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to press his fingers against the screen. The blood pounded in his ears. He was overcome by a weird sensation: he was gazing into a mirror – a rejuvenating mirror.
    Is it …? It can’t be. Felix is dead. He was cold when I took him from Sophie’s arms. I buried his ashes myself, and …
    ‘Looking at these pictures, you could be forgiven for wondering, couldn’t you?’
    … and I saw him die. Just now!
    Stern gave a choking cough. He had been holding his breath in shocked suspense, but now, as the merciless succession of unbelievable images continued to unfold, his lungs cried out for oxygen.
    But that can only be …
must
be a coincidence!
    The ten-year-old boy was left-handed. So was he.
    Stern began to tremble all over. He felt he was watching a replica of himself. He had looked just like that as a boy. Absolutely everything fitted. The hair, the rather wide-set eyes, the prominent chin, the dimple that appeared in his right cheek only when he smiled. If he dug out those old photo albums in the packing cases in the cellar downstairs, he felt sure he would find a faded snapshot of himself looking at the camera just like this boy. At the age of ten.
    And he’s got the birthmark too
.
    It was bigger now, of course, but its proportions exactly corresponded to those of the one Sophie had spotted the first time she held Felix naked in her arms.
    ‘Here’s the deal.’
    The voice was once more claiming Stern’s attention, and it sounded even more inhuman than before.
    ‘I’ll give you an answer for an answer. You tell me who split that man’s skull with an axe fifteen years ago, and I’ll tell you if there’s a life after death.’
    So saying, the voice faded out the birthday boy and transported Stern ten years back in time to the neonatal ward. He was presented with a terrible, rhythmical alternation of two freeze-framed images. Felix in his cot. First alive, then dead.
    Alive … Dead … Alive …
    He strove to stand up and vent his anguish in a despairing cry, but every ounce of strength had deserted him.
    Dead
.
    ‘An answer for an answer. You take care of Simon Sachs, we’ll deal with the psychologist. You have five days, not an hour longer. Fail to meet that deadline and you’ll never hear from me again, never learn the truth. Oh yes, one more thing.’
    The voice sounded bored now, like a medicine commercial warning of possible risks and side effects.
    ‘Don’t go to the police. If you do, I’ll kill the twins.’
    The screen went black.

10
    ‘Are you drunk?’
    Sophie was standing barefoot in the passage outside the bedroom, where she’d fled with the phone so as not to wake her husband. Patrick was due to leave on a business trip to Japan in a few hours’ time and he needed his sleep. Besides, it was just after half past twelve, and she would have found it hard to explain why her ex-husband was calling her in the middle of the night when he hadn’t even done so on her birthday in recent years.
    ‘Sorry to disturb you, I know it’s late. Are the children all right?’
    Even though he hadn’t answered her question, she could hear the answer in his voice. He sounded terrible.
    ‘Yes, of course they’re all right. They’re asleep. Fast asleep, like any normal person at this hour. What on earth do you want?’
    ‘The thing is—’ Stern broke off and started again. ‘Look, I’m sorry, but there’s something I must ask you.’
    ‘Now? Can’t it wait till tomorrow?’
    ‘It’s already waited too long.’
    Sophie paused on the sisal runner that led to the living room.
    ‘What are you talking about?’ The hour, his tone of voice, his vague allusions – everything about this phone call alarmed her. No wonder she was shivering, especially as all she wore in bed was a T-shirt and briefs.
    ‘Back then, were you ever in any doubt …’
    Sophie shut her eyes as Stern went on talking. Few words summoned up more negative emotions in her than
back then
, especially coming from the man who had