The Child (11 page)

‘That means you’ve got one less suspect to worry about. From now on, though, you should make better use of your time.’

‘Who are you?’

Stern took hold of the mouse and the screensaver on the monitor disappeared, but he could see nothing apart from a normal user’s screen. He was about to check the Internet browser when the LED on the monitor went out. The voice had severed the connection. At the same time, an external program deleted all the browser entries and the computer shut down automatically. The voice was obliterating its digital footsteps.

Damnation!

Bathed in sweat, Stern flopped down on the chair behind the desk and stared at the psychiatrist’s lifeless body, which was suspended from the ceiling like a horrific pendulum. It was several seconds before he noticed that one of the lights on the office telephone in front of him was flashing.

‘Is that you again?’ he demanded.

‘Of course,’ the voice replied. ‘But
you
had better hang up.’

‘Why should I?’

‘Can’t you hear?’

Stern got up and stepped away from the desk. He stared in the direction of the open doorway. Sure enough, it sounded as if a metal cable in the stairwell had drawn taut.

The lift
.

‘You’ve got a visitor. Take a look at the desk diary.’

Stern’s eyes widened when he saw the entry underlined in red: Pol. interview – Insp. Martin Engler.

He checked his watch. The voice laughed.

‘I reckon he’ll be with you in about thirty seconds.’

Goddammit, why didn’t Andi warn me?
Stern pulled out his mobile. He felt sick when he saw all the unanswered calls. He must have muted his phone by mistake.

At that instant his phone flashed and started ringing – much louder than ever before. The shrill note filled not only the consulting room but the entire practice, passage and reception area included. It was a moment before he realized that the source of the noise wasn’t his mobile. It was the doorbell. Engler was already on the threshold.

‘Hello? Dr Tiefensee? Are you there?’

The inspector’s cold had definitely worsened in the last two days and gone to his chest. Stern could hear what an effort it cost him to raise his hoarse voice sufficiently to carry as far as Tiefensee’s consulting room.

‘What now?’ Stern whispered. He had turned off the hands-free system and picked up the portable handset so as not to attract the policeman’s attention. Engler was still in the reception area, but it wouldn’t be long before he came down the passage, turned the corner and saw the splintered door.
And then …

‘Anyone there?’ Engler called again. The words ended on a cough. Somewhere, an unoiled door handle squeaked. Stern pressed the phone even tighter to his ear. Panic was propelling the blood through his auditory canals at such a rate, he found it hard to understand the distorted voice.

‘You want me to help you?’ it said softly. ‘Me, of all people?’

‘You’d better get me out of here if you don’t want me talking to the police,’ Stern hissed angrily. ‘Is there a rear entrance?’

‘No, and don’t try climbing out of a window. You’d break your neck.’

‘In that case, what?’

From the sound they made on the creaking parquet floor, Engler was wearing hobnailed boots. He had evidently left the reception and set off along the passage. There was the muffled sound of a door closing.

‘Go over to the doorway and stand beside the medicine cabinet.’

All right
.

Stern tiptoed across the room, trying not to make a noise. He nearly tripped over a file that had fallen to the floor but recovered his balance just in time. In so doing he collided with Tiefensee’s body and set it swinging again. The ceiling hook creaked alarmingly.

‘Well, what now?’ He had reached the doorway and flattened himself against the wall between the door frame and a white medical cabinet with faceted glass insets.

‘Open it.’

He did so.

Three rooms along the passage another door handle was depressed. So Engler was proceeding systematically, looking into each treatment room in turn. Disappointed, he shut that door too.

‘See those surgical scissors in the second compartment from the bottom?’

‘Yes.’

Stern took hold of the gleaming instrument. It was cold to the touch.

‘Good. Take them and wait for Engler to get to you.’ The voice was also whispering now. ‘Wait till he sees the body. That’ll give you the advantage of surprise.’

‘What then?’

‘You stab him in the heart.’

‘Are you crazy?’

The metal instrument in Stern’s hand suddenly burned like fire. Was this a dream or was it real? Was he really standing in a room with a corpse dangling from the ceiling, armed with a pair of scissors and talking to a psychopath?

‘Do you have a better idea?’

‘No, but I’m not killing anyone!’

‘Sometimes it’s the best solution.’

More creaking footsteps in the passage. Engler was checking another room.

The distorted voice chuckled mirthlessly.

‘Oh well, I guess I’ll have to give you a helping hand.’

Stern felt a current of air fan his perspiring face, as if a window had been opened somewhere. It couldn’t be Engler, who was walking down the passage again. Another two steps, three at most, and he would turn the corner and see the splintered door lying on the floor. Stern expected to see the policeman’s toecaps peeping around the door frame at any moment.

‘Hello?’ someone called suddenly. His heart almost choked on the blood that was trying to flow ever faster through his veins.

It can’t be true
.

The ‘voice’ had been there all the time, only one room further along. Unlike Engler’s boots, his rubber soles scarcely made a sound.

‘Are you looking for me?’

Stern held his breath. His ears popped, he was tensing up so much. Everything around him suddenly sounded far louder, but he couldn’t put a face to the voice.

‘Please excuse my get-up,’ the man said. ‘I was in the middle of an experiment.’ Although his voice was now undistorted by a telephone it sounded muffled, as if he were speaking through a handkerchief.

‘Are you Dr Tiefensee?’ Engler asked warily.

‘No, the doctor just slipped out for something to eat. Hang on, what am I saying? You’re in luck – here he is.’

The last thing Stern heard Engler say was ‘Where?’ Then came a short, strangled cry followed by an electrostatic report. It sounded as if a light bulb had popped, but very much louder.

A stun gun
, thought Stern. Everything inside him itched to dash outside and see what was going on in the passage, but he was too afraid. Not of Engler or of being arrested, but of the madman whose undisguised voice he had just heard for the first time.

Unaware that he’d been clutching his mouth in suspense, he lowered his hand. Then he heard the receding footsteps of someone wearing rubber-soled shoes. They sounded like a child’s ball bouncing up and down.

Gingerly, Stern detached himself from the wall he’d been leaning against and stole out into the passage on trembling legs. Just in time to see a long-haired figure slam the heavy front door. He gave a start, then looked down at Engler. The detective was lying motionless on the floor, as he’d expected. His arms and legs were unnaturally splayed as if he’d been thrown from a car travelling at high speed.

Stern bent over the inspector and felt for his pulse. Reassured to find that he was still alive, he made his way cautiously to the front door. He speeded up a bit once he’d emerged on to the landing and descended the first flight of stairs, and when he reached the third floor he started running, holding on to the banisters as he raced down the remaining flights. But, when he dashed out of the building and into the busy street, he realized he was too late. Far too late. The long-haired figure in the doctor’s white coat – the man who had murdered Tiefensee and put Engler out of action – had vanished into a throng of tourists, businesspeople and passers-by. And, with him, the truth about Felix.

The nocturnally active animals were housed in the basement of the predators’ compound. The gloom that had greeted them inside reminded Stern of the times he’d got to the cinema late and been compelled to find his seat in the near-dark. On the other hand, the warm, steamy atmosphere smelled like an overheated pet shop.

‘This is great,’ said Simon, towing him over to a plate glass window behind which several balls of fur with big, wide eyes were scurrying around. For some reason, people tended to lower their voices as soon as they entered a darkened room, and Simon was no exception. ‘They look strong,’ he whispered.

‘Dwarf Plumploris.’ Stern read out the name on the dimly illuminated noticeboard without even glancing at the tiny semi-monkeys; he was still far too shocked. After his hurried exit from Tiefensee’s practice, Andi Borchert had driven him to his meeting with Carina. Now he was standing in the nocturnal house, his brain still unable to take in any new impressions. The same inexplicable questions kept going round in his head like an endless loop tape:

Who is the ‘voice’? How did Simon know about the bodies? Who killed those men in the past? Why should someone commit murder
now
to find out what happened
then
?

Stern was surprised to have to admit that those questions interested him for one reason only: because the answers might reunite him with his son. He shut his eyes.

Insane of me
.

He was seriously hoping that Simon’s memories would provide evidence of his reincarnation and, thus, of Felix’s continued existence. All objective facts to the contrary.

‘I’m sorry. What did you say?’

Simon was tugging at his sleeve. He bent down. The boy had said something, but it had gone astray somewhere in the darkness. He repeated the question.

‘Will Carina be back soon?’

Stern nodded. Carina had gone to the visitors’ toilet to weep in private.

She had seldom been as angry with him as she was when they met at the Elephant Gate. Having narrowly succeeded in smuggling Simon out of the hospital with Picasso’s help, she asked him straight out why she’d had to take such a risk. So Stern told her the whole story, whispering so as not to be overheard by Simon as they strolled through the largely deserted zoo: the DVD, the boy with the birthmark, and the sinister task the voice had set him. Unlike Borchert, Carina believed him at once. Stern could genuinely sense how receptive she was to the possibility of Felix’s reincarnation – much more so than he himself had been.

But, when he told her about Tiefensee’s horrific end, she had grasped the danger that threatened them all. Although she’d managed to keep her composure when wriggling out of his embrace, he knew what was going on inside her. He also realized that it would have been a mistake to run after her if she wanted to be alone.

‘Yes, she won’t be long,’ he said in a low voice, and they moved on to the next enclosure.

‘Good,’ said Simon. ‘The thing is, Picasso said we’ve got to be back by four or he’ll have to tell on us.’

Picasso?
It was a moment before the bearded nurse’s image surfaced in his mind’s eye. Although Stern’s collision with him and the elderly Abba fan had occurred only that morning, he remembered their encounter as if it were a scene from another life altogether. From that point of view, he and Simon could be said to have something in common.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said, patting the boy’s wig. ‘And don’t worry about that lie-detector test either.’

‘I passed,’ had been Simon’s first rueful words to him. Stern knew how it must look to the boy. Although the result cleared him of lying, it had simultaneously branded him a murderer. Simon was telling the truth. Stern felt almost ashamed of himself for welcoming this news, but the more impenetrable Simon’s secret became, the higher his own hopes rose where Felix was concerned.

‘You really mustn’t worry,’ he said again as they paused outside a terrarium containing some rat-like degus.

‘Why should I? They can’t get out.’

‘I don’t mean that. I’m talking about your bad memories. Don’t they scare you?’

‘Yes, they do, but …’

‘But what?’

‘Perhaps it’s my punishment.’

‘What for?’

‘Maybe that’s why I’m ill, because I did such bad things before.’

‘You mustn’t think that, you hear?’ Stern caught hold of the boy by the shoulder of his jacket. ‘Whoever killed those people, the Simon Sachs standing here in front of me wasn’t responsible.’

‘Who was, then?’

‘That’s what I’m trying to find out. And for that I need your help.’

The nocturnal house was even more sparsely frequented than the rest of the zoo. Stern welcomed the fact that nobody could overhear their absurd conversation. He decided to delve a little deeper into Simon’s reincarnation fantasy as they walked on.

‘Did you have a different name fifteen years ago?’

‘Dunno.’

‘Or look different?’

‘No idea.’

He let go of Simon’s shoulder. The boy crooked his forefinger and tapped a pane of glass with his knuckle. The small terrarium inside contained a small mound of earth and various desert plants, but no animal could be seen.

Carina, who had rejoined them, was hovering in the background as though reluctant to interrupt their conversation. Stern was momentarily struck by the thought that talking about inexplicable sensory phenomena outside the vampire bat enclosure might be more than merely coincidental. The aerial bloodsuckers that lived here ‘saw’ their environment in the form of ultrasound echoes.

‘Do you know
why
you killed those men?’ he asked, reflecting that any passer-by who chanced to overhear that question would instantly call security.

‘No, I don’t. I guess they were bad men.’

Click. Click
.

Stern was reminded of the flickering cellar light Simon had described to him that morning.

On. Off
.

Before he could ask if he remembered anything else, Simon emitted a dry cough. Stern shot a worried glance at Carina, who had also heard it and came hurrying over.