Lasalle reached for his hand. He fumbled along the wrist and located the pulse which he took and noted on a clipboard. Then, like a doctor examining a patient, he took a penlight from his pocket and shone it in his companion’s eyes, checking the pupillary reactions.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
Joubert nodded gently.
Lasalle turned to Kelly who flicked a switch on the EEG and, immediately, the five tracers began to move back and forth gently across the paper.
The Frenchman reached into his pocket and pulled out the pocket watch. He dangled it before Joubert, the golden timepiece twisting round slowly.
‘Now, keep your eyes on the watch,’ he said, seeing that his colleague’s gaze had drifted to the spinning object. Lasalle began rolling the chain between his thumb and index finger.
‘You can hear only my voice,’ he said. Then, to Kelly: ‘Turn off the lights will you?’
She left the EEG and scuttled across to the light switch, flicking it off. The room was immersed in darkness, lit only by a spotlamp near the foot of the couch. The single beam
occasionally glinted on the watch making it look as if it were glowing.
‘You can see nothing but the watch,’ said Lasalle. ‘You can hear nothing but my voice. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ said Joubert, throatily.
‘I am going to count to five and, as I do, you will become increasingly more
tired. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘By the time I reach five you will be asleep but you will still be able to hear me. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’
Kelly moved slowly and quietly back towards the EEG, glancing down at the read-out. The lines made by the tracers were still relatively level. None showed too much movement. Just a gentle sweep back and forth.
Lasalle began counting.
He saw his companion’s eyelids begin to droop but he kept spinning the watch even after Joubert had finally closed his eyes.
Kelly looked on with interest.
‘You are now in a deep sleep,’ said Lasalle. ‘But, you are able to hear everything I say. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘What is your name?’
‘Alain Joubert.’
‘How old are you?’
‘Thirty-six.’
Kelly glanced at the EEG read-out once again, noticing that the five tracers had begun to slow their movements until they were practically running in straight lines, only the occasional movement interrupting their unerring course.
“What is my name?’ Lasalle asked.
Joubert told him.
‘Can you tell me if there is anyone else present in the toom?’
‘A woman. I can see her.’
Lasalle frowned and inspected his colleague’s eyelids more closely. They were firmly shut. He reached back to the trolley behind him and picked up a stack of cards, each bearing a word.
‘Tell me what this word is,’ he said, running his eyes over the card marked DOG.
Joubert told him.
‘And this one?’
‘Cat.’
‘Again.’
‘Pig.’
Kelly noticed some slight movement from the fifth of the tracers.
Lasalle went through another ten cards and each time Joubert was correct.
‘I feel cold,’ Joubert said, unasked. Indeed, his body was quivering slightly and, when Lasalle gripped his hand the flesh was ice cold.
The movement from the fifth tracer became more pronounced. The other four, however, did not deviate from their almost arrow-straight course. Kelly swallowed hard. There was something distinctly familiar about this type of read-out. The vision of Maurice Grant flashed into her mind as the fifth tracer began to trace a jerky, erratic path on the paper. Whilst in a drugged, subdued state, it had been the same area of Grant’s brain which had shown activity. Now it was happening with Joubert.
‘I can see …” Joubert words trailed away.
‘What can you see?’ Lasalle asked him, urgently.
‘A room. Like this one but there is a woman working in it. She’s sitting at a typewriter with her back to me,’ Joubert said. ‘She doesn’t know I’m behind her, she didn’t hear me open the door.’
Kelly saw that the fifth tracer was now hurtling back and forth with such speed it threatened to carve a hole in the paper.
‘Who is this woman?’ Lasalle asked. ‘Do you know her?’
‘Yes, I’ve seen her many times before.’
‘What is her name?’
“Danielle Bouchard.’
Lasalle swallowed hard.
‘Describe her,’ he snapped. ‘Now.’
‘She is in her thirties, long, curly hair. It’s auburn, dyed I think. Her skin is dark, not negroid but coffee-coloured. She’s wearing blue eye make-up, some lipstick.’
‘Do you know her?’ whispered Kelly to Lasalle.
The Frenchman nodded.
‘She’s part Algerian, a beautiful girl, she works in an office just down the corridor,’ he said, quietly, one eye on Joubert who was now flexing his fingers spasmodically. In fact, his whole body was jerking involuntarily.
‘What sort of response is showing on the EEG?’ asked Lasalle.
‘There’s no activity in any part of the brain except for the area around the occipital lobe,’ she told him. ‘Exactly the same as the subject we had.’ She paused, mesmerised by the rapid movements of the tracer.
Joubert spoke again.
‘She is wearing jeans, a red top. There is a slight tear near the seam of the top, beneath her arm.’
‘Is she still typing?’ asked Lasalle.
‘Yes, she hasn’t noticed me yet.’
Lasalle chewed his bottom lip contemplatively.
‘This doesn’t prove anything,’ he said to Kelly. ‘Joubert could have seen this woman earlier today.’
Kelly looked once more at the EEG read-out. The fifth tracer continued its rapid movement.
‘I’m walking towards her,’ Joubert said. ‘She has stopped typing now, she is taking the paper from the machine. She still has her back to me.’ He was silent for a moment then the tone of his voice seemed to change, it became harsher, as if his mouth were full of phlegm. ‘I want her.’
‘Tell me what is happening,’ Lasalle ordered.
‘I grab her hair with one hand and put my other hand over her mouth to stop her screaming. She falls off the chair and I climb on top of her, I must hold her arms down. She is stunned by the fall, she has banged her head. I think she is dazed. I pull up her top to reach her breasts and I am squeezing them, making red marks on them.’
Kelly looked in awe at the fifth tracer which was moving so fast it was little more than a blur.
‘I try to keep my hand over her mouth to stop her screaming but she seems to be recovering. I must stop her. I am putting my hands around her throat. It feels so good, my thumbs are on her windpipe, pressing harder. Her eyes are bulging. I am going to kill her. I want to kill her.’
Kelly looked at Lasalle then back at the EEG with its wildly careering tracer.
i WANT TO KILL HER,’ bellowed Joubert.
There was a loud scream from outside the room, long and piercing. A moment’s silence and it was followed by another.
‘Bring him out of it,’ snapped Kelly.
‘Listen to me,’ said Lasalle. ‘When I count to one from five you will wake up.
Do you understand?’
No answer.
From down the corridor there was the sound of a slamming door then another scream.
‘Do you understand?’ Lasalle said, loudly.
‘Hurry,’ Kelly urged.
Joubert did not respond.
‘I can’t bring him out of it,’ Lasalle said, frantically.
He thought about shaking his colleague but he knew it would do no good. He swallowed hard and looked at Kelly who was already moving towards the door.