Leonard knew, the instant he saw the man with the gun sitting in the corner by the television, that he was going to die. One way or another.
The first thing that struck Leonard was how dark the young man’s hair was – too dark against his pale complexion. He was holding a black automatic and Leonard noticed that he was wearing white surgical gloves. The man with the gun stood up. He was tall and slim. Leonard reckoned that he could have taken him on, easily, if it had not been for the gun in his hand. Rush him, thought Leonard. Even if he squeezes off a round, at least you will die quickly. He might even miss. Leonard thought of the two pictures the police had shown him; of what this tall, dark young man with a pale, impassive face had done. Leonard thought hard, so hard that his head hurt. Why don’t you just rush him? What have you got to lose? A bullet is better than what he’ll do to you if you let him.
‘Relax, Leonard.’ It was as if the dark-haired man had read his thoughts. ‘Take it easy and there’s no reason for you to get hurt. I just want to talk to you. That’s all.’
Leonard knew he was lying. Just rush him. But he wanted to believe the lie.
‘Please, Leonard… please sit down so we can talk.’ The man indicated the chair that he had just vacated.
Do it now… grab the gun. Leonard sat down. The other man watched him impassively. The same lack of emotion, of expression.
‘I didn’t tell them. I didn’t tell them anything,’ Leonard said earnestly.
‘Now, Leonard,’ the dark-haired man said, as if reproaching a child, ‘we both know that’s not true. You didn’t tell them everything . But you did tell them enough. And it would be most inconvenient if you were to tell them anything more than you have.’
‘Listen, I don’t want any part of this. You must know that. You can see that I’m not going to tell them any more than I already have. I’ll go away… I promise… I’ll never come back to Hamburg.’
‘Take it easy, Leonard. I’m not going to hurt you. Unless you try anything silly. I just want to discuss our… situation with you.’ The dark-haired man leaned against the wall and placed the gun on the table next to Leonard’s keys. Do it! Do it now! Leonard’s instincts were screaming at him, yet he sat as if his body had fused with the chair. The dark-haired man reached into his jacket pocket and took out a pair of handcuffs. He tossed them to Leonard before picking up the gun again. ‘Now don’t panic, Leonard. This is merely for my protection, you understand. Please… put them on.’
Now. Do it now. If you put these on, he will have total control of you. He will be able to do anything he wants. Do it! Leonard snapped the handcuffs on one wrist, then the other.
‘Okay,’ the dark-haired man said. ‘Now we can relax.’ But as he spoke he walked into Leonard’s bedroom and returned with a large black leather holdall. ‘Now don’t be alarmed, Leonard. I just need to secure you.’ He produced a roll of thick black insulating tape from the holdall and started to wrap it across Leonard’s chest and upper arms and around the chair back. Tight. Then he took a strip and stretched it across Leonard’s mouth. Leonard’s protests were reduced to loud muffles. The combination of the gag and the over-tight tape made it difficult for him to breathe, and the hammering of his heart was exaggerated in his confined chest. Satisfied that Leonard no longer represented a threat, the other man again laid the gun on the table. He pulled over the only other chair in the apartment and drew it opposite and close to Leonard’s. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and rested his chin on a cradle of interlaced fingers. He seemed to study Leonard for a long time. Then he spoke.
‘Do you believe in reincarnation, Leonard?’ The bound man stared uncomprehendingly at the killer.
‘Do you believe in reincarnation? It’s not a complicated question.’
Leonard shook his head vigorously. His eyes were wide, wild. Scared. They searched the face of his assailant for any sign of sympathy or compassion, for anything approaching a human emotion.
‘You don’t? Well, you’re in the minority, Leonard. The vast majority of the population of this world include reincarnation in their belief systems. Hinduism, Buddhism, Taoism… many cultures find it natural and logical to have a belief in some kind of return of the soul. In villages in Nigeria you’ll often come across an ogbanje… a child who is the reincarnation of someone who died in childhood themselves. Sorry… you don’t mind if I talk while I’m getting everything ready, do you?’ The dark-haired man stood up and removed a large square sheet of black polyurethane from the holdall; he then took out a black plastic bag. Behind his gag, Leonard made an incomprehensible noise that the killer seemed to take as assent and he continued with his lecture.
‘Anyway, even Plato believed that we existed as higher beings and were reincarnated in this life as a punishment for falling from grace – something that was part of early Christian belief, actually, until it was excised and branded as heresy. If you think about it, reincarnation is easy to accept because we have all had experiences that cannot be explained any other way.’ The killer spread out the square plastic sheet on the floor and stepped onto it. He removed his jacket and his shirt, folded them carefully and put them into the black bag. ‘It happens to us all… we meet someone that we have never met before in our lifetime, yet we experience that strange sense of recognition or we feel that we have known them for years and years.’ He took off his shoes. ‘Or we will go somewhere new, somewhere we have never been before, yet we feel an unaccountable familiarity with the place.’ He unbuckled his belt, then removed his trousers, which he placed with his shoes in the bag. He now stood on the black square in only his socks and underwear. His body was pale, thin and angular. Almost boyish. Fragile. From the holdall he took out a white one-piece coverall suit, like those used by forensic experts at the scene of a crime, except this one seemed to be coated with a plastic sheen. Leonard suddenly felt sick as he realised that it was the kind of protective clothing used by abattoir workers. ‘You see, Leonard, we’ve all been here before. In one form or another. And sometimes we come back, or are sent back, to resolve some outstanding issue or another from a previous life. I have been sent back.’
The man took a hairnet from the holdall, tucked his thick dark hair in it and then pulled the hood of his coverall up and over it, pulling the drawstring closed until it formed a circle tight around his face. He covered his feet with blue plastic overshoes before starting to clear a space in the centre of the room, moving furniture and Leonard’s few personal belongings into the corners with great care, as if afraid of breaking anything. ‘Don’t worry, Leonard, I’ll put everything back the way it was…’ He smiled a cold, empty smile. ‘When we’re finished.’
He paused, looking around the room as if inspecting its readiness for whatever he had planned next. He carefully refolded the square of black plastic and replaced it in the holdall.
Leonard felt the sting of tears in his eyes. He thought of his mother. About how disappointed she had been in him. About how he had stolen to hurt her.
The killer unfolded a second heavy-duty sheet of black plastic, much larger than the first, and laid it on the space he had cleared. He then came around behind Leonard, grabbed the back of his chair, tilted it backwards and started to ‘walk’ it across the floor on its two rear legs onto the black plastic. Leonard could now feel and hear his own pulse, the blood rushing in his ears, his lips throbbing against the insulating tape gag.
‘Anyway,’ continued the killer. ‘It’s not simply that I believe in reincarnation. I know it to be a fact. A law of nature, as sound and incontrovertible as gravity.’ He took a velvet roll-pouch from his holdall and placed it on the black plastic next to the chair. ‘You see, Leonard, I have been given a gift. The gift of memory – memory beyond birth, beyond death. Memory of my past lives. I have a mission to fulfil. And that mission is to avenge an act of betrayal in my last life. That was why I was there that night when you saw me, when you were skulking around behind Hauser’s apartment. That was the very beginning of my quest. Then, the next night, I killed Griebel. But there is more that I have to do, Leonard. Much more. I can’t let you interfere with that.’