Lifeforce (12 page)

“I got this out of the library yesterday. I thought it might interest you.”

He glanced at the title: Spirit Vampirism.

“That’s odd.”

“What?”

“Just a coincidence. The author’s Ernst von Geijerstam. And Fallada mentions a Count von Geijerstam.” He turned to the bibliography of Fallada’s book. “Yes, it’s the same one.”

“Have you read the Times leader yet?”

“No. What does it say?”

“Only that it’s a shocking waste of the taxpayers’ money to send two spaceships all the way to the asteroids and then bring them back empty-handed.”

Carlsen was too absorbed in the book to reply. She left him alone. When she returned half an hour later, he was still reading, and she could see that the glass coffee machine was empty.

“Are you hungry yet?”

“Not yet. Listen to this. This Count Geijerstam was supposed to be a crank, according to Fallada. He was some sort of psychologist, but no one took him seriously. Listen: it’s a chapter called ‘The Patient Who Taught Me to Think.’

“ ‘The patient, whom I shall call Lars V–––, was a rather good-looking but pale ectomorph in his mid-twenties. For the past six months he had been experiencing intense compulsions to exhibit his sexual organs to women in public places. More recently, this had given way to a desire to undress children and bite them until they bled. He had not given in to any of these urges, although he admitted that he often went out with his fly open underneath his overcoat.

“ ‘The patient’s history was as follows. His parents were both gifted artists, and Lars had displayed a talent for sculpture from an early age. He entered art school at sixteen, gaining top marks in the entrance exam. At the age of nineteen, his progress had been so spectacular that he held a successful exhibition and made himself a considerable reputation. It was at this exhibition that he met Nina von G–––, the daughter of a Prussian nobleman.

“ ‘Nina was a pale girl who looked weak but was in fact possessed of considerable physical strength. She had enormous dark eyes and an unusually red mouth. She praised Lars and said she had always wanted to be the slave of a great artist. Within a day or so, he was hopelessly in love with her. It was many months before she allowed him to possess her, permitting him to believe that she was a virgin. Then she insisted on a strange pantomime. She lay in a makeshift coffin, dressed in a white nightdress, her hands crossed on her breasts. Lars had to creep into the room, pretending to be an intruder, then find the body, with candles burning round it. He then had to aet out the fantasy of caressing the “corpse,” carrying it to the bed, and biting it all over. Finally, he had to ravish her. During all this time, the girl agreed to remain perfectly still and give no sign of life.

“ ‘It was clear, after he had made love to her, that Nina was not a virgin; however, Lars was now too infatuated to care. The two continued to act out extraordinary sexual fantasies. He was a rapist who ravished her in a dark alleyway, or a sadist who pursued her through the woods, tied her to a tree, and then whipped her before possessing her. After each of these occasions, Lars experienced a deep sense of lassitude, and one day the two of them slept naked, in the open, for several hours after lovemaking, to be awakened by falling snow.

“ ‘Lars now begged her to marry him. She refused, explaining that she already belonged to another man. She referred to this man simply as “the Count,” and said that he visited her once a week to drink a small glassful of her blood. Lars had, in fact, noticed small cuts on the underside of her forearms. She explained to Lars that she had been taking his energy, in order to be able to satisfy the demands of the Count. The only way in which she and Lars could be united was for both of them to swear total allegiance to the Count, and to acknowledge themselves his slaves.

“ ‘In a storm of jealousy, Lars threatened to kill her. After this, he tried to kill himself by taking an overdose of a powerful drug. His family found him unconscious and sent him to the hospital. There he was detained for two weeks. At the end of this time he ran away and went to the girl’s flat, intending to tell her he accepted her conditions. But she had gone, and no one knew her address.

“ ‘Now he was subject to continual nervous exhaustion. His sexual fantasies now consisted of dreams of being mistreated by the girl and her lover, the Count. After these orgies of autoeroticism, he was often exhausted for days. His parents were deeply concerned about him, and his professor, an eminent art historian, begged him to return to his work. He had finally decided to come to me.

“ ‘At first I assumed that this was a case of Freudian neurosis, probably involving guilt feelings about a mother fixation. The patient also admitted to having incestuous desires towards his sisters. But one episode he described made me wonder whether my approach was entirely wrong. He told me how, in the early days of the love affair, he had been working in his studio on a marble statue, and feeling exceptionally robust. The girl came into the studio, and he tried to persuade her to go away to let him work. Instead, she removed her clothes and lay at his feet until he became excited. Finally, he possessed her as she lay on the concrete floor. He fell asleep, lying in her arms. When he woke up, he realised that she was now lying on top of him, and — as he put it — sucking away his life fluid. He said that it felt exactly as though she was sucking his blood. When she finally stood up, he was too exhausted to move; but she, on the contrary, was now glowing with a tigerish vitality that was almost demonic.

“ ‘I then remembered what my mother had said of my Aunt Kristin — that she could drain everyone in the room of vitality while she sat there, apparently absorbed in her knitting. I had taken this to be a figure of speech, but now I wondered if it could have any factual foundation.

“ ‘According to the patient, his “vampire” often visited him in dreams, and drained his life fluid. I therefore installed him in my house and began a series of tests. Every night before he slept, I took readings of his life field and Kirlian photographs of his fingertips. For the first few nights, he showed no signs of depletion — the readings were always slightly higher in the morning, as you would expect after a good night’s sleep, and the Kirlian photographs showed a healthy aura. But on the first night he dreamed of his “vampire,” his life field became significantly lower, and his Kirlian photographs corresponded to those of a man suffering from some wasting disease…’ ”

Carlsen looked up. “What do you think of that?”

She asked: “What happened?”

“I don’t know. That’s as far as I’ve got. But as far as I can gather, his theory is that all people are energy vampires to some extent.”

Jelka was sitting in the chair by the window. She said: “It sounds to me as if it was a straightforward case of sexual hang-ups. All that stuff about lying in a coffin…”

He shook his head, staring past her. Suddenly, it seemed to him that he entirely understood the case, and that he had known about it for a long time. He said slowly: “No… That’s the interesting part of it. She began by worming her way into his affections.” Jelka looked at him with surprise; the phrase sounded uncharacteristic. “Don’t you see? She begins by flattering his ego, saying that she wants to belong to a man of genius — in other words, offering herself on any terms. Then she finds out his secret fantasies — his dreams of rape and violation. And she becomes an instrument of his fantasies until he’s completely dependent on her. She begins drinking his energy, stealing his life fluid. And then comes the twist. When she’s certain he’s enslaved, she tells him that he must submit entirely — become her slave. In other words, she’s completely turned the tables.”

“I’ve known a few women like that.” She stood up. “Anyway, go on reading. I’m dying to find out what happens.”

A quarter of an hour later, she pushed the trolley into the bedroom. She said: “You’re looking better now.”

“Yes, I feel much better. I must have slept too heavily. Ah, that smells delicious. Toasted rolls…”

She picked up the book, which he had dropped onto the floor. “Well, was he cured?”

He said through a mouthful of egg and bacon: “Yes, but it’s rather frustrating. He doesn’t describe exactly how he did it. All he says is he changed his sexual orientation.”

She sat reading as he ate. “Yes, it is rather irritating. Can’t you write to the author?” She looked at the title page. “Oh, no — he must be dead. This came out in twenty thirty-two — nearly fifty years ago.”

The telescreen buzzed. She switched off the picture before answering, and used the close-up telephone. After a moment she said: “It’s Hans Fallada.”

“Oh fine, I’ll talk to him.”

Fallada’s face appeared. “Good morning. Did you receive my manuscript?”

“Yes, thanks. I’m just reading it. What’s the news?”

Fallada shrugged. “None. I’ve just talked to Heseltine. Everything’s quiet. And there’s going to be a question in Parliament this afternoon about why the Vega and Jupiter have been ordered to return. So I’m ringing to warn you. If the press get on to you, claim you know nothing about it. Or say something noncommittal about the need to do these things slowly.”

“All right. Tell me, Doctor, have you actually read this book Spirit Vampirism ?”

“By Count von Geijerstam? A long time ago.”

“I’m reading it now. He seems to believe many of the things you believe. Yet you dismiss him as a crank.”

“Yes. That book is fairly sound. But his later work is quite mad. He ended by believing that most mental illness is caused by ghosts and demons.”

“But this first case he describes — do you remember, the sculptor? — is fascinating. It would be interesting to find out how he cured him. After all, he must have worked out some kind of defence against vampirism.”

Fallada nodded, thoughtfully. “Yes, that is interesting, now you mention it. Geijerstam must be dead, of course. But he had many students and pupils. Perhaps the Swedish embassy could help.”

Jelka, who was standing by the door, said: “How about Fred Armfeldt?”

Carlsen said: “Hold on a moment.”

Jelka repeated: “Fred Armfeldt, the man who got so drunk at your reception. He was the Swedish cultural attache.”

Carlsen snapped his fingers. “Yes, of course. He might be able to help. A man who came to my reception in the Guildhall. I think he was from the Swedish embassy. I’ll try to contact him.”

Fallada said: “Good. Ring me back if you make any progress. I’ll let you finish eating.” He had evidently noticed the breakfast tray on the bed.

Carlsen showered and shaved before he called the Swedish embassy. “Could I speak to Fredrik Armfeldt, please?” He gave his name. A moment later, he found himself speaking to a clean-shaven young man with pink cheeks.

Armfeldt said: “How good to hear from you, Commander! What can I do for you?”

Carlsen explained his problem briefly. Armfeldt shook his head. “I have never heard of this Geijerstam. He’s a doctor, you say?”

“A psychiatrist. He wrote a book called Spirit Vampirism .”

“Ah, in that case he would probably be in the Swedish writers’ directory. I have that here in the office. One moment, please.” He reappeared a moment later with a large volume. He searched through it, murmuring: “Eroding, Garborg… ah, Geijerstam, Gustav. Is that the man?”

“No. Ernst von.”

“Yes, here it is: Ernst von Geijerstam, psychologist and philosopher. Born Norrkoping, June 1987. Educated at the University of Lund and University of Vienna… What do you want to know?”

“When did he die?”

Armfeldt shook his head, then looked at the cover of the book. “As far as I can see, he’s still alive. He must be… ninety-three.”

Restraining his excitement, Carlsen said: “Does it give an address?”

“Yes. Heimskringla, Storavan, Norrland. That is an area of mountains and lakes.” Carlsen wrote down the address.

“There’s no telescreen number there?”

“No. But if you like, I can try to find out —”

“No, don’t bother. That’s very useful.”

They exchanged some general remarks, agreed to meet for a drink, and said goodbye. Carlsen immediately rang Fallada. “I’ve just discovered that Geijerstam’s still alive.”

“Incredible! Where does he live?”

“A place call Storavan, in Norrland. I wonder if I should send him a cable? He may have heard my name with all this publicity.”

Fallada shook his head; he said slowly: “No. I think I must try to contact him. In fact, I should have tried years ago. It was sheer laziness and stupidity on my part. After all, he was the first man to recognise the phenomenon of mental vampirism. Can you give me the full address?”

Carlsen spent the remainder of the morning sitting in the sun-lounge, reading. He had intended to read Fallada’s book, but he found Spirit Vampirism so absorbing that he was halfway through it when Jelka fetched the children from play school at lunchtime. The telescreen rang continuously: mostly newsmen wanting comments on the recall of the spaceships. After speaking to three of them, Carlsen told Jelka to say he was out.

At two o’clock, after a salad lunch, he was playing with the children in the paddling pool when Jelka came to the door. “Dr. Fallada on the screen again.”

He went indoors, his eyes adjusting with difficulty after the bright sunlight. Fallada was on the kitchen extension.

He said: “What are you doing for the rest of the day?”

Carlsen said: “Nothing but reading your book.”

“Can you come with me to Sweden?” He smiled with excitement.

“I suppose so. Why?”

“Geijerstam’s offered to see us. And we can be in Karlsborg by six-thirty if we catch a plane from London Airport at three forty-two.”

“Where’s Karlsborg?”

“It’s a small town at the northern end of the Gulf of Bothnia. Geijerstam’s arranging for an air taxi to meet us there.”

“What shall I bring?”

“Just an overnight bag. And Geijerstam’s book. I’d like to read it on the way there.”

Carlsen’s helicab was late; he and Fallada barely had time to exchange more than a few words before they strapped themselves into their seats on.the Russian Airlines jet bound for Moscow via Stockholm and Leningrad. Carlsen had never lost a childlike sense of delight in air travel. Now, as he watched the green fields of southern England give way to the silver-grey mirror of the sea, he experienced a rising excitement, a feeling of setting out towards adventure.