It was a hazy morning in the slums of the Lower East Side when Officer O’Malley stopped outside a closed door in the corner of a small alleyway. Steam poured out into the alley through large vents hanging from the high apartment blocks. The alleyway was empty, and anyone who did enter left quickly when they saw the officer listening at the door, with his billy club in his hand. Officer O’Malley had been called to deal with a corrupt ‘back street doctor’, whose patients were often ending up as his victims. He had been advised that surgery was open for business, and he now had the deadly doctor cornered. He waited for the right opportunity to strike. Poised, he gripped the door handle and raised his club above his head. He swung the door open and hollered for all present to stand still and put their hands upon their heads. In the dark room a woman was sat on a chair. Her head was bowed and she stayed motionless, unflinching from Jack’s surprise attack. Standing over the woman was the ‘doctor’, who stood deadly still, with a syringe in his hand. The needle was held millimetres from the exposed neck of the woman. The ‘back street doctor’ slowly turned towards Jack, before lifting his hands up. Officer O’Malley froze. His eyes focussed solely on that brass syringe, now held above the ‘doctor’s’ head. He didn’t know what to do. He just stood staring. After a few seconds, the ‘doctor’ and his patient sensed their opportunity and scurried out past Jack, who just stood in the doorway, deep in thought. Something had awakened in him. A memory? He didn’t know what the memory was. But the sight of the syringe had flashed in his mind and he couldn’t quite figure out why. He slowly walked back to his station, lost in thought. He tried to make connections in his head. Two things crossed his mind. Execution and chance. What did that mean? As he neared the station door, he stopped. He could see those eyes. The picture of that man with the orphanage. His eyes were what were familiar. Those eyes. He knew them. The hairs on his neck stood up, and a tingle ran down his spine. He broke out in a cold sweat and a metallic taste soured in his mouth. He needed to see that paper again. Without hesitation, Officer O’Malley turned on a dime and made his way out of the city and raced over to his sister’s boutique.
When he reached the front door to the shop, he burst in and made his way straight through to the back room. He ignored the ladies at the counter and searched around for Kate. He found her in her office, sat reading and taking a mid-morning rest.
“Do you still have that paper from Upminster?” he said.
“What are you doing here at this time? Have you lost your job or something?”
“The paper!” snapped Jack.
Kate opened a drawer in her desk and searched through the papers inside of it. She found the right one and tossed it onto the desk in front of her brother. Jack picked up the paper and quickly flicked through the pages until he came to the article about the orphanage. There, in the picture was the man. His eyes glaring straight into Jack’s soul. A flash back hit him. He saw the same face, only younger, looking at him through a window. The eyes unflinching, just as they were in the picture. Jack scanned the article.
“Dr Demontig,” he murmured to himself. “Dr Demontig.”