Sleepwalkers (37 page)

‘I’m going to kill you,’ Ben said. ‘You do realise that, don’t you?’

‘Well, you’re certainly going to try,’ Edward replied. His voice was definitely posher.

‘Got back-up? I seem to be able to take most men down.’

‘Yes, you’re very handy. And no, there’s no one else here.’

‘Aren’t you scared? I know who you are, old man. I know what you did to me. And tonight, I’m going to stop it all.’

‘Why would killing me stop it all?’

Ben was thrown by the question, unnerved by how calm and collected Edward was.

‘I want you to tell me things,’ Ben said. ‘Before I do it.’

‘Okay.’

‘Not here. Let’s go into the sitting room.’ Ben produced a roll of rope from behind his back.

‘You’ve planned ahead.’

‘Don’t mock me.’

‘I’m not mocking. This is all being recorded, by the way. You wouldn’t expect otherwise, would you?’

Of course. Cameras were everywhere. There was nowhere in the world where one could hide out of sight any more.
Something tightened in Ben’s throat. Edward suddenly didn’t seem so vulnerable.

‘Are they watching now? Are they coming for me?’ Ben asked quietly.

‘No one’s watching right now and no one’s coming. I told you. It’s just you and me.’

Edward’s fingers twitched lightly by his sides.

‘I remember you,’ Ben said, his voice clearer as he spoke. ‘You’re the one who stole me. It’s you that destroyed my life. I see your face staring down at me. You. You are the thing in the night. I’ve been so scared of you for so long. But not any more.’

Edward merely nodded.

‘Now we’re going to go into the other room and you’re going to answer my questions. Every single fucking one.’

‘I will,’ Edward calmly replied. ‘But first. Your name is Ben?’

‘Yes.’ As he heard his name, the tension seemed to ease from inside him. It was as though a cushion had been gently wrapped around the back of his neck.

‘Ben Jones, is this you?’

‘Yes,’ he replied, and found that he was starting to smile. He wasn’t sure why, but he suddenly felt happy. Anxieties drifted off and away from him. He began to wonder what he was doing here. He knew, somehow, that a third question was coming.

‘Ben Jones, are you ready for us now?’

‘Yes.’

And suddenly nothing mattered at all. He felt so happy and calm. His fists uncurled. He tried to remember why he’d come here, but his head was in such a delightful fug that such thoughts just weren’t worth the effort. He stood there, a stoned
grin on his face, swaying slightly. He waited to be told what to do. Whatever it was, he’d do it.

Edward put a hand on his arm and led him away from the door, into the other room. Inside, Ben saw that the few remaining pieces of furniture had all been removed and had been replaced by a small leather armchair and a high, long table, the sort used for massages, perhaps. But a masseur doesn’t use restraints.

Ben gazed at the table with heavy eyelids. Edward gestured for him to lie down. And he did so. And as Edward slowly and carefully used each restraint to tie down his arms and legs, so Ben started to hum an old-fashioned nursery rhyme. And then, happy, doped and utterly mellow, he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

*

Ben woke with a start. He pulled up sharply, but was held tight by the restraints on the table. It took him a moment to work out where he was. He’d come in, he’d threatened the old man, he was going to hurt him and then …

He couldn’t remember any more. He looked down and saw that his legs and arms were bound tightly by thick leather ties. He pulled against them, but there was no give. And then he noticed Edward sitting in a leather chair nearby, still dressed in his suit and tie. It was dark outside. Ben guessed that, at most, a few hours had passed. He looked at him, then down at the restraints again.

‘You might try to hurt me otherwise,’ Edward explained.

‘I’d kill you, yes.’

‘Well, you might try.’

‘What was all that about? The old drunk routine?’

‘Was I any good? I’m not a big drinker and it was starting to take its toll.’

‘My question.’

‘It was so I could spend time with you. See you close up, first-hand. I’ve watched you for years, but it’s always been through a lens or a recording.’

‘You’ve been playing with me.’

‘My work has no time for games.’

He held Ben’s stare, sitting straight-backed in the chair. He was not the same man at all.

‘Who are you?’

‘My name is Edward Clitheroe. The other Edward, Edward Groves, whose family are buried in the graveyard, he left here about four months before you turned up. His loss, his story is true, even if it isn’t mine. But I’m a bit of a magpie when it comes to stories. Like those other gravestones – the ones you thought were your parents’ until you visited the place for real.’

‘So where are my real parents?’

‘Dead. A cremation in Southend-on-Sea.’

Ben tried to remember this. Nothing came, but somehow it felt true.

‘How did you know I would come here?’ he asked.

‘It was planned. We control you.’

‘If you control me, how come you have to tie me down? Let me up and let’s see how much control you’ve got.’

‘You shouldn’t be so angry. I saved you, Lee.’

‘That’s not me.’

‘Why not? Because Lee was a thug? Because he drank, screwed around, stole from his friends?’

‘I’m nothing like that.’

‘No, but you’re starting to feel more like it each day. Isn’t that right?’

Again, Ben was silenced. The old man knew too much about him. Everything about this conversation was one-sided.

‘Who am I, really?’ Ben asked. ‘Tell me. Tell me what you’ve done to me.’

Edward leaned back in the chair. His eyes were incredibly blue. His face seemed so alive, buzzing with thoughts and ideas.

‘You were a soldier, serving in Iraq, but you already know that. We had tabs on a number of men like you. Men who had no family, who had a penchant for violence. When your unit was attacked, you were badly injured and taken to a military hospital. We had contacts there and your records were changed. Dead on arrival. You were then transported to a private hospital and patched up. And then, when you were well enough, you were brought to me.’

He stood and came closer.

‘My speciality is the mind.’

‘You’re the one who put all those dreams in my head.’

‘Which ones?’

‘The ones where I … did stuff.’

‘I think you know that those aren’t dreams.’

Ben was out of breath. He’d just remembered a woman in a hotel room, falling backwards from the door as he attacked her with a small hammer. He shuddered at its intensity.

‘What have you just seen?’ Edward asked, peering down at him.

But Ben didn’t answer. He didn’t want to acknowledge that other part of himself that seemed to be swelling inside him, spreading like a cancer.

‘They upset you. I’m sorry. I could get rid of them, if you’d like.’

‘You talk like you’re God.’

Edward ignored the jibe. ‘At least I gave you Carrie and the kids.’

‘Fuck you.’

‘But you were happy.’

Ben suddenly remembered Emma, six months before, dancing to some pop group’s song. She danced so seriously that he and Carrie were left weeping with laughter.

‘I’m just an experiment, aren’t I?’

‘Everything is an experiment. We test, we learn, we improve. I’m just one of many.’

‘And there are more like me.’

‘Hundreds.’

The number shocked Ben. Edward turned and walked to the window, opening it slightly, then digging into his pocket and pulling out a cigarette which he lit. He blew the smoke out of the small opening.

‘Control of the damaged mind,’ the old man said. ‘Removing the more dangerous elements and relieving it of unnecessary thoughts.’

He blew a thin line of smoke through the window.

‘You made me kill people,’ Ben said. ‘Didn’t you?’

Edward shrugged. ‘Sure.’

‘Sure? Fuck! How does that help my mind?’

‘It’s not just your mind. It’s everyone’s.’

He gazed out of the window. Ben could hear the sea behind him.

‘Imagine, Ben, that you wanted to arm the police. The public,
right now, would say no. They say this because they are sentimental about the good old British bobby. But you know that criminals are importing weapons into the country at a terrifying rate and that they regard our police service with increasing ridicule. You know that the police need to be armed. Fact. So you create an event, a shock, which helps change the public’s thinking.’

He exhaled again, a low slow breath of absolute calm and confidence.

‘It could be a massacre at a school, perhaps. Or the shooting of three unarmed police women in the middle of a park. A shock. Turning public opinion.’

‘And I would do this?’

‘One of you.’

‘It’s disgusting.’

‘It’s extreme, that’s all. Look at climate change. No one will agree to anything. The planet will boil and die unless we do something. Wouldn’t a small shock be worth saving the planet?’

‘There was a woman, in a hotel …’

‘Yes. She was having an affair with one of our patrons. And she was about to print some material that was damaging to the cause.’

‘That’s not saving the world.’

‘Did you care? No, you were happy with your son.’

Ben imagined lying in bed with Joe, his son’s head nestled on his shoulder as he listened to a story being read to him.

‘But I hurt her, I …’

Another memory flickered into focus. A man, his age, jogging along the towpath of a canal. The low winter sun lit his
breath as he ran. Ben followed until he was sure that no one was following. And then he pulled a knife from his jacket and stabbed him. He left the man staring up at the perfect sky, trying to speak: stunned, scared, slowing fading. Another memory clattered into this one, a newspaper front page. The same man on the cover. Ben felt sick as he realised what he had done.

Edward looked down at him as though he could read his mind.

‘A man, a politician.’

‘Yes. The housing minister. He was very unpopular before he died. But after that, people were clamouring to uphold his memory. A law was passed as a result, protecting working-class families in council homes. His death has benefited hundreds of thousands.’

‘How many have you made me kill?’ Ben gasped.

‘None that you can blame yourself for. You simply answered a phone call. Like all the others. One call, three questions and then whatever we asked. In the morning, you remembered nothing except the new memories we’d supplied: rugby games or drinks with friends.’

Ben squeezed his eyes shut, scared that more memories, more grotesque violence would seep in. He felt a hand on his shoulder. Edward gazed calmly down at him.

‘I can make it go away. I can give you back Carrie.’

The punch of her name nearly winded him.

‘If you want her, that is.’ Edward’s eyes gauged and scrutinised. Ben felt that there was nothing he could hide from him.

‘She misses you. So do the children.’

‘Don’t.’

‘Is she fading yet? It should start about now. We got rid of the clutter in your mind so you could be Ben. But the longer the gap between treatments, the more your old self and your old memories rise to the surface. There are two opposing personalities within you. We gave you Ben. Without us, Lee will take over.’

‘No. I’m Ben.’

‘Lee would spit on Ben if he passed him on the street.’

‘Lee’s dead.’

‘No, Lee is very much on the way back. You may have resisted it for now, but the feelings will overwhelm you. Unless you let me help.’

He leaned forward, his fingers twitching again.

‘Carrie wouldn’t touch Lee with a bargepole,’ he added. ‘Without me, you’ve lost her forever.’

‘You’ve got me strapped down, just do it if you want to.’

‘No. You must ask.’

‘What?’

Edward’s hands were suddenly still. He stood up and moved with a speed that belied his age. He untied one of Ben’s arms and then the other. Ben sat up, undoing the restraints on his feet. He swung his legs over the table and now the two men faced each other. One lunge and Ben would have the man in his grip.

‘I want you to ask.’ Edward said. ‘Ask and I’ll wash it all away. You’ll wake with a start and there will be Carrie. And everything will be as it was.’

‘And the other bit?’

‘You’ll still do that. From time to time, when we require.’

‘I can’t.’

‘I thought you loved her.’

Ben was silent. He was unbound, but scared to move.

‘Without us, she’ll fade away. You’ll remember her vaguely, but you won’t be interested in her. You’ll chase other women.’

‘I love her.’

‘I made you love her. Do you get that? I put love into your damaged mind. Without me, you are just another selfish, stupid man.’

Ben’s eyes were red and he bit his lip to control his pain. ‘She’s my girl.’

‘No, she’s mine. You’re mine.’

‘Carrie!’ Ben screamed. Rage burst out of him and he overturned the table, sending it crashing to the floor. ‘Carrie!’ He screamed her name over and over as though he could summon her there and then, as though her name proved that his love was real and permanent.

Edward was unmoved.

‘Ask me.’

‘I’ll run away.’

‘You’ll forget her.’

‘No. Never.’

‘How did it feel when you attacked those men?’

‘They attacked me.’

‘Was it exciting? Did it bring it all back?’

‘I’ll stop you.’

Edward’s contempt was all too visible.

‘I will!’

‘What are you going to do? Go to the police? Join a student march? A riot?’

‘I’ll hurt you. I’ll fucking torture you till you give her to me.’

Edward’s eyes narrowed, but there was still no fear.

‘Is that you, Lee? Are you back already?’

Ben shrank from him. He really could feel those old cruel emotions. He could taste it in his mouth. And he hated it. The old man watched him with his relentless gaze. Ben couldn’t move. He couldn’t fight him. He couldn’t outwit him. He had nothing.

‘Just close your eyes and nod if that makes it easier. Think about your wife, Ben.’