Previously: Now that all the excitement over the movie filming and the oleander poisoning mystery has been resolved, Al and Pauline each looked back to the traumatic events of the Crazy Jonathan hostage situation that were affecting them at the beginning of the story. As Martin is preparing to re-open his surgery after a fortnight hiatus, he now has a moment to look back at what it was like for him to descend the cliff and what happened to him afterward.

Chapter 51: Over The Edge

Saturday Morning

Martin was washing up from breakfast when he heard some noise in the reception. He went out to find Pauline sitting at her desk, sorting through patient files.

"Why are you here? The surgery doesn't reopen until Monday."

"I know, Doc. I've been on holiday for two weeks and, now all the excitement's over and I've got nothing to do. I'm bored. So I thought I'd come back early for a few hours and get the place in order, to hit the ground running come Monday morning."

He scowled.

"I don't even expect any overtime pay," she added.

"Hm. Right then. Good plan." He turned to go back to the kitchen.

The reception phone rang and she picked it up.

"Portwenn Surgery!" she said in a chirpy voice.

"We're here to unravel aches that might baffle,

We'll figure it out and leave you no doubt.

So tell us what's wrong, it won't take us long,

We'll get you well, but the Doc might still…"

"Pauline!" Martin yelled.

He grabbed the phone and barked into it: "If you want a rhyme, call another time." He slammed it down.

She sulked. "I'm just trying to have a little fun."

"Well don't. I appreciate that you returned early but the surgery isn't open for two more days. In the meantime, if you must be here please go through the post, check the emails, and get these files organized." He went off to his office.

Pauline was left sitting alone in the reception. She looked at the pile of paperwork on her desk and slumped in her chair. She reached into her purse, rummaged around, and took out a brightly coloured lottery scratch card. Using a penny, she began scraping away the grey surface.

Martin shut the door and turned on his computer.

While it booted up he got up to inventory his supplies. Something caught his eye under the desk. He bent and picked it up, a piece of surgical tape. He stared at it in horror. He thought he had thoroughly set his office to rights but he must have overlooked a scrap of the tape Jonathan had used to tie him up. Martin shuddered. Clutching the scrap, his hands felt damp and trembling, and wave of memory from That Day overtook him.

ooOOOOOoo

They had all piled into the Lexus with Louisa's dreadful father sitting beside him in front. Martin took out his handkerchief to wipe his damp palms. He clutched tightly at the wheel to control his trembling as he drove. The women were forced to sit with the even more dreadful Jonathan and the shotgun in back. They arrived at the cliffs to see the Colonel frantically waving his arms at the edge.

"Ellingham! Ellingham! Quickly! Over here. The Baker fell. Bloody fool. He was trying to steal the eggs. I must say I expected something better of a local man."

Jonathan got out of the car. "Hold on, hold on. OK, where's Plumber Boy?" He pointed the shotgun.

"Bloody hell, that's my gun," the Colonel retorted. "What's going on?"

In his bipolar manner, Jonathan reached out to shake his hand and introduce himself. "Hi, name is Jonathan. OK, where are the explosives?" He pointed the gun again.

"What explosives?" The Colonel was very confused.

"How do you know about the explosives?!" Jonathan demanded.

Martin cut through the nonsense. "Colonel, has the Baker lost consciousness?"

"The Baker! The Colonel! Do these people have no names? What's going on here?" Jonathan couldn't be silenced. "What is so important about the Baker? Come on!"

From way below the cliff, Martin could hear groaning. Looking over the edge, he could see the Baker having a seizure down on the ledge, with a distraught Al beside him.

"Help, I think he's havin' a fit!" Al shouted.

"Cushion his head, he may be haemorrhaging!" Martin advised.

Jonathan came up abruptly, almost knocking Martin and the Colonel over the edge. "This is the Baker they sent you the fax about?"

"It's causing pressure on his brain." Martin said.

"Something's pressing into his brain?" Jonathan repeated.

"In all probability, yes."

"Well you've got to get down there, man," the Colonel said.

Martin felt his hands sweating and trembling again. They couldn't possibly expect him to descend the cliff. "No!"

"The Baker," Jonathan said, as if he had a sudden realization. "He's in charge of this whole thing. Everything has to get coordinated through him. That's why it's been so strong down here. He's got a transmitter chip in his brain and he's been using it to send signals into my head."

"This chap's absolutely bloody barking," the Colonel said.

"We've got to, um… we've got to neutralize the transmitter chip in his brain," Jonathan went on.

There has to be some other way, Martin thought. "We need to get some sort of pulley system to get the Baker up here."

"You're goin' down," Jonathan declared. He pointed the gun at Martin. "You're gonna go down there and you're gonna take the transmitter chip out of his head. Right now!"

At that moment Bert drove up in his plumber's van and got out. "Hello Doctor. My lad said you'd be needin' this." He held out a harness on a cable attached to a winch on the front of the van.

It began to sink in for Martin that there was no other way and he was conscious that Louisa was watching with anxious eyes. He fought back a burning sense of shame for not being able to protect her back at the surgery. Now was the moment to redeem himself.

He thought about what he might need for the task ahead. "Bert, have you got a drill?"

Bert got out his drill, which Martin pocketed. Then Bert put the harness on Martin and pulled it tight. He shouted commands and encouragement as Martin slowly began a controlled climb down, with the aid of the winch. Louisa and the others watched from the cliff edge as he carefully made his way.

Then the descent stopped with a jerk. The winch ran out of cable and Martin was left dangling a few feet above the ledge, helpless, clutching his medical bag in his left hand. This was worse than he had even imagined! He heard shouting above and Bert must have driven the van a few feet closer.

Suddenly there was too much cable and Martin fell the rest of the way to the ledge, right onto his patient. He scraped his face against rock and was unable to breathe for a moment. With the wind knocked out of him he thought he might pass out, but he steeled himself to regain his self control. He pushed the harness out of his way as he examined the Baker's eyes.

"It's bad, Doc," said Al. "I think he's on his way out."

"That's your diagnosis, is it," Martin replied, grimly.

"Yeah."

"All right." Martin took out the drill and opened his medical bag.

"What's he doin' up here anyway?"

"Uh, stealing chough eggs." He took out the drill. "Hold this, Al. And contracting a bacterial infection from bird faeces."

"He'll be all right though, won't he?"

"His, uh, optic nerve is swollen due to the increased intracranial pressure. Means that your first diagnosis could well be right. He's not going to make it. Unless… I need to… relieve the pressure… on his brain."

Martin began using gel sanitizer to sterilize the drill bit and the patient's forehead.

"How are you gonna do that?" Al suddenly realized what the drill was for. "Oohh, oh Doc! How do you know if you drill far enough?!"

"His eyes will open."

Martin took some deep breaths to steady himself for this unconventional surgery, then he placed the drill precisely against the patient's skull and drilled carefully. The Baker's eyes popped open right on cue. Martin and Al simultaneously sighed with relief and Martin bandaged the wound.

Gripping his patient to him, Martin was then winched up, leaving the drill forgotten on the ledge. Al had to free climb behind them, still with the bag he had been sent to retrieve slung over his back.

As the reached the top, the others helped them up. "Don't touch his head," Martin cautioned, as they laid the Baker on a blanket.

Jonathan could not be distracted from his mission. "Gimme that bag."

"Ohhh, you're kidding right?!" Al responded.

"Give it!"

Trying to tend to his patient, Martin had had enough. He got up and grabbed the gun away.

"Gimme that," Jonathan persisted.

"No!" Martin barked, pulling off the harness and stepping out of it. "Pauline, call an ambulance. Tell them to expect a man with an intracranial bleed, treated successfully by emergency trepanation. Accompanied by a really annoying man who needs sectioning under the Mental Health Act."

"Me?" Jonathan seemingly couldn't understand why anyone would find him annoying.

Pauline was too upset to call, so Louisa gently took the phone from her and walked away from the commotion to dial 999.

"Al? Lock those explosives in the boot of my car before someone gets blown up." Martin handed Al the keys.

"Explosives?!"

In all the excitement, Martin realized he had neglected to warn the plumber about the bag's contents. "Oh come on, Al. You carried them up a cliff, you'll survive the trip to the car."

"I'll take that now, thank you," the Colonel said. He still wanted his gun back but Martin had also had enough of dangerous weaponry. "No, you won't. Al, lock that up too."

"I'm not going to put up with this, you know," the Colonel protested.

"Don't be ridiculous…" Martin berated him. As Martin talked, he was dimly aware that the Baker was rousing enough from his stupor to take from his pocket the precious chough egg that had managed to survive everything so far.

"It's the chip!" Jonathan said. He took the little speckled egg and squished it between his fingers. "Thank you, sir." He saluted the baffled Baker and walked away.

Louisa finished her call and snapped the mobile shut. "On their way," she said, walking back to Martin. She dabbed gently at the scrape on Martin's face.

"Oh… thank you." He was touched by her concern.

"Martin. Um…" She started to say something, but she was evidently self conscious that her father was watching so she walked away to talk to him instead.

Martin went back to examining the Baker when Jonathan showed up carrying the bag again and a crowbar.

"So uh, I gotta take off then, folks," he said, as if he had just stopped in for tea.

"Where did you get that bag from?" Martin demanded.

"I just got the crowbar from Big Plumber Man's van and pried your car door open." He handed the crowbar to Bert. "So thanks for that. I feel, uh… thanks for all your help."

Jonathan threw the bag onto the Baker, ignoring the poor man's groans, and held out his hand to Martin in a delusional gesture of reconciliation. This was the last straw. Martin grabbed the bag.

"Give that, give that back!"

"No!"

"Give that back to me!"

"Shut! Up!

Furious, Martin grabbed the bag, they scuffled, and he hurled it over the cliff to the ledge where they had just been.

KABOOM!

Everyone was shocked into silence. In the distance sirens began rapidly approaching.

"Excuse me," Martin. He took his medical bag and stalked away.

To be continued…