Gessen glanced at the clock. Just after nine. It was going to be a long night, with sleep impossible. ‘I need to see the Security log for one of the patients,’ he said. ‘Vidor K. Everything in the last forty-eight hours.’ He dropped the phone and rubbed his eyes. Though Keller assured him that at the time Ismail vanished, everyone was accounted for, the log might provide the answer to a disturbing question. When Ismail went missing, where was Vidor?

27

The team from Mountain Rescue passed over the terrain for a second time, spreading out across the vast grounds of the clinic and into the surrounding valley. With their bright orange vests and helmet lamps flashing across the mountains, it was impossible to keep the search a secret. The patients were asking questions, and with Ismail pointedly absent from dinner, the staff couldn’t feign ignorance for much longer. If he wasn’t found by morning, Gessen would have to convene a meeting to give them the news. Nothing incited panic quicker than patients wondering amongst themselves if a terrible fate had befallen one of the group.

He entered the sculpture garden, wreathed in mist, and started when one of the statues moved. Frayed nerves and exhaustion were getting to him. He rubbed his eyes and blinked. Standing by the fountain, arms folded across his chest, Vidor gazed across the dark valley, where points of light flashed like panicked fireflies.

‘There seems to be some excitement,’ he said, his eyes fixed on a point in the distance.

‘A search party.’ Gessen stumbled on a loose stone. ‘Someone from the village has gone missing. An older gentleman, apparently.’ Even to his own ears, the lie sounded false. If he wasn’t careful, he would start to babble. Should he ask Vidor if he’d seen Ismail since breakfast? But that would give the game away, and there was no sense in alarming anyone until they knew more.

‘Does it happen often, people getting lost?’ Vidor’s voice seemed to echo in the dark.

‘Not often.’ Gessen hesitated. ‘But the terrain in the mountains can be quite treacherous. Most of the walking trails are marked, but it’d be easy to lose your footing. Especially when the weather’s bad. Or visibility is low.’ As his voice faded, the silence felt like a weight. This year, already, nearly thirty people had died in the nearby mountains. Mostly hikers who’d wandered off the marked paths and plunged to their deaths, or skiers lost in the avalanches last spring.

Vidor stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat and tilted his head back. ‘Pity there’s cloud cover. I’ve been tracking the lunar passage and if it clears up, we’ll be treated to a glorious harvest moon tomorrow night.’ He pointed to a distant peak. ‘Pending a freak astronomical disturbance, it should rise right over there.’