The Key to Midnight (20 page)

“But you must realize,” he said, “that we very likely won’t finish today. Indeed, it would be amazing if we did.”

“How long?” Joanna asked.

The doctor shook his head. “I can’t say. Therapy creates its own pace, which is different for each patient. But I understand how urgent this is, and I’ll see you for at least an hour or two every day until we’ve learned what you need to know.”

“That’s kind of you,
Isha-san,
but I don’t want you to interfere with your regularly scheduled appointments just because I’m a friend of Mariko’s.”

Dr. Inamura waved one slender hand dismissively and insisted that she was not causing him any trouble. “In Japan a psychiatrist is in somewhat the same position as that proverbial salesman who tries to sell refrigerators to the Eskimos. Because they live in a society that values tradition, teaches meditation, and encourages a code of etiquette and mutual respect, my people are generally at peace with themselves.” With typical Japanese modesty, Inamura said, “While some colleagues might be so kind as to say I am moderately successful in my profession, I nevertheless have open appointments every day. Believe me, Miss Rand, you are not an inconvenience. Quite the opposite. It is an honor to provide treatment for you.”

She inclined her head toward the doctor. “It is a privilege to be your patient,
Isha-san.”

“You regard me too highly, Joanna-san.”

“As you do me.”

“Shall we begin now?”

“Yes, please.” She tried to appear calm, but a tremor in her voice betrayed her fear.

Alex put his hand on her arm. “It’ll be okay.”

After picking up a remote control from the coffee table, the doctor rose from his chair and came around the table, soundless on the thick carpet. He stood by Joanna’s chair. “Lean back, please. Relax. Put your hands in your lap with the palms up. Very good.”

He pointed the remote control at the tapestry, and the room lights, although not bright to begin with, slowly dimmed. Like cautious predators, shadows crept out of the corners.

“Ahhhhh,” Freud said softly and appreciatively from his brass cage. “Ahhhhh.”

The vanes of the highly lacquered pine shutters had previously glimmered with a liquid amber luminescence, but now they faded into gloom. Only the tapestry remained clearly revealed—and in the altered light it was transformed. It appeared to be mysteriously illuminated from within, and in spite of the stylized and idealized nature of the scene, it acquired such a strong aspect of reality that it almost seemed to be a view from a window.

“Look straight ahead,” Inamura told Joanna. “Do you see the lovely tapestry on the wall?”

“Yes.”

“Do you see the river in the tapestry?”

“Yes.”

“Do you see the small boats?”

“I see them.”

The tapestry light was subtly cycling up and down on a rheostat, within a narrow range of brightness: a hypnotic pulse.

“Concentrate on those boats, Joanna. Look closely at those little boats. Imagine yourself on one of them. You are standing on the deck. Water is lapping at the hull. Lapping gently at the hull. The water makes a soothing, rhythmic sound. The boat sways in the current. Gently. Gently. The boat sways gently in the water. Can you feel it swaying?”

“Yes,” Joanna said.

Alex looked away from the tapestry and blinked rapidly. Omi Inamura’s voice was so remarkably mellow and entrancing that Alex actually had felt the sway of the boat and had heard the faintest lapping of water.

Joanna continued to stare straight ahead.

“The boat is like a baby’s cradle.” Inamura’s voice grew even softer and more intimate than it had been at the start. “It rocks gently, gently like a cradle. Gently like a cradle, rocking, rocking. Putting the baby to sleep. If you feel your eyes getting heavy now, you may close them.”

Joanna closed her eyes.

The tapestry light stopped pulsing.

“Now I’m going to tilt your chair back slightly,” Inamura said. “To help you relax.”

Pointing the remote control at her, he touched another button, and her armchair changed positions until it was halfway between being a chair and a couch.

“Now I want you to think of your forehead, Joanna. You are frowning. Your forehead is lined. It should be smooth. As smooth as glass. You will relax. I will touch you, and those lines will vanish.”

He placed his fingertips on her forehead, on her eyelids. The lines in her brow did, indeed, vanish.

“Joanna, you’re clenching your teeth. I want you to relax the muscles in your face.”

He lightly pressed his fingertips to her left temple, her right temple, her cheekbones, her chin. His touch was magical, smoothing away all visible signs of her anxiety.

“And now your neck... relax your neck muscles... now your left shoulder... very relaxed ... your right shoulder ... both arms ... so very relaxed ... deeper ... deeper ... your abdomen and your hips ... limp ... no tension ... relaxed ... and now your legs, your feet ... even into your toes, all relaxed, totally and wonderfully relaxed. You feel as if you are floating on a vast body of water ... floating on blue water under blue sky ... drowsy ... drowsy ... drowsier ... until you are now in a deep and natural sleep.”

Joanna’s breathing had become slow and regular, but Inamura continued:

“I am taking hold of your right hand, Joanna. I’m lifting your right arm. And now your arm is becoming stiff ... rigid ... cannot be moved ... cannot be lowered. It is impossible for you to lower your arm. It is rigid and will stay where I have put it. I’m going to count down from three, and when I say ‘one,’ you will be unable to put your arm down.

Three ... you are sleeping deeply ... two ... deeper and deeper into a relaxed, natural sleep ... one ... your arm is rigid. Rigid. But try to prove me wrong, Joanna. Try to move your arm.“

She tried, but the arm trembled, and she could not lower it.

Inamura nodded with satisfaction. “You may now lower your arm, Joanna. I am now
allowing
you to lower it. Indeed, your arm is now so limp that you cannot possibly hold it up.”

Her arm dropped into her lap.

“And now you are in a deep, deep, very relaxed sleep, and you will answer a number of questions for me. You will enjoy answering them. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she murmured.

“Speak more clearly, please.”

“Yes.”

Inamura returned to his chair. He put the remote control on the coffee table.

“Fly away,” said the myna in the cage. A wistfulness colored those two words, as if the bird actually understood their meaning.

Joanna was limp, but now Alex was tense. He slid to the edge of his chair and turned to his right, so he could look directly at her.

To Alex, Inamura said, “She’s an excellent subject for hypnosis. Usually, there’s a little resistance, but not with her.”

“Perhaps she’s had a lot of practice.”

“Quite a lot of it, I think,” said Inamura.

Joanna waited.

The doctor leaned back in his chair, every bit as relaxed as his patient. His face was half in shadow. One eye was dark, the other gilded by a soft golden light, a reflection off the brass birdcage. He thought for a moment, then said, “Joanna, what is your full name?”

“Joanna Louise Rand,” she said.

“Is that truly your name?”

“Yes.”

“Recently you learned that Joanna Rand is a false name and that you were once called something else. Is that true?”

“No.”

“You don’t remember making that discovery?”

“My name is Joanna Louise Rand.”

“Have you heard the name ‘Lisa Chelgrin’?”

“No.”

“Think about it before answering.”

Silence. Then: “I’ve never heard the name.”

“Do you know a man named Alex Hunter?”

“Of course. He’s here.”

“Did he mention Lisa Chelgrin to you?”

“I’ve never heard that name.”

“Joanna, you can’t lie to me. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“You must always tell me the truth.”

“Always.”

“It is utterly impossible for you to lie to me.”

“Impossible. I understand.”

“Have you ever heard the name ‘Lisa Chelgrin’?”

“No.”

Alex glanced at the doctor. “What’s happening?”

Inamura stared at Joanna for a while, tilting his head just far enough so the reflected spot of golden light shifted from his right eye to his cheek, where it shimmered like a strange stigmata. Finally he said, “She might have been programmed with this response to this particular question.”

“Then how do we get around the program?” Alex asked.

“Patience.”

“I haven’t much of that at the moment.”

Inamura said, “Joanna, we will now do something amazing. Something you might think impossible. But it is not impossible and is not even difficult. It is simple, easy. We are going to make time run backward. You are going to get younger. It is beginning to happen already. You can’t resist it. You don’t want to resist it. It is a lovely, sweet, flowing feeling ... getting younger ... and younger. The hands of the clock are turning backward ... and you feel yourself floating in time ... getting younger ... rapidly younger ... and now you are thirty-one years old, not thirty-two any more ... and now thirty ... and now twenty-nine ... floating back through time.” He continued in that fashion until he had regressed Joanna to her twentieth year, where he stopped her. “You are in London, Joanna. The apartment in London. You are sitting in ... let’s make it the kitchen. You are sitting at the kitchen table. Your mother is cooking something. It smells delicious. Makes your mouth water. What is your mother cooking, Joanna?”

Silence.

“What is your mother cooking, Joanna?”

“Nothing.”

“She is not cooking?”

“No.”

“Then what smells so delicious?”

“Nothing. There’s no smell.”

“What is your mother doing if not cooking?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you in the kitchen?”

“Yes.”

“What’s happening?”

“Nothing.”

“All right then. What is your mother’s name?”

“My mother’s name is Elizabeth Rand.”

“What does she look like?”

“She has blond hair like mine.”

“What color are her eyes?”

“Blue. Like mine.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Yes.”

“Heavy or thin.”

“Slender.”

“How tall is she, Joanna?”

Silence.

“How tall is your mother?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is she tall, short, or of medium height?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay. All right. But you are there in the kitchen.”

“Yes.”

“Now ... does your mother
like
to cook, Joanna?”

“I don’t know.”

“What is her favorite food?”

Silence.

“What is your mother’s favorite food, Joanna?”

“I don’t know.”

“She must like to eat certain things in particular.”

“I suppose so.”

“What kind of meals does she prepare for you?”

“Regular meals.”

“All right ... what about beef? Does she favor beef dishes?”

After a hesitation Joanna sighed and said, “My mother’s name is Elizabeth Rand.”

Frowning, Inamura said, “Answer my question, Joanna. Does your mother prepare beef for you?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Yes, you do,” he said gently, encouragingly. “You’re in the kitchen. What is your mother cooking for you, Joanna?”

She said nothing.

Inamura was silent, pondering her blank face. He changed the subject. “Joanna, does your mother like to go to the movies?”

Joanna shifted uneasily in the armchair but kept her eyes shut.

Inamura said, “Does your mother like the theater, perhaps ?”

“I guess she does.”

“Does she like the movies too?”

“I guess she does.”

“Don’t you know for sure?”

Joanna made no response.

“Does your mother like to read?”

Silence.

“Does your mother enjoy books, Joanna?”

“I ... I don’t know.”

“Does it seem strange to you that you know so little about your own mother?”

Joanna squirmed in her chair.

Inamura said, “What’s your mother’s name, Joanna?”

“My mother’s name is Elizabeth Rand.”

“Tell me everything you know about her.”

“She has blond hair and blue eyes like mine.”

“Tell me more.”

“She’s slender and pretty.”

“More, Joanna. Tell me more.”

Silence.

“Surely you know more, Joanna.”

“She’s very pretty.”

“And?”

“Slender.”

“And?”

“I can’t remember, damn it!” Her face contorted. “Leave me alone!”

“Relax, Joanna,” Inamura said. “You will relax.”

Joanna’s hands were no longer in her lap. She was fiercely gripping the arms of the chair, digging her fingernails into the upholstery. Under her closed lids, her eyes moved rapidly, like those of a sleeper caught in a bad dream.

Alex wanted to touch and comfort her, but he was afraid that he might break the spell that the doctor had cast.

“Relax and be calm,” Inamura instructed. “You are very relaxed and calm. In deep sleep ... deep natural sleep ... yes ... yes, that’s better ... deep relaxation. Joanna, perhaps you can’t remember these things because you never knew them. And perhaps you never knew them ... because Elizabeth Rand never existed.”

“My mother’s name is Elizabeth Rand,” Joanna said woodenly.

“And perhaps Robert Rand never existed either.”

“My father’s name is Robert Rand.”