Vidor blinked at the papers and shook his head. His air of befuddlement seemed genuine. ‘I don’t remember signing these.’ He handed them back. ‘Dr Lindstrom mentioned something about an incident in Copenhagen. But whatever it was, I feel perfectly fine now.’ He smacked his chest in a parody of health.

Gessen eyed his patient with interest. Unless he was lying, Vidor appeared to be suffering from retrograde amnesia. Not unusual following a trauma, but the fact that he claimed no memory of his arrival, while appearing completely lucid, was odd. ‘Why don’t you tell me what you do remember?’

‘Could we have some air in here?’ Vidor tugged at his collar. ‘It’s very stuffy.’

Gessen opened the window. A gust of wind with a hint of dying leaves ruffled the papers on his desk. Vidor leaned forward and sucked the fresh air into his lungs.

‘Would you like to lie down?’

‘No, I’m perfectly well.’

‘Let’s start with Copenhagen.’ He returned to his seat and picked up his pen. Vidor’s pallor was worrisome, and Gessen wondered if he might faint. ‘What were you doing in the city?’

‘I was there to receive an award.’

Gessen pointed to the documents on the table. ‘How did you end up in hospital?’

‘I suppose I must have passed out.’ Vidor’s eyes shifted to the window. ‘I remember rushing to Heathrow to catch my flight. There was no time to eat anything before boarding. In fact, I’d had nothing since breakfast, and that was just coffee and a roll. I was met at the airport in Copenhagen and driven straight to the venue. Rosen… something.’ He frowned at a dark speck on his sleeve. ‘I remember seeing the Crown Prince. A handsome man. Rather impressive in his full regalia. My name was announced.’ He paused. ‘I climbed up to the dais.’

‘And after that?’ Gessen tried not to stare, but he wanted to catch every flicker of the eyes or twitch of skin.

‘After that… nothing.’ Vidor straightened his shoulders. ‘Until I woke up here.’

Very odd indeed, Gessen mused. He scratched a note on his pad. From a clinical perspective, Ursula’s account of meeting Vidor in Copenhagen and organising his transfer to Les Hirondelles was unremarkable. According to her description of the trip, the patient had been lucid, cooperative, even friendly. Relieved, by all accounts, to be discharged from the hospital in Copenhagen. ‘Very charming’ were the words she used. Where had those memories gone? Though perhaps they’d never been stored. Lost to time in the aftermath of damage to the brain. A minor bleed, perhaps, or a seizure.