York pictured the sealed boxes he kept in storage, photographs of his family secreted away inside. Erased? ‘Yes, I probably would.’
‘Then you don’t need to ask me anything more on the topic. Do you?’
‘You’re not in control of this interview, Julian. Don’t push your luck.’
Faulkner smiled. ‘Like I said in the alley that night, you need me. I keep you alive. Do you want to become like these people? The Freudian wannabe here, the loyal sentinel on the door? Or how about Superintendent Mason who is no doubt watching from behind the glass? These people are not like you and I. They’re as good as dead because they care about nothing but money and possessions. But you and I…you and I, Nicolas, we live for a purpose.’
‘Oh? And what is that exactly?’
‘The chase,’ Faulkner revealed, ‘the adrenaline. Have you not learnt anything from me? With nothing left in your life, especially now your partner is dead, it has been me and me alone keeping you alive simply with the power of occupation. Were I not here, you would shrivel up further into your ball and be dead by Christmas. I kept you alive, me!’
‘By sticking me with a knife and leaving me to die?’ York challenged. ‘Besides, it wasn’t exactly you alone, was it?’
Faulkner twitched.
‘Where’s your brother, Julian?’
‘Brother?’
‘Or perhaps his name is Julian and you go by something else!’
Faulkner appeared genuinely perplexed. ‘If this is some type of psychoanalytical test, Nicolas, you will fail. I do not have a brother. I am Julian.’
‘I could wheel a monitor in here right now and show a video of you and your brother standing with your father.’
‘You’re mistaken. Having a brother is the kind of thing a person remembers, would you not agree?’
‘Just tell us where he is, Julian, I’m finished talking with you. I just want to go home to bed. The sooner your brother is apprehended, the sooner that can happen. So, one more time, where is he?’
‘So it is a test then,’ Faulkner decided disappointedly. ‘How original.’
‘I saw you put through that assault course. I saw your father abusing you, forcing you to do it over and over again until you made it flawlessly to the end. And I saw another boy, exactly the same as you, except he carried a birthmark right here.’
‘Change the record please,’ Faulkner sighed. ‘You and I both know I don’t have a brother.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘Am I?’
Doubt began to manifest inside York’s gut. The fact that Julian Faulkner was a grade-A psychopath, and therefore one of a very convincing breed, warned him to tread carefully, to avoid being taken in by the bullshit. Or, had there been something wrong with the cine film and some kind of ghosting had occurred creating a second imperfect image of Julian on the reel. No one in Market Rasen had mentioned a twin, let alone a twin with a skin defect.
‘Can you feel it, Nicolas?’ Faulkner smiled coldly. ‘That niggling sensation grating on your insides, telling you you’re wrong. It was a fine notion too while it lasted. I would’ve liked a brother.’
‘Fuck,’ York muttered and stood to leave. Woodrow stood too, his notepad in hand. ‘You’re going to tell me where he is, Julian, or this is going to get much worse for you.’
Faulkner scoffed. ‘And how much worse do you suppose it can get?’
Out in the corridor, York and Woodrow were joined by Mason.
‘Just what the fuck is going on?’ Mason snapped at no one. ‘Does he not have a brother or is he trying to fool us?’
‘I believe the answer is neither,’ Woodrow interjected. The man had a squeaky voice that matched his suit.
‘Neither?’ York questioned. ‘That doesn’t make sense, Woodrow.’
‘It makes perfect sense if you look at it from the angle of the mind,’ Woodrow assured them. ‘There was an interesting case-study on this subject written up by an incredibly established practitioner named Karl Fiebig fifteen or so years ago.’
‘Please get to the point,’ York grumbled. ‘Does the crazy man have a brother or not?’
‘Ignore him, Doctor,’ Mason butt in. ‘But yes, does the crazy man have a brother or not?’
The timid Woodrow composed himself. ‘Have either of you ever heard of a condition called Multiple Personality Disorder?’
‘Schizophrenia?’
‘No, not schizophrenia, that’s a common misconception. A schizophrenic sufferer is born with the affliction. It’s a brain disorder that causes hallucinations so vivid the subject could believe he had a demon in the passenger seat of his car, or that a cow had just flown past his window. The sufferer will also be clumsy or struggle to take care of himself. More relevantly, he is unable to plan anything. The man in that room is meticulous, scrupulous.
‘Multiple Personality Disorder is very different. Through some trauma, probably in childhood, the subject develops a second or third or twentieth personality to help cope with that trauma. As we’ve discovered already, Julian Faulkner suffered greatly as a child.’
‘Hang on, hang on,’ York stepped in. ‘What are you saying, Woodrow, that our man in there has multiple personalities? The second boy in that film is right there in the flesh. It’s not just a personality we’re seeing, it’s an actual person.’
‘I was just getting to that,’ said Woodrow stepping away from York. ‘You see, Fiebig’s case-study was all about the opposite of MP disorders. It spoke of a theory that stated if one individual could harbour two or more personalities, then the same must be said of the opposite. Julian Faulkner has a brother, he just doesn’t know it.’
For a few seconds Woodrow let the officers digest what he was telling them.
‘How can he not know?’ Mason questioned. ‘He grew up with him.’
‘The two brothers were traumatised in
