‘Who? Oh, yes. Safe and sound.’ He forced himself to look Vidor in the eye, before asking him to lie down on the couch. Afraid he might crack at any moment, Gessen didn’t want Vidor’s keen eyes searching his face. Anyone with half an ounce of intelligence would see that something was wrong. At least in here, with Gessen safely seated out of view, while Vidor lay on the couch, he could hide from scrutiny.

‘The clock is ticking, you know,’ Vidor proclaimed as he stretched out. ‘Tick-tock.’

Gessen’s tongue, dry as an old shoe, cleaved to the roof of his mouth. What he wouldn’t give to retreat to a dark corner and shut out the world. His phone remained mute. Ursula had promised she’d come to him the moment there was news.

‘And which clock would that be?’

‘The deadline for my grant application.’ Vidor crossed his hands over his chest. ‘I’ve designed an exciting set of experiments to study sensory processing in synaesthetes. You know, those unusual individuals, rare as unicorns, who can describe the colour of numbers or the shape of sounds? Crossed wires in the brain, so to speak. One of the many mysteries of sensory perception.’ He laced his fingers together and closed his eyes. ‘If I miss the deadline, it will be a tragic loss for my lab.’

Gessen said nothing. Today, of all days, he was not in the mood to be cajoled and manipulated into releasing his obstinate patient from the clinic. If Vidor only knew how serious his situation was, he might be more willing to cooperate. But there was still a risk in telling Vidor he could be charged with manslaughter – or worse. Once aware of the sword hanging over his head, Vidor could resort to all kinds of tactics to dodge responsibility for his actions.

After their last session, in the innocent time before Ismail’s disappearance, Gessen had sent Vidor away with homework. He was to imagine himself as a young boy, still living with his family in Budapest. Sift through his memories and take note of anything that came to mind. No filtering. Whatever came up, he was to write it down. Today, Gessen planned to follow up on that memory exercise with a session of free association. A deep state of relaxation often revealed a spate of interesting connections and long-buried events.

‘Did you perform the exercise we talked about last time?’ With the touch of a button, Gessen adjusted the blinds until the room was in shadow.

Vidor made a noise in his throat that Gessen took as a yes.

‘It’s strange,’ Vidor said, after a lengthy pause. ‘I hadn’t expected to remember much, but the experience was fairly Proustian. So many things I’d long forgotten about bubbled right up to the surface.’

Gessen absently touched the phone in his pocket. Still no news. Blood from his pounding heart boomed in his ears.