The incessant beeping echoed through the sparsely decorated apartment, the eerie green light from the street lamp outside illuminating the figure on the bed. A pale hand reached out towards the dresser, aimlessly slapping against several objects until it found the offending article to cut off the sound. Silence returned but the peace was only brief. Once more the mobile rang out, summoning her to answer, lights flashing more furiously than before. A hoarse groan and the ruffling of sweat slicked sheets joined the tuneless cacophony. Chris Mason held her mobile up and tried to make out the caller ID through sleep impaired eyes. As she recognised the number she considered not answering it but her conscience got the better of her.
‘This had better be good,’ she growled.
‘I’m sorry to wake you Ma’am but I thought it best to call you. I know it’s early.’
‘Spit it out Varsh,’ hissed Mason, leaning back against the pillows and rubbing her eyes.
‘Sorry Ma’am, it’s just… well… we’ve got him.’
Mason sat up, tiredness forgotten as she ran a hand over her closely cropped hair. She shook her head, convinced she would soon wake up and laugh at herself as her heart rushed as fast as her thoughts. She swallowed back her shock in an attempt to form a coherent sentence.
‘Him as in, Him?’ she managed to utter, her authoritative tone slipping.
‘I’ll be right there. Book him in but don’t do anything else until I get there,” she replied, pressing the phone between her cheek and her shoulder as she rifled through her drawer for clothes. ‘And Varsh, do not, under any circumstances, let Johnson anywhere near him.’