The Child

by Sebastian Fitzek

  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.

  14

  ‘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.

  15

  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.

  ‘Everything OK?’ she asked anxiously, feeling Simon’s forehead. She shepherded him over to the middle of the spacious underground room, where visitors could consult a noticeboard listing the animals housed there. It was the lightest spot in the entire chamber, so more could be seen of people than their dim silhouettes. Stern was reassured to note the look of relief on Carina’s face. Simon was smiling. He had merely swallowed the wrong way.

  Stern took advantage of this interlude to produce a rather fragile piece of paper from his coat pocket. It was remarkably well preserved, given that it had spent a decade in a dead man’s hand.

  ‘Simon, take a look at this. Do you recognize it?’

  Carina’s shadow was obscuring the drawing. She stepped aside.

  ‘I didn’t draw that,’ Simon said.

  Click.

  ‘I know, but the one at the hospital looks very like it.’

  ‘A bit like it.’

  ‘When did you do that drawing?’

  Click.

  ‘When I woke up. The day after the regression. I dreamed about it.’

  ‘But why?’ Stern looked at Carina, but she only shrugged. ‘Why this field?’

  ‘It isn’t a field,’ said Simon. He gave another cough and shut his eyes.

  Stern felt sure of it now: the dusty light bulb in the cellar had started to flicker, casting a fitful light over Simon’s memories.

  ‘So what is it?’

  ‘A graveyard.’

  Click.

  ‘Who’s buried there?’

  Click. Click.

  Stern felt a hand on his shoulder, the fingers digging into his flesh as if he were a shoplifter trying to escape. He was grateful to Carina for that minor discomfort. It distracted him a little from the horror of Simon’s answer:

  ‘I think his name was Lucas. I could take you to him if you like, but …’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘There’s nothing in the grave but his head.’

  16

  He was so tired. First all those questions, then the soporific noises inside the scanner, then the fresh air, and finally the dim lighting in that underground room at the zoo. He wanted to stay awake and listen but was finding it harder and harder, especially as the car smelled so nice and was purring along so smoothly.

  Simon rested his head against Carina’s soft shoulder and closed his eyes. Her stomach was rumbling and he sensed that she wasn’t feeling well. She hadn’t felt well ever since his mention of the grave made her tremble and the lawyer put his arms around her. Or perhaps she simply didn’t like the fat man who was driving. Stern addressed him as ‘Borchert’. He had a strange, breathy way of speaking, and although the day was very chilly he only wore a thin T-shirt with semicircular stains under the arms.

  ‘Anyone been to Ferch before?’ Stern asked from the passenger seat. Simon blinked at the sound of the name, which he’d told them before they left the zoo. Actually, he wasn’t sure the graveyard was really there, not any more. It was only a vague hunch. Ferch. The five letters appeared like glittering exclamation marks as soon as he shut his eyes.

>   ‘Yes,’ said the driver, ‘it’s just past Caputh beside the lake.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Stern asked suspiciously.

  ‘Because the Titanic’s near there. Used to be my biggest club.’

  Simon felt Carina adjust her position beside him.

  ‘Will we make it back by four o’clock?’ she said.

  ‘My satnav says we’ll be there in forty-five minutes,’ said Borchert. ‘It’ll be tight. We won’t have much time to look around.’

  Stern sighed. ‘Is the boy asleep?’ His voice sounded louder, as if he’d turned round to speak to Carina.

  Simon felt her bend over him. He hardly dared breathe.

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘Good, then I want to ask you something. But please be honest, because I think I’m beginning to lose my mind. Do you really believe in that sort of thing?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The transmigration of souls. Reincarnation. Previous existences.’

  ‘Well, I …’ Carina spoke hesitantly, as if she wanted to see his reaction before definitely committing herself. ‘Yes, I think so. People who have had near-death experiences appear to confirm it. They nearly all felt the soul leave the body before they were resuscitated. What’s more, some of them say they already knew, while dying, which body their soul would migrate to after death.’

  ‘That’s apocryphal. There’s no solid evidence.’

  ‘There is, you know.’

  ‘Like what?’ Simon heard the lawyer ask.

  ‘Haven’t you ever heard of Taranjit Singh?’

  There was no response, so Simon surmised that Stern had shaken his head.

  ‘A six-year-old boy living in the Jalandhar district of India. This really happened – there was an in-depth article on it not that long ago. Reincarnation is a staple component of Hinduism. The Hindus believe we all possess an immortal soul that enters another body after we die, sometimes even that of an animal or a plant.’

  ‘I don’t see why that should interest me now,’ Stern muttered to himself, so softly that Simon could hardly hear him.

  ‘Taranjit’s is only one of numerous well-documented cases of rebirth in India. Over three thousand children were questioned there by a reputable researcher named Ian Stevenson.’