here to see someone.’
‘Oh yes? And who might that be?’
The first doctor glanced at the back of his hand, where he’d written the name in biro. ‘It’s a Mr O’Syres,’ he said. ‘We’re here to—’
‘To give him a medical,’ the second doctor interrupted.
‘That’s right, a medical.’ The first doctor started to feel better; this was convincing stuff. He decided to expand it. ‘He’s thinking of taking out some life insurance,’ he went on, ‘and so we were asked—’
‘You’re sure about that?’
‘Course we’re sure.’
‘ Life insurance? ’
‘That’s right, love, so if you’ll just show us the way.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Sandra. ‘Just follow me.’
She led them to the big broom cupboard and opened the door a crack.
‘This is Mr Osiris’ room,’ she said. ‘I won’t put the light on because he’s asleep at the moment. If you just go in quietly and wait for him to wake up.’
As soon as they were inside, she turned the key and ran for it.
By the time she’d reached Osiris’ room, the penny had dropped. Two doctors. What is it that needs two doctors? Easy. She pushed open the door.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’
She hadn’t actually seen Mr Osiris without any clothes on before. True, she’d heard things about him; how he’d undergone a lot of surgery in the past, had all sorts of bits removed and so on. She wouldn’t have been worried by scars. Zip fasteners, though, were another matter.
‘For pity’s sake,’ Osiris said, reaching for a towel. ‘You could have given me a heart attack.’
‘Sorry.’
Osiris looked down at the middle of his chest, and grinned. ‘Weren’t expecting to see that, were you?’
‘No,’ Sandra admitted. ‘Doesn’t it get rusty when you have a bath?’
Osiris shook his head. ‘Stainless steel,’ he replied. ‘I had them put in to make it easier for my wife.’
‘Ah.’
‘Was there something you wanted?’
Sandra’s brain dropped back into gear. ‘Get dressed, quick, and I’ll help you into your wheelchair,’ she said. ‘There’s two doctors come to certify you.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Certify you,’ Sandra hissed, grabbing a dressing gown and shoving it on to his lap. ‘Say you’re mad. I’ve locked them in a broom cupboard.’
Despite the ravages of time, Osiris still retained a fair proportion of the vast mental capacity required of a supreme being. He scowled.
‘It’s that little bugger Julian,’ he growled. ‘You wait till I get my hands on him, I’ll make him wish—’
‘Quickly!’
She helped bundle Osiris into some clothes and got him into the chair. The corridor was empty.
‘Typical bloody lawyer’s trick,’ Osiris was muttering under his breath. ‘Have me certified and then take over all my powers with one of those damned attorney things. I knew I should never have signed it.’
‘That’s awful,’ Sandra replied absently. ‘If we can just make it to the service elevator, we’ll have a clear run out the back to the car park.’
‘Mind you,’ Osiris went on, ‘you’ve got to hand it to him for brains. Chip off the old block in that respect. Mind out, you nearly had me into the wall there.’
‘Stop complaining.’
As they passed the door of the broom cupboard, they could hear the sound of strong fists on woodwork and, alas, intemperate language. It looked to be a pretty solid door, but that wasn’t something you could rely on. Never trust something that was once a tree, Osiris reflected. He’d met a lot of trees in his career as a nature god, and had learned a thing or two about them in the process. One: don’t sit under them in thunderstorms. Two: never lend them money.
‘All clear.’
‘Hold on a moment,’ Osiris said. ‘Where exactly is it we’re going?’
Sandra glowered at him impatiently. ‘Somewhere you’ll be safe, of course,’ she said. ‘Look, they’ll be out of there in no time at all, so do you mind if—’
‘ Where?
Learning to Kill: Stories