Doctor Frigo (19 page)

I went down with him to his car. The man Antoine was driving. Parked behind was Monsieur Albert in his 2 cv. He raised a hand to me and I waved an acknowledgement.

To Villegas I said through the open window of his car: ‘We are most grateful, Don Manuel, for your patience and co-operation. I shall be getting in touch with you very shortly.’

He nodded and, I think, tried to smile, but his face was now almost masklike.

‘Back to the villa please,’ I said to Antoine.

I spent the lunch period in the hospital library. Then I telephoned Gillon.

‘A matter of importance has arisen,’ I said. ‘It is necessary that I see you immediately.’

‘Where are you speaking from, Doctor?’

‘The hospital.’

‘Are you alone?’

‘Yes.’

‘This is a secure line. Can’t you tell me the nature of this matter?’

‘No, Commissaire, I can’t. It requires explanation and decisions. This is urgent. It is essential that I see you. And it will be as well if Commandant Delvert is also present.’

‘I think I’ll be the judge of that, Doctor, when I know what the matter is.’

‘I’ve told you that it is serious and urgent,’ I said abruptly. ‘If you are unable to dispense with these procedural niceties it may be better if I approach Commandant Delvert direct.’

There was an ominous silence. Then he said quietly: ‘Three o’clock in my office, unless I telephone you back in the next fifteen minutes.’

‘Very well.’

‘And I warn you, Doctor …’

I hung up. He had been going to warn me that my impertinence had better be excusable. I didn’t care. There was too much on my mind and it had arrived too suddenly for me to bother about Commissaire Gillon’s official dignity.

Delvert was just going into Gillon’s office when I arrived. They had both greeted me coldly. The Commissaire had obviously told the Commandant about my behaviour on the telephone. Neither was used to being summoned peremptorily by importunate civilians. They sat side by side facing me like a couple of judges.

‘It is understood,’ said Gillon to no one in particular, ‘that Dr Castillo has an urgent and important communication to make.’

I saw then that he had a small cassette tape recorder on his desk and that it was switched on. The no-one-in-particular was a microphone. It was meant to intimidate me, of course; my hanging up on him had angered Gillon even more than I had supposed. I ignored the microphone and Gillon. I looked at Delvert.

‘This morning at the hospital,’ I said, ‘I made a second and more thorough examination of the patient Manuel
Villegas. In particular I investigated the speech impediment mentioned in my first confidential hospital report on this patient. I understand that both Commissaire Gillon and Commandant Delvert have obtained access to this confidential medical report and read it.’

Delvert smiled thinly.

Gillon said: ‘Go on, Doctor.’

‘Having discussed the impediment at some length with the patient I have come to certain conclusions. The first is that it may, I say
may
, prove to be an early symptom of a serious and disabling disease. The second is that tests of a fairly complex nature must be made before there can be any question of a definitive diagnosis. Third, I am competent neither to carry out the tests nor to make the diagnosis. It is consequently necessary that a consultant neurologist with the highest qualifications be called in to examine the patient without delay.’

I stopped and waited.

‘You said urgent.’ This was Gillon of course.

‘And I meant urgent, Commissaire. For the patient’s sake, of course, it is reasonably urgent. From your point of view it may be critically so.’

‘Why?’

‘Two reasons. First, because the services of the consultant must be obtained here. That is unless you are prepared to inconvenience and perhaps alarm the patient by sending him by air to the consultant.’

‘You could have telephoned to Fort de France. The man could have been on his way by now.’

‘Yes, there is a neurologist in Fort de France. He is a good man, but in this case he would most likely want a second opinion.’

Delvert intervened. ‘You said, Doctor, that the situation may be critical from our point of view for two reasons. What is the other one?’

I chose my words carefully. ‘If what I suspect, though
only
suspect, should turn out to be true, you might well
decide that quite considerable changes of plan were necessary.’

Delvert sat back in his chair suddenly, then looked at Gillon and the tape-recorder.

‘Commissaire, I think, if you agree, that we should switch off that thing and erase what is already on it.’

Gillon hesitated, then shrugged and did as he had been told. Delvert turned to me again.

‘Now then, Doctor, you spoke of a serious disabling disease …’

‘I spoke of the possibility.’

He closed his eyes. ‘All right, Doctor, the point is taken. You’re not committing yourself because you’re in no position to do so, but you have serious grounds for concern.’ He opened his eyes again. ‘Now, what sort of concern? What disease are you talking about?’

‘Until I know much more than I know at present, none specifically.’

‘Then we’ll get someone who does know and can talk,’ snapped Gillon.

‘That’s precisely what I’m asking you to do,’ I retorted. ‘As I said, he should be a top neurologist.’

Delvert raised his hands in mock supplication. ‘But just a
little
more information, Doctor, please. You want to bring in a neurologist. Does that mean that your concern lies somewhere in the area we were discussing the other night?’

Gillon gave him a sharp look. The fact that Delvert and I had discussed Villegas outside his office was evidently news to him. He didn’t like it.

‘You mean Parkinsonism?’

‘What else?’

‘Well I wouldn’t need a neurologist to diagnose a case of Parkinsonism, but yes, I suppose you could say that my concern lies somewhere in that area. Though as it’s a large, and in parts a very misty, area it’s not one in which I am prepared to sound what may well turn out to be false alarms.’

‘But you
are
sounding an alarm.’

‘I am saying from my limited experience with diseases of the nervous system that this is a case which ought to be seen and diagnosed by a more-than-competent consultant neurologist. I am also saying that, in view of the peculiar importance, present and potential, of this particular patient, the matter is one of extreme urgency.’

‘The nervous system, you say.’ This was Gillon again. ‘You mean he may be going mad?’

‘No, I don’t mean that.’ I could hear myself getting shrill, so said no more.

‘Very well then,’ said Delvert, ‘a consultant neurologist. Do you have any particular one in mind?’

‘Several.’ I took the list I had brought with me from my pocket. ‘Bearing in mind the time factor I put the nearest at the top of the list. There’s an excellent man in New Orleans.’

‘No,’ said Delvert promptly. ‘Not New Orleans.’

‘What about Philadelphia or Boston? There are good connecting flights via Antigua.’

‘Nobody from anywhere in the United States. Who is there in Paris? May I see that list?’ He took it from me anyway and stared at it. ‘This Doctor Grandval. You’ve put him first. Any particular reason?’

‘Professor Grandval it is. He taught at my own medical school. He is now director of the post-graduate institute of neurology.’

‘Do you know him?’

‘I attended a series of lectures he gave ten years ago, along with forty or more other students. If you mean do I know him personally, no I don’t. In any case the only way of getting in touch with him would be through Dr Brissac as medical superintendent here.’

‘What would he do?’

‘Make a formal request for a special consultation. Professor Grandval’s current work programme permitting, the patient could then be flown to Paris. It really would be
simpler to pay the New Orleans man to fly down. There would be no language difficulty either since Villegas speaks English. Uncle Paco can afford it.’

‘No.’ Delvert looked at Gillon. ‘I think you’ll agree with me, Commissaire, that the Doctor’s proposal is totally unacceptable.’

Gillon nodded. What they were afraid of, I could see, was that the CIA would somehow get to hear of that urgent summons. Then there would be questions. What were the French playing at? What was going on with the key figure in Plan Polymer? Other alarm bells would start ringing.

‘You could always give the patient’s name as Señor Garcia,’ I suggested.

Delvert favoured me with the smile. ‘Unfortunately there is an excellent photograph of Señor Garcia, with an article, in last week’s
Time Magazine
, and the text gives his name as Villegas. No. Professor Grandval will have to be persuaded to rearrange his work slightly and come here.’

‘With respect, Commandant, I don’t see how you can do that.’

‘With equal respect, Doctor, you don’t have to see how. And neither does Dr Brissac. Have you discussed this latest development with him yet?’

‘There hasn’t been any time. I haven’t even written up my notes on the case for the dossier.’

‘Then keep your notes to yourself, those which relate to this particular problem anyway.’

‘He will certainly ask about the case. He is my superior. While I appreciate the need for confidentiality – if I didn’t I wouldn’t be sitting here – I am not prepared to tell lies to Dr Brissac.’

Delvert looked at Gillon. ‘You know Brissac.’

‘Yes, I’ll deal with it. He’ll keep his nose out.’

Delvert nodded. ‘Good. I think that’s all then for the moment.’

I said: ‘No, it isn’t. What am I to tell the patient?’

‘What have you told him so far?’

‘That I would do something. He’ll probably be expecting me to work some magic cure, or at any rate to alleviate the symptoms. When he left today he wasn’t feeling up to asking many questions. Later he will.’

‘If he were an ordinary patient what would you do?’

‘See him again within two days. I would then tell him, in calm, matter-of-fact tones, that the disability he was complaining of was a little unusual and that I wanted him to see a specialist consultant. Tests made by the specialist would then tell us exactly what the trouble was and how best to deal with it. I would then make arrangements for him to see the neurologist in Fort de France.’

‘Who would want a second opinion.’

‘Who might, if the case were unusual, prefer to have one, yes. But with what you call an ordinary patient we would follow a normal route. There would be no political reasons for taking short cuts or making snap decisions, nor for keeping what we were doing secret. But what do I tell this patient?’

‘What you would tell the ordinary one, except that the specialist will come to him.’

‘When?’

‘Very soon. Probably this week.’

‘All right. I must leave that part of it to you. Let me know, please, what you have arranged as soon as you can. Professor Grandval, if he will agree to come, should be told that the case involves a speech disability.’

I stood up.

Gillon had one more try. ‘Doctor, this speech disability of which your patient complains. Could you define its nature in general terms?’

‘In general terms, Commissaire, let me put it this way. He complains, in effect, that when he sets out to run a fast eight hundred metres, he finds that he can no longer manage to complete more than seven hundred.’

This statement was received in stony silence; they assumed, understandably, that I was being facetious.

The silence persisting, I left.

I would have liked to tell Elizabeth what had happened today; but there was almost nothing I could properly have told her, except that she had been wrong about Uncle Paco, and even then I couldn’t have told her why. Nor could I have explained why I now found myself feeling slightly sorry for the poor, silly old man.

His obsessional efforts to protect Villegas from my presumed infection with the ‘Florida virus’ had been incredibly clumsy.

Who contrived the death of Jesus of Galilee? The Romans or the Jews? Pilate or Herod or Judas? The elders, the chief priests, the scribes, the captains of the temple or some other, yet more subtle, manipulators of the mob? All or only some? Who could tell for certain?

Uncle Paco had taken no chances. As he had seen it, neither Simon the Cyrenian nor Joseph of Arimathaea had been beyond suspicion. But one thing had been clear. No man could be guilty unless he had been involved in the final decision-making; no man could be guilty who had been absent and far away from Jerusalem at the time.

Villegas’ own portrayal of himself as an Arimathaean Joseph returning from a business trip too late to change the course to which his fellow counsellors have committed him in his absence, but prepared to claim and wrap the body, is more convincing – a little more.

Elizabeth is having another argument with the Franco-Swiss hotel company over rent increases.

We played piquet for an hour with her eighteenth-century pack. Find that the need to handle those valuable old cards with care inhibits thought. Believe she knows this. Lost nine francs.

Telephoned Les Muettes and spoke to Antoine. Requested appointment to see Villegas tomorrow at villa. He promised to call back.

Rosier telephoned me at hospital. Told operator to tell him I was not available.

Antoine returned my call. Villegas will see me at eleven tomorrow morning.

Wrote up notes for hospital dossier with omissions suggested – no,
ordered
– by Delvert. Feeling of guilt unexpectedly strong. This
is
unprofessional conduct.

To avoid meeting Dr Brissac, and possibly having to dissemble verbally as well as on paper, went home to lunch.

Letter from Doña Julia in my post box. It had been delivered by hand.

Dear Dr Castillo
,