'I have a little in the lab. I also have all John’s notes.'
Simone and Macandrew took a cab to police headquarters where they were shown to a second floor office. A handsome man in his early thirties, wearing a well-cut charcoal suit, blue shirt and red silk tie and holding a cigarette loosely between his fingers introduced himself as Inspector Paul Chirac. 'So, Madame, you say you know something about the assault in Notre Dame Today and you think your life is in danger, is that right?'
'
I
say her life is in danger,' interrupted Macandrew.
'Why?'
Macandrew took a deep breath and began, 'It's a long and complicated story but I suspect that recently you and the other European police forces have probably received a request from the Israeli authorities to keep a look out for a priest named Dom Ignatius . . .’
When Macandrew had finished, the policeman lifted the phone in front of him and asked for something to be checked. There was a long pause before he uttered several grunts and a final, ‘
Merci
.’ He dropped the phone down in its cradle and said, 'We have had such an alert. Perhaps you would care to tell me how this concerns you?'
Macandrew wanted to give away as little as possible but had to say something and make it sound plausible.
'What exactly does this chemical do?' asked Chirac.
'It's a hallucinogen,' replied Macandrew.
Chirac looked at him. 'A synthetic hallucinogen? A designer drug?'
'If you like.'
'Why should a priest be interested in such a thing?' asked Chirac.
'I don’t think he’s a priest any more,' replied Macandrew.
A uniformed man came into the room, saluted and put down a sheet of paper on Chirac's desk. Macandrew could see in was a computer printout. Chirac read it while Macandrew and Simone exchanged reassuring glances.
'This drug,' began Chirac. 'Is it responsible for the condition of the men found by the Israeli police?'
'We think so.'
'And you Madame are responsible for making it?'
'I was involved in the original research,' agreed Simone. ‘Unfortunately, some of it fell into the wrong hands.’
'Why design such a thing in the first place?' exclaimed Chirac with a Gallic spread of the hands.
'It was a side product of our research into brain tumours.'
Chirac nodded in a way that suggested that he really didn't understand but didn't want to waste time pursuing it. 'And now your life is in danger because this man, Ignatius, wants to know the formula for this drug. Is that right?'
'Yes.'
Chirac looked back over the notes he had been making then asked Macandrew, 'Was Ignatius one of the men at the Cathedral today?'
'I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen him.’
Chirac looked at the paper in front of him again and read out, 'One metre ninety, slim build, sallow complexion, prominent nose, black hair swept back, brown eyes, a small scar on the left cheek – this is from the Israeli police.’
‘
Doesn’t sound like either of the men in the cathedral,’ said Macandrew.
‘
Probably travelling in the company of an Austrian psychiatrist named Stroud,’ continued Chirac. ‘Stroud is wanted by the Egyptian police after attempting to smuggle illegal artefacts out of the country.’ He read out a description.
Macandrew shook his head.
‘
Can you describe the men in the cathedral?'
Macandrew told him what he could about height and build and the fact that they had both been wearing dark suits. One had been wearing dark glasses.
'And you, Madame?'
'I saw the face of the man with the knife but it was quite dark in the corner and I was terrified at the time. But there was one thing . . .'
'Oui?'
'I think he had a prosthetic eye.'
'You’re sure?'
'I was scared, but . . . ' Simone paused for a moment before continuing, 'his left, yes it was his left eye, didn't move with his right. I'm pretty sure it was prosthetic.'
'That's certainly something we can ask the computer about,' said Chirac. He wrote quickly on a pad in front of him and pressed a button on the telephone. Someone came in and took away the note. 'In the meantime Madame we will provide you with protection until we arrest these men.'
'I’m grateful, Monsieur.'
'We would of course, like you to make full statements about what happened in Notre Dame today before you leave.'
'Of course,' said Macandrew.
'When you have done that we will arrange transport for you Madame. And you, Monsieur, what are your plans?'
Macandrew shrugged and said, 'I don't have any firm plans. I was hoping Dr Robin and I might talk further before I left Paris. He looked at Simone who nodded. 'Then I'll return to Scotland and probably leave for the States at the weekend, unless there are any objections?'
Chirac shrugged once more in true French fashion and said, 'Not for my part, Monsieur, although we would like a contact address. Do you know where you will be staying in Paris tonight?'
'Not yet,' confessed Macandrew.
'You can stay at my place,' said Simone. 'There’s plenty of room and I think I’d rather not be alone this evening.'
'Thank you,' said Macandrew.
As Simone and Macandrew were later escorted to the door of the building, a uniformed man caught up with them and handed something to Chirac. Chirac showed it to Simone. It was a photograph.
Simone caught her breath.
'Is this the man, Madame?'
Simone nodded.
'You were right about the left eye,' said Chirac. 'He lost it in a knife fight in Naples in 1984. He's Vito Parvelli. The computer knew him. Ignatius and Stroud are not associating with choirboys.'
The police car took them to the Montrouge district of Paris where Simone had an apartment on the second floor of a three-storey building. She was assured that a gendarme would be on duty outside at all times and that, if she wanted to go out, she should inform the man on duty. She thanked the officers but her eyes reflected the unease she felt at being in such a situation. She entered the code for the entry system and the latch clicked open, admitting them to a half-tiled entry hall that smelt vaguely of antiseptic.
There was a central elevator of the open-cage type that spoke of a nineteen thirties origin but Simone headed for the stairs which spiralled round the elevator shaft and Macandrew followed. He noticed on the way up that a dentist had his surgery on the first floor – the source of the antiseptic smell.
Simone's apartment was light and airy and furnished with elegant simplicity. A Rene Magritte print of ‘The Black Flag’ hung in the middle of a long white wall above a cream leather sofa. The floors were polished wood and the curtains oatmeal with orange tie-backs, which provided the only splash of colour.
‘
When did you last eat?' asked Simone.
Macandrew realised that he hadn't thought about food in a long time. 'On the plane this morning, I guess.’
'I don’t suppose either of us is much interested in food,' said Simone. 'But it's best that we eat something. An omelette?’
'Great.’
'Help yourself to a drink.' Simone pointed to a tray with three or four bottles of spirits and half a dozen glasses sitting on it. 'Campari and soda for me.'
Macandrew watched Simone disappear into the kitchen. He poured the drinks, whisky for himself, and took Simone's through to her. 'Can I do anything?' he asked.
'This kitchen is too small for two people,’ said Simone, tensing her shoulders at the voice behind her and keeping her back to him. ‘Please just go and make yourself comfortable.’
Macandrew returned to the other room where he stood at the window looking out at the early evening traffic but his thoughts were of Simone and the fact that she was so much on edge. He was just thinking that her nerves had been strung so tight that something had to give soon when he heard a crash come from the kitchen.
‘
Merde
!’
‘
Are you all right?’ Macandrew found Simone standing with her hands held up to her face. She was looking down at a plate that lay broken on the floor but she wasn’t seeing it. He could see that her fingers were trembling.
‘
Hey,’ he said softly. ‘It’s over. You’re safe now.’ He wrapped his arms round her and shushed her gently as the tears came.’
‘
I keep seeing the man with the knife . . .’ murmured Simone, her cheek warm and wet against Macandrew’s chest. ‘And yet you were so calm.’
‘
I think paralysed with fear might be a better description,’ confessed Macandrew, ‘but I’m glad you thought it was calmness . . . a man thing, you understand,’ he added tongue in cheek.
‘
Simone managed a smile through her tears. ‘And I suppose you regard bursting into tears as a woman thing,’ she said.
‘
Vive la difference,’ said Macandrew.
Simone pulled away and brushed away her tears with both hands. ‘God, I feel so stupid,’ she said. ‘I’m behaving like a silly schoolgirl. I must look a sight.’
‘
Obsession with appearance . . . another woman thing,’ said Macandrew.
Simone smiled and pretended to thump her fists on Macandrew’s chest.
Macandrew caught her wrists gently and said, ‘The main thing is that we’re both still alive . . . and it’s all over. It really is.’
There was a long pause when Simone looked at him questioningly and he hoped that she couldn’t tell what he was thinking because care and concern were now secondary to another emotion he felt well up inside him. He let go of Simone’s wrists and looked away to seek diversion but she reached up and turned his chin towards her, her eyes asking the question. Her lips parted and Macandrew kissed her, gently at first but then hungrily as he felt her move in close to him. He pulled her even closer and felt her tongue probe his mouth.
He broke away a little to murmur, ‘You’re sure about this?’
‘
I need to
feel
alive, Mac,’ said Simone ‘I have to know it . . . I don’t need flowers . . . I don’t need dinner . . . I don’t need romance . . . I need fucked.’
The word had an electric effect on Macandrew, who despite now wanting Simone so badly, still had reservations about the situation – mainly the fear that he was taking advantage of it. He felt the last of them wash away as she uttered the word. He pinned her to the wall and freed himself before reaching under her skirt to push her panties to one side and enter her hard and long. He cupped his hands round her backside and pulled her on to him, matching the thrust of his hips and being exhorted to ever greater efforts by Simone’s moans in his ear. ‘Christ, I want you,’ he gasped.
‘
Then have me . . .’
The all too brief outcome of such passion left Macandrew holding Simone to him and resting his forehead on the wall as his breathing subsided.
Simone broke the silence. ‘Tell me how you feel?’ she murmured.
‘
After a moment’s thought, Macandrew said, ‘Embarrassed. Dare I ask about you?’
‘
Fucked,’ replied Simone.
Macandrew smiled, feeling such a surge of relief when he saw that Simone was smiling too. She ran the tips of her fingers softly down his cheek. ‘Let’s go shower,’ she said.
Showering together was as gentle an experience as their love-making had been passionate. They took lingering pleasure in tracing the contours of each other with soap and sponge and found it deliciously sensual. ‘Do you know what I’m going to do now?’ murmured Simone.
‘
Tell me,’ said Macandrew drowsily as he closed his eyes and put his head back on the shower wall.
Simone reached up and yanked the regulator over to COLD, causing Macandrew to let out a yelp of surprise. ‘Make an omelette,’ she said.
‘
Will you come with me to the lab tomorrow?’ Simone asked from the kitchen.
‘
If you like.’
‘
I’d like you to see my results with the
in vitro
cell system. I haven’t been able to show them to anyone and you would be the perfect collaborator. It’s no good having a cure that only works in the lab . . .’
Macandrew was slow to respond to this and Simone noticed. ‘There’s something wrong with that idea?’ she asked.
‘
It might take time to set up,’ said Macandrew. ‘Getting permission to perform any kind of surgical research in the mid west of the USA isn’t easy.’
‘
I see,’ said Simone, in a tone that suggested that she didn’t. ‘Is that all that’s worrying you?’
Macandrew had no heart for verbal chess. ‘I'm not operating at the moment. I’m not sure if I ever will again.’
Simone stopped what she was doing and came through to stand in the doorway. Macandrew had his back to her but knew she was there. He told her what had happened while continuing to gaze unseeingly out of the window.
‘
But that is absolutely awful!’ Simone came over and joined him. She took his hands gently in hers. 'When will you know?'