Robert Goddard - Name To a Face

“It was actually Tony who handled the arrangements with the Horstelmann Clinic on my behalf,” he revealed as the taxi sped along the autobahn towards Munich through the pewter-grey Bavarian morning. “Using Nathan Gashry as cover was his idea too.”

“Has he had another idea?”

“Sort of. We kept the clinic sweet-and discreet-by fixing up a couple of freebies for the chief administrator. He got to meet some celebs at the Cannes Film Festival-that kind of thing. We run a stable of potentially influential people who owe us favours. Ulbricht, the administrator, is one of them, thanks to accepting our generosity. Tony spoke to him yesterday and reminded him of that. Result: the bloke’s interrupting his weekend to meet us this afternoon.”

“Does he know anything about Hayley?”

“He didn’t yesterday. But hopefully he’ll have found out if she’s contacted anyone at the clinic by the time we see him. My bet is she has. That must be the help she told Ann Gashry she was getting.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“Yeah.” Tozer rubbed his jaw reflectively. “I never thought I’d find myself going back to the Horstelmann Clinic, that’s a fact.”

“When were you last there?”

“Three years ago. Shortly after Kerry’s parents were killed. I spoke to her doctor. Just to confirm there was… no chance of a recovery. I did my best for her. I even asked if her sister had been in touch. When I was told she hadn’t, I… assumed she’d washed her hands of her family. Well, as it stood then, with the Foxtons dead, there seemed no point carrying on. It wasn’t actually my decision. But when I stopped paying for Kerry’s treatment…”

“They stopped treating her.”

“She was already dead, Tim. She was never going to come out of that coma.”

“Why did you pay for her to go to the Horstelmann Clinic in the first place, then?”

“I felt responsible for what had happened to her. I wanted to do something-anything-that might… ease my conscience, I suppose. I didn’t expect any miracles. But the Foxtons did, of course. And I’d have been happy to pay for them to go on expecting them indefinitely.”

“But you wouldn’t have been happy for them to know you were paying.”

“They wouldn’t have understood. They’d have taken it as proof that I murdered their daughter. So would a good few others. Ray Trathen for one. So, I kept it quiet. I told no one except Tony.”

“Not even Carol?”

“No.” Tozer grimaced. “I didn’t want any… bad memories… getting between us.”

“Does she know now?”

Tozer nodded. “I told her straight after you called.”

“How did she react?”

“She wasn’t best pleased, to put it mildly. She finished up saying I’d got us into this mess… and had better get us out.” Tozer gave Harding a ruefully crumpled sidelong grin. “Well, she’s right, isn’t she?”

They booked into a city centre hotel selected for them by Whybrow The Cortiina was his sort of place-smart, reserved and efficient. After a snatched lunch in the hotel bar, they ordered a taxi and headed for the Horstelmann Clinic.

It was too soon for Harding to have any grasp of the geography of Munich. They were bound for Schwabing, according to Tozer. It looked a nice part of town through the taxi window-quiet and prosperous, an ideal location for the kind of establishment the Horstelmann was.

The clinic was, in the event, hard to distinguish at a glance from the elegant apartment blocks lining the side-street it was situated in. Its double-doored entrance was wider, but not by much. The brass plaque bearing its name was modestly proportioned. And Harding did not notice that the door handles were fashioned in the likeness of medical caducei until he was about to push at one of them-only for the doors to swing open automatically at the last moment.

The reception area had the hushed and wood-panelled air of an exclusive spa, with a statuesque blonde on duty to complete the effect. They were, of course, expected. She directed them to the lift with an orthodontically idealized smile. And they reached Herr Ulbricht’s office without glimpsing a single nurse, far less a patient.

“Welcome, Mr. Tozer.”

Ulbricht was a neat, fussy little man in occupation of a neat, fussy but by no means little office. His hair was fair, almost yellow, complementing the strange golden hue of his skin. His small, round eyes sparkled opalescently behind small, round glasses. He seemed slightly breathless, if not nervous, though whether their presence was the cause of this remained unclear.

“And your friend…”

“Tim Harding.”

“Welcome also.” They shook hands. Ulbricht’s palm was clammy, but his grip was tight. “Sit. Please.”

Harding and Tozer took the chairs arranged in front of the desk. Ulbricht sat behind it, separated from them by several feet of pale, polished wood conspicuously bare of paperwork. At the Horstelmann, less was evidently more in all departments.

“Mr. Whybrow explained the… difficulty of your situation,” said Ulbricht, his smile of greeting fading slowly.

“Good,” Tozer responded.

“I have made… enquiries.”

“We’re grateful, Heinz, believe me.” Ulbricht’s first name had not previously been mentioned. Tozer’s use of it now struck Harding as calculated-a declaration of the extent to which the administrator was beholden to him.

“We have rules… of confidentiality.”

“Which we understand. And respect.”

“So, what I say… must be…”

“Between us.” Tozer squeezed his forefinger and thumb together and ran them across his mouth as if zipping it shut. “Absolutely.”

“Very good.” Ulbricht cleared his throat and reassembled his smile. “It appears… Miss Foxton-Miss Hayley Foxton-came into the clinic Thursday. She desired to speak with the doctor who was in charge of her sister’s case. This was a big surprise. We had no records of a sister. But she showed her passport. The date of birth and the place of birth matched our records of Kerry Foxton. Also, one of the nurses… recognized her. Noticed the resemblance, I mean. This was… embarrassing. As next of kin, she should have been informed of the decision to… to…” Ulbricht’s mouth shaped itself round several possible expressions, none of which made it into speech.

“The decision to terminate Kerry,” suggested Harding, drawing a frown from Tozer.

“Ja,” said Ulbricht, with a slight nod of the head. “This is so. Procedure required it. But… we were not told about her.” There was a hint of reproof in his glance at Tozer. “We did not know.”

“Did she get to speak to the doctor?” Tozer prompted.

“ Ja. Friday. Dr. Hanckel met with her. There was no problem. She… understood. She gave no complaint. She only wanted to… speak about her sister… and her time here.”

“So, Hanckel filled her in?” asked Tozer.

“He told her… as much as he could.”

“And then?”

“She left.”

“That was it?”

“Not… exactly. Dr. Hanckel gave her some… items belonging to her sister. We had kept them after the… termination. And he suggested she contact her sister’s… companion.”

“Her what?” put in Harding.

“We have a… Begleiter Programm for coma patients. Each patient has a companion who visits them regularly. To talk to them. To read to them. It shows good results. But not always. Natürlich. And not for Kerry Foxton. Still, the companion spent longer with her than anyone else, so… Dr. Hanckel thought it could help Hayley to speak with him.”

“Can we speak with him?” asked Tozer.

“I will give you his name and contact details. I have not contacted him myself. He no longer works for us. It must be a… private matter between you.”