Dead Men's s Boots

I also knew from her face how the hearing had gone.

I sat down next to her. She didn’t look around, or seem to notice.

‘What happened?’ I demanded. She didn’t answer, so I asked again. ‘Pen, what happened?’

‘He said he’d looked at the composition of the panel,’ said Pen slowly, sounding almost as though she was reading the words from a badly printed sheet. ‘And it wasn’t right. They were supposed to make sure the panel were completely independent – no conflicts of interest or anything – and they hadn’t. So any decision the panel made wasn’t valid.

’

I blinked. That sounded like good news as far as it went. ‘Then we’re—’

‘But he also said he’d thought about the power-ofattorney thing, and he’d changed his mind about it not being in his jurisdiction.’ She looked at me, her face strained and pale. ‘He said someone had to look out for Rafi, and it had to be someone who could be trusted to make decisions in his best interests. Someone who understood the medical background and knew what was at stake, and wasn’t going to act out of emotion or prejudice.

Someone with an independent mind, and an expert grasp of the issues.’

I saw the punchline coming, but common sense rebelled at it. So did my stomach. ‘You’re not fucking telling me-?’ I protested.

Pen nodded.

‘He gave it to Jenna-Jane Mulbridge. She’s got power of attorney, now, and she’s already signed the consent forms. She brought them with her, Fix. She knew this was going down. Then Runcie let them convene the hearing right there because all the panel were present, and it was one, two, three, you’re done.

’ She blinked away tears. ‘I thought he was trying to do what was right for Rafi, but he’s just railroaded us. That cow is going to take Rafi away to the MOU tomorrow and then she can do what she likes to him.’

‘Over my dead body,’ I promised.

But that was the kind of knee-jerk response you have to be wary of. It only took a few moments of sober reflection before I thought better of it.

‘Better yet,’ I amended, ‘over hers.’

13

I was staring down the barrel of another long night, and I knew it.

I had the ultimate ordeal of dinner with Juliet and the lovely Mrs Juliet to look forward to. But first I was† th going to get some errands run.

I got to the Paragon at about six, which according to the desk clerk, Merrill, was when Joseph Onugeta’s shift began. Merrill was sitting at the desk reading the Evening Standard when I walked in. He gestured with his thumb, backwards over his shoulder.