The first week of Martin’s treatment had come to an end and Felix was bringing his notes up to date before his meeting with his partner, Richard Ogden. It was a practice they set up with the formation of the Psychiatric Unit: each one checking the other’s notes prior to their weekly overview. That way they would catch any nuances the other missed. Or see different approaches.
When Martin drifted into new territory with his description of his first air crash in the RAF, it threw Felix’s line of enquiry into the death of Joe Cirano, but he soon steered Martin’s hypnosis back on course. By the end of the week Martin had reached the day just before the Aborigine found him. Joe’s death must have occurred that evening or early the following day. According to Willy’s statement when he arrived at the cattle station, Joe was already dead when he’d come across the plane.
Felix read his transcript of the last tape and realised he had found no reason for Martin’s obsession about Joe still being alive. The trauma of the RAF crash only supported the fact that he had a fear of small planes, but had no connection with Joe; unless Martin was linking Joe’s injuries in the air crash to the first pilot.
There was a tap on his door and Richard walked in. If Kate had been in the room she would have had difficulty telling them apart. They belonged to the same fraternity as the misunderstood technicians that designed most of the high-status equipment in the room. They thought alike, looked alike and were absorbed in what they did. Likewise, Richard and Felix were absorbed in their work and part of an elite group. The only major difference between them, apart from their choice of ties was Richard wore heavy-rimmed glasses.
“I gather you have a problem, Felix,” Richard said, on entering the room and sitting down in the seat in front of the desk.
Felix winced. “There are too many options, really. Did you get a chance to go through my material?”
“I did. I found it very interesting, and you’re right; his first encounter in the RAF bears little connection to your initial prognosis, other than the similarity with an air crash,” he said, with a snort. “I would say there is more of a link with the car crash three years ago. Both outcomes resulted in a death.”
“Yes, I agree. I deliberately avoided that scenario then because he had a complete loss of memory of the incident.”
“Yes, but don’t you see, that fact in itself points to a possible trigger.”
Felix pondered on Richard’s suggestion with a raised eyebrow until he too saw the possibility of a hidden connection. “You don’t think his subconscious feels guilty about the earlier death in some way, and is deliberately reversing the situation with Joe to absolve himself. It’s a bit of a long-term reaction.”
“Felix, I recently had an old man who was still blaming himself for his mate’s death in the Second World War. And in his day-to-day life he had no memory of that incident. Yet seventy years later he’s suffering terrible depression.”
“And you discovered this in hypnosis?”
“Yes…just like you did with this man’s RAF experience.”
“But you discarded that scenario.”
“No, I said I couldn’t see a connection. That doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”
“Meaning it wouldn’t necessarily have shown itself.”
“Exactly.”
Felix sat for a second studying the top page of his notes. “So do you have any suggestions on how I approach my next session?”
“I have given it some thought, Felix, but you’re not going to like what I have come up with. This is where you and I may part company on treatments.”
“You mean I’m not radical enough.”
“You could put it like that. I see it as a matter of choices. You can leave him thinking Joe is still alive and hope he doesn’t become paranoid about it. Or you can force his subconscious to realise Joe died in that plane. Of course, you might run the risk of unravelling whatever it was that triggered his brain to bury the car crash. And in turn, why all these three incidents are linked together?”
“You actually believe that, do you?”
“They have to be, Felix. If you eliminate the detail, all three incidents bear a relationship with each other: the similarities in the Tiger Moth experience, the Cessna crash and the car accident, where someone died in each case but where Martin survived. Don’t you see it? Martin feels guilty for being alive.”
“Surely it’s not as simple as convincing him he’s not to blame?”
“Look Felix… You know as well as I do, it’s all immaterial when it comes to hypnosis: you set the ball rolling and see where it goes, as you found out with the RAF story. It wasn’t planned; it just materialised. So lighten up. Don’t direct the action, simply spread a few breadcrumbs and see if you get any nibbles.”
“And what sort of breadcrumbs would you scatter?”
“Oh, most definitely toast. If you want to get to the bottom of this, throw a spanner in the works; tell him he was responsible for Joe’s death, just like the other man in the car accident. And for good measure, suggest he should have landed that Tiger Moth and not wait for his instructor to take over.”
“And tip him right over the edge?”
“I think this character of yours is made of sterner stuff. He may have to think about your accusation, but I think he’ll deny every word.”
“You tricky bastard. You want him to decide for himself.”
“Felix,” Richard started, as he stood up, “the quickest way to get someone to deny anything is to accuse them of doing it.”
The following Monday, after allowing Martin to recuperate and enjoy his family, Felix started the second round of sessions. He also used the weekend to rehearse his radical plan to shock Martin into a clearer perspective on what had taken place in the small Cessna before the Aboriginal boy found him.
Martin was in good spirits. He said he was looking forward to his next session; even though he had no idea what had taken place on previous ones. Felix felt he was the one who was nervous and omitted his usual overview of what was about to take place, and put Martin under as soon as the equipment was set up.
“That’s the way, Martin. You’re in a deep sleep now, relaxing in the plane where we left off last time. You said you were preparing that evening’s food ration; what happened next?”
“I was breaking up the Hard-Tack biscuits. I placed both our shares on the centre consul and asked Joe what he wanted on his – peanut butter or jam.”
“Of course, Joe had no idea how much you were having. He just took what you gave him. Like the water; how many drinks did you have compared to him? Was it two for you and one for him?” Felix interrupted.
Martin’s heart rate climbed and he started shaking his head.
“No… That’s not right. I shared everything out equally.”
“What was the point? Joe was dying; you said so yourself. So there was no point in wasting food on a dying man. If he died today instead of tomorrow, that would mean an extra day of food for you.”
“Look… Joe was badly injured, but he didn’t die.”
“So when the Aborigine came you just left Joe in the plane.”
“No… He was in the clinic with me.”
“No, he wasn’t, Martin. Willy said he only took you across the desert. You left Joe to die in that plane all alone. The helicopter came a day later and found him.”
“That’s not true,” Martin said, with tears running down his face.
“It is, Martin. You starved Joe to death. You killed him, just like you did the man in that car crash three years earlier.”
“What are you talking about? I had the green light. He didn’t stop.”
“How do you know? You can’t remember what happened.”
“The coroner said the camera on the junction showed him running the red light. And he had an alcohol level twice normal.”
“I think your memory is playing tricks on you, Martin. With every accident you have managed to twist the facts to suit yourself. You should have landed that plane in the RAF; instead you waited until the last minute when it was too late and the instructor had to take over, crippling himself. Then you switched things around in your mind when you hit that car and killed the other driver. And now you’re trying to cover up Joe’s death by pretending he’s still alive.”
“Stop it… Stop it. I didn’t kill Joe. When I woke up the next morning he was dead. Do you understand? I tried to get him to eat something, but he was dead,” Martin screamed, his life signs almost going through the roof. He suddenly went quiet. Felix had to check his instruments.
Then Martin came out of the hypnosis without any assistance and said, “I couldn’t get him to eat anything…he was dead. Did you hear that? It was Willy that found me, wasn’t it? Otherwise the helicopter would have found two dead bodies.”
“I know, Martin,” Felix said, with a broad smile on his face. “I’m sorry I had to put you through that. I’m still not sure what it was your subconscious was trying to hide from you, but you were not responsible for anything.”
Martin stopped crying, wiped the tears from his face with a tissue Felix passed to him and even managed a smile. “Oh God, the relief is hard to handle. I don’t know what I feel but I feel terrible. Are you sure I wasn’t to blame for the car accident?”
“I’m sure, Martin. The Coroner was given irrefutable evidence at the inquest, proving the other driver went through a red light.”
“Yes…I remember now. I was in the middle of the junction when I saw the car a split second before he hit me. The next thing I was being cut out of my car by a man in a yellow coat. I remember the coat. It was bright and shiny and made a squeaking noise when he moved. Then he covered my head in a plastic sheet; it was to stop the sparks from burning my face.”
“That’s good,” Felix said, detaching the wires. “Now you won’t have that black hole in your memory any more. Oh, and your RAF accident happened just as you said it did. I took the liberty of checking your record. You didn’t tell me they asked you to remain in the RAF as an officer.”
“No…I wasn’t interested in the RAF as a career unless it was as a pilot.”
“And as far as Joe was concerned, his fate was sealed the moment he crashed. He seriously damaged his spleen and liver among other things. All that time you were looking after him he was slowly bleeding to death. Only, it was internally, not externally, so you had no idea. According to the Pathologist’s report, he was lucky he lasted as long as he did. Probably because you did everything.”
“I panicked when I came to and found him like that. I didn’t know what to do. When he came round he took over. The radio wasn’t working and he told me what to do to check under the cowling. He told me how to cover the plane against the heat, find the emergency rations and share out the food and water. If it hadn’t been for him I think I would have died also.”
“You survived, thanks to him and an Aboriginal boy who just happened to wander onto your crash site. You owe them your life.”
“I know…but he didn’t just find the plane by chance. My wife, Kate, found out we crash-landed onto an ancient Aboriginal dry river bed. He was following his ancestors’ ceremonial journey. Makes you think, doesn’t it?” Martin said, shaking his head. “For some reason Joe had to put the plane down on that spot, otherwise Willy would have missed it and they would be mourning over me as well as Joe.”
Felix laughed in a casual way. “Unless you’re spiritually minded, Martin, you must not go any further with those thoughts. It’s a labyrinth of what ifs and maybes that could take you down a path that has sent many theologians mad. Be thankful your guardian angel was watching over you that day.”
Although in the final analysis the mysteries of the brain remained unchallenged; the outcome for Martin was a successful one. Not only had he regained his memory of three years ago, his recent distractions had been brought back into a normal perspective; that is if one ever existed.
However, Martin was not home free yet. Felix Grossman needed the rest of the week to establish this return to normality was not simply an interlude. He had to be certain that the hypnosis had resulted in Martin’s psychological recovery, and that he had cast out his demons for the foreseeable future.