Authors: Eric Ambler
‘To buy spies you mean?’
‘Spies! You know you’re getting paranoid, Frigo. What’s wrong with a few sharp-eyed, sharp-eared kids giving occasional tip-offs to a nice, friendly newspaperman? He gets his stories, they get the price of a trendy new shirt or the down payment on a new Jap motor-bike. With the older, married ones it’s maybe a refrigerator. But what’s wrong with it?’
‘Nothing, except that you are not a nice, friendly newspaperman, Señor Rosier.’
He grinned. ‘Who said not? I could be.’
‘Another hat? Or just another set of papers?’
‘You’re crossing your legs again, Doctor. Have you any idea how much air stewardesses talk among themselves? No, I don’t suppose you have. Well, when they’ve had an elderly male passenger in first-class who’s been shoved aboard the plane at the last minute in Orly, spends the first hour of the flight muttering nasty things about the secret police and is met on the tarmac here by an army car which takes him away without even clearing customs, they talk. And the airline minibus driver, who takes them to their hotel, listens. Got a nose for news, that boy. Mystery man, thinks he.’
‘I see.’ I began to look forward to telling Delvert this.
‘He also gets the name, Grandval. At the hospital so far there’s nothing much, of course, except that Dr Castillo is not working the normal routine. Interesting, but only mildly so, until later in the afternoon up drives an army car with an elderly man in a very bad temper who talks of secret police persecution and kidnapping. Are you with me?’
I nodded. The staff-entrance desk porter hadn’t missed a word.
Nor it seemed had he missed the subsequent arrival of Villegas – Antoine was known to him as the major-domo of
Les Muettes – escorted by the two pig-types in a second car. The ceremonial departure later had not been missed either, though he had failed to get Grandval’s name. That had been picked up again at the airport, though, by a man on the departure desk who handled the passenger lists.
‘So then,’ Rosier concluded, ‘it was just a question of checking out Professor Grandval and wondering why our friend urgently needed the services of a famous neurologist.’
‘Just a precautionary measure.’
He gave me a disbelieving stare. ‘Pretty elaborate one, wasn’t it?’
‘Over elaborate in my opinion, but then I didn’t make the arrangements.’
‘Which in the event proved unnecessary, of course. No adverse findings. You’ve already had word, eh?’
I opened the door. ‘Señor Rosier, I really am going to bed now. If you want to know more you’d better lay out another fifty francs to the staff-entrance porter at the hospital.’ I got out. ‘If he noses around long enough you may find out that I shall be prescribing a course of massage for Don Manuel.’
He leaned across the seat I’d just left. ‘Then why haven’t you yet told Doña Julia the good news, eh Doctor?’
‘Who said I haven’t?’ I retorted, and slammed the door in his face.
As I walked on down the street I half-expected him to come after me with more questions, but he didn’t. He just drove away.
He may feel that he now has all the answers he needs. I hope so, though I doubt it. Feel tonight as if I have been put through a mincing machine – Rosier one blade, El Lobo the other.
Must try to set down this day’s developments calmly and in order. Must
not
get emotional, as will do no good either to my patient or myself. Essential that facts be recorded without embellishment to speak for themselves.
On arrival at the hospital found three letters in my box.
One of them was from Paris. Naturally, I opened that first.
It was from Professor Grandval. With his laboratory findings and their precise analysis was a covering letter.
Having confirmed, from a subsequent assessment, that the cabled diagnosis had been correct, he went on:
An interesting case, if only because of early diagnosis, though of what help that can be to the attending physician is questionable.
You will be all too well aware of the prognosis. The book injunction to ‘keep up the patient’s good spirits’ you will doubtless weigh, if you are allowed by those in authority to do so, against this man’s evident good sense.
Supportive therapy will not, in my judgement, allow you to postpone the evil day for long in this case. Doubtless you will already have realized that.
I would welcome monthly progress reports, as detailed as possible, if the so-called authorities permit. There is much about which we know so little in these cases.
I put both letter and report in my pocket.
The second envelope had a Montreal postmark. Inside was a cheque for five thousand dollars drawn on the Nassau branch of a Canadian bank. Above the indecipherable signature were the words
Actuarial Division, Special A/C No. 2.
The cheque was attached to a four-page printed contract which I did not trouble to read, and an addressed
envelope for its return. Across both cheque and contract I wrote
SENT IN ERROR – RETURNED TO SENDER
adding my signature and the date.
I was enclosing them in the return envelope when it occurred to me that I ought to have some evidence that the cheque had been returned. There was a photo-copier in the Secretary’s office, so I went up there and asked if I could use it.
I took two copies of both cheque and contract. One set of copies I had intended to give to Gillon for his files, the other I shall attach to this account. It was as I was leaving that the day’s nastiness really began.
When I thanked the girl there for letting me use the copier she said: ‘Enjoy your vacation, Doctor.’
She is an attractive girl. I smiled, but didn’t pay much attention to what she had said. Some staff members have been known to manufacture excuses for lingering in her office. I assumed that the remark was some sort of private joke between them, something I didn’t know about. So I just smiled.
When I got back to my desk I enclosed the cheque and contract in the Montreal return envelope and sealed it. Only then did I open the third envelope. I hadn’t bothered with it because it was an unstamped internal hospital memorandum. It could have been anything from a request for economy on laundry to another warning about staff parking in the places reserved for ambulances.
It was neither. It was from the Secretary’s office to me personally and said that, on the instructions of the Medical Superintendent, my request for two months’ paid leave of absence, commencing 1 June, had been granted. The necessary reallocation of case responsibilities would be notified by the Medical Superintendent’s office prior to 31 May.
That was all – that and a scrawl which, for those familiar with it, was the Secretary’s signature.
I telephoned Dr Brissac’s office immediately. His secretary
had evidently been expecting my call. Dr Brissac could see me at eleven o’clock, no sooner.
I managed to do some work until then, but if the purpose of the delay had been to give me time to cool down, it failed. When I entered Dr Brissac’s office I was even angrier than I had been at first.
He was wearing the mulish look which, with him, means that he is embarrassed. I suppose that should have mollified me somewhat, but it didn’t. When he motioned me to sit down I just placed the memorandum on his desk and remained standing.
‘As you must know, Doctor,’ I said, ‘I have made no request whatsoever for leave of absence, paid or otherwise.’
He glanced at the memorandum. ‘There appears to have been a misunderstanding on the part of the Secretary’s office, Doctor,’ he said. ‘They must have presumed that it was at your request. An understandable error, as you have, in fact, an accumulated entitlement to annual leave. I will, of course, see that the mistake is rectified.’
‘That
both
mistakes are rectified I hope, Doctor.’
He looked at me unhappily. ‘I assure you, Doctor, that this is none of my doing.’
‘I didn’t suppose that it was. Indeed, I should imagine that, with the normal annual leave roster in operation, my absence now would cause some inconvenience.’
‘Yes, it will.’
‘
Would
, Doctor, if it were to occur. I ask that it doesn’t. I ask that you countermand this instruction to the Secretary and advise him that I have neither requested leave of absence nor wish to accept it. In fact I
won’t
accept it.’
The mulish look returned. ‘The matter is out of my hands.’
‘As a subordinate of yours in a hospital for which you are officially responsible, Doctor, am I entitled to no consideration, no protection?’
He stiffened up. ‘You have always been given the utmost consideration here, Doctor. In my reports I have always
described you as a most valued member of my staff. You have had my highest recommendations and I have twice secured, at your own request, official acceptance of your refusals to accept promotion elsewhere. I do not expect, and am not asking for, gratitude. The consideration given you has been well-earned and thoroughly deserved. But do not accuse me please of withholding it.’
‘I am asking for your protection, Doctor.’
He thumped his desk with a fist. ‘Protection, fiddlesticks! You shouldn’t have got yourself mixed up in politics.’
The effrontery of this was too much. ‘May I remind you, Doctor, that it was upon
your
recommendation that I became “mixed up” as you call it with those people down at the Préfecture?’
It was a little unfair of course; he had only allowed me to suppose that he had been instrumental in securing for me the Villegas ‘appointment’; but I was too angry to care.
He shrugged helplessly. ‘I’m sorry, Doctor. I am not attempting to blame you, believe me. It is just that my responsibility is limited. If a policeman were to come into this hospital and attempt to give me orders about the running of it, he would quickly be sent about his business. This is different. In this case …’ He shrugged again.
‘I see. I take it that you would have no objection then if in this case I take matters into my own hands.’
‘That’s where they are, I am afraid, Doctor. If you think you can change their minds down there, by all means try. Meanwhile I will see that the impression in the Secretary’s Office that this leave of absence takes place at your request is corrected. It will not, in any case, count against your annual leave entitlement.’
It was obviously the best he could do. So I thanked him, apologized for some of what I had said and left.
From an empty examination room on the first floor I telephoned the Préfecture and got through to Gillon’s secretary. She, too, had had her instructions. In my mind’s eye I could see those gold teeth flashing imperiously as she
informed me of the impossibility of my being able to speak to the Commissaire at any time that day or at any other time in the near future. Her answers became curter as I persisted. Finally she said that if it were useful or necessary for the Commissaire to speak with me he would doubtless do so.
I telephoned Delvert.
He at least was willing to speak to me. In fact he was waiting to do so.
‘I had hoped that you would get in touch earlier,’ he said a touch reproachfully. ‘We have serveral matters to discuss.’
‘You may have several, Commandant, I have only one.’
‘Well, we shall see when we meet. But first, I think you received a communication from Professor Grandval this morning.’
‘I did.’
‘He was not authorized to send it to you directly. In fact, he was specifically instructed not to do so. If, as I suppose, it consists of a report on his consultation here, I am afraid that I shall have to ask you to let me take care of that for the moment. You had better bring it with you.’
‘I had intended to do so.’
‘Good.’
‘You will need it for the information of my successor.’
‘Your what?’
‘My successor as court physician to the occupants of the villa Les Muettes. As of now, I am resigning the appointment.’
‘You are? I am sorry to hear that, Doctor.’
‘After the treatment to which I have been subjected this morning you can scarcely be surprised.’
‘What treatment was that?’
I told him. He made clucking noises.
‘Your annoyance is quite understandable. It was tactless of the Commissaire, and premature. The matter of your leave of absence was one of the things I was hoping to
discuss with you today, after we had had a word or two about last night’s meeting,’
‘Well there’s nothing to discuss now. You had better think about a replacement. Meanwhile, if you are going to be remaining in the hotel for the next hour or so I can drop the report by during my lunch period.’
‘No, I don’t think that will do, Doctor. I have a better idea. At what time will you be leaving the hospital today?’
‘At about six.’
‘Then supposing we meet about then.’
‘Very well. Where?’
‘Not here. And not at your apartment either, I think. With Monsieur Rosier distributing down payments on Japanese motorcycles so generously we can’t be too careful. Who knows? Even your femme-de-ménage may by now have been suborned with the promise of a trendy shirt.’
‘All right. Where?’
‘At Madame Duplessis’ house, I suggest.’
‘I don’t see her agreeing to that.’
‘But I do, Doctor. She is sitting opposite me at this very moment, nodding her head.’
‘Oh.’
‘At six then.’
The fact that it wasn’t until some time after he had hung up that I even began to wonder how he could have overheard that conversation last night in Rosier’s car, shows the state of mind I was in. There is nothing more muddling, apart from anger itself, than the dull aftermath of it.
Elizabeth received me with the resigned air of a well-insured householder who has decided to accept as calmly as possible an invasion of armed robbers.
‘Your friend’s upstairs,’ she said.
That meant the studio. I found Delvert sitting there in
the most comfortable chair. He was nursing a glass of white wine.
He nodded to me cheerfully. ‘Madame Duplessis informs me,’ he announced, ‘that she intends to see fair play.’