Past Lives

Sixteen

Simone was left alone with Macandrew while Stroud and the others left the room to consider the situation. ‘You are in a lot of pain,’ she said.

‘I think the wound’s infected: the dressing was dirty and hasn’t been changed.’

‘Animals!’ said Simone.

‘Were the police on the train?’

Simone nodded. ‘They were but they had to keep their distance in case I was being watched. I was snatched when we stopped outside the station at Lyon. I don’t think the police were expecting that.’

‘You don’t think they were able to follow?’

‘I’d like to think so but it all happened so quickly. The train stopped at a signal outside the station. They obviously knew about that — maybe even arranged it — and that’s when they grabbed me. They had a four-wheel drive vehicle waiting in a field by the track. It was over in seconds. I really don’t think the police were prepared for that. They were expecting to follow from Lyon station because they thought that’s where I’d be met. I hate to say it but we may be on our own.’

‘So we concentrate on staying alive and look for a chance to escape,’ said Macandrew. ‘You were brilliant through there.’

‘Do you think they’ll go along with it?’

‘It’s my guess they’re trying to contact Ignatius right now,’ said Macandrew.

‘But maybe two vials of protease are all he needs,’ said Simone. ‘If he only has the one subject...’

‘I don’t think he can afford to take that chance,’ said Macandrew. ‘With half the police forces of Europe looking for him, he can hardly go around recruiting biochemists if he hits a snag. He’ll want you to make some more; I’m sure of it.’

‘Let’s hope you’re right.’

‘Where exactly did you send the stuff to?’ asked Macandrew.

‘The main post office, here in Marseilles. I sent it post restante. I have to pick it up in person.’

‘If you get a chance to escape,’ said Macandrew. ‘You must take it.’

‘We are in this together.’

Macandrew squeezed her hand and insisted, ‘We must be practical. If you get the opportunity you have to take it. It makes much more sense to tell the police what’s happened.’

Simone nodded.

Several hours elapsed before Stroud returned. The effects of Macandrew’s earlier painkillers had worn off and he was starting to run a fever. There was a persistent thin film of sweat on his face. The pain had largely put a stop to conversation with Simone and he was staring up at the ceiling, trying not to think about it when Stroud came into the room.

‘My colleague has agreed to your coming with us,’ said Stroud.

‘Where?’ asked Simone.

‘That needn’t concern you. You will pick up the package and then we can be on our way. When you’ve synthesised the chemical, both of you will be released. Let’s get started.’

Macandrew and Simone knew that any talk of release was nonsense but they had achieved their immediate objective. They were to be kept alive for the time being. For the moment they were satisfied with that.

‘Come,’ said Stroud, holding the door for Simone.

Simone did not move. ‘I will do nothing until my friend has had his dressing changed. He also needs antibiotics and something for the pain.’ She said it with her back to Stroud so that he couldn’t see that she was biting her lip with nerves.

‘You are in no position to...’

‘That’s the deal,’ said Simone. She sounded calm but Macandrew could see that her hands were trembling.

‘I don’t have any dressings,’ said Stroud.

Simone turned to face him. ‘There must be something,’ she insisted. ‘Clean sheets, a pillowslip?’

‘If you are so concerned, you can do it,’ said Stroud. ‘And I don’t have any antibiotics.’

‘Then get some!’

There was silence as Stroud and Simone stared each other out.

‘We’ll call in at a pharmacy after we have picked up your package,’ said Stroud.

Simone felt a flood of relief. It threatened to make her a little unsteady on her feet but her gamble had paid off. Macandrew squeezed her hand in acknowledgement.

‘He needs painkillers now,’ said Simone as Stroud turned away.

Without looking round Stroud said simply, ‘I’ll get him something.’

Macandrew looked at Simone and nodded his thanks. The pain was too bad to permit a smile.

‘Try to take it easy, Mac,’ whispered Simone. ‘You’re going to be all right.’

The fat man brought through a clean cotton pillowslip and a bottle of green disinfectant solution.

‘I’ll need hot water and soap too,’ said Simone. The man left and came back with a bowl of warm water, a towel and a bar of carbolic soap. He put them down on the floor. Stroud followed, holding a syringe up in front of him as he expelled residual air. Without saying anything, he pushed up the sleeve on Macandrew’s right arm and injected the contents of the syringe.

Macandrew felt an immediate warm glow spread throughout his body, releasing him from the pain that had been building up an ever-tightening web around him. He felt as if the sun had come out from behind a dark cloud on a cold day to bathe him in warm sunshine. ‘Christ!’ he murmured softly as his tensed-up muscles started to relax in unison.

Simone smoothed his damp hair back from his forehead and smiled as she saw his drawn expression relax. Stroud left the room and she started to unwind the dirty bandage. ‘This may still hurt,’ she said.

‘I didn’t ask. Are you a medical doctor?’ murmured Macandrew.

‘PhD in molecular biology, you’ll have to help me.’

‘It’s not going to be a pretty sight.’

‘Mmm, it could well be a question of which one of us passes out first,’ said Simone as she removed the final layer of the old dressing — slowly because it had stuck to the wound. She stopped in the middle and said to the fat man, who was watching the proceedings with a look of revulsion on his face, ‘Get me a sponge will you?’ He did and then left the room, looking pale.

Simone started cleaning the wound gently. Macandrew put back his head and looked up at the ceiling. He had to grit his teeth against the pain when the antiseptic was applied but Simone kept her cool throughout. She continued until the site had been thoroughly cleaned and then applied strips of bandage torn from the pillowslip.

‘All done,’ she announced.

‘Well done,’ said Macandrew. ‘You were great.’

Simone pressed his hand and said, ‘It’s a woman thing.’

Macandrew managed a smile.

‘Now we’ll see about getting you these antibiotics.’

Simone left with Stroud for the post office, leaving Macandrew to enjoy what respite he could from the pain before the effects of the injection wore off. He didn’t know when he might get another one. He closed his eyes but couldn’t manage anything more than a light doze. He was aware of distant traffic noise as Marseilles went about its business. A police siren wailed every so often and there was the constant murmur of conversation from the two men in the room next door. He could smell French cigarettes and somewhere in the distance a child was crying — not in pain, but in frustration at not getting its own way. Although recovering from the infection was a priority he recognised that being unable to walk was going to be a distinct drawback in any escape bid. This was not a happy thought.

Macandrew continued to doze fitfully until the sound of Simone’s voice broke through his jumbled thoughts and restored him to full alertness. She came into the room and announced, ‘Got them.’ She handed over a small package.

Macandrew read the label. Tetracycline Hydrochloride. He opened the plastic bottle and threw two capsules into his mouth. ‘Thanks.’

‘I hope they work, Mac.’

‘You and me both.’

‘I think we are leaving tonight,’ said Simone quietly. ‘I overheard Stroud say something to the other two about the boat being ready.’

‘Boat?’

‘That’s all I heard. Nothing about where we are going.’

Macandrew rested his head back on the pillow and thought about the implications of a boat trip. Being cut off from land was not such a wonderful prospect from the point of view of escape but on the other hand, any kind of sea voyage might afford them a bit more time — time to let his foot recover.

Stroud and the fat man were out for most of the remainder of the day, leaving Macandrew and Simone in the sole custody of Parvelli. Macandrew hoped that this might give Simone the chance to escape at some point but Parvelli was no fool. He kept them locked up in the room and acted with caution at all times. They were only allowed out of the room one at a time and only once during the course of the afternoon, to visit the lavatory. Any other requests, for food, drinks, washing facilities etc were denied with a curt, ‘Later.’

The sun was going down when the fat man brought in a meal of pasta, bread and water and put it down. ‘Eat quickly,’ he said. ‘You don’t have much time.’

Macandrew and Simone did as they were told, if for no other reason than the fact that they were very hungry. Shortly afterwards, they were escorted out of the building and put into the back of an unlettered van waiting outside. The familiar smell of it told Macandrew that it was the van that he had been brought down from Paris in. It came as no surprise to either of them when, twenty minutes later, the van doors opened and they were ushered out on to the quayside at Marseilles harbour.

The night was still and warm and, although they were some way away from the cafes at the waters’ edge, Macandrew could smell the coffee and cigarette smoke on the night air. He looked at the lights wistfully before having to turn all his attention to the business of climbing down a harbour wall ladder on to the motor yacht that lay waiting there. Parvelli ushered him slowly across the cobbles and saw him on to the first rung.

Simone — her arms held by Stroud — watched from above as Macandrew held his injured foot clear of the rungs and used arm strength to lower himself — a rung at a time — on his good foot. Thankfully, there was very little swell on the water so he was able to time his fall from the bottom rung of the ladder into the waiting arms of the fat man and one other whom he took to be a member of the crew. He was taken below and locked up in a small cabin.

He hadn’t learned much on the way down, just that the vessel was named Astrud G. and that she had been registered in Marseilles. According to a plate above the cabin entrance, she was owned by, Aristo Charters. He heard the door of the cabin next to his being opened and hoped that this was where Simone was being put. When the footsteps died away, he opened the one small porthole in his cabin and softly called out her name.

‘I’m here,’ she replied. ‘Maybe if we were both to cry out for help...’

‘We won’t be heard,’ said Macandrew. ‘We’re too far away and they could get nasty. Let’s bide our time.’

The cabins occupied by Simone and Macandrew were on the seaward side of the boat so they couldn’t see what was happening on the quayside. The first indication that they were about to get under way came when a shudder ran through the boat as the main engine was started: it drowned out the sound of the small pump which had been slurping bilge water out into the harbour.

The vibration increased and Macandrew was aware of heightened activity on deck culminating in the sound of a mooring rope being thrown on to the ceiling of his cabin. He watched the harbour lights disappear behind them as the yacht turned to clear the outer basin before heading off out into the Mediterranean.

The engine note picked up as they cleared the harbour proper and then settled down to a constant throb. Macandrew checked his watch before taking two more tetracycline capsules. It was vital not to let the antibiotic level in his bloodstream fall. It was too early to say if the infection was responding to treatment, but there had certainly been no noticeable improvement. If anything, the pain had got worse. He tried telling himself that his foot had taken quite a few knocks on the journey to the boat and that might be the reason but it would be another day or so before he could be sure.

He turned off the cabin light and lay down on his bunk until his eyes became accustomed to the dark and he could see the stars through the porthole. He concentrated on the brightest of them until his eyelids became heavy and he fell into a troubled asleep.

Macandrew and Simone were kept below deck throughout the entire first day at sea although Simone was allowed to visit Macandrew’s cabin during the late afternoon. He had continued to feel ill and was now almost certain that this must be down to the spread of infection rather than anything more innocent. The antibiotic wasn’t working. He would give the drug one more day before opting for more drastic measures but, if he left it any longer, there was a strong chance that he would not be in any fit condition to do anything at all. He said as much to Simone.

‘What will you have to do?’ she asked.

‘Cut it open and drain it,’ replied Macandrew.

Simone grimaced. ‘But you don’t have any instruments or anaesthetic,’ she said as if the words were freezing on her lips.

Macandrew stayed silent.

‘Maybe the boat carries medical supplies. I could ask.’

‘It’s worth a try,’ said Macandrew. Stroud had earlier given him some painkillers in tablet form. He took two as his level of discomfort rose.

‘You should try to get some sleep,’ said Simone.

She saw to it that he was comfortable before asking to see Stroud. She was taken up on deck.

‘The infection in Dr Macandrew’s foot is spreading,’ she told Stroud who responded with a shrug.

‘He needs proper medical care. A hospital.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

Simone had not expected anything else. ‘You must help him. You’re a doctor.’

‘I’m a psychiatrist,’ countered Stroud. ‘I’ve given him antibiotics and painkillers. I can do no more.’

Simone stared at him angrily. ‘If anything happens to him, hell will freeze over before I’ll synthesise anything for you!’

Stroud looked at her dispassionately before replying, ‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, Madame.’

‘I mean it...’

Simone saw uncertainty appear on Stroud’s face and felt encouraged. She said, ‘A boat this size must carry medical supplies, local anaesthetic, minor surgical equipment. Give me access.’

Stroud looked to the skipper who had been professionally pretending not to hear what was going on. The man nodded.

‘Don’t you know what these men are doing to us?’ Simone demanded in French.

The man, middle aged and deeply tanned, said, ‘Madame, I have been contracted to carry five people from A to B. I have been paid well. That is the end of the matter. I have no interest in who any of you are or what any of you are doing. That way, I keep up the payments on my boat.’

‘You don’t understand...’ protested Simone.

‘Enough!’ said Stroud. ‘Take her below.’

‘What about the medical kit?’ said Simone, pulling against the arm that had started to guide her off the deck.

‘Tomorrow.’

Simone returned to her cabin feeling mentally exhausted but relatively satisfied with the way things had gone up on deck. Apart from having got Stroud to agree to give them access to the boat’s medical supplies, she had managed to sneak a look at the chart and ruler in the wheelhouse. She now knew that they were heading south east. It wasn’t much but it was something.

Any last remaining doubts about the spread of infection faded when Macandrew woke in the early hours of the following morning with sweat pouring down his face and feeling that his veins had filled with fire. He struggled to get himself upright and then wished he hadn’t when consciousness threatened to leave him. He had miscalculated the spread of the infection. He had been hoping against hope that the antibiotics might win through in the end but now there was a real chance he had left it too late. He would have to fight to remain conscious at all costs. If he didn’t operate on his foot he would die.

Fever was the biggest threat. He had to cool himself down. He opened the porthole to let the breeze in then he dragged himself across the floor to the wash basin where he splashed cold water up into his face before soaking a towel and crawling back to his bunk where he lay with it across his forehead, eyes closed, taking slow, deliberate breaths and trying to use logic and reason to combat the toxins that were invading his bloodstream.

In the landscape of his dreams, a village fell from a cliff and sank beneath the waves. A tombstone rose up from the ground to reveal an old man wearing a Stetson. Doors opened to reveal bodies nailed to the backs of them and a set of shears snapped towards his body guided by disembodied hands with broken fingers.

‘Mac! Can you hear me? Mac! Wake up! You’ve got to come round!’

Simone’s voice reached Macandrew through his nightmare and he opened his eyes. His head felt as if an iron band was being tightened around it. ‘Simone,’ he murmured.

‘Mac, I’ve got the medical kit. You’re in no fit state to do anything. You’ll have to tell me what to do.’

Macandrew groaned as Simone replaced the towel across his head. It was cool again. Slowly things came into focus. ‘Help me up,’ he said.

Simone propped him up on the bunk and helped him bring his foot up on his other knee so that he could see the wound site but it wasn’t ideal and his vision was blurred.

‘Is there any anaesthetic?’

‘Novocaine?’ said Simone.

‘Hypodermic?’

Simone held up a syringe in its plastic wrapper and then a needle, also encased in plastic.

‘Scalpel?’

Simone put down the syringe and held up a scalpel and a pack of sterile blades.

‘Swabs, dressings, antiseptic...’ said Macandrew sleepily as delirium threatened again.

‘Mac! I’ve got all these things. Just tell me what to do.’

‘First... the anaesthetic.’

‘Where?’ asked Simone. ‘Here? Here?’ She pointed to different spots near the wound until Macandrew nodded in favour of two sites. ‘Two injections... wait five minutes.’

‘What now?’ asked Simone after she’d waited for the local anaesthetic to take effect.

‘Cut... Cut deeply. Don’t just break the surface.’

Simone nodded. Her eyes were wide and unblinking with apprehension.

‘Get rid of as much of the crap as possible then clean up the site with disinfectant.’

Simone nodded again, her eyes like saucers. She was too anxious to say anything.

‘Soak a clean swab in disinfectant and this is most important — push it inside the wound... right inside. Understand?’

Simone eyes rebelled at the thought but she croaked her assent. ‘And leave it in there?’

‘Yes.’ Macandrew gasped as a wave of nausea swept over him.

‘Easy, Mac,’ whispered Simone. She eased his head back on the pillow and repositioned the towel on his forehead.

Simone removed the syringe from its sterile wrapper and fitted the needle. She filled the syringe with the anaesthetic and expelled residual air before gathering up her courage to push the needle through Macandrew’s skin. She heard him gasp but his foot remained immobile. Gently she applied pressure with her thumb to the plunger and saw the contents of the syringe disappear into Macandrew’s foot. She felt better but her pulse was still racing. She refilled the syringe and did the other side.

‘Was that all right?’ she asked.

Simone repeated the question but there was no reply. Macandrew had passed out. She was on her own. She looked at her watch and used the intervening time to clean up the outside of the wound with an alcohol-soaked swab. When she felt sure that she had done a thorough job and five minutes had passed, she removed one of the sterile surgical blades from its foil wrapper and slotted it into the scalpel handle. She pricked the wound site with the tip of the blade and looked for a reaction from Macandrew’s sleeping form. There was none. She tried again, harder this time. Again, nothing. It was time to begin.

She placed a wad of gauze beneath Macandrew’s foot and made the first incision. She underestimated the amount of pressure required and the cut only resulted in a thin, crescent-shaped line of blood appearing. She swallowed hard. She was starting to feel light-headed.

She made a second, deeper incision and this time a wave of foul-smelling exudate welled up from the wound. Almost immediately, the swelling in Macandrew’s foot started to subside and Simone felt the tension in her slack off in harmony. She wiped away the mess and encouraged more drainage by applying gentle pressure to the sides of the incision. She kept this up until the wound had been completely drained then set about disinfecting it thoroughly.

She thought the worst was over until she came to comply with Macandrew’s final instruction that she insert a swab inside the wound itself and leave it there. A wave of revulsion threatened her as she prised open the incision with one pair of forceps and tried to push the swab inside with another. She couldn’t make the swab lie flat inside the wound; it kept scrunching up. She suspected that it would be agonising if she left it that way. It was going to be painful enough as it was.

She fought against the frustration of successive failures until she finally succeeded in making the swab lie flat. Pausing briefly to regain her composure and wipe the sweat off her brow, she closed the incision site and secured the swab with fresh tape and bandaging. Her hands started to shake as she thought about what she’d done and then she felt herself go icy cold. She had to put her head between her knees for a moment to avoid passing out then she slumped down in a chair like a rag doll and let her arms dangle over the sides. It was over.

An hour passed and Macandrew was still out cold but Simone thought that he appeared calm and untroubled and took comfort from this. It might be a different story when he came round and the effects of the anaesthetic wore off but for the moment all seemed well. He was sleeping peacefully.