Page 145 of Reinventing Cato
“Thank God,” Cato gasped. “I’ve been trying to think what to say when you finally opened your eyes. The Kraken awakes? You’re alive? Are all your parts in working order? I couldn’t decide which to go with. So I figured a kiss was the way to go, but are all your parts in working order? Like me to check?”
Vigge laughed and coughed. “Water?” he croaked.
Cato grabbed a glass and poured him some, his fingers shaking so much that he managed to spill the water on Vigge as he helped him drink.
“Sorry. I’ve made you all wet. Not as bad as almost getting you killed.” Cato whined. “Am I ever going to be able to saysorryenough times? I know I’m babbling. Sorry. Shit. See?”
“What happened? How long have I been in here?”
“Nineteen hours.”
“How long have you been here?”
Cato managed a smile. “A bit less than that.”
“Are you okay?”
Cato took hold of his hand and brushed his thumb over Vigge’s fingers. “What do you remember?”
Vigge struggled to concentrate, his memory was hazy. “The party… Pedro waylaid me on the way to the bathroom. He said there was something worrying him about Sam. I felt…increasingly odd as he talked to me. Dizzy, faint—drunk, but not with it enough to register what was happening. He dragged me outside, mumbling something about showing me Sam’s car and then I felt a sudden pain in my neck and that’s all.” His anxiety ratcheted up a notch. “He injected me with something, didn’t he? What the hell happened?”
“You disappeared from the party. I couldn’t find you. You didn’t answer your phone. I know now that Pedro somehow managed to get you close enough to your car to push you inside. He’d spiked your beer, then he injected you with Rohypnol.”
“Christ.”
“The doctors had to give you an antidote. You were really… It was a dangerous amount.” Cato clutched Vigge’s fingers.
“How the hell did he spike my beer? I was careful. I never put it down.”
“He’d tampered with the six-pack of Coors Light. Screw-top bottles. He knew we’d found the letter opener, so he knew we’d be on guard. Gambled that neither of us would be drinking much and that no one else would touch the low-alcohol stuff when there was plenty of booze on hand. The police have the remaining bottles as evidence; he didn’t have a chance to dispose of them.”
“Oh God. I’m pissed off with myself.”
“In retrospect, we shouldn’t have drunk anything at all. Anyway, I had a message from you, but obviously not from you, telling me to go to the top level of Morley Street car park and not tell the police.”
“Christ. Before I hear the rest, does this have a happy ending?”
“I gave you a kiss. You woke up. All your bits are intact. What more do you want?”
Vigge smiled. “If we’re being picky, I woke and then you gave me a kiss.”
Cato huffed. “That’s not the story we’re going to tell. Our alternative version of Sleeping Beauty sounds far more romantic.”
“Why do I get the feeling there’s a lot more to this than you’re telling me?”
“Maybe a bit more. Max turned up at the party just as I had that text. I wasn’t fit to drive so he drove me to the car park.”
“Why weren’t you in a fit state to drive? I told you not to drink too much.”
“I didn’t. I had tap water while I was cooking and a swig of yours, remember?”
Vigge frowned. “Mine? Did you?”
“I told Max to call the police once I was on the top floor. My heart stopped when I saw you, your car and Pedro. You were lying on the ground not moving.”
“I don’t remember.” Vigge clenched his fists. “Bloody Rohypnol.”
Cato sighed. “You slept through everything.”
