“Close your eyes for a moment. Do you still notice any tiredness?”
“None whatever.”
Geijerstam said to Fallada: “If we took his lambda reading, you would find it had increased.”
Fallada said: “I’d like to do full tests.”
“Of course. Nothing could be easier. I have already done them, and I will show you my results.”
“Did you ever publish them?”
“I wrote an article for it about ten years ago in the Journal of Humanistic Psychology, but Professor Schacht of Göttingen attacked it so bitterly that I decided to wait until people are ready to listen.”
Carlsen asked: “How did you make the discovery?”
“I first came to suspect it when I was a student, more than seventy years ago. My professor was Heinz Gudermann, who was married to an exceptionally lovely young girl. He had enormous vitality, and he often used to say he owed it to his wife. And then I read a paper that pointed out that many men have retained their vitality into old age when they were married to young women: I remember it mentioned the great cellist Casals, the guitarist Segovia and the philosopher Bertrand Russell. But the author of the paper insisted that this was purely psychological, and even then I was inclined to doubt this. Fifteen years later, when I discovered the principle of vampirism, I began to suspect that it was due to a transfer of sexual energy. I persuaded a young couple to take lambda readings before they went to bed on their honeymoon night, and then again the next day. This showed a definite increase in the energy of the life field. Next, I persuaded another couple to take readings before and after lovemaking. And the first thing I observed was that the renewal curve was similar to the curve of a hungry man eating food. Only it was much steeper. This seemed to confirm my point: that both lovers had eaten a kind of food — vital energy. And yet they were both renewed. How could this be, unless there were two kinds of energy, male and female? You see, lovemaking is a symbiotic relation, like a bee taking honey from a flower and fertilising the flower. But in those days I was more interested in the negative principles of vampirism — people like Gilles de Rais and Count Magnus. When I was in my seventies, I had a serious illness, and my nurse was a pretty peasant girl. I noticed that when she had rested her hands on me, I felt much better, but she was tired. Then it struck me that if several girls did it at the same time, it would be easier for them all. It worked. And now every day I take a little energy from my three assistants, and they take a little of mine. They keep me young.”
Fallada was shaking his head incredulously. “That’s really astonishing. Could it be used in general medical practice?”
“It has been used. You have an example here, in this house — Gustav, the footman who carried in your bags. He is from Lycksele, a small town not far from here. He was once an excellent carpenter; then a series of bereavements made him depressed and suicidal. After his third suicide attempt, he was confined in a mental home and became completely schizophrenic. Now, schizophrenia is a kind of vicious circle. The energies are low, so everything looks meaningless and futile. And because everything seems futile, you become even more depressed and exhausted. Now, at that time I had seven young girls here for the whole summer. We brought Gustav back here — to remove him from the old environment — and began intensive treatment. This was basically the thing the Commander has just experienced. In the first few hours, the girls became very tired, but he improved noticeably. After a few sessions, he stopped taking so much energy from them. He began to manufacture his own again. Within a week he was a different man. He begged me to remain here, so I employed him, and he married the gardener’s daughter. He is now perfectly normal.”
Fallada said slowly: “If all that is true, it is one of the most amazing things I’ve ever heard. Can anyone give this energy?”
“Yes. It takes a little practice — it is easier for women than for men. But I believe anyone can do it.”
Carlsen said: “And what if the patient becomes dependent on these energy transfusions, like a drug?”
The Count shook his head. “That happens only in rare cases, when the patient has a criminal temperament.”
Fallada looked at him with deep interest. “Criminal?”
“Yes. It is basically a kind of. . . spoiltness. Do you understand the word? Healthy people enjoy being independent. They don’t like feeling reliant on others. Of course, when we are very tired or ill, we need help — as I did. But some people are more self-pitying than others. They need much more help before ihey are willing to make the effort to help themselves. And there are so many people who are so full of resentment and self-pity that they never reach this point. The more help they get, the more they want.”
“And you would describe that as the criminal temperament?”
“Yes. Because the real criminal has the same attitude. Perhaps he becomes a criminal because he is poor and frustrated. . . I am thinking of Jarlsberg, the Uppsala rapist, at whose trial I gave evidence. He once told me that when he choked and raped a girl, he was taking something that she owed to him. After a while, such a man begins to acquire a taste for this mixture of resentment and violence. He may commit his first rape because he is tormented by sexual frustration. But after his tenth, he no longer wants sex, but only rape, the sense of violating another human being. If you like, he enjoys the sense of breaking the law, of doing wrong. Burglars sometimes commit wanton destruction for the same reason.”
Carlsen said: “You believe the vampire is the criminal type?”
“Indeed. That is the ultimate form of rape.” A clock in the hall struck the hour. Carlsen glanced at his watch; it was seven. The girls all stood up. Selma Bengtsson said: “I hope you will excuse us. We must get ready for dinner.”
“Of course, my dear.” The Count made a brief formal bow from the waist. When the door had closed behind the girls, he said: “Please be seated.” He remained standing until they had sat down. “In fact, I suggested to the young ladies that they might leave us alone half an hour before dinner.” He smiled at them. “Unless I am mistaken, you believe that the aliens from the Stranger are vampires?”
Both stared at him with astonishment. Fallada said: “How the devil did you know that?”
“A simple inference. It can hardly be coincidence that you bring the famous Commander Carlsen as your research assistant. We have all followed his adventures with fascination. And you tell me you want to ask my opinion about vampires. It would be strange if there was no logical connection between these circumstances.”
Fallada laughed. “God, for a moment you had me worried.”
Geijerstam said: “But these aliens are dead, are they not?”
“No. We don’t think so.” He took out his cigar case. “Olof, would you like to explain?” It was the first time he had used Carlsen’s Christian name; it established what they had both come to feel: that they were friends as well as allies and colleagues.
Without unnecessary detail, Carlsen described his visit to the Space Research building, the death of Seth Adams, and his own encounter with the girl. At first, Geijerstam listened quietly, his hands folded in his lap. He began to nod with increasing excitement. Finally, unable to contain himself, he began to pace up and down the room, shaking his head. “Yes, yes! That is what I have always believed. I knew it was possible.”
Carlsen was glad of the interruption; he was again experiencing the strange inner reluctance to describe what had happened when he was alone with the girl.
Fallada asked Geijerstam: “Have you ever encountered this kind of vampirism before?”
“Never as strong as this. Yet it was obvious that it must exist somewhere — I say so in my book. In fact, I believe it has existed on the earth in the past. The legend of the vampire is not just a fairy story. But please go on. What happened to the girl?”
“She somehow walked out of the building, in spite of all the guards and the electronic alarm systems. An hour later, the other two aliens were found to be dead.”
“And the girl?”
“She was found dead ten hours later — raped and strangled.”
Geijerstam said incredulously: “Dead?”
“Yes.”
“No! That is impossible!”
Fallada glanced at Carlsen. “Why?”
Geijerstam threw up his hands, searching for words. “Because — how can I say it? — because vampires can take care of themselves. That sounds absurd, perhaps. . . but again and again in my career as a criminologist I have noticed the same thing. People who get murdered are of a definite type. And vampires do not belong to that type. You must have noticed this yourself?”