that.’
She was good enough to allow me to go on thinking so.
Later though, as I was trying to go to sleep, I kept recalling things she had said and things I had remembered.
That bad thing that had once happened to the shores of the Corazas, the thing that had stopped the turtles coming back to breed – had it been a massive undersea seepage of oil?
And what really happened when a coffee republic struck it rich?
Perhaps, I thought, Uncle Paco would tell me.
Sister coolly formal, much on dignity. Clearly still angry with me. My gaffe about wart doubtless regrettable but possible beneficial side-effects. Believe will not be disturbed now except case dire necessity.
TUESDAY 13 MAY / MORNING
Kept appointment 11.00 hrs. made for me by Commissaire Gillon see new patient Señor Manuel VILLEGAS Lopez at Villa Les Muettes.
Gillon had said that there would be one of his ‘security boys’ on duty at the outer gate. There was. He sat in a 2 cv parked under a tree to shade it from the sun and so placed that it could, if necessary, be driven across the entrance to block the opening of the iron gates. When I stopped he gotout and slid back a locking bar which looked as if it had been recently installed.
To my surprise I recognized him. He was a middle-aged black with a goatee beard whom I had seen once or twice entering and leaving the Préfecture. Because he always wore a tie and white shirt I had assumed that he worked there as a clerk. Now he was also wearing a holstered pistol.
He nodded amiably as he took a paper from his shirt pocket and glanced at it.
‘Doctor Castillo?’
I produced my identity card which he examined carefully before handing it back.
‘My name’s Albert, Doctor,’ he said. ‘Seems we’ll be seeing quite a lot of one another. You always going to be visiting the subject at this time?’
‘Not always. When I’m on night duty at the hospital I sometimes sleep late in the mornings. We get emergencies too. Does the time make any difference to you, Monsieur Albert?’
‘No, but there are three of us on this job, you see, eight-hour shifts. I’m senior so I’m taking the morning shift. The others’ll have to get to recognize you too if you come at other times. Just thought you might save yourself two more lots of quizzing. Very important subject inside there, Doctor.’ He grinned and then glanced at the leather case strapped behind me on the moto. ‘Medical bag?’
‘Yes. Do you want to look inside?’
‘Any guns or grenades?’
‘No.’
‘Well’ – he grinned again – ‘maybe I will look anyway. That way I’ll know what a medical bag ought to have in it as well as a stethoscope. Besides,’ he added as I undid the straps, ‘I can mention your bag was opened and inspected in the report. Thoroughness. The Commissaire likes that.’
He was good about it though. He just looked and didn’t attempt to touch anything. Of the drugs there he said dryly,‘You wouldn’t need a gun to kill an enemy, would you Doctor?’
But his question about weapons and the fact that he had taken the trouble to check the case interested me. In spite of his joking reference to his report he struck me as too intelligent a man to embellish reports unnecessarily. Obviously he was obeying orders which envisaged the possibility of someone trying to get to my patient with a view to killing him. At first I had assumed that the ‘threats to his well-being’ mentioned by Gillon would be represented chiefly by importunate newspaper men.
I did not trouble to strap the case back on the carrier and soon wished that I had. The track up to the house was quite long and wound through a jungle of wild bananas. In places the rains had scoured deep transverse ruts across the surface which made it difficult to ride with only one free hand for steering. In the end I dismounted and walked the rest of the way.
Les Muettes, or at least the original version of it, was built in the mid-nineteenth century by a planter who
She was good enough to allow me to go on thinking so.
Later though, as I was trying to go to sleep, I kept recalling things she had said and things I had remembered.
That bad thing that had once happened to the shores of the Corazas, the thing that had stopped the turtles coming back to breed – had it been a massive undersea seepage of oil?
And what really happened when a coffee republic struck it rich?
Perhaps, I thought, Uncle Paco would tell me.
Sister coolly formal, much on dignity. Clearly still angry with me. My gaffe about wart doubtless regrettable but possible beneficial side-effects. Believe will not be disturbed now except case dire necessity.
TUESDAY 13 MAY / MORNING
Kept appointment 11.00 hrs. made for me by Commissaire Gillon see new patient Señor Manuel VILLEGAS Lopez at Villa Les Muettes.
Gillon had said that there would be one of his ‘security boys’ on duty at the outer gate. There was. He sat in a 2 cv parked under a tree to shade it from the sun and so placed that it could, if necessary, be driven across the entrance to block the opening of the iron gates. When I stopped he gotout and slid back a locking bar which looked as if it had been recently installed.
To my surprise I recognized him. He was a middle-aged black with a goatee beard whom I had seen once or twice entering and leaving the Préfecture. Because he always wore a tie and white shirt I had assumed that he worked there as a clerk. Now he was also wearing a holstered pistol.
He nodded amiably as he took a paper from his shirt pocket and glanced at it.
‘Doctor Castillo?’
I produced my identity card which he examined carefully before handing it back.
‘My name’s Albert, Doctor,’ he said. ‘Seems we’ll be seeing quite a lot of one another. You always going to be visiting the subject at this time?’
‘Not always. When I’m on night duty at the hospital I sometimes sleep late in the mornings. We get emergencies too. Does the time make any difference to you, Monsieur Albert?’
‘No, but there are three of us on this job, you see, eight-hour shifts. I’m senior so I’m taking the morning shift. The others’ll have to get to recognize you too if you come at other times. Just thought you might save yourself two more lots of quizzing. Very important subject inside there, Doctor.’ He grinned and then glanced at the leather case strapped behind me on the moto. ‘Medical bag?’
‘Yes. Do you want to look inside?’
‘Any guns or grenades?’
‘No.’
‘Well’ – he grinned again – ‘maybe I will look anyway. That way I’ll know what a medical bag ought to have in it as well as a stethoscope. Besides,’ he added as I undid the straps, ‘I can mention your bag was opened and inspected in the report. Thoroughness. The Commissaire likes that.’
He was good about it though. He just looked and didn’t attempt to touch anything. Of the drugs there he said dryly,‘You wouldn’t need a gun to kill an enemy, would you Doctor?’
But his question about weapons and the fact that he had taken the trouble to check the case interested me. In spite of his joking reference to his report he struck me as too intelligent a man to embellish reports unnecessarily. Obviously he was obeying orders which envisaged the possibility of someone trying to get to my patient with a view to killing him. At first I had assumed that the ‘threats to his well-being’ mentioned by Gillon would be represented chiefly by importunate newspaper men.
I did not trouble to strap the case back on the carrier and soon wished that I had. The track up to the house was quite long and wound through a jungle of wild bananas. In places the rains had scoured deep transverse ruts across the surface which made it difficult to ride with only one free hand for steering. In the end I dismounted and walked the rest of the way.
Les Muettes, or at least the original version of it, was built in the mid-nineteenth century by a planter who
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