The medical people in the corridors were tense and looked around anxiously.He went to the staff canteen again and stood looking at a noticeboard, listening to the chatter as he drank a cup of water. The police were looking for someone, he heard – someone who did things to dead bodies. Someone who had stolen one corpse and mutilated another. Security would be tightened. Alistair drained his plastic cup and left without looking at anyone.He saw a policeman and hurried away, up some stairs, along a corridor, turned left, turned right – going anywhere. He touched his stolen ID to a card reader and swung open a door into a darkened ward. Each little side room held a single patient. A nurse on the central desk stared at her computer screen and didn’t look up.Alistair ducked into one of the rooms.The table was covered with cards and a helium balloon drooped on a ribbon. A handmade card said in childish lettering, ‘Please get well Helena xxxx’. Helena was beautiful.
