'It's a forum,' Paul said. 'A messageboard where people chat about issues they're interested in.'

'I know what a forum is.'

'Sorry.'

But Kate was already scanning the page for the mention of Pimenov. Paul hit CTRL-F to bring up a box so he could search the page for the word. He searched up, then down. It wasn't there.

'This happens sometimes. The search engine finds a page but then the page disappears before they realise it's gone. That's because search engines can't crawl every site constantly.'

They went back to the search engine results page. There were two lines of text that must have been pulled from the original page on allinthemind.com.

...like the CIA, the KGB developed reconditioning techniques. There are reports that Pimenov, a Russian scientist...

...using a combination of LSD and hypnosis to erase the memory of undesirables, though the methods were said to be...

Paul took Kate's hand. 'It's all there,' he said. 'In your head. They can't have completely erased your memories. We know that because they didn't want you to come back to the UK. And that's why Sampson is after you to stop you remembering whatever it is they tried to make you forget.'

'About what happened to Stephen and Sarah.'

'I know what we need to do,' Paul said. 'But you might not like it.'

CHAPTER 32.

Vernon rang the doorbell of Miranda's house and took a step back, looking up at the bay windows with their Laura Ashley curtains. Miranda had always been a bit twee, he'd thought not that he'd met her many times. She lacked Kate's s.p.u.n.k, her vivacity, although he had always suspected that his sister-in-law had the hots for him. The times they'd met, she'd looked at him in a certain way, from under her lashes. Shame she was so wussy. It would be quite deliciously thrilling, having Kate's sister; a great way of getting one over on his wife.

Thinking about siblings, his thought trail led on to Jack and his regret that the poor little guy didn't have any brothers or sisters. Vernon had wanted another child a girl, preferably but Kate had turned frigid on him while she was pregnant with Jack and had never thawed. She had always been an ice princess. She had the lowest s.e.x drive of any woman he'd ever been with. Coaxing her legs open was like trying to persuade a cat to go walkies. He pitied whichever man she moved onto, a.s.suming she didn't spend the rest of her life locked up in a lab studying creatures you couldn't even see. He could foresee her future: she'd end up with some other boring a.s.shole in a white coat, pouring all their pa.s.sion into their research, winning some dull award and having a disease named after them.

He was lucky the marriage hadn't dragged on any longer. It was far better to extricate himself now, while he was still young enough to enjoy life. And he was going to have his son by his side while he did so. Well, perhaps not exactly by his side he didn't want his style cramped too much. He had plans to send Jack to boarding school once he got him back to the States. Somewhere his mother wouldn't be able to poison his mind and make him soft.

Vernon heard footsteps coming towards the door inside the house, causing his heartbeat to speed up. It was possible that Kate was here, and with her, Jack. At the very least, Miranda would be sure to know where they were.

The door opened and a bald, middle-aged man said, 'Can I help you?'

Vernon looked past him. No sign of Jack. He fixed the man with his most authoritative Harvard lecturer's stare. 'Is Miranda here?'

The man appeared confused for a moment, then his face cleared. 'You mean Miranda Hetherington? I'm afraid she doesn't live here any more. She and her family moved away about a month ago.'

Vernon processed this information. 'That's a real pity. I'm an old college friend visiting from America. I guess I've had a wasted journey.' He shook his head disappointedly and exhaled a long, tragic sigh.

'Oh, don't worry,' smiled the man. 'I've got her new address. I'll just fetch it for you.'

Vernon grinned. 'Would you? That would be marvellous.'

On the way to Kate's sister's house, Sampson found himself driving past a large out-of-town shopping estate, a Toys R Us standing out among the DIY superstores and carpet warehouses. On impulse, he pulled in and minutes later was walking the aisles of robots and plush monsters, videogames and karaoke machines, looking for a pink teddy bear. He hadn't intended to do this, and he wasn't doing it because he found it amusing he had no sense of humour or for sentimental reasons. He just thought the bear might be useful.

He remembered little Amelia's happy voice on the phone. He had never killed a child. He'd never had call to, or been instructed to do so. He wondered what it would be like: if it would feel any different to killing an adult. When he had taken his first life, it had excited him, thrilled him, and he had spent the years since hoping in vain to replicate that thrill. That first murder had been when he was eighteen. A girl called Kelly who had spat in his face when he raped her on their first date. He put his strong hands around her throat and pressed his thumbs into her windpipe. The disbelief and terror in her eyes turned him on. When she went limp and stopped breathing he was still inside her. It was a beautiful moment. Come to think of it, she looked a little like Kate did when she was around that age, at the CRU. Not as stunning as Kate, but there had definitely been a similarity.

Since Kelly, no murder had given him that charge of excitement. Perhaps killing a child would do it.

Killing Kate's child. Now that would be something.

He could picture Kate's face as she watched her son die at his hands. Hear her screams. She would be in thrall to his power. Her pain would be like a star bursting. Immense, intense. Afterwards, she wouldn't struggle or fight any more. She would be dead inside. And she would be his.

At the checkout, he paid for the teddy bear, which was called a Care Bear. The insipid smile on its face made him sick. But the young woman behind the counter smiled at him like he was a kindly father or uncle. He looked around the store. There were children everywhere, little girls and boys of every size and colour. Perhaps he should take one, see what happened. Practice. But as the cashier slipped the Care Bear into a carrier bag he decided not to waste his time. He had to get on.

In the car, he consulted his map and headed south towards Kate's sister. Towards Kate's son.

Miranda peered out of the window and wished it would stop raining so the children could go and play outside. The boys were in George's room, playing video games, watched by Amelia. Every now and then she heard Amelia squeal, 'Let me have a go.' The Playstation was an even better childminder than the TV, though Miranda felt horrible for letting them play on it for so long, especially Jack, who had never been allowed to play video games before. Miranda had this nagging voice in the back of her head telling her she should be encouraging them to create their own entertainment with pens and coloured card. But that would be deemed "boring".

She checked her watch. Five thirty. Was it too early for a gla.s.s of wine? She had a really nice bottle of Merlot on top of the fridge. She could taste it, the fruitiness on her tongue, the smoothing of her nerves. But she would wait half an hour. Then pour herself a really big gla.s.s. If she timed it right, she might be in a good mood when Pete got home from work. a.s.suming he came home at the usual time and didn't stay behind for a drink as he'd been doing a lot recently. There was a new woman working at the veterinary surgery, some skinny young creature called Jennifer, who Pete talked about a lot, as if he couldn't help but mention her at every opportunity. Miranda didn't think anything would come of it. It was probably just one of those little workplace crushes that time would dampen and kill. The thing was, she found she didn't really care as much as she should. She wondered abstractly what it would be like if Pete left her, bringing up the children on her own. It wouldn't be too bad. At least it would be a change.

d.a.m.n rain, she thought, making her feel melancholy and discontented. It was always the same when it rained in summer. She went into the kitchen refusing to look in the direction of the Merlot and opened the cupboard doors, trying to decide what to give the children for their tea. Kate was bringing up Jack as a vegetarian, which was annoying, but he certainly looked well on it. He was a lovely little boy. Mercifully unlike his father.

It had been lovely to see Kate, of course, but Miranda couldn't help but feel envious of her sister. She had always envied her a little her career, living in America, her looks but now she wished even more that her life was as exciting as Kate's. Okay, perhaps leaving your husband, fleeing halfway across the world and going on some bizarre hunt with the brother of an ex-love could be better described as traumatic, or at least stressful... but it wasn't domesticity. It wasn't being stuck at home longing for a gla.s.s of wine while your husband flirted with his junior his young colleagues.

Maybe she should have that gla.s.s of wine now. It was nearly six. And it wasn't as if it would do any harm. Just a small gla.s.s, sipped slowly. Then she'd make tea. She took the bottle down from the fridge and uncorked it. She filled the gla.s.s up rather higher than she'd intended how clumsy but she really shouldn't waste it. She took a big, warming gulp. Then another.

That was better.

She sat at the kitchen table and ran a finger around the rim of the gla.s.s. She heard a shout from upstairs, and her first instinct was to leap up and make sure everything was okay. But then she heard laughter and relaxed. The children were merely enjoying their game. George and Amelia seemed to like having their cousin over from the States. The first thing George wanted to know when they met was whether he'd ever seen a gun; Amelia wanted to know if he'd been to Disneyland.

The telephone rang. She jumped up, thinking it might be Kate. 'h.e.l.lo?'

'h.e.l.lo darling.' It was Pete. 'I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I'm going to be late home. We've had a h.e.l.l of a day it's been like a whole series of All Creatures Great and Small rolled into one.' He chuckled. This was an old joke of his. 'Anyway, I had to rush up to the Grange to see one of old Mountford's favourite horses, which I managed to save, and now Mountford wants to take me and the whole surgery out for a drink to say thanks. You know how hard it is to say no to him.'

Miranda wanted to ask if Jennifer would be there in her mind's eye, the veterinary nurse had long, dark, l.u.s.trous hair and a cleavage that men daydreamed about diving into it but just said, 'Fine.'

Would she ever feel brave enough to leave Pete in the same way Kate had left Vernon? Well, she knew she would never run away. That was far too dramatic. Though if she were married to the dreaded Vernon perhaps she would run away. She could never understand what Kate saw in him. Okay, so he was very clever, academically, but there was something about him that gave her the creeps. He was the kind of man who fancied himself a ladies' man but came across more as a knicker-sniffer. A man who stared at the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of flat-chested women, as if willing them to grow b.o.o.bs for him to lech at. Yuk.

Pete wasn't like that. Except with Jennifer perhaps. Did their fingers touch when she pa.s.sed Pete the worming tablets? Had their eyes ever met over a sick hamster? Did she wear a tight white uniform that stretched perfectly across her pert bottom? There was another cry from above, then a thump, shaking her from her green-eyed reverie. She stood up, noticing as she did that the wine gla.s.s was empty, just a smear of red at the bottom like a bloodstain, and she felt a little woozy and unsteady on her feet. She stood at the bottom of the stairs and called up. 'Is everyone alright up there?'

Before any of the children replied, the doorbell rang.

Vernon took the wrong exit nine instead of ten and spent the next fifteen minutes cursing the British motorway system before getting back on track. He'd just been to what had to be the worst 'restaurant' in the known world, something called a Little Chef. It made Taco Bell seem like cordon bleu. Most Americans would be shocked if they saw the real Britain and realised it wasn't all castles and stately homes. It was just like America, all endless roads and wretched fast food joints, but with worse customer service and more s.e.x on TV. The bad teeth cliches were true though. What if Jack had to grow up here? He'd end up looking like a Brit, teeth like yellowing tombstones, with a drink habit and an addiction to soccer. The rain cliches were true, too. It was raining now, and this was supposed to be summer.

Most of his fellow Americans would love this village, though. Churchill. Good British name, too. The village was what was the expression? chocolate-box pretty. Quaint as h.e.l.l. He could see the curtains twitching as he drove down the main street.

He smiled to himself. He had this strange feeling that Kate and Jack were going to be at Miranda's. There'd be a scene, no doubt. But he relished the thought of the confrontation, Kate trying to justify what she'd done. Just watch her try to take the moral high ground.

He found the address the man at Miranda and Pete's old house had given him, and parked outside. The wipers squeaked back and forth across the windscreen before halting. Vernon got out of the car, rehearsing what he was going to say, and rang the doorbell.

The SPEED KILLS sign almost made Sampson smile. He screeched round the corner by the pretty little church, roaring on past the neat little hedgerows and the quaint little graveyard. The pink teddy bear on the back seat toppled over. A cat was crossing the road up ahead, trying to escape the rain, and Sampson put his foot on the accelerator, but the animal darted to safety with a split second to spare.

He felt good. More alive than he could ever remember. It must be the proximity of Kate's blood, he thought.

He found the street he was looking for and pulled to a halt a few doors away. He stood in the rain for a few seconds, enjoying its feel on his face. He held the pink teddy under his jacket. Then he walked up to the door and pressed the bell.

Miranda opened the door.

The man standing before her had damp hair and a strange smile on his face, the look of a man who is about to get what he wants.

'h.e.l.lo Miranda,' he said. Before she could reply, he darted past her into the hallway.

'Hey,' she said. 'What are you...?'

He c.o.c.ked his head, listening, and looked up the stairs. Then he turned back to face her. She folded her arms protectively across her chest.

'Where is she?' he demanded.

'Who?'

'Who do you think? Kate. Is she here?'

Miranda shook her head. 'No...no, she's not. Is she is she in England?'

He gave her an incredulous glare. 'I take it from the smell on your breath that that was a drunken question. I'm sure you know I'm not stupid, Miranda.'

'Oh yes, I know that very well, Vernon.'

'So don't treat me like...'

There was a cry from upstairs. A squeal of laughter followed by a happy outburst from Amelia. 'Well done, Jack. You beat him.' Then George cursing.

Vernon dodged past Miranda and ran up the stairs. 'Jack? Jack?'

Miranda listened in horror from her position frozen at the bottom of the stairs as Jack came running out of the bedroom, short of breath, gasping, 'Daddy?'

'Jackie.' Vernon swept him up into an embrace as George and Amelia poked their heads out of the bedroom and gawped. 'I'm here to rescue you.'

Jack said, 'Like Superman?'

'Yes, son. Just like Superman. Where's your mother?'

'She's gone on an adventure with Paul.'

'What? Who's Paul?'

'Mummy's new friend.'

'Her boyfriend,' giggled George, who immediately pulled his head out of sight.

Vernon stomped down the stairs, still holding Jack in his arms. He pushed past Miranda then swung round to face her. 'What's all this about Kate and some guy called Paul? Where are they?'

Miranda shook her head. 'I can't tell you.'

Vernon felt the blood in his veins heat up. This stupid drunk s.l.u.t. How the h.e.l.l could Kate have left their son with this unfit mother? Because Kate was an unfit mother herself that was the truth. He was going to take Jack so far away from here, and make sure that Kate never got her hands on him again. She'd blown it. Jack would be a million times better off without her.

'It doesn't matter anyway. Come on, Jack. Let's get out of this place.'

Jack's little blue wheely suitcase was standing by the front door, still packed, minus the pyjamas and toothbrush he had taken out at bedtime the night before. Vernon could see the boy's pa.s.sport sticking out of the front zip pocket, where Kate always kept it. He picked up the case.

Miranda stepped in Vernon's path as he carried Jack and the suitcase towards the front door. Blinded by a flash of anger, Vernon pushed her aside, using Jack's case as a shield. She banged her hip on the side table and fell to the floor, staring up with shock. Vernon pointed a finger at her. 'Don't try to get in my way.'

Upset by the violence, Jack started crying and wriggling, and Vernon had to struggle to hold on to him. 'Come on, Jackie. We're going on an airplane. Soon you'll be home and you'll see all your friends again. You'll like that, won't you?'

Jack shook his head, his face red, tears rolling down his cheeks. 'I want to stay here with George. I want mummy.'

'Shush. Come on, stop wriggling.'

But Jack wouldn't stop. As Vernon opened the front door, Jack screamed, 'Billy. I want Billy.'

Vernon clenched his teeth, trying to bite back the intense irritation that crawled up through his veins, trying to ignore the veins pulsing in his temple. 'Who the h.e.l.l is Billy?'

'My robot.' He stretched out his hands towards the open door of the living room, where Billy had been left on the sofa.

Vernon ignored his pleas. He carried the bawling Jack out to the car, wrestled him onto the back seat, threw in his case after him, and locked the doors, ignoring the persistent pleas for Billy the robot. What was it? Some present that Kate's new boyfriend had bought Jack as a bribe? Well, f.u.c.k it. Jack would soon forget all about Billy and Paul and his mother.

Miranda stood in the doorway and watched them drive off, Jack pressing his tear-soaked face to the window.

Miranda shut the door and ran to the phone, dialling Kate's number. It went straight to voicemail.

She sat down on the bottom step, her head in her hands. George went back into his bedroom to obliterate memories of what had just happened by playing videogames, while Amelia crept down the stairs and sat next to her mum, leaning against her, whispering, 'I don't like Uncle Vernon.'

'Neither do I, sweetheart,' Miranda said.

The doorbell rang again. Miranda sighed.

'It's okay, Mummy,' Amelia said. 'I'll get it.'

CHAPTER 33.

The hypnotherapist was called Doreen, which Kate thought seemed incongruous. She half-expected a caricature of a stage hypnotist, called something like Wanda, who, in her mind, would be a cross between a fairground fortune teller, with a fringed headscarf and too much eyeliner; or else a male showman, c.u.mmerbunded and pomaded, waving his hands around and saying 'You are feeling sleepy, look into my eyes, look into my eyes.' But that, she reflected, was probably only because she'd seen a character like that in a show called Little Britain she and Paul had watched in bed the previous night, sandwiched between bouts of great s.e.x. She realized how much she'd missed English TV. She realized how much she had missed great s.e.x.

However, television and s.e.x were the last things on Kate's mind as she stood nervously with Paul outside Doreen's house, a tiny modern terrace backing onto a busy ringroad in Twickenham.

Paul had looked on Yell.com for hypnotherapists in the Richmond area, near his flat, and Doreen was the first one who had come up with an available appointment. Kate hoped it wasn't because Doreen was a charlatan and hence had no clients. But she had a respectable-looking website, and numerous glowing testimonials from satisfied customers, whom Doreen had mostly helped with problems like quitting smoking, or confidence boosting. There weren't, however, any testimonials of people whose memory Doreen had helped restore after having been reconditioned by rogue scientists using the Pimenov technique...but that would probably have been a bit much to hope for.