AT FIRST he could see nothing but light. A bright, blinding light that made Daniel stop in the middle of Doctor Obermann’s room and put his hand up to shade his eyes. There were large picture windows stretching all the way to the floor, and through them the sunlight flooded in, reflecting off the polished beech floor and white walls. (Surprisingly enough, seeing as he hadn’t noticed any sunshine as he walked through the grounds. Maybe it wasn’t strong enough to hit the ground and only reached the top floors of the building.) When his eyes had gotten used to it, he saw that the room was large and looked more suited to the director of a big company than a doctor.
Gisela Obermann and the other doctors had their rooms on the fifth floor, at the top of the modern block behind the main building. The lobby was as lofty as a cathedral. Daniel had to pass through two locked doors and a security guard who called Doctor Obermann to check before letting him into the glass elevator. The doctors here were well protected.
Gisela Obermann stood up behind her desk.
“Welcome. I’m glad you changed your mind. Your input is important to our research.”
He couldn’t tell if she was being serious or ironic.
“What does my input consist of?” he asked, standing in the middle of the room.
“Being here. Coming to meetings when you’re asked and talking as honestly as you can about yourself. That’s your input,” Doctor Obermann explained calmly as she headed over to a group of rigid, block-like armchairs and sofas.
She sat down in one of the chairs and asked Daniel to sit down in the other. Only now, when he had his back to the light, could he see her properly. She was in her forties, tall and slim, with nice legs but a commonplace face. Her hair was thick, blond, and parted so that it fell diagonally across her forehead and cheek.
“Let me repeat that: I appreciate your being here, Max. As you know, you’ve got everything to gain by coming. And everything to lose if you don’t. And it’s hardly that much of an effort, is it? Just a bit of chat for a while.”
She smiled, and Daniel made an effort to smile back. Could she notice anything? Samantha had said that Doctor Obermann would be able to tell the difference at once.
“Well, let’s get started. As usual, we’ll be filming our conversation.” She leaned back and crossed her legs.
Daniel looked around. He saw two small cameras, spherical, like eyeballs that had been plucked out, mounted on a frame on the wall. One was pointing toward him, the other at the doctor.
“Is everything okay? You seem a bit distracted.”
“I’m fine.”
“Good.”
Doctor Obermann leafed through some papers she had in her lap. Her nails had been bitten to the quick, Daniel noted in surprise. It made her hands look childish and fragile, as if they belonged to someone else. She frowned as she read, then looked up.
“You’ve been rather unsettled these past few days, I’ve heard. Has anything particular happened since we last spoke?” When there was no answer, she prompted, “You had a visit from your brother, didn’t you?”
Daniel took a deep breath.
“You and I have never spoken before, Doctor Obermann. You’re confusing me with my brother. Which was actually the intention. I’m afraid we set out to deceive you.”
She can tell, Daniel thought. Now she can tell.
“How do you mean?” Doctor Obermann asked in a neutral voice.
“You can probably tell that I’m not Max, even though we are very similar. My name is Daniel Brant, and I arrived here last week to visit Max, my twin brother. He was in a difficult situation and needed to get away from the clinic for a few days to sort something out. Because he wasn’t allowed out at all, I agreed to switch places with him. Well, I’m not entirely sure I ever actually agreed, but that was evidently how Max interpreted it. Because we’re identical twins he thought we’d be able to fool everyone here at the clinic and change places. It looks like we succeeded.”
“Hold on,” Gisela Obermann interrupted, leaning forward with interest. “You’re not Max but his twin brother, is that what you’re saying?”
Daniel nodded and smiled apologetically.
“If you look closely, you can probably tell. Max was supposed to come back on Friday at the latest. And it’s now Tuesday. I haven’t heard anything from him. Maybe he’s sent you a message, Doctor Obermann? Or someone else here at the clinic?”
Instead of answering, Doctor Obermann made a note on her paper and said, “Could you explain to me a bit more about how this switch took place?”
Daniel explained, and Doctor Obermann listened intently.
“Stop for a moment,” she said suddenly. “Why are you calling me Doctor Obermann? You usually call me Gisela.”
“But I’ve never met you before. If you’d rather I call you Gisela, I can do that. And if you’d rather talk German, which I believe is your mother tongue, that’s fine too. I speak German well. I used to be an interpreter.”
Doctor Obermann sighed and raised her eyebrows slightly.
“Yes, you’ve been a lot of things, haven’t you? But, as you’re well aware, we speak English here primarily. That’s easiest all round. You can call me what you like, but I’m going to carry on calling you Max. Apparently you want to act out some sort of role play today. I know you like pranks, but I’m really not very keen on games.”
“My brother likes pranks. Not me,” Daniel said irritably, slapping his hand down on the arm of the chair. “I just want to get this sorted out and get out of here. My name is Daniel Brant, but I can’t prove it because Max took all my official documents with him when he left. You’re just going to have to believe me.”
“But I don’t believe you.”
She tilted her head to one side and gave him a gentle, almost tender smile.
“Why not?” he asked, taken aback.
“Because you’re a pathological liar. Lying and trying to manipulate other people is part of your character.”
“Part of my brother’s character.”
Gisela Obermann got up and went over to her desk. She tapped at the keyboard, then studied the screen in silence.
“Hmm,” she finally said. “Your brother arrived on Sunday July fifth. He left here on Tuesday July seventh.”
“I arrived on July fifth. Max left here on July seventh. He was wearing a false beard he got from the theater, and I shaved off my beard. Incredibly simple, like something out of an operetta, don’t you think? I never believed it would work. But, seeing as we’re identical twins—”
“You’re not twins at all,” Gisela Obermann interrupted, spinning round on her office chair so she was facing Daniel. “Daniel was born two years before Max.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You’ve got hold of the wrong information.”
“Daniel’s date of birth is”—she turned back to the screen—“the twenty-eighth of October 1975, it says here.”
“That’s right.”
“And Max was born… Here it is: the second of February 1977.”
“No, no,” Daniel said. “That’s wrong. Obviously we were born the same day.”
Gisela Obermann gave him a long, impassive look. She stood up, returned to the armchairs, and looked out of the picture window in silence. In the strong sunlight she suddenly looked old and tired.
“What sort of game are you playing, Max? We know all about you here. Outside you might be able to fool people, but it’s fairly pointless trying it on me, isn’t it? What do you hope to gain from it?”
“I’m just hoping that you believe what I say and will help me get out of here,” Daniel said impatiently. “You’ve got the wrong information in that computer. I daresay Max lied when he was first admitted. He’s good at that sort of thing. Well, I’m not going to waste any more time on this conversation. You can believe whatever you like, but I’m leaving now. You’ve got no right to hold me here.”
He stood up and walked quickly toward the door.
“Just a moment,” Doctor Obermann called.
He turned round. Only now did he notice the stunning view of the valley and the snow-capped peaks in the distance. Doctor Obermann was still seated in the armchair. Leaning back comfortably and with a hint of a smile on her face, she went on: “Exactly what do you mean by ‘leaving’?”
“I’m leaving the clinic, of course. Getting out of this goddamn valley,” he replied angrily, then put his hand on the door handle.
The door was locked. There was no key and no obvious lock.
“Out of Himmelstal?” Doctor Obermann said from her armchair.
He turned toward her.
“Yes. I know the communications are useless and the villagers are unwilling to cooperate. They’ve been given instructions by you lot, haven’t they? But I’m leaving now, and if it comes to it I’ll just have to walk.”
She let out a small burst of laughter.
“You’re very convincing. If I didn’t know better, I’d be inclined to believe you.”
Daniel tugged at the door handle again, even though he knew there was no point. He wasn’t going to get out of here until she let him out. Her pale summer coat was hanging beside the door. He waited with his hand on the handle, studying the coat and the hook it was hanging from. Gisela Obermann remained seated in silence.
“Can’t I leave if I want to?” he exclaimed impatiently. “Do you keep your patients locked in?”
“We don’t keep anyone locked in here. You can go when you want. I’m just keeping other people out, so we aren’t disturbed while we’re talking. But we aren’t finished yet, Max. To be honest, you’re making me feel rather concerned today.”
“Concerned?” Daniel turned round. “One of your patients has escaped. You ought to be worried about him. Put out some sort of alert. Something might happen to him, has that occurred to you? You’re behaving very irresponsibly, that’s all I can say. Now, will you please let me out?”
“Of course. I hope we can continue our conversation another day. This could lead somewhere.”
She went over to her desk.
There was something odd about that hook. It was made of rough wood and looked out of place in the minimalist surroundings. When Daniel looked at it more closely he could make out two very thin figures in the carved wood, pressed against each other, back to back. The figures had their crooked arms held tight to their bodies, but their fingers were splayed out into hooks, and it was one of these that was holding Doctor Obermann’s coat. At the top were two oblong faces, carved to look in different directions. One of the faces was asleep, its eyes and mouth closed, but the other was awake with its mouth wide open, as if it were screaming.
He was just about to comment on the peculiar coat hook when there was a click from the lock, and when he pushed the handle again the door slid open.
“Good-bye, Max,” Gisela Obermann said from her desk. “You’re welcome to come back whenever you feel like it.”
In the elevator Daniel turned his back on his own reflection and leaned his forehead against the cool glass wall instead. The stone floor and green plants of the lobby were rushing toward him. Why had Max given the wrong date of birth? Had he left the clinic for good?
Suddenly he recalled the moral of his brother’s story about the man who rowed the boat to Hell: Get someone else to take over at the oars.
Hannelores Bierstube was busy that evening. Daniel had to take a seat at a large table where there were already several people sitting.
Corinne had begun her performance. This time she wasn’t wearing traditional costume, and there were no cowbells. She was dressed as a sailor, in bell-bottomed trousers, a jacket with blue stripes on the collar, and a sailor’s cap with a small, perfectly round pom-pom. Her accompanist on the accordion was dressed as a captain, with a peaked cap and white uniform. They were performing German sea chanteys, and the whole thing was just as theatrical, unsophisticated, and charming as the evening with the cowbell.
Daniel was sitting at the same table as on his earlier visit, over in the corner. He was on his second tankard of beer, there were plenty of people in the dimly lit room, and the small glass decorations on the candelabra were shimmering yellow and red like autumn leaves. There must be someone he could get a lift from. As soon as possible, and without the clinic finding out.
Corinne’s eyes flitted from right to left beneath her brown bangs, reminding him of jokey cards of characters with moving eyes. With a rolling gait, as if she were on a boat in a stormy sea, she made her way to Daniel’s table and seemed to be singing for him alone. In the dim light from the candles he could see her makeup: pale blue eye shadow, right up to her eyebrows, bright and sparkling like the wings of an exotic butterfly.
Hypnotized, he held out his hand and touched her lightly on the arm. She winked at him and returned to her place bedside the accordion player.
How well did she know Max? Could she help him get a lift if he explained the situation to her?
After the end of the performance he sat and waited for Corinne to come over. But she disappeared into the back of the bierstube and didn’t come out again.
When the cuckoo clock struck half past eleven everyone began to leave. Daniel walked out of the bierstube and made his way quickly through the cold rain up toward the clinic. He noted that the majority of the clientele were heading in the same direction.
When he unlocked the door to his cabin he heard a voice in the darkness off to his left.
“You like staying out late, don’t you?”
Behind the glowing red eye of the cigarette he could just make out his neighbor as a large shadow, a darker part of the darkness.
“It’s good to see you back, Marko. Are you okay?” Daniel said.
There was no answer, so he went on. “I’ve just been down in the village to have a beer.”
Marko was breathing heavily and loudly through his nose. He sounded more like an old dog than a human being. The projecting roof protected him from the rain that was falling, soft and invisible.
“Do as you like,” he hissed. “I never go anywhere after dark. I don’t take any risks.”
“That’s probably wise. Good night.”
I wonder if he goes anywhere at all of his own volition, Daniel thought. He seems to be stuck to the wall of his cabin.
He switched on his computer, opened the e-mails, found Corinne’s week-old message, and wrote a reply:
I very much enjoyed your performance this evening. You made a fantastic sailor.
Is the offer of a picnic still open? If it is, I’d love to go with you as soon as possible.
Sorry to be so slow replying. Things have been rather complicated. I’ll explain later.
After a moment’s hesitation over what name to sign off with, he typed:
Max
As soon as he had sent it a hostess walked in through the door.
“Everything okay, Max?”
“I’ve already explained to your colleague that I’m Max’s brother. Hasn’t anyone told you?” Daniel said irritably.
“Not that I can remember,” the hostess said cheerily. “Do you want anything to help you sleep?”
She opened her shoulder bag and peered down into it.
“No thanks.”
The computer bleeped, and when he turned back to the screen he saw he had already received a reply from Corinne.
Daniel opened the e-mail. It was short and to the point:
Be at the well nine o’clock tomorrow morning.