Ansell was annoyed at the cool reception his report had received from the military. He had wrestled with his conscience before sending it, and had rationalized his decision as being inevitable because if he raised the issue with his patient, Walker would probably be in a position to claim some sort of disability pension from the War Office. He was merely anticipating the authorities being informed. When he had the call from Boyd he was relieved that his report had not been completely ignored, and he agreed to see him unofficially, off the record, and away from the hospital. He suggested they meet at his home in Wilmslow.
Ansell noticed the official file that Boyd took out of his briefcase.
“I thought the soldiers were taking their normal stance towards psychiatrists as one step worse than witchdoctors.”
Boyd smiled. “The army employs at least a couple of hundred psychiatrists itself. Most of them field-rank or above. We’re not quite the Philistines the media make us out to be. Not that we mind too much what outsiders think.”
“That puts me in my place.”
“I didn’t mean that, doctor. And we’re quite genuinely grateful that you decided to notify us.”
“How much have they told you?”
“I’ve read your report and I’ve read the report by the Military Police. They weren’t able to trace any officers of those names operating in Germany from 1945 onwards. That’s about all I know.”
“There’s one thing I know now that I didn’t know when I contacted the army. My patient has definitely been hypnotized before. He says he hasn’t, and that probably means that he’s been hypnotized surreptitiously.”
“Is that possible? I thought you could only be hypnotized if you wanted to be and you co-operated.”
“That used to be the thinking, but it isn’t so. And the old theory that nobody under hypnosis could be made to do something that he or she found repugnant when they were conscious has also gone by the board.”
“Would it be possible for you to ask him questions for me?”
“Depends what they are but there’s no practical problem.”
“Could I be there to hear his answers?”
Ansell shook his head. “No. I’m afraid not.”
“Not even if he agreed?”
“Ah well. That’s different, but I couldn’t agree to any deception. He’d have to know who you are.”
“When are you seeing him again?”
“Tomorrow at three.”
“Can I make out a list of questions tonight, and let you have them in the morning at the hospital?”
“OK.”
“Just one more question. Have you any idea as to who might have hypnotized him before, and why they would have done it?”
Ansell raised his eyebrows. “Have you any ideas yourself?”
“Half an idea.”
“Can I hear it?”
“The likely person could be someone in the army. But I don’t see how they would do it. Or why.”
Ansell nodded. “I won’t add to that.” He stood up. “Where are you staying?”
“I’m staying with friends. I’ve got a car outside. Can I see you about four tomorrow?”
“Make it six and I’ll have finished my clinic.”
Boyd hesitated. “Would it be possible to have your session taped?”
“They’re all taped anyway. But I wouldn’t be keen to let you hear them. Not at this stage anyway.”
“We could talk about that, maybe?”
Ansell smiled. “Maybe.”
Ansell glanced at Boyd’s typed list of questions and went over the last two again.
“Tell me again, George, what Ames looked like.”
“Quite tall … nearly six foot … well-built, strong … red face and light brown eyes … black hair smarmed down … a Brylcreem type … spots on the back of his hands … pug nose and he’d always got a five o’clock shadow … a smooth bastard.”
“Did you ever see him apart from this one place?”
Ansell suddenly noticed the sweat on Walker’s face. An instant response to his last question. And Walker was panting. There was something odd about this reaction. Why should he be so disturbed?
“Was he an officer at your depot?”
Walker shook his head slowly. “No more. No more to say.”
Ansell took a risk he knew he shouldn’t take and he said softly, “It’s not only Dickens, is it? There’s the other one. What do they say to Dickens to find the other man?” And as he saw Walker’s body stiffen as if he were having a fit Ansell said quickly, “That’s fine … you’re coming back … four, five … nice and easy … six, seven … your eyes are opening … eight, nine … ten … good … good.”
As Walker struggled to sit up he shook his head, smiling. “You don’t like the Kennedys, do you?”
Ansell held his breath and then quietly exhaled. “What makes you think that, George?”
“Think what?”
“That I don’t like the Kennedys.”
Walker frowned and Ansell saw his pupils contracting. “I don’t know what you mean, doc. Are we finished?”
“How do you feel?”
“OK. But my neck feels kind of stiff.”
“Move it gently, from left to right and then up and down.”
He watched Walker moving his head, his right hand massaging his neck muscles.
“Is that better?”
“A bit.”
“Could you come again tomorrow?”
“I’m playing football tomorrow. It’s Saturday tomorrow, isn’t it?”
“Yes. How about Monday after work?”
“OK. But I’m feeling much better. You’re doing me good, doc.”
“I’m glad. I’ll see you on Monday.”
Ansell sat for a long time at his desk before he looked at his watch. It was ten to six. The man Boyd would be pleased, but for himself he felt ashamed. For a second or two he had been on the wrong side. Maybe it had done no harm. Only time would tell. And if it had, no one would be any the wiser. Only he himself, and the man who might start having a brand new nightmare.
When his phone rang it
