Part 64 (2/2)

His blond hair is sticking up, and his eyes have regained the chilly blue of an October sky.

Erik chews the last of the bread.

'If this doesn't work, I thought I'd hand myself over inside the church,' he says, trying to keep his voice steady.

'Good,' Joona replies quietly.

'They can't shoot me inside a church,' he adds.

'No, they can't,' Joona replies, even though they both know it isn't true.

Rocky is standing by the price list smoking, muttering to himself and picking the little plastic caps off the tops of the drawing pins.

'I'm ready to start,' Erik tells him, crumpling the wrapper of his sandwich into a ball.

'Sure,' Rocky nods, and sits down on the chair.

Erik looks at him, his dilated pupils, the colour of his face, listens to his breathing.

'You've marched through the woods, your body is still working hard,' he says.

'Maybe it won't work, then?' Rocky asks, stubbing his cigarette out with his foot.

'I'd like to start with some relaxation ... the fact that the brain is active is no problem, you're not supposed to be asleep, after all ... all we want to do is gather all that activity and focus ...'

'OK,' Rocky says, leaning back.

'Sit comfortably,' Erik goes on. 'You can change position as much as you like during the hypnosis, you don't need to worry about that, but each time you move you'll sink deeper into a state of relaxation.'

Joona and Erik know that this is their chance, the opportunity they've been waiting for.

They don't need much, just a name, a location, or some other definite detail.

If they can only come up with one defined parameter, the pattern that's already emerged will refine itself to an arrow pointing straight at the preacher.

Erik can't force the process, and needs to take his time leading Rocky into a very deep trance in order to reach the most inaccessible memories.

'Rest your hands on your lap,' Erik goes on in a quiet voice. 'Clench them tight, then relax, feel how heavy they are, feel them sink, they're being pulled down towards your thighs, your wrists are feeling soft ...'

Erik concentrates on not letting his need for a result show in his voice, as he slowly works his way through the whole of Rocky's body, watching as his shoulders gradually relax. He talks for a while about his neck, about how heavy his head feels, and taking deep breaths, as he almost imperceptibly approaches the moment of induction.

In a monotone voice he describes a wide, sandy beach, with gentle waves rolling in and out of the sh.o.r.e, as the white sand s.h.i.+mmers like porcelain.

'You're walking along the edge of the water, towards a headland,' Erik says. 'The wet sand feels solid under your feet, it's easy to walk on, warm waves lap around your legs, grains of sand swirl round ...'

He describes the tiny, ridged seash.e.l.ls and the coral rolling in the bubbling surf of the waves.

Rocky is slumped on the creaking folding chair, his jaw has relaxed and his eyelids look heavy.

'All you're doing is listening to my voice and you feel fine, everything is nice and safe ...'

Joona is standing next to the window looking out at the pet cemetery. His jacket is open and the b.u.t.t of his pistol s.h.i.+mmers red against his chest.

'In a little while I'm going to count backwards from two hundred, and with each number you're going to sink deeper and deeper into relaxation. And when I tell you to open your eyes, you're going to open your eyes and remember every detail from the first time you met the man you call the preacher,' Erik says.

Rocky remains still, with his lower lip drooping slightly and his huge hands on his thighs. He looks like he's asleep, dreaming.

Erik counts down in a deep, soporific voice, his eyes monitoring Rocky's breathing, the movement of his bulging stomach.

Parallel to the actual hypnosis process, Erik sees himself sink through murky water. It's so dark with mud that he can barely see Rocky in front of him, as air bubbles rise from his beard and his hair sways in the current.

Erik breaks the sequence of numbers, skips a few, but keeps counting down at an imperceptibly slowing rate.

He knows he needs to find precise memories.

The water gets even darker the deeper he goes. The current is stronger, pulling at his clothes from the side. The whole time, Rocky looks like he's undergoing grotesque metamorphoses in the tugging, muddy water, as if his face were made from loose sacking.

'Eighteen, seventeen ... thirteen, twelve ... soon you're going to open your eyes,' Erik says, and watches Rocky's slow breathing. 'There's nothing to worry about here, nothing dangerous ...'

112.

Rocky has entered such a deep trance that his heart rate is lower than during deep sleep, his breathing is like that of a hibernating animal, but at the same time parts of the brain can be activated to a state of extreme focus.

It's very nearly time to make him turn his attention to the preacher, and try to explain what he's seen, try to dig out the crystal-clear memories that are lying preserved, right next to dreams and deliriums.

Rocky's head is lolling forward and his dirty hair is scattered with pine needles after the hike through the forest.

'Four, three, two, one, and now you open your eyes and remember exactly where you first met the unclean preacher ...'

Through the streaming brown water Erik sees Rocky shake his head, but in reality he is sitting on the chair with his eyes open and trying to moisten his lips with his tongue.

His stomach is moving in time with his slow breathing, his chin lifts and his eyes stare straight through time and matter.

Erik thinks that he needs to repeat his words and include a subtle command to get him to start talking.

'As soon as you feel ready, you can ... tell me what you see.'

Rocky licks his cracked lips.

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