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'I didn't hear what you said.'
'It's my fault ... I should pluck out my eye, for it has offended me, it would be better to pluck my eye out than this.'
Rocky tries to stand up, but Erik holds him down with a gentle hand on his shoulder, and feels the big body vibrate, trembling with fear.
'You're in a state of deep relaxation,' Erik says, as sweat trickles down his back. 'But before you wake up, I want you to look straight at the preacher and ... tell me what you see.'
'I'm lying on the floor, I can see boots ... I can smell blood, and I shut my eyes.'
'Go back a little.'
'I can't do any more,' Rocky says, and starts to come round from his hypnosis.
'Stay there, just for a moment ... There's no danger, you're relaxed, you're telling me about the first time you saw the unclean preacher.'
'It's in the church ...'
He opens his eyes for a moment, then shuts them again, and mutters something inaudible.
'Tell me about the church,' Erik says. 'What's happening?'
'I don't know,' Rocky gasps. 'It's not a sermon ...'
'What can you see?'
'He's wearing make-up over his stubble ... and his arms are so f.u.c.king riddled with holes that-'
Rocky tries to stand up, but his chair falls over and he collapses and hits the back of his head on the floor.
61.
Rocky rolls on to his side and Erik helps him to his feet. He stretches his back, rubs his mouth with his hand, pushes Erik away and goes over to the window, looking through the gaps between the vertical bars.
'Do you remember anything from when you were hypnotised?' Erik asks, picking the chair up off the floor.
Rocky turns round and looks at him through narrowed eyes.
'Was I entertaining?'
'You talked a lot about the preacher. You do know what his real name is don't you?'
Rocky purses his lips and slowly shakes his head.
'No.'
'I think you do, and I don't understand why you're protecting him ...'
'The preacher is just a scapegoat, a-'
'Give me a name, then,' Erik persists.
'I can't remember,' Rocky says.
'A place, then. Where is he? Where's the Zone?'
Sunlight from behind shines through his beard onto his furrowed cheeks.
'Was this the first time you've hypnotised me?' Rocky asks.
'I've never hypnotised you before.'
'As far as I'm concerned, the evaluation was a waste of time,' Rocky says, without listening. 'But I liked talking to you.'
'You remember that? It's almost ten years ago ...'
'I remember your brown cord jacket, that must have been pretty d.a.m.n retro even then ... We used to sit on opposite sides of a table ... chipboard, with a birch veneer, you can tell by the smell ... Paper cups of water, Dictaphone, notebook ... and my head was really hurting again, I needed morphine, but I wanted to tell you about my alibi first ...'
'I don't remember that,' Erik says, taking a step back.
Rocky picks at the window between the bars.
'I wrote down Olivia's address, but that was never mentioned in court.'
'But you confessed to murdering-'
'Just tell me what happened to my alibi,' he interrupts.
'I didn't really take it seriously.'
Rocky turns round, walks closer, hunches up slightly and lowers his head, as if to see Erik better.
'So you never mentioned it to my defence lawyer?'
Erik glances quickly over his shoulder and can see that the guard outside the door has disappeared. Rocky shoves the chairs between them out of the way with his foot.
'I don't remember being given an address,' Erik says quickly. 'But if I was, I'm sure I would have handed it to your defence team.'
'You threw it away didn't you?' Rocky says darkly and steps closer.
'Calm down,' Erik replies, moving towards the door.
'You sentenced me to this,' Rocky shouts. 'It was you! You were the one who did this to me!'
Erik is standing with his back to the door, and raises his hands to hold Rocky back, but he doesn't stand a chance of defending himself. Rocky just brushes his arms aside and punches him in the chest with his fist. The blow feels like a sledgehammer. All the air goes out of his lungs and he can't breathe. The next punch strikes exactly the same place and Erik's head slams back against the door with a dull thud.
He is struggling to stay upright. The zip on his jacket catches on the textured wallpaper as he moves sideways to get away. He raises a hand to fend Rocky off, coughs and tries to breathe.
'Do you want me to look into your alibi?' he hisses.
'Liar!' Rocky roars, grabbing Erik by the chin and pressing his mouth closed.
Rocky pulls him towards him and slaps the side of his head so hard that his vision goes black. Erik staggers to one side with the force of the blow, falls over the plastic chair and careers into the metal bed-frame with a force that makes his back creak. He pulls the covers off the bed as he slides down on to the floor, his cheek burning.
'That's enough, now,' Erik gasps, shuffling backwards.
'Shut up,' Rocky yells, and shoves the plastic chair aside.
As he leans forward Erik kicks out at him and hits him in the chest. Rocky catches hold of his foot and Erik kicks out with the other one. His shoe comes off and Rocky stumbles back just as the guard comes in holding a taser.
'Stand against the wall, Rocky! Hands behind your head, feet wide apart.'
Erik gets slowly to his feet and adjusts his clothes. He picks up the covers from the floor with trembling hands, and puts them back on the bed.
'It might look a bit odd,' he gasps, tasting blood in his mouth. 'But I had cramp in my leg and Rocky was helping me take my shoes off.'
The guard stares at him.
'Cramp?'
'It feels better already.'
Rocky is standing quietly to the side with his fingers laced behind his neck. The back of his white vest is wet with sweat.
'What have you got to say, Rocky?'
He lowers his hands and turns round slowly, scratches his beard and nods.
'I was helping the doctor with his shoe,' he says gruffly.
'We did shout, but no one heard,' Erik explains. 'I tried lying down on the bed, but slipped off onto the floor.'
'Is it feeling better now?' Rocky asks, picking Erik's shoe up from the floor.
'Much better, thanks.'
The guard stands there with the taser in his hand, looks at them, then nods, although something obviously isn't right.
'The visit's over,' the guard says.
'If you can just tell me Olivia's surname, I can find her,' Erik says, meeting Rocky's gaze.
'Her name is Olivia Toreby,' he says simply.
Erik leaves with the guard, follows him along the corridor, and sees that Casillas is talking to the head of section in the dayroom.
'Did it go OK?' Casillas calls.
Erik stops in the doorway, his cheek still stinging from the force of the blow.
'I have to say, you've done a remarkable job with the patient,' he replies.
'Thanks,' Casillas smiles. 'I'm pretty sure he'd have been released if he'd applied for parole ... but he doesn't seem to think he's done his penance yet.'
Erik limps towards his car, gets out his phone and dials Margot's number to tell her about Olivia Toreby.
62.
Joona opens his eyes and looks up at the white ceiling. Daylight is filtering into the room around the edges of the dark-blue roller-blind. The window is open slightly, and fresh air is streaming in, cooling the clean sheets.
There are blackbirds singing in the garden.
He looks at the alarm clock and sees that he has slept for thirteen hours. Erik has left him a phone, and on the bedside table are two pink capsules and three tablets on top of a note saying 'Eat us now, drinks loads of water, and have a look in the fridge'.
Joona swallows the drugs, empties the gla.s.s of water, then groans as he stands up. But he can at least bear to put some weight on his leg. The pain is still there, but it's far from severe. The nausea and pain in his stomach have vanished as though they never existed.
He goes over to the window and looks out at the apple trees as he dials Lumi's number.
'It's Dad,' Joona says, feeling his heart tighten.
'Dad?'
'How are you getting on? Do you like Paris?'
'It's a bit bigger than Nattavaara,' his daughter replies in a voice that could be Summa's.
'How's college?'
'I'm still finding it confusing, but I think it's pretty good ...'
Joona rea.s.sures himself that she's got everything she needs, and Lumi tells him to shave off his beard and join the police again, and then they end the call.
Erik has left him a pair of black sweatpants and a white T-shirt. The clothes are too small, the trousers flutter round his calves and the T-shirt is tight across his chest. By the bed is a pair of white slippers, the sort you get in hotels.