Once the initial crime screen investigation was over, and Michael McKean’s body had been removed and his killer taken away in handcuffs, a car had brought Vivien and Russell to City Hall where they had arrived almost simultaneously with the captain and where Mayor Gollemberg was waiting for them.
First of all he had made sure that the danger of other explosions had been neutralized.
Bellew had explained that the bomb disposal experts had rendered the remote control that set off the explosions unusable and that, thanks to both the letter found in Father McKean’s possession and the map – the latter a brilliant intuition of Vivien’s – they now had a complete list of the buildings that had been mined. The clearance was scheduled to begin in a few hours.
Then Vivien had told the story in all its complexity and absurdity, right up to its dramatic conclusion.
At this point, Dr Grosso, a man in his mid-fifties who was the exact opposite of the stereotypical psychiatrist, realized that it was his turn. He got to his feet and began walking around the room, speaking in a calm voice that held everyone’s attention from the first words.
‘Based on what I’ve heard, I can hazard a diagnosis, though I reserve the right to modify it after I’ve had a closer look at the case. Unfortunately, not being able to talk directly to the person concerned, I have to rely on the testimony, which is why I suspect we’ll never be able to do anything other than hypothesize.’
He stroked his moustache, trying to express himself in terms that everyone could understand.
‘From what I’ve heard, I think Father McKean was severely disturbed. Firstly he had a split personality, and whenever his other persona, the man in the green jacket, entered him, he stopped being himself. To be clearer, when he put on that green jacket, he wasn’t pretending, he wasn’t playing a part like an actor, he really became a different man. But when that man left him, no memory remained. I’m sure his anguish at all those deaths was genuine. That’s proved by the fact that he decided to contravene one of the most important dogmas of his Church and violate the secrecy of the confessional if it would lead to the arrest of the culprit and the end of the attacks.’
Dr Grosso leaned on the desk and looked around. Maybe this was the way he acted when he lectured at the university.
‘This kind of syndrome is often accompanied by epilepsy. Let’s be clear what we mean by that word. I’m not talking about the disease we’re all familiar with, in other words, the eyes rolling up, the foaming at the mouth, the convulsions. Epilepsy sometimes presents itself in very different forms. During the attacks, the person affected may have hallucinations. So it isn’t unlikely that at such moments, Father McKean actually saw his own alter ego. The fact that he described him proves that. And at the same time it’s the proof of what I said earlier, that he was completely unaware of what was happening to him.’
He gave a shrug of his shoulders by way of introduction to what he next said.
‘The fact that he had a gift as a ventriloquist, and that in his youth he actually performed professionally, merely confirms this theory. There is often an identification between the ventriloquist and his puppet, at least where there’s some kind of predisposition. But as the puppet’s appeal to the public is the true source of the ventriloquist’s success, the ventriloquist may begin to feel envy or even aversion towards his puppet. A colleague of mine is treating a patient who was convinced that his puppet was having an affair with his wife.’
He smiled, but without mirth.
‘I realize that saying such things, may raise a smile. But I beg you to believe me that in a mental hospital they are far from uncommon.’
He moved away from the desk and again began pacing the room.
‘As for this John Kortighan, I think he was completely under the spell of Father McKean. He didn’t so much idealize him as idolize him. When he realized who he was and what he was doing, all he could do was strike down his idol. When I spoke with him, he actually suggested I tell everyone that he was responsible for the attacks, so that Father McKean’s good name and the memory of all the important things he had done in his life should remain intact. As you can see, the human mind is-’
The telephone on the mayor’s desk rang.
Gollemberg lifted the receiver. ‘Hello?’
He listened for a moment, without changing expression.
‘Good morning, sir. Yes, it’s all over. I can confirm that the city is no longer at risk. There are other explosive devices, but we’ve located them and are rendering them harmless.’
There was a reply at the other end, which the mayor appeared to accept with pleasure.
‘Thank you, sir. I’ll make sure you get a detailed report of this whole crazy business as soon as possible. That’s as soon as we’ve understood it.’
He listened again.
‘Yes, I can confirm that. Vivien Light.’
He smiled, presumably at something the other person was saying.
‘Of course, sir.’
The mayor looked up: ‘It’s for you’ – to her surprise held out the receiver to her.
Vivien lifted the receiver to her ear as if it was an unfamiliar object she had never touched before. ‘Hello?’
The voice she heard at the other end was one of the best known in the world.
‘Hello, Miss Light. My name’s Stuart Bredford. They tell me I’m the President of the United States.’
Vivien resisted the impulse to stand to attention but couldn’t restrain her emotion. ‘It’s an honour to speak with you, sir.’
‘The honour’s all mine. Before anything else, allow me to express my condolences on the loss of your sister. When a loved one dies, it’s as if part of us disappears with them. The gap can never really be filled. I know the two of you were close.’
‘Yes, sir. Very close.’
Vivien wondered how he had found out about Greta’s death. Then she reminded himself that he was the President of the United States and that he could probably find out about anything or anyone in a few minutes.
‘All the more credit to you. Even though you were grieving, you still managed to see this investigation through to its conclusion and in the process saved hundreds of innocent people from certain death.’
‘I did my job, sir.’
‘And I thank you for that, personally and on behalf of all those people. Now I’m the one who has a job to do.’
A pause.
‘First of all, I guarantee you that, in spite of what’s happened, Joy won’t close. As of now, I’m making that a special commitment. You have the president’s word.’
Vivien remembered the bewildered faces of the kids as they climbed in the bus taking them away. Knowing they would still have a home filled her heart with peace.
‘That’s wonderful, sir. Those young people will be happy.’
‘And as far as you’re concerned, there’s something I’d like to ask you.’
‘Go ahead, sir.’
A small pause, perhaps for reflection.
‘Are you free on the Fourth of July?’
‘I beg your pardon, sir?’
‘It’s my intention to propose you for the Congressional Gold Medal. It will be conferred here in Washington on the Fourth of July. Do you think you could keep that date free?’
Vivien smiled as if the president could see her. ‘I’ll cancel all my other engagements right away.’
