Chapter 36
Martin straightened up immediately. His greyish-green eyes suddenly focused, looking into the direction of the noise. The whole expression of his face changed as if a different person was switched on.
After the piercing shriek, the buzzing of countless noises filled the air. Tables were moved and I believe somewhere I heard a chair topple over. The hubbub came from the general direction of the restaurant.
The moment the word "Doctor" clearly stood out of the murmuring, Martin seemed to get a boost of energy. He silently pushed the parcel that he was still carrying into my hand and turned towards the closed door behind which the action seemed to be taking place.
"Coat." I told him, while I passed him his jacket.
Without really noticing me, he took his coat, slipped into it while jogging towards the restaurant. He flung the doors open, which swung back energetically.
"Make room, I'm a doctor!" I heard his authoritative voice.
I followed, but as soon as I had passed the doors I was slowed down considerably as people were gathering left, right and centre. There seemed to be a wall of people. Still, I could see Martin's tall frame a couple of feet away, having obviously reached the source of this turmoil. When he was determined to get to someone in need, not even the walls of Jericho could hold him back.
"What happened?" He bellowed to a sobbing woman in a sorry state, while he shouted at the people around him. "Give us some space. Shoo!" He shepherded the crowd away to clear a circle in the middle of the room. As soon as he had managed to get the crowd at bay, he knelt down.
I couldn't see him anymore, as my view was covered by the onlookers. Whenever I tried to edge forward, I got someone's elbows in all possible and impossible places.
"Stop whining, woman!" I heard a familiar voice and cringed at his harsh choice of words. "I need to know what happened. Now! Or would you rather he died!" There was an urgency in Martin's voice that made me fear the worst.
Unfortunately Martin's yelling had the opposite effect than he had intended, as the sobbing of the woman grew more intense.
"Ah, it's useless." I saw Martin's arm flung in the air. "Can anyone tell me?!"
One of the waiters dared to intrude into Martin's holy circle. "Sir?"
"What is it, man?!" Martin's voice was commanding.
"Excuse me, Sir, but I served this gentleman an afternoon tea."
"So what do you expect? A medal? Or is the bill still due."
"No, Sir. Sorry, Sir."
The devoted manner of the servant reminded me more of a butler in some period drama on the telly than a real person. Until now I thought people like that existed only in books.
"It's just that he collapsed soon after I served him his cream tea. He can't have had more than a bite before he held his throat and collapsed."
Martin jumped to his feet and I could see that he inspected the plate thoroughly. He held the remnants of the meal under the sobbing woman's nose.
"Is he allergic to anything?" He insistently asked her, and I could hear in his voice that he was on the edge of losing his temper. "Try to concentrate, woman! His life may depend on it!"
"Bees." She sobbed. "He's allergic to bee stings."
Martin dropped on his knees again, out of my sight.
"Did he swallow one?" Martin yelled, before answering himself. "Yeah, that's it. His whole laryngopharyngeal area is swollen."
Someone waded through the sea of people towards the emergency island. I could see him bend down, but I couldn't get what he said, as the murmuring of the crowd was too loud.
"YOU IDIOT!" Martin's voice pierced easily through the background noise. "Of what use would a glass of water be if he cannot even get air through his bloody throat! When is the ambulance coming?!"
Suddenly the room went completely quiet. You could hear a pin drop.
"When? It's a simple enough question!"
"I...suppose we didn't call one, since a doctor was in the house." The waiter meekly said.
I had expected to feel the walls shake from Martin yelling his disapproval, but much to my surprise he went completely quiet.
"Well, he hasn't much time left, if we don't act quickly." Martin straightened up and squared his shoulders. Then he slowly and insistently talked to the waiter. "Listen carefully. I need the sharpest small knife you can find, some high-percentage alcohol, some clean bandages - and I mean really clean - and a biro. Get it?"
"Yes, Sir."
"And don't muck it up for goodness sake! This man's life's depending on quick action."
"Sir? The alcohol - would some vodka do?"
"Perfect, now hurry. And could some of you idiots please care to call an ambulance, instead of gawping, waiting for this man to die!"
The woman screamed in shock.
I inched my way closer to her. I thought maybe she could do with some comfort. I knew I'd be needing it if my partner was lying on the floor fighting for dear life. Besides, being closer to her also meant being closer to Martin. I somehow needed to be close to him, see what he was up to. His request for a sharp knife made me fear the worst.
Following Martin's bellowing, a couple of people took their smart phones out and dialled 999.
"Just one ambulance, you idiots!" Martin groaned, then he pointed towards one man in a business suit. "You. You call the ambulance and try to be precise. The rest of you - shoo off!"
Just at that moment the waiter came with the requested goods.
"Sir?"
I could detect a flicker of relief and determination in Martin's eyes. "Good."
He grabbed the bottle.
"It is a good Russian brand." The waiter uttered, but Martin wasn't listening. He spread the alcohol widely over the man's throat and a small kitchen knife. When he grabbed the pen, he threw it angrily onto the floor.
"Not a plastic one, you idiot! Doesn't anyone have some metallic biro?"
The man who had been summoned to call the ambulance took a pen from his coat jacket and handed it to Martin.
"Will that do?" He asked.
Martin didn't waste any time for a response, but took it and quickly took it apart. The business man started complaining seeing bits and pieces of his writing tool being carelessly discarded onto the floor. Without looking up, Martin grunted. "Shush!" Then covered the remains of the pen with lots of vodka, before bathing his own hands in it. By now, the bottle was almost empty.
"What's he doing?" The woman started to wail. I reached her just before she could jump at Martin, who had just taken the knife and placed it above the person's throat. Martin took one deep breath, looked slightly into thin air, before directing his eyes onto his target.
To be continued…