

Then the smile disappeared from his face.

“What’s going to happen to me?”

“You’ll become paralysed and you’ll die.” said Albert. “I’d say within about five minutes.”

“No uncontrollable rage, then?” said Kev.

“No, I gave you a different toxin.”

“I suppose there’s no chance of a genuine antidote?” asked Kev, slurring his words.

“Unfortunately not. We can’t have you roaming about murdering people, can we?” said Albert. “No, that wouldn’t do at all.”

A bundle of fur appeared from the still-open cellar door.

“There you are, Fischer.” said Albert. “What a day we’ve had, eh?”

The last thing that Kev was able to see before his eyes closed permanently was Albert making a meal for himself out of the bread, cheese and jam that he kept in his laboratory.

Later that day, two men in plain clothes appeared at the door.

“I understand there’s been a situation, sir.” said the taller of the two men.

“Yes, three escaped criminals, I believe. It was necessary to terminate them.”

“Not to worry, sir.” said the shorter man, who was carrying a large leather bag. “We’ll sort that out for you immediately.”

“If you could clean it all up before my wife gets home.” said Albert. “Should be about an hour.”

“I think we can manage that, sir.” said the taller man.

While he was watching the men from the agency remove the bodies and clean the floor, the phone rang.

“Rook to D1” said a voice when Albert picked up.

“Bishop to E7.” Albert replied. “Checkmate.”

“You old fox!” laughed the voice on the other end. “One of these days I’m going to beat you.”

“Persistence is the key to success.” said Albert.

“I hear you’ve had a little problem.” said the voice.

“The men are here now taking care of it.”

“Icarus is wondering about the new jam, when you’ve got time. I hear he’s having trouble with the sparrows in the farmer’s field.”

“Tell him it’s ready and fully tested.” said Albert. “I’ll bring a jar to the town hall tomorrow.”

Albert put the phone down.

The men looked at him curiously but said nothing.

“These code words are really getting too much for a man of my age.” said Albert.

“Modesty has never become you, Doctor.” said the taller man with a smile.