You stumbled on a trail first trodden by Archibald McLintock. He must have discovered something that the gangsters really want. Someone suspects you and Hannah and sorry, you and Nina. They suspect that you know something. But you dont. But they dont know that. It is confusing, taken at face value.
Confusing, and terrifying. Adam closed his eyes. It was truly terrifying. I pissed myself. I did. I was sitting by that radiator chained to that radiator and I actually wet myself. Isnt that pathetic? He opened his blue eyes and stared, intently, at the wall. He was going to rape and kill Nina, after he raped and killed Hannah. And then he was going to kill me. And there was nothing I could do about it and so I wet myself like a baby. Jesus.
Ibsen shook his head, feeling real pity. Its a reflex. Dont be ashamed. They say the landing craft at D-Day were like open sewers because of men voiding themselves with fear. Its only human. You tried to tackle him straightaway, which was brave. Remember that.
Ibsen glanced at the window. The December afternoon was falling into darkness outside. Larkham was waiting for him around the corner, parked inconspicuously. They had some more leads to attend to. He had been here two hours and he needed to shift things along. I have to broach a painful topic, Adam. Im going to tell you something crucial and difficult because He glanced at the door, behind which Nina McLintock was sleeping. Because you are probably closest to Miss McLintock right now.
Adam looked at the policeman, thoughtfully, as if he was digesting this: he was the person closest to Nina McLintock. Tell me.
Hannah McLintock wasnt raped.
Adam stared at him. He shook his head. No way. I cant believe that I saw I heard-
Im afraid its true. We have had the report from Pathology.
But I watched, Mark. I saw! He dragged her in there at gunpoint. Its crazy.
I know, I know. Ibsen raised two pacifying hands. I know. It seems impossible, but the evidence is clear. When a woman is raped, especially if it is a very violent rape, there is nearly always bruising around the perineum, and there are usually other marks of similar trauma in the area. We have found none on Miss McLintocks body. None. It seems she was aroused. And maybe quite receptive. I am sorry.
But
We also have evidence that she possibly orgasmed. Forensics have analysed the bedsheets.
Adam Blackwood said nothing; then he said, in a slow, bewildered voice, This is horrible. Just totally horrible. And yet some of the noises. It did sound, a little like
A bit like sexual climax?
I dont know. Christ. Yes. No. Maybe
I understand your perplexity. But the facts, horrific as they are, are the facts. We also believe again you must prepare yourself that she had anal sex. And, even more astonishing, she slashed her own throat. Ritter didnt do it. She reached around with a cutthroat razor, that he gave her, and she slashed her own throat. The fingerprints and the bloodspatter and the angles of incision all point this way.
Adam Blackwood looked down at the ground as if he was going to vomit. But she was plainly terrified. I saw her face, when he dragged her in there. It doesnt remotely add up.
Ibsen sat forward. I have a theory. Its only, ah, the faintest theory at the moment.
Tell me. Tell me something. Anything.
We are thinking along these lines: that there is some kind of hypnosis in play, maybe involving a cult. And we think this hypnosis or autosuggestion stimulates the libido.
A cult? Hannah McLintock?
Ibsen ignored this. It is likely that the hypnosis or trance state leads to autoerotic, or perhaps hypersexual, arousal. But this also leads to a desire for self-mutilation, and the consequent sadomasochistic rush that comes with the pain.
Youre talking about those horrible suicides?
Yes, the horrible brutality of the suicides. Self-mutilation that generates a rush. A suicide that gives an orgasmic rush, perhaps the ultimate buzz.
So this guy Ritter hypnotized her! And she cut herself.
Ibsen paused, and shook his head. Its not as simple as that. Experts say you cant just hypnotize people into killing themselves in a few minutes. Thats just nonsense, stage hypnosis, rubbish.
So
What you can do is inculcate a kind of hypnosis over weeks and months, sessions of it, perhaps in a sacred or ritualized setting, so that this hypnosuggestion can be turned on by a trigger word, some time later, even years later. That is possible. It seems.
Adam downed the last of his whisky. I dont believe it.
Nor did I. At first. But all other explanations are coming up short, and in the right setting, of slowly and steadily ritualized hysteria or hypnosis, we think you can induce people to kill themselves. Like Jonestown. Guyana.
Adam Blackwood shook his head. But that means Hannah McLintock must have had must have been
Connected with the other suicides. Yes. Perhaps in some sex club with strange rituals, and initiation ceremonies. Hannah and her fiance, they are they were a rich young London couple. Correct? Not entirely unlike our other victims. So we need to know more about her. Which is why I want you to ask her sister
No!
Adam. We will question her ourselves. But you are close to her.
A very long silence ensued. The muffled sound of traffic was restive, stirred in its dreams. Ibsen filled the silence. I also think that this cult stuff, this sexual hypnosuggestion, might be linked to Archibald McLintocks researches his discoveries.
Why?
He committed suicide himself. In a fairly unusual way. Serenely. As if he was mesmerized. I have spoken to the Scottish police, read your own interview notes, Adam you said he had a certain air of serenity that morning in Rosslyn.
Archibald McLintock? A sex cult? Absurd. Its surreal. He was seventy years old!
Ibsen began to speak, but suddenly Adam interrupted.
Except there was something
What?
The pots. The strange ceramics. He went to Peru. And brought them back. They are macabre, from the Moche culture. And some of the Moche shit, in the archives, is weird and bloodthirsty. I got a book and read up. See- He crossed the room and returned with a hardback book bristling with bookmarks.
Ibsen read the title. Sex, Death and Sacrifice in Moche Religion.
I got it off Amazon. Adam stared down at the book. Ive been reading it all week. Its all in here. The Moche were very strange. Obsessed with bestiality. And sex with the dead. They were possibly into self-mutilation. I dont know what the link is, but there must be a link.
Ibsen was already scribbling in his own notebook. Noting the title of the volume. Yes. The pots! I saw them in the photo. Thank you. We will look into this too. He put down his notebook and glanced at his watch. OK. Adam, as I say we need to get cracking. I appreciate your help, and I understand your scepticism. But before I go I should say I also have one more hunch, which is a little more substantial, and relevant, which you should know.
Yes?
I believe there might be rival gangs after the McLintock discovery.
How come?
Differing descriptions. Remember the man you saw in McLintocks flat, the intruder?
Of course.
That wasnt Ritter. Was it?
I guess not I only got a glimpse.
The man you saw in the flat had tattoos on his hands, right?
Adam nodded.
But Ritter had tatts on his arm. So that means we probably have two different burglars in the flat in the space of a few weeks. The first intruder, the American who confronted McLintock, that was probably Ritter. It makes sense. The second the one you saw was someone else. We dont know who yet.
Adam leaned over. I need another drink. Reaching for the whisky bottle, he unscrewed it and poured another inch and a half.
Ibsen waited, then gave his explanation. Heres the logic. Lets say McLintock discovered this erotic hypnosis, this ancient or forgotten ritualistic trance, or whatever it is. In Peru maybe. God knows. Ritter, it seems, certainly had access to it. And he or his gang presumably got it from McLintock, or stole it from him. Ritter used it on Hannah, the hypnosuggestion, and its been tested on these rich kids. And it works. It is extremely powerful. I guess they want to make sure no one else gets it Like a rival mafia.
Adam swallowed then said, quietly, I suppose that does make some sort of sense. He was frowning. Because They would want this great and precious bloody secret, this trick, this whatever it is, they would want it to remain a secret, to remain their secret. Right? Which means theyd want to snuff us out more than anyone, because we are on the same trail.
Yes.
Which means we are really in danger. Horrible danger. Adam offered the policeman a fearful smile. Thanks. Thanks a whole bunch.
I am truly sorry. But yes, thats how I see it. He offered Adam his hand. Well be in touch. And you must call whenever you want, day or night.
Adam shook the policemans hand. Ibsen noted how tall the Australian was. Tall and muscular, yet deeply frightened, and who could blame him?
The evening was cold outside, a wind was skirting off the Common. Ibsen walked quickly to the car where Larkham had been patiently waiting. They had parked several streets away, down a dark and unused side road, just in case anyone had been observing and following them. He quickened his pace, thinking hard about the interview. The Moche pottery: how had he forgotten that? The sheer velocity of the case was knocking him off his stride.
He passed the open door of a brightly-lit newsagent, dispersing a tinny Christmas carol into the freezing air. The last corner turned, he saw the car at the end. Dark and waiting. Larkham was just a silhouette in the car in the gloom.
A strange silhouette. Ibsen walked quicker.
A very strange silhouette.
He stopped. Larkham was stiffened with early rigor mortis. Larkham was dead.
34
Huaca D, Zana, Peru
The beam of the killers flashlights probed deeper into the passage, illuminating the floating dust. Jessica flattened herself, in animal panic, against the mud wall. Her heart galloped in her chest, so loud she reckoned it must be audible, booming down the adobe corridor.
Again the torchbeam flicked this way and that, investigating, while the male voices at the passage entrance debated. Evidently they knew she was in here, or they suspected someone was in the huaca. Jessica listened, intent. Sure enough she heard the word matar: to kill. They were discussing whether to kill whoever was inside.