Chapter 26

“Mr Masson, please approach the bench,” said the judge.

“Richard, you played me like a violin today,” continued the judge in a much quieter voice. “You’re lucky that I know you’re a straight arrow. I wouldn’t have granted others such leeway.” There was a short pause punctuated by scratching noises. “There, that’s your warrant signed. I have to say this whole affair stretches my credulity despite your supporting evidence. It also seems rather convenient: the police have been after a warrant to search that place for some time now, but were never able to provide sufficient grounds.”

“Thank you, Your Honour. The police were stonewalling the boy’s complaint so I had a chat with the Chief Constable and we found our interests had converged. I apologise for taking liberties but once I discovered Dr Rabdoolia was seeking to section the boy, I had to act. He would have reported the boy as an escapee and then the police would have had to search for him. I made sure I didn’t know the boy’s whereabouts in case you granted the section in order to buy time for an appeal.”

“Well Richard, it seems you’ve got a busy day ahead of you, initiating the various actions against Dr Rabdoolia and FreshFields. I recommend you act quickly so the police can take him straight from here into custody: I can’t hold Dr Rabdoolia overnight.”

“Yes, Your Honour. Thank you.”

“Unfortunately I can’t let your irregularities go unpunished or everyone will be trying to take advantage of the court. Please retake your seat.” There was a short silence then, “I hereby find Mr Masson in contempt of court. I fine him the sum of £1 and order that he to be bound over to keep the peace for five days.”

There was the sound of several people shuffling around for a while, then an unknown woman asked, “Would you like a receipt for that?”

“Yes please,” Richard Masson answered.

There came the sound of paper tearing, Richard Masson thanking the woman, then footsteps, presumably as he was leaving the courtroom. “Carlie, I hope you heard that,” Richard Masson whispered. “Jon is safe and I’m disconnecting now because I’m about to give the police their warrant. I’ll speak to you later.”

The line went dead.

“Yes!” I gleefully exclaimed, making a fist pump: it seemed that things were starting to look up. Mrs Thomas looked pleased too.

Ms Edgeway hung up her land line receiver. “That was strange,” she said. “I wonder why the police are interested in a mental health facility. Anyway, I presume the two of you will want to make yourselves scarce in case Richard comes here to discuss the case with me. Jon, I’ll call you when I get more news.”

Mrs Thomas drove me back to her sister’s place. I invited her in but she demurred, saying she had things to do.

The rest of the day was uneventful. I got some lunch, did the day’s laundry then resumed reading Sandra’s medical textbook.

Late afternoon Ms Edgeway’s phone rang.

“Jon, I have Richard Masson with me and we’re on speakerphone,” said Ms Edgeway.

“Hello Jon. I’m sorry you’ve been through such an ordeal,” said Richard Masson.

“Thank you.” I didn’t know whether he meant it but it cost nothing to be polite.

“What I’m about to tell you is supposed to be confidential but I believe I can trust you to be discreet,” Richard Masson continued. “The police have raided FreshFields. There was a mental health facility in operation but Dr Rabdoolia had very few patients, all of them outpatients apart from you. The facility was basically a front to hide a very large Eastern European drugs organisation. There was clear evidence pointing to Norris Ferguson, Alexandra Ferguson’s father, as the mastermind behind the whole setup, and police are on their way to arrest him.”