Death of an Adept

"Unusual" was a vast understatement. Adam's involvement in the case went back well over a year when, at his own request, the patient in question had been assigned to his public case load. While Henri Gerard might be formally categorized as a catatonic schizophrenic, what the medical records did not reveal was that his malady was the direct consequence of a misguided attempt to appropriate forbidden esoteric knowledge. Already well briefed on the hidden aspects of the case, Philippa pulled a slight grimace.

"You've already made more progress with him than anyone probably has a right to hope,'' she said. "Just getting him to recognize you without going into fits of hysteria was a major achievement in itself. But you're welcome to my opinion, for whatever it may be worth."

Their dash across the car park to the lobby entrance was punctuated by a biting wind and flurries of snow that whirled across the tarmac like miniature dervishes. After checking in with the receptionist, the two Sinclairs made their way to Adam's office and exchanged overcoats for starched, hospital-issue lab coats before moving on to the cozy comfort of one of the consultation rooms on the same floor. Shortly thereafter, one of the charge nurses ushered Gerard into the room, conducting him to the chair provided.

The patient was a slight, dark-haired man in his middle forties, with furtive, haggard eyes and the shuffling gait of a man many years his senior. As the nurse departed, closing the door behind him, Adam summoned a welcoming smile and greeted his patient in French.

"Bon jour, Monsieur Gerard. Comment allez vous au-jourd'hui?"

"Assez bien, Monsieur le Docteur," Gerard responded dully. "Assez bien…"

As his voice trailed off, the dark eyes went unfocused.

"This lady here is also a doctor," Adam continued in French. "I have invited her here to meet you so that we may both have the benefit of her experience in seeking a cure for your distress."

The session which followed lasted over an hour. Once the nurse had come to escort Gerard back to his ward, Philippa turned to Adam and raised a winged eyebrow.

"I can't say I'm surprised that Mr. Gerard doesn't want to re-enter the real world, Adam. As far as he's concerned, there may be demons lurking under every rock, waiting to gobble him up - which, in his experience, is a well-founded fear. It seems to me that you're already doing everything that can be done. When you consider that this illness is deeply rooted in Gerard's historic past, you may have to accept the possibility that a cure may not be achievable in this lifetime."

Mother and son continued to exchange observations as they walked back to Adam's office, albeit in less specific terms, for the sake of would-be listeners. Arriving, they were greeted by a familiar, burly figure pacing up and down outside the door.

"Hullo, Noel!" Adam exclaimed in surprise. "What brings you here?"

Looking grimly animated, the inspector glanced in both directions up and down the corridor.

"Humphrey said I'd probably be able to catch both of you here," he said in a gravelly undertone, after returning the Sinclairs' greeting. "We may have had a breakthrough, on the Callanish front."

"Come into the office," Adam immediately replied, unlocking the door and standing aside to let McLeod and Philippa enter.

As soon as the door closed behind them, the inspector pulled a folded sheaf of fax flimsies from the inside breast pocket of his overcoat, opening them on Adam's desk as Philippa took a chair and Adam went around behind.

"You remember the sketches Peregrine did up at Callanish?" McLeod began. "Well, the name Taliere didn't seem to be producing any results, so I went back to the sketches and singled out those that showed our elderly bloke in Druid's vestments. I picked out the one that seemed to give the clearest likeness and faxed it to every department up and down the country, along with a note to say that Lothian and Borders Police are seeking to identify this man, and would like to interview him in connection with a case currently under investigation here in Scotland.

"To make a long story short," he went on, "I've had a response from a colleague down in North Wales. It seems this man in Peregrine's drawing is no stranger to the police down there. I've brought a Xerox of the reply. I thought you'd like to read it for yourself."

He presented Adam with a folded sheet of paper. Opening it, Adam saw that the message had been forwarded to McLeod from a Detective Inspector Emrys Davies, of Conwy, in North Wales.