Or, the chancellor could pick the other option, which would be to destroy the files and deny their existence. It was something they should have done years ago, but histories are complicated things, and Romania’s was murkier than most. He should have stopped the British photographing some of the papers but they’d caught him off guard. The woman had been intriguing and distracting. He decided it didn’t matter. He hadn’t shown them everything, and it was easy to deny if the original was lost.
He was disturbed by a knock at the door.
‘Intră,’ he said, frowning at the clock. Most of his students should be gone by now. Perhaps the British had forgotten something. He waited but nobody entered. Another knock, softer this time.
‘Intră,’ he called again, more loudly this time, and headed for the door. He swung it open and stood back in surprise. The corridor was empty. Puzzled, he stepped forwards into the doorway. He turned his head to the left and felt the slightest of breezes to his right, not even a movement of air, but more an awareness – a subconscious sensation of somebody else sharing the same space.
He didn’t get a chance to see who. A thin rope was placed around his neck and pulled tight so fast his breath wasn’t even forced from his lungs. He tried to turn but the rope yanked backwards and he stumbled to the left, back through the doorway into his office. The door slammed and again he tried to turn to see his attacker but the rope was pulled tighter and his eyes watered. The pain in his neck was excruciating now, and he could feel a crunching sensation as his windpipe was crushed. His hands pawed at his throat but the rope was thin and dug into his skin. He couldn’t grip it, even if he’d had the strength to do so.
A whisper, a hiss, then nothing.
His heartbeat was audible now, thumping fast in his ears, hot and disconnected. His diaphragm contracted and he convulsed, falling to his knees, unable to bend over because of the pressure holding him back.
His vision faded at the edges, a grey curtain beginning to close on the show, his part in it extinguished. He opened his mouth twice but his jaw locked. The same sensation of losing the ability to move his muscles spread through his neck and into his body. His hands fell away and his legs folded at the hip. Face down, the brown wooden floor faded to grey, then black.
Then it was gone. His heart stopped a few seconds later.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
‘OK?’ Sophie emerged from the faculty building. Her hair fluttered in the wind as she bounced down the steps. It brought a smile to Alex’s face, in spite of the nausea. He was surprised. She hadn’t been gone long. Sophie paused at the bottom. It looked as though she was catching her breath. Alex thought he saw pain in her eyes.
‘Why so quick?’ he said, puzzled. ‘No luck?’
Sophie glanced at her watch. ‘I’ve been gone twenty-five minutes,’ she said, giving him a blank look. She paused, staring up at the sky, stretching her neck.
‘But no,’ she said, ‘no luck. Despite giving the archivist a verbal tour of my life, followed by a tour of his life in broken English, he wouldn’t budge. No access without Dr Petri or the chancellor.’
Alex checked his watch. He felt as though he’d just sat on the bench five minutes ago, the sun and warm air permeating his anxiety and calming his body. His daydreams had begun as complicated puzzles, picturing mind experiments on young children, wondering what they had managed to achieve. Was Victor Lazar a success or a failure in experimental terms? What were they trying to create, and for what purpose? Victor was deranged. Confused and corrupted. Full of vengeance and hatred. A victim of abuse, could he be blamed? Where was the line drawn?
The puzzles had faded and the daydreams had turned to Sophie. He didn’t need her here. He shouldn’t have brought her. Why had he?
‘So perhaps we’ll come back tomorrow,’ he said.
Sophie shrugged.
‘Until then—’
‘Dinner,’ said Sophie. ‘First thing to do in a new city, apart from work, is eat.’
‘Done,’ said Alex. Their eyes locked again and this time neither of them broke it.
‘But I thought you didn’t travel?’ he said.
Sophie looked surprised, caught off guard. Alex noticed but didn’t react.
‘I don’t,’ she said. ‘Still a good idea though?’
‘It is.’
‘OK then,’ said Sophie. ‘There’s a place not far from here. Good reviews. Authentic.’
They ordered quickly, following recommendations from the waiter. Alex’s dish turned out to be a grilled spiced sausage, while Sophie was given a stew of some kind. She thought it tasted like pork, but couldn’t be sure. Alex insisted on French wine despite the hefty mark-up. With all that had happened he at least needed something familiar. The restaurant was busy and full of locals, which was a good sign. They paid little attention to Alex and Sophie, who asked to be tucked away in a corner, away from the main bar.
Dinner was good but the conversation was strained. Alex tried to talk about the orphanage, but Sophie withdrew and kept glancing at Alex when she thought he wasn’t looking, searching his face. When he made eye contact she looked away.
‘Why did you stop for so long?’ Sophie asked, sipping her wine. ‘Working criminal cases. What happened?’
Alex sipped his own wine and studied Sophie. Given what she’d told him about her background, however untrue, he felt he owed her an explanation.
‘I combined some of my techniques,’ he said. ‘It didn’t go so well.’
Sophie leaned in but didn’t answer.
‘I was asked to consult on a case. Fratricide – a man’s brother had been murdered in a violent attack and he was prime suspect. He didn’t deny it, but sat tight and let the police run all over him. He was confused, withdrawn, crying out for help. The CPS insisted on a psych evaluation.’
‘Did he do it? Kill his brother?’
‘Oh, he did it, but the police investigation was full of holes and mistakes. They were getting nowhere – no evidence, nothing. As part of my assessment process I added hypnotic regression to my standard neuropsychological evaluation.’
‘He agreed to that?’
Alex cleared his throat. ‘Not exactly. He was confused. It was a fine line. That wasn’t the issue.’
‘Then what was?’
‘I tried to take him back to the date of the murder. I got a complete blockage. No way through. He’d done it, as was discovered much later, but he had no recollection of it.’
‘So?’
‘While he was under he went back much further, to the birth of his daughter and before. Several years of regression.’
‘Which revealed?’
‘Nothing at the time. But the case collapsed soon afterwards and he was released. He went straight home and murdered his wife and daughter. He stabbed each of them ten times. I was shown the crime scene photo. It still haunts me.’
Sophie put her glass down, picking at one of her fingernails.
‘He was caught a few hours later. And do you know what he did? He asked the police to thank me.’
Alex took several deep breaths. He hadn’t talked about this for a long time, and he was finding it harder than he’d anticipated.
‘He killed his brother for having an affair with his wife. He discovered it when he caught them in the act. What he didn’t know was the affair had been going on for many years. Right back, in fact, to before the birth of his daughter.
‘During our session he regressed and unearthed memories that should have stayed hidden. Memories of conversations between his brother and his wife around the time of his daughter’s birth.’
Sophie gasped. ‘She wasn’t his daughter?’
‘She wasn’t. They confirmed it post-mortem.’
‘It isn’t your fault.’
‘He never knew until I put him under. He never realised. I forced his mind to surface thoughts and memories that should have stayed hidden. His psyche had hidden them for a reason. Because of what I did, he killed his wife and her child.’
Alex drained his glass. He placed it on the table and twisted it in his hands, pausing before continuing. ‘After that case I realised the destructive power of my profession when we get it wrong. We understand so much, yet so little. Delving into people’s minds is an immature science, even for those of us who have studied it for years. I was wide of the mark and couldn’t risk it happening again. That’s why I stopped working for the CPS and entered private practice.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, extending her hand across the small table.
Alex took it. Her palm felt soft, her fingers fidgeting, but she used them to caress the back of his hand.
‘But it didn’t solve anything,’ he said. ‘Private work is lucrative, sure, and sometimes interesting, but it’s not where my heart is. I went a little self-destructive afterwards. I’d always been emotionally distant from Grace, never able to commit myself in the way I knew I should. Does that sound odd?’
Sophie shook her head. Her eyes dropped to the table. She examined his hand as she traced her finger lightly over the back of it.
‘I always looked at my parents and saw such a disaster. I guess I never really believed that, coming from them, I could make a normal family of my own. My training should have told me otherwise, but it’s much easier to dish advice out than it is to take it oneself.’ He paused, wondering why he was telling Sophie all of this. Wondering why he felt so comfortable doing so.
‘My vision became self-fulfilling. I collected all of my stresses and insecurities and destroyed the perfect family I could have had. I was aware of the damage I was doing, but ignored it, throwing myself into work and pretending things would work out.
‘After the failed case, well, that was the final straw. I shut Grace out and did things I’m not proud of, searching for an escape. I was unfaithful and spiralled into self-pity for a good few months, drinking myself into such a mess I would sleep in my office rather than go home. It wasn’t long before Grace asked me to leave.’
Sophie nodded, holding his hand, not talking or judging, just listening. Alex breathed, feeling a weight lifting from his shoulders. A brief confession of sorts, and good for him. His unease at Sophie’s behaviour loosened and his anxiety dropped. He realised he’d been hunched, tense in the neck and back. As he gazed up he thought he saw the same relaxation in Sophie’s eyes. She looked exhausted, but comfortable with him. Her own frequent anxiety seemed spent, if only for now. Alex felt himself wanting to prolong this moment for as long as he could. He put his other hand over hers, not wanting to say anything for fear of breaking the spell.
It had been his turn to open up. Something he’d hardly ever done with Grace, and never with Jane. The act of doing so was therapeutic in itself, but with Sophie it felt intimate. Whatever haunted her, she related in some way to what he’d said. The trauma he’d experienced triggered not just empathy but something deeper in her. Understanding. It gave Alex comfort – to have broken through whatever wall she put up. She was letting him in.
It should have been like this with Grace. He should have taken the help she offered. But he had been too raw – the pain too recent, too intense – and he’d pushed her away, seeking comfort from other sources. It had been nothing but a cheap high, an ego boost. His marriage, already on shaky ground, had not been able to withstand it.
Sophie left her hand in his and downed her wine before topping it up again, almost to the brim. She did the same to his glass. Alex felt his stomach flutter.
His strange attraction to Sophie was at tipping point. He felt on the edge, ready to commit either a misguided betrayal of trust or a leap into a strange new relationship. Alex felt lost, and she seemed to know it.
‘Let’s go,’ she said, draining her glass. Alex tried to do the same, as Sophie led him away from the table.
They left the restaurant barely talking. The night was just getting started as far as the city was concerned, but they headed away from the noise. Alex scanned for a taxi as they walked, avoiding growing crowds of people out for the night. Laughter seeped out of nearby bars and the odd drunk barged past. Alex focused on his thoughts and slid a Xanax into his mouth to combat the growing anticipation in his gut.
The taxis were plentiful and they hailed one within a few minutes. They sat close in the back seat of the taxi, their legs touching. Sophie made no move to separate. Alex felt his excitement surge. He tried to read her eyes, but it was impossible. They sucked him in and made him feel lost, insignificant, as if she had the universe on her shoulders.
She bit her bottom lip, the corners of her mouth flaring. Her eyes were darting between his eyes and his lips. She flicked her hair back from her shoulders, her hand lingering, playing with a few strands. Her eyes didn’t leave him.
In the hotel they climbed the stairs, silent on the thick carpet. Alex’s heart pounded, his thoughts lingering on the brief touch in the car. He had a few seconds before they reached their rooms. He opened his mouth to speak but his voice caught in his throat. He swallowed and the moment was gone.
But Sophie stopped outside her room and rested her head against the door before turning towards him. Her eyes were wide and her lips parted.
She opened the door to her room and held it open. Alex raised his eyebrows and she nodded, a small smile escaping before she slid inside.
As the door closed behind them, Alex reached out and took Sophie’s hand.
‘Look, I—’ he began, but Sophie shook her head, putting her hand on his cheek and pushing her mouth against his. Alex didn’t resist and they kissed. She tasted warm and unfamiliar, her smell sweet and musky. He pushed his tongue into her mouth and she put both arms around his neck, exhaling as he pushed her back against the wall.
Their mouths remained locked as he yanked at her skirt until it was hitched around her waist. His breathing was heavy and his hands shook as he held her, heart racing. Her physical attraction was seductive, but this was something more primal. She pulled at something deeper in him. He felt the need to hold her and protect her. He was overwhelmed with lust and her willingness thrilled him.
He caressed her with more care but still with urgency, and they undressed, gently at first but with more aggression as the moment took them.
Naked, they manoeuvred themselves around the small room and towards the bed. Sophie slid on to it with Alex in front of her. Without pause he climbed on to the bed and they embraced. He held her and she gasped, emitting a low groan, before rocking her hips, urging him to follow her lead.
As Alex moved and she responded, their eyes never broke contact and he felt closer to her than he had ever felt with a woman. He wasn’t sure how long he would last, the taste and smell of Sophie driving him to the verge, not helped by the gasps of air escaping from her mouth. He could feel her breath coming in fits and starts.
They moved in sync for several minutes, eyes locked, until Sophie threw her head back, rocking her hips ever harder. Finally she trembled, while Alex was forced to slow, stopping every second or two. In response her movements intensified until she shuddered violently and gasped, letting out a cry, reaching up and digging her nails into Alex’s chest. She held her position for several seconds, before falling back and taking several large breaths.
Alex climaxed and didn’t try to stop it. When he opened his eyes, Sophie kissed him gently on the lips.
He put his head on her shoulder and panted into her neck for a few moments. ‘I, uh . . .’ he whispered. ‘That was . . .’
Sophie shushed him and sat up, pulling the duvet over her legs. Alex leaned over and picked up her blouse and skirt from the floor. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and they faced each other.
Sophie stared into space. The tension in her jaw was gone, but replaced with a look of longing. She looked sad. Alex shifted towards her. She glanced up.
‘Are you OK?’ he said, thinking it was a stupid question. Sophie looked flushed. He thought he saw disappointment in her eyes. Regret?
‘I’m fine,’ said Sophie. ‘I�
��m fine.’
‘You’re amazing,’ he said, then, struggling for words, ‘I’m sorry if it was a bit . . . Perhaps it was inappropriate.’
She shook her head. A soft smile appeared. ‘No, that’s not it. It was lovely. It really was.’
Alex remained silent, worried he’d already spoiled the moment. He thought they could both do with a drink, and looked around for the fridge, when his phone buzzed, still in the pocket of his trousers on the floor.
He checked the time before he picked up. Nine thirty. He sniffed, cleared his throat and answered.
‘Hartley,’ said Alex. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to call. What’s up?’
Hartley sounded distant, the phone connection crackling as she breathed heavily into the other end. ‘I need you to come back, right away.’
Alex shuffled on the bed, attempting to cover himself. Sophie frowned, questioning.
‘We’ll be back tomorrow or the next day,’ said Alex, shrugging at Sophie. ‘Why—’
‘Try to get a flight tonight if you can,’ said Hartley.
‘But we’ve discovered some startling information,’ said Alex. ‘We need to follow it up.’
Hartley sounded interested. Alex gave her a brief summary of their conversation with Dr Petri and what they’d found, reluctantly focusing away from Sophie and on to work. He offered to email some of the images across.
‘You’ve poked a wasp’s nest there,’ said Hartley. ‘You think you’ve learned as much as you can?’
‘Maybe. Depends how much they’ll open up to us.’
‘I’m afraid my request is the same. Robert agrees. We need you back here.’
‘Why?’
‘We’ve had two murders in the city. The connections with this case have just been made. We think it was him.’
Trance Page 18