Read David Trevellyan 03 -More Harm Than Good for Free Online

to adjust.
Objects and shadows gradually took shape around me, and after a couple of
minutes I realised I was back in my hospital room. I
tried to focus, and managed to coax a few vague pictures out of my recent
memory. I was fairly certain I could recall getting up from the bench in the
garden. Picking my way through the detritus. Coming in through the main entrance
to the north building. Hauling myself up two flights of stairs. Drifting down
the corridor, making doubly sure I selected the right door. And doing something
else. What was it? The curtains. For some reason I’d closed them before lying
down. I felt my way across to the window and tugged them apart again. They must
have been thicker than I’d realised because with the street lights on it turned out to still be fairly bright
outside. I turned and checked the clock on the wall above the bed. It was ten
past six in the evening. I’d only been asleep for around an hour. That wasn’t
too serious. And it wasn’t too late. There was time to nip downstairs, check
the vacant rooms, and still be back in time for dinner. If
there was anything on the menu worth eating.
            I could tell from the
second I stepped into the lower corridor that something was different. The
shadows at the far end had changed. One of the doors - the one on the left -
had been closed. No one else was around so I approached, silently. I heard a
voice from inside. A woman’s. Then another woman
answered it. I didn’t recognise either one. A nurse, perhaps, or a doctor, speaking to a patient? A
reasonable guess, I thought, but I had no way of knowing for sure. Not without
seeing them. And I couldn’t afford for them to spot me, so I slipped into the
empty room opposite, closed the door, and stooped down far enough to fit my eye
to the peephole.
            Nothing happened for
eleven minutes, then the door I was watching swung open. A woman shuffled into
the corridor. She was a nurse, but not the one who’d helped me, earlier. She
took one step to her left and stopped, staring into the distance. Another
thirty seconds ticked away, then she moved back and a man appeared. He was in
his mid twenties, I’d guess. Thirty at the outside. It’s hard to be precise through a fish-eye lens. He was wearing a porter’s
uniform. The material was faded and the trousers looked too tight in several
places, but he didn’t seem concerned about it. The pair conferred for a minute,
then disappeared into the room.
            They were out of sight
for less than a minute. The nurse re-appeared first. She positioned herself
near the hinges and reached back into the room to stop the door from closing.
Then I saw the porter again. And realised why the
nurse had waited for him. The person I’d heard her talking to was using a
wheelchair, and she wanted someone to help push it. But the patient’s condition
wasn’t relevant. The important thing was - she was a new arrival.
            All I had to do now was
wait for the thief to show his face. That wouldn’t be too hard. Waiting is one
thing I’ve had a lot of practice at. It’s easier than chasing. And that night,
I was in luck. Because it took less than four minutes for my trap to spring
shut.
            I saw a man enter the
room across the corridor. He was also dressed as a porter. Only his uniform was
subtly different from the guy’s who’d been pushing the wheelchair. The material
was in better condition. It looked brand new, in fact. It had no hospital
logos. And it fitted him way too well.
            I guessed from the mess
he’d made in my room that the thief would only be inside for a couple of
minutes, so I didn’t waste any time. And it wasn’t like I needed to catch him
in the act. All I wanted was to get my boots back. I was planning to have the same
conversation with him regardless of what he was doing when I walked through the
door. So the fact that I found him sitting in a visitor’s chair, fiddling