Splinter

25

The narrow but surprisingly well-lit corridor was deserted. There was nothing to be seen apart from a trolley overflowing with dirty sheets and a soft-drinks dispenser at the far end.

Marc came back into the room. For one brief moment he was afraid that Emma, too, had disappeared. Then he heard her voice.

‘We must get out of here.’

She was tugging a holdall from under the bed. It looked far too small to contain all the papers strewn around the room.

‘Look, calm down.’

‘No, I won’t!’ She almost shouted the words. ‘You don’t understand the situation we’re in.’

‘You’re right, I don’t understand any of it, but you’re making no attempt to enlighten me.’

Emma slammed the holdall down on the clear side of the bed and brushed a thin film of sweat off her forehead with her forearm. Then she glanced at her watch. ‘All right, here’s the short answer: you’re in the amnesia programme because there’s something you’ve got to forget.’

‘Yes, I know.’

He started to tell her about the accident that had robbed him of his wife and unborn son, but she interrupted him after only a sentence or two.

‘No, that can’t be so.’

‘Why not?’

‘They wouldn’t go to these lengths if it was only a question of heartache.’

Heartache?

‘Hey, I’m not just talking about a broken date. My pregnant wife and unborn son are dead and I’m to blame.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but there’s far more involved here than a personal tragedy.’

‘What makes you say that?’

She struggled with the holdall’s zip, which had jammed. Marc came to her aid.

‘Have you any idea what this series of experiments is costing? Implementation, supervision, evaluation? Add in a new identity and it’ll run to seven figures. No, it’s quite out of the question.’

‘But why would they publicly advertise for guinea pigs if it’s so damned expensive?’

‘They don’t.’

She went over to the desk and opened a drawer. It was filled to the brim with old magazines.

‘When did you send that email?’

‘Two weeks ago.’

She pulled out one magazine after another and tossed them carelessly on the floor until she found what she was looking for.

‘Here.’

She handed him a news magazine. It was the issue in which he’d come across the Bleibtreu Clinic’s advertisement on page 211. The page number had lodged in his memory only because Clause 211 of the penal code related to murder. The habit of using mnemonics to remember telephone and room numbers was a lawyer’s disease you could never shake off, even if you didn’t practise as an attorney or judge.

‘Take a good look,’ Emma told him. ‘Go through it from beginning to end. You won’t find the advertisement there.’

It was true. On page 211 Marc found a puff for an internet bank, not a psychiatric clinic’s slogan.

Learn to forget.

The article at the top of the page, a report on the unutterable cruelty of transporting livestock over long distances, was still there.

Either there were two different editions of the same issue in Constantin’s waiting room…

He lowered the magazine and stared at it blankly.

…or the edition in Constantin’s waiting room was a fake. But that would mean…

He leant against the wall because he felt the room tilting beneath his feet.

‘What about you?’ he asked with his eyes shut. ‘What was your reason for taking part in the experiment?’ He heard Emma clear her throat.

‘It was about a year ago. I received a job offer that didn’t come via my translation agency. It sounded vaguely suspect but involved a great deal of money. Cash I now need to make good my escape.’

‘What was the job?’ Marc opened his eyes.

‘Routine, really. Simultaneous translation on a flight to Barcelona in a pharmaceutical company’s private jet.’

‘A flight during which matters were discussed which you’d have done better not to hear?’

‘Correct.’

‘What were they?’

‘No idea. That’s just my problem, I broke off the experiment too late. I can’t remember.’ She ran her fingers nervously through her hair. ‘I’ve only a patchy recollection of my identity and my life before the amnesia experiment. All I know is what I’ve gleaned from the papers I stole from records before I escaped.’

So that’s how she got hold of her CV. From the clinic.

‘Why did you escape?’ he asked.

‘Because of you.’

‘Me?’

‘I’m sure they explained the methodology of the experiment. In phase one your memories are deleted. In phase two you’re fed with memories of pleasant experiences you never wanted to forget. Last of all, you’re provided with a new identity.’

‘Yes, that I do remember.’ Marc laughed derisively. ‘But how come you know it if your memory has such big gaps in it?’

Emma gripped her Adam’s apple and cleared her throat again. ‘I’ve done some research on the internet since I escaped. There are a number of blog entries describing such amnesia experiments.’ Marc raised his eyebrows incredulously, but she pressed on undaunted. ‘Well, I was just starting on phase two when I overheard a conversation between Professor Bleibtreu and another man.’

‘What was it about?’

‘You.’

‘Me?’

Emma nodded. ‘Bleibtreu was arguing fiercely. He’d been asked to treat someone named Marc Lucas, but he was dead against it.’

Bleibtreu didn’t want to treat me? Then why did he pick me up in his car?

‘Who was the other man?’ Marc asked.

‘I’ve no idea. They were behind the frosted-glass door that separated the consulting room from my examination room. A nurse had brought me along too early – they didn’t know I was waiting next door.’

‘What else did they discuss?’

‘They talked about the bogus advertisement that had lured you there. So you could undergo further treatment.’

‘Further treatment?’

‘Yes, but this time it was to be done properly.’

What? What was to be done? And why?

Emma gave him no opportunity to pursue this train of thought. ‘Bleibtreu was startled out of his wits when he saw me,’ she went on. ‘He stepped in front of the other man, quick as a flash, so I never got a chance to see his face. After that I knew there was something fishy going on.’

‘And you escaped?’

‘An opportunity arose the very next day. I stole an overall from one of the cleaning staff.’ Emma looked down at herself with a disparaging expression. ‘I look more like a charwoman than an interpreter in any case. It was child’s play.’

‘But first you took your file?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, from the patients’ records. It was a fortunate coincidence our surnames are so close together. Ludwig, Lucas. My folder still contained my car keys and a parking card, but there was nothing in yours except this application form.’

She pointed to the form she’d taken back from him, which was now lying at the foot of the bed beside a textbook on neuropsychology.

Marc felt the back of his neck. ‘But why? I still don’t understand any of this. Who has designs on my memories? Why are they trying to drive me insane?’

Emma’s eyes widened. She gazed at him expectantly, like a teacher waiting for her pupil to come up with the right answer. ‘That’s just what I’m asking you. What deadly secret – one you can’t remember – are you carrying around with you?’

‘Deadly?’

She expelled a deep breath. ‘Yes. Why do you think I’m on the run? We’re in the greatest danger. We’re both in possession of some secret we want to forget. Our enemies are more powerful than us, that’s for sure, but together we may manage it.’

‘Manage what?’

‘To find out what they’re doing or have done to us. Then we document it and put it on the internet. We publicize the awful truth.’

Marc looked at his watch. Not for the first time, he wondered whether the alarm would go off at some point and extricate him from this nightmare. ‘Have you any idea how crazy you sound?’

‘Not half as crazy as the man who was giving Bleibtreu an earful.’

‘What do you mean?’ Marc felt his stomach fill with bile. ‘What else did he say?’

Emma’s hands started to tremble. She put them to her lips as if to lessen the impact of her words. ‘He said: “Marc Lucas mustn’t remember, or there’ll be more deaths”.’