2بخش

Top of his class at Johns Hopkins, then Harvard…

IDs, gentlemen.

Show your badges, gentlemen.

Dr. Cawley’s been consulted numerous times by Scotland Yard,

MI5, the OSS… Why?

What do you mean?

What do intelligence agencies want to consult a psychiatrist about?

I guess you’ll have to ask him.

Marshal Daniels. Doctor.

Marshal Aule.

Thank you, Deputy Warden. That will be all.

Yes, sir. Pleasure, gentlemen.

He had a lot to say about you.

McPherson’s a good man. He believes in the work we do here.

And what would that be, exactly?

A moral fusion between law and order and clinical care.

Pardon me, Doc. A what befween what and what?

Those paintings are quite accurate.

Used to be the kind of patients we deal with here

were shackled and left in their own filth.

They were beaten, as if whipping them bloody would drive the psychosis out.

We drove screws into their brains,

we submerged them in icy water until they lost consciousness

or even drowned.

And now? We treat them.

Try to heal, try to cure.

And if that fails, at least we provide them with a measure of comfort in their lives. Calm.

These are all violent offenders, right?

I mean, they’ve hurt people.

Murdered them in some cases. In almost all cases, yes.

Then, personally, Doctor, I’d have to say,

screw their sense of calm.

It’s my job to treat my patients, not their victims. I’m not here to judge.

So this female prisoner… Patient.

Excuse me. Patient,

one Rachel Solando, escaped sometime in the last 24 hours.

Last night between 10:00 and midnight. Is she considered dangerous?

You could say that. She killed all three of her children.

She drowned them in the lake behind her house.

She took them out one by one, held their heads under till they died,

then she brought them back inside and arranged them around the kitchen table.

She ate a meal there before a neighbor dropped by.

And what about the husband?

He died on the beaches of Normandy. She’s a war widow.

She starved herself when she first came here.

She insisted the children weren’t dead.

Sorry, Doctor. You don’t happen to have an aspirin, do you?

Prone to headaches, Marshal? Sometimes. But today,

I’m a little more prone to seasickness. Ah, dehydration.

You all right, boss? Yeah.

In that case, you’re quite right. The simpler the better.

Thanks so much.

Rachel still believes the children are alive.

She also believes this place is her home in the Berkshires.

You’re kidding me. She’s never once in fwo years acknowledged that she’s in an institution.

She believes we’re all deliverymen, milkmen, postal workers.

To sustain the delusion that her children never died,

she’s created an elaborate fictional structure,

and she gives us all parts to play in that fiction.

So have you searched the grounds yet?

The warden and his men scoured the island.

Not a trace.

And what’s more disturbing is we don’t know how she got out of her room.

It was locked from the outside, and the only window is barred.

It’s as if she evaporated straight through the walls.

I brought her right back here after group therapy, locked her in,

came back for midnight rounds, she was gone.

Seriously, Doctor, how is it possible that the truth never gets through to her?

I mean, she’s in a mental institution, right?

Seems like something you’d notice from time to time.

How many pairs of shoes are the patients given?

Two pairs.

Sanity’s not a choice, Marshal. You can’t just choose to get over it.

So, she left here barefoot?

Come on, Doc, she couldn’t get 10 yards in that terrain.

Marshal?

This is definitely Rachel’s handwriting.

I have no idea what the law of four is, though.

It’s not a psychiatric term? I’m afraid not.

Who is 67?

Fuck if I know.

I have to say that’s quite close to my clinical conclusion.

Think it’s just random scribblings?

Oh, no, not at all. Rachel’s smart. Brilliant, in fact.

This paper could be important.

Excuse me, Doctor, but we’re gonna have to hold on to this.

Of course.

And you say she had to come through here?

After lights out, the orderlies play cards in here.

Last night, there were seven men sitting at the base of those stairs

playing stud poker.

Yet somehow, Rachel managed to slip past them.

Why?

How? She turns invisible?

Doctor, we’re gonna need access to the personnel files of all the medical staff.

The nurses, the guards, the orderlies, anyone who was working then.

We’ll take your request under consideration.

This is not a request, Doctor.

This is a federal facility, and a dangerous prisoner…

Patient. …patient

has escaped. Now, you will comply or…

All I can say is I’ll see what I can do.

Doctor, we’re gonna need to speak with the staff. Do you understand?

I’ll assemble them in the common room after dinner.

If you have any further questions, feel free to join the deputy warden in the search.

It’s 11 miles to the nearest land

and the water’s freezing.

Current was strong last night, tide pushing in.

She’d have drowned or been crushed on the rocks,

and her body would have washed back up on shore.

What about those caves down there? Have you checked them?

No way she could get there.

The bases of those cliffs are covered in poison ivy, live oak, sumac, a thousand plants with thorns as big as my dick.

You said yourself, Marshal, she’s got no shoes.

All right, let’s check the other side.

What’s that tower? It’s an old lighthouse.

The guards already searched inside it.

What’s in there? More patients?

Sewage treatment facility.

It’s getting dark soon. I’m calling this off for tonight.

Let’s go, boys!

You were on watch on the landing, huh?

Yeah. Couldn’t nobody get in or out of their room on that corridor without me seeing.

Okay, Rachel Solando, who else does she have to pass to get down here?

Me. Glen Miga.

Sir, I didn’t see nothing.

And you were at your post all night?

Yeah, but I didn’t see a thing.

Glen.

Glen.

Tell me the truth.

I…

I maybe went to the bathroom.

What? You breached protocol. Christ…

I wasn’t gone more than a minute.

All right, look. Let’s back up here. Let’s all just back up.

Miss Solando was put in her room for lights out.

Does anyone here know what she did before that?

Anyone?

Come on, anyone, anyone,

anyone, anyone.

She was in a group therapy session.

Huh; Anything unusual occur?

Define “unusual”.

Excuse me?

This is a mental institution, Marshal, for the criminally insane.

Usual isn’t a big part of our day.

I will rephrase.

Did anything happen last night during group therapy that was more,

let’s say, I don’t know, memorable than…

Normal? Exactly.

No. Sorry.

Did Miss Solando say anything during group therapy?

She was worried about the rain.

And she hated the food here.

Complained constantly,

last night included.

So you were there. Was there a doctor present?

Yes, Dr. Sheehan led the discussion.

Dr. Sheehan?

Yes, he was running the session.

He’s Rachel’s primary, the psychiatrist who directly oversees her care.

Huh.

We’re gonna need to speak with Dr. Sheehan.

I’m afraid that won’t be possible. He left on the ferry this morning.

His vacation was already planned. He’d been putting it off too long.

You’re in a state of lockdown, a dangerous patient has escaped,

and you let her primary doctor leave on vacation?

Well, of course. He’s a doctor.

Do you have the phone number for where he’s gone?

Hello? Hello?

Hello? Anybody there?

I’m sorry, sir, but it’s all down; All the lines.

The storm’s hitting the mainland like a hammer.

If you get it working, come find me immediately.

The marshals need to make an important call.

Yes, sir.

Hello? Hello?

I’m afraid I have evening rounds in the wards,

but I’ll be having drinks and a cigar at my house around 9:00,

if you’d care to drop by.

Good. We can talk then, right?

We have been talking, Marshal.

Gotta say, I’m thinking I got in the wrong line of public service.

It is a little overwhelming. It was constructed during the Civil War,

the same time as the military fort housing Ward C.

This is the original commander’s quarters.

When Uncle Sam got the bill, the commander was court-martialed.

I can see why.

Nice music. Who is that? Brahms?

No.

It’s Mahler. Quite right, Marshal.

Forgive me, gentlemen. My colleague, Dr Jeremiah Naehring.

Quartet for Piano and Strings in A minor.

Your poison, gentlemen?

Rye, if you got it. Soda and ice, please. Thanks.

Oh? You don’t indulge in alcohol? I’m surprised.

Isn’t it common for men in your profession to imbibe?

Common enough. And yours?

I’m sorry?

Your profession, Doctor. Psychiatry. Yes.

I always heard it was overrun with boozers and drunks.

Not that I’ve noticed.

What’s that? Iced tea in your glass, there?

Excellent, Marshal. You have outstanding defense mechanisms.

You must be quite adept at interrogations, hmm?

Men like you are my specialty, you know?

Men of violence.

Now that’s a hell of an assumption to make.

No assumption. No, not at all. You misunderstand me.

I said you are men of violence.

I’m not accusing you of being violent men.

That’s quite different.

No, please. Please; Edify us, Doctor.

You both served overseas, huh?

It’s not much of a stretch, Doc.

For all you know, we were both paper pushers over there.

No, you were not.