[b]Honor Oak Park Veterinary Centre Lewisham 7:12 AM[/b] Sat in the reception of Honor Oak Park’s lone veterinary centre were Bobby, Charlie and Coach. Coach chewed nervously on his nails while thoughts of Wembley raced through his mind. It had been a knock to the head that had sent Cecil’s girlfriend shuffling off her mortal coil. On the long ride over to Lewisham, the taxi driver had considered what would come of the three of them were Red not to pull through. The conclusion he’d arrived at wasn’t good. Bobby leant towards Charlie with an earnest frown. “Do you think Red will be alright?” “Do I look like some kind of fucking doctor to you? Quit breathing down my neck.” The Pole leant back with a defeated look on his face. Coach glanced over at Charlie as if to silently reproach him for speaking to Bobby that way and the Yank begrudgingly acknowledged his disapproval. “Sorry,” Charlie said with a wince that betrayed how painful he found apologising. “I’m just a little stressed is all.” “I understand,” Bobby nodded sympathetically. “Red is like a father to you.” Charlie’s face crumpled up with displeasure. “What? No, that’s not it. Christ, Bobby.” He stood up from his seat and ran his hands backwards through his dark hair with a heavy sigh. Coach watched him pace. There was something stirring there, milimetres beneath the surface, an anger that was never quelled or contained. In truth, Coach was as scared of what Charlie might do if Red didn’t pull through as he was what might happen to the three of them without Red around. Enfield was a loose cannon at the best of times – he’d proved that during the last job – and now he had all the excuse he wanted to add to his body count. “Every second that Benedict Arnold is out there is another second those diamonds are nearer to being gone – and then we’re all well and truly fucked.” Bobby leant forward to voice a complaint. Coach knew what it was before he’d even opened his mouth. He was upset that Charlie cared more about the diamonds than he did Red. It was fair, Coach thought, but that argument wasn’t one he had any interest in listening to. Not least while Turner was laid up on a table in a vets surgery with his life hanging in the balance. “Could you two just give it a rest for a second?” Coach interjected with an exasperated sigh. “My head’s still pounding.” So there they sat in complete silence for half an hour more. Charlie and Bobby chain-smoked cigarettes to pass the time. It was all Coach could do but ask for one, but he’d sworn off them, though he was sure a morning like the one they were having was surely the excuse he needed. Before he could ask the door to the surgery opened and a tall, tanned-skinned woman stepped through it. Her thick-rimmed glasses obscured the dark brown eyes that hid beneath them. She was every bit as beautiful as when Coach had met her ten years ago. Her name was Mariana Thompkins. Once upon a time, when “Coach” went by James Crowder and Mariana Thompkins had been Mariana Lopez, they had been lovers. To say that it hadn’t ended well was an understatement. Charlie stood up from his seat and took a step towards Thompkins. “What’s the skinny, nurse?” “He’s conscious,” Mariana purred in an accent that listed back and forward between the Queen’s English and Spanish. “He sustained quite a serious concussion. Whatever it was your friend was hit over the head with, he’s very fortunate that it didn’t fracture his skull.” Bobby’s head fell into his hands with relief beside Coach. “” “I always said that thick skull of his would come in useful one of these days,” Coach said with a smile. Mariana shot Crowder an icy look. “It’s not a joking matter, James. Mr. Turner could be bed-bound for a week, several days at the least. He’s showing signs of severe sensitivity to light and sound. When he first regained consciousness he couldn’t tell me which day of the week it was. Had the blow been a half-inch to the left or the right, the three of you could well have been burying your friend. Do you understand?” “Enough lady,” Charlie said as he pushed his way past the nurse. “We need to speak to Red.” One of her tanned hands reached out to hold Charlie back and she said in a commanding voice. “He’s not in any fit state to entertain visitors.” From his seat Coach could see the expression on Charlie’s face begin to turn. He had seen it before. First the eyes narrowed, then the jaw clenched, then the redness set in and before long someone would bear the brunt of his wrath. Given his old flame had just saved their bacon, Coach wasn’t about to let that happen. “Mariana,” he called out to her with a look that suggested she release Charlie’s arm. She dutifully let it slip through her fingers and Charlie stepped through the doorway lined with cat cages and dog kennels. Bobby took one last drag of his cigarette and stubbed it out in an ashtray before following after him. Coach and Mariana stood in the reception with one another locked in a pregnant silence. Finally Coach rose to follow after his colleagues. Mariana reached out for him. He stopped in his tracks and looked past the thick lenses of her glasses into her deep brown eyes. There was no love there, only an unyielding contempt. “Don’t think this means I’ve forgiven you, James Crowder.” The surgery table had been transformed into a makeshift bed for Red. As Coach drew closer he noticed the bandages wrapped both around his head and his eyes. They were to help with the light sensitivity, Coach figured. “How’s it going, Red?” Charlie said from beside Red. “The madam says you’re not ready for visitors. What do you reckon?” Turner smiled feebly in the direction of Charlie’s voice. “You know me, I’ve seen off worse, old pal.” “You look like one of those three monkeys,” Coach said, feinting a smile for Red’s sake that he would never see. “You know, those ones from the statues. See no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil.” “What does that make the two of you?” Bobby and Coach let out a laugh. Even Charlie mustered something of a smile. The young Pole step towards Turner and placed an encouraging hand on Red’s forearm. It brought a smile to Turner’s face straight away, one that didn’t fade when Charlie stepped forward to break the bad news to him. “Freddy got away, Red.” Turned nodded as if he’d worked that much out. “That’s unfortunate.” “What’s the plan?” Charlie asked. “How are we going to get the diamonds back?” “The diamonds are the least of our problems,” Red responded. “Once I’ve got some shuteye I’ll need to make a visit to some friends of ours.” Bobby, Charlie and Coach looked at one another awkwardly, unspokenly drawing lots as to who would break the second bout of bad news to him. It seemed to fall to Coach, who grimaced slightly and then cleared his throat as if to announce his presence to Red. “Pay a visit? Red, I don’t know how to tell you this, but you won’t be visiting anywhere for a few days at least. Mariana said you’re lucky to be alive. You’ve got to stay in bed and get some proper rest.” “What?” Red said incredulously as he attempted to sit forward. “That’s ridiculous, I’ll be fine once I’ve had a bit of sleep, it was only a knock to the head.” Coach saw Turner’s hand shoot towards the bandage on his eyes. He reached out to stop him, but the bandage was free and Red’s eyes were open before he had a chance. There was a sharp intake of breath and he nearly stumbled from the table before Thompkins came charging over to stop him. “What are you doing, Mr. Turner?” Mariana said as she forced the bandages back over his eyes. “I told you that I needed you to lie very still. Are you trying to hurt yourself? Because all it takes is one slip and that concussion of yours could become far more serious.” “Enough,” Charlie said, shooing her away once he was convinced Red was fine. “You don’t need to baby the man.” Coach could see Mariana’s face souring at the remark but Red calmed her temper in three small words. “Thank you, nurse.” Thompkins shuffled out of the room and Coach heard her making preparations to close the surgery for the day. Even with the bandage over Red’s eyes it was clear that he was deep in thought. Skull half-caved in or not, when Turner’s cogs were working, it was always something to behold. Finally, he broke his silence. “Charlie, you’ll need to go.” “Go where?” Charlie asked. “I had hoped to keep this from you all,” Red said. His voice, ironically, was like that of a doctor delivering bad news to a patient. “And I want you to know that I would never have gone to the nasty sods hat-in-hand for work. They came to me. They had a job that needed doing, one that would be of great benefit to them, but they didn’t have the people for it. They needed professionals.” Coach was so anxious he’d nearly gnawed through his thumb as Turner spoke. “Spit it out, Red.” “The Kanes,” Red said with a guilty sigh. “You’re going to have to visit the Kanes.”