Twenty eight

‘I take it you’re on your way to pick up the Trools?’ said Gordon.

‘It’s not as easy as that,’ said Davies. ‘According to a neighbour, they’re not at home. They left last night, saying they’d be away for a few days.’

‘Where the hell did they say they were going?’ exclaimed Gordon.

‘They didn’t. The neighbour doesn’t know and neither does Trool’s secretary. Apparently, he told her that he felt physically and mentally drained after all the strain of the past few weeks so he’d decided to take some time off. He and his wife were going to go away somewhere together.’

‘What about their daughter?’ asked Gordon.

‘No daughter,’ said Davies. ‘The neighbour told us that her mother had taken her into some clinic or other a few days ago for some minor treatment. The clinic would be looking after her until they got back.’

‘Something doesn’t sound right to me,’ said Gordon suspiciously. ‘Their daughter goes into hospital and they go off on holiday? No way! They’re up to something. Chances are, if the kid has gone into hospital, it’s for the main event! God, we’re that close!’

‘We’ve put out an alert for them but it could take some time,’ said Davies.

‘Anne-Marie doesn’t have much of that.’

‘I’ll keep you posted,’ said Davies.

Gordon felt a tremendous sense of frustration and anticlimax. There was nothing worse than just having to sit and wait but there was no alternative if they simply didn’t have a clue where the Trools had gone. Looking back with the benefit of hindsight, he thought he should have suspected Trool’s involvement at an earlier stage. He remembered Thomas’s surprise — discomfort even — at finding Trool’s car in the car park on the night he had gone back to get a tissue sample from Anne-Marie. It now seemed highly probable that it had been Trool who had tried to kill him that night and had later gone on to murder Thomas in his office. Come to think of it, he had even heard Thomas arguing with Trool, on an earlier occasion when he’d come close to being caught searching Thomas’s lab. Thomas may have confided his fears in Trool about what Dawes was up to, possibly asking him to take some kind of action in his capacity as medical superintendent of the hospital and then been frustrated by Trool’s reluctance. He couldn’t have suspected that Trool had actually been the instigator of the whole affair — or maybe he had and that was why Trool killed him.

God, what a mess, thought Gordon, and all through the desire to make one child see again. It occurred to him now that maybe some Faustian bargain had been struck between Sonia and James Trool over what could be done for her daughter in the long term. Their marriage had puzzled a great many people, including he himself. Perhaps the beautiful Sonia had agreed to marry James Trool on the understanding that he would restore her daughter’s eyesight? He supposed it made some kind of hellish sense... suddenly it seemed a very long time since he had last had a proper sleep. He was getting into bed when the phone rang. Thinking it might be Davies with more news, he snatched it up.

‘Just checking,’ said Mary’s voice.

‘I’m just on my way to bed, honest.’

‘Good. Any word from the police?’

Gordon told her about Sonia being the source of the payments to Dawes but swore her to secrecy for the moment. There was nothing they could do until the police found out where the Trools had gone.’

‘So it’s possible that Anne-Marie is still alive?’ asked Mary.

‘Just,’ replied Gordon. ‘But if she is it’s going to be a pretty close-run thing. If the Trools’ daughter has been in a clinic for a few days... the chances are frankly, not good.’

‘What kind of people are they?’ exclaimed Mary. ‘How can they see a child as a bag of spare parts? Trool’s a doctor, for God’s sake. He took the Hippocratic oath just like we did. Medicine is supposed to be about helping people, all people, not about the survival of the fittest or the richest?’

‘It is,’ Gordon assured her. ‘That’s what you’re doing, isn’t it?’

‘If you can call stitching up the heads of three drunks who had a fight after a football match and extracting an aniseed ball from the nose of a teenager, who “did it for a laugh”, helping people, then I suppose it is,’ replied Mary, summarising her most recent activities.

‘Of course it is. It means you’re one of the good guys,’ said Gordon. ‘And thank God there are still a lot more goodies than baddies in the game.’

‘Sometimes I wonder,’ said Mary.

‘Just a few bad apples.’

‘Get some sleep, Tom.’

Mary had a point, thought Gordon as his head hit the pillow. People expected such a lot of certain professions, doctors, policemen, nurses. Bad apples could do an untold amount of damage in these particular barrels.


Gordon was woken at seven by a call from the police in Caernarfon. It didn’t come from Davies personally — he was off duty — but he had left instructions that Gordon should be informed if there were any developments during the night.

‘We’ve heard from Manchester Airport that Dr and Mrs Trool and their daughter were on a BA flight to Paris two nights ago.’

‘Paris,’ repeated Gordon flatly, not knowing what to make of the news, then it registered that the officer had said their daughter was with them. ‘Are you sure about that?’ he asked.

That’s what it says here.’

‘So what’s happening?’

‘We’ve asked the French police for urgent assistance in finding them.’

Gordon put down the phone but it rang again almost immediately. This time it was Davies himself. ‘You’ve heard?’

Gordon said that he had. ‘Paris, and their daughter was with them.’

‘Don’t understand that,’ said Davies. ‘Their neighbour was adamant that the child had gone into the clinic a few days ago and that the Trools were alone when they left.’

‘Must have picked her up somewhere along the way,’ said Gordon.

‘So what the hell are they doing?’ asked Davies.

‘I’m not sure,’ said Gordon slowly. ‘This Paris thing has thrown me a bit but they’re up to something.’

‘If the kid’s already had the operation, maybe they’ve taken her away to recuperate?’ suggested Davies. ‘I mean, Paris doesn’t have to be their final destination, does it? The south of France can be very nice at this time of year.’

‘Then why not fly there directly,’ said Gordon.

‘Maybe flights were difficult. It doesn’t take that long on the TGV from Paris.’

‘Hmm,’ said Gordon, unconvinced.

‘Look, if they’ve booked into a hotel in Paris, the French police will find them,’ said Davies.

‘And if they haven’t booked into a hotel?’

‘Then it could take a bit longer,’ conceded Davies. ‘But if the operation has already taken place... then I don’t see...’

‘What the hurry is,’ said Gordon, completing his sentence. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘If they’ve done it, Anne-Marie will be dead already. But we don’t know that for sure. We have to keep trying.’

‘Understood,’ said Davies.

Gordon put the phone down and it rang yet again within seconds. It was Mary. ‘I thought I’d see how you were this morning,’ she said. ‘I thought if you were okay, we might meet up when I come off duty in half an hour?’

‘I’m fine. Good idea,’ said Gordon, rubbing his chin gently.


Mary was aware of Gordon seeming very tense as they sat talking and drinking coffee in a small café near Bangor Cathedral. Although polite and apparently attentive to what she was saying she noticed his gaze drift off and the muscles in his cheeks were a dead give-away.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked gently.

‘It’s probably just the prospect of yet more waiting. I keep thinking there must be something I can do.’

‘Not if you don’t know where they are,’ said Mary. ‘It’s really up to the French police now.’

‘The airport!’ said Gordon suddenly. ‘Maybe someone at the airport spoke to them and they said something about what their plans were. I’m going over there!’

Mary looked at him with a slightly anguished expression on her face. ‘You’re doing it again,’ she said.

‘It’s worth a try,’ insisted Gordon. ‘What harm can it do? And it’s better than just sitting here doing nothing.’

‘Oh, I suppose,’ conceded Mary. ‘But I’m coming with you.’

‘But you’ve been working all night,’ protested Gordon.

‘I’m coming,’ Mary insisted. ‘If only to stand behind you and make sure that no one hits you over the head again!’

There was a moment when Gordon didn’t know whether to take offence or laugh. In the end, he did the latter and agreed to her coming along. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

Manchester Airport was unpleasantly crowded. Early morning fog had persisted until well after ten causing a number of delays to both inbound and outbound traffic.

‘Where do we start?’ asked Mary, as they came to a halt in the crowds.

‘The police said they took a British Airways flight, let’s try the BA information desk if we can find it,’ said Gordon.

It took them some five minutes to find it and another ten, waiting in the queue before they got close enough to see that the desk was manned by two ladies in navy blue uniform who were fending off complaints and dealing with enquiries with stock replies and autopilot smiles. ‘Sorry sir, your flight will be leaving as soon as possible... Of course, Madam, just ask the flight attendant when you board... Your baggage will be checked right through to Warsaw, sir. No need to worry.’

Gordon reached the head of the queue and addressed the glazed smile with the name badge saying, Angela. ‘I’d like to speak to someone about passengers on your Paris flight last Tuesday evening.’

Angela’s brittle smile was extinguished as suddenly as if a fuse had blown. ‘I’m sorry?’

Gordon repeated his request.

‘I’m sorry,’ the woman stammered. ‘We don’t actually give out that kind of information.’

‘It’s very important,’ said Gordon.

Mary intervened. ‘We’re doctors,’ she said. ‘These passengers are our patients. It’s extremely urgent that we trace them.’

‘I see,’ said Angela thoughtfully. ‘I’ll have to call my supervisor. She picked up a house phone and after a slight pause, spoke to someone she addressed as, Mrs Roberts. When she’d finished she asked Gordon and Mary to wait to one side while Mrs Roberts ‘came down’. A few minutes later, Mrs Roberts, a woman in her early forties, wearing the same uniform as Angela, appeared and asked them to accompany her to her office. This turned out to be a small room with no windows on the first floor.

Gordon noted that Mrs Roberts appeared neither over-friendly nor defensively aggressive when he explained to her what he wanted to know. He wondered if such neutrality were a practised skill for dealing with the public. ‘We were hoping that the Trools might have said something to one of your staff about their plans?’

‘Angela tells me that you are both doctors?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you for some proof. I’m sure you understand.’

Mary showed her hospital staff card. Gordon provided a range of ID from his wallet.

‘Fine,’ said Mrs Roberts. ‘Do you have the exact details of the flight your patients were on?’

Gordon said not and apologised for the fact.

‘No matter, I’ll check the staff rota for the Tuesday flights and we’ll take it from there. Just bear with me.’

Gordon and Mary sat in nervous silence while Mrs Roberts checked lists and made several calls on the internal phone network, all apparently without success. They were becoming depressed when a more positive sounding conversation seemed to be taking place. ‘You were on the desk on Tuesday evening, weren’t you, Lisa? Good... the Paris flight, that’s right... Do you happen to remember a family named, Trool boarding the aircraft?... You do? Excellent! Could you come upstairs when your current boarding’s finished?’

Mrs Roberts smiled and said, ‘Lisa remembers them. She’ll be up as soon as they’ve finished boarding the Zurich flight.’

A fresh-faced, blonde girl appeared some ten minutes later, carrying a clipboard under one arm and a bag slung over her other shoulder. Mrs Roberts did the introductions and added, ‘These two people are doctors, Lisa. They’re trying to trace the Trool family. I understand it’s quite important.’

‘I’m not sure I can help really,’ said Lisa diffidently. ‘I remember them because I got their name wrong and called them, “Troll”. We made some jokes about Norwegian fairy folk and had a bit of a laugh, but that’s about it.’

‘Who was carrying the child?’ asked Gordon.

‘Mrs Trool was,’ replied Lisa.

‘Were her eyes bandaged?’

Lisa looked at Gordon as if it were a daft question. ‘No,’ she replied, sounding puzzled. ‘They weren’t.’

Gordon let out a sigh of relief and smiled at Mary. ‘They couldn’t have done it yet,’ he said. He turned back to Lisa and said, ‘But you did notice that their daughter was blind?’

‘No,’ replied Lisa, sounding even more puzzled.

‘Did she say anything to you about where she was going?’

‘Their daughter? Of course not. She couldn’t have been any more than three or four months old,’ exclaimed Lisa.

‘But Charlotte Trool is three or four years old!’ said Gordon. He looked at Mary and asked, ‘What on earth is going on?’

‘The child couldn’t have been their daughter. That’s the only explanation.’

Gordon turned to Lisa again and asked, ‘Can you tell us anything else about the baby?’

‘Not really. She giggled when I tickled her tummy. I remember thinking she was a little short in the body but I’m not sure why I’m saying that.’

Mary suddenly paled and said, ‘It was because she had no legs.’

Gordon’s nodded. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘It was Anne-Marie they were taking out of the country!’

‘I’m sorry, you’ve rather lost me,’ said Mrs Roberts.

Gordon ignored her. He made a pyramid with his two hands and tapped his fingertips rapidly against his chin while he thought through the implications. ‘So where’s their daughter?’ he murmured.

‘The neighbour said she went into a clinic,’ Mary reminded him.

‘But not here!’ exclaimed Gordon. He turned to Mrs Roberts and said, ‘Could you check to see if Mrs Trool made another trip to Paris a few days ago with her daughter?’

‘I suppose...’

‘Please. I promise you — it’s very important.’

Mrs Roberts turned to her computer screen and started her search. Gordon turned to Mary and said, ‘They’ve gone to Paris to have the operation done there — I’m sure of it.’

‘But we still don’t know where!’ whispered Mary. ‘Maybe you should get in touch with Inspector Davies and tell him that Anne-Marie is still alive. It might make a difference if he can tell the French police that.’

Gordon nodded his agreement.

Mrs Roberts announced, ‘Yes, here it is, five days ago. She travelled to Paris with her daughter, but without her husband on that occasion.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Roberts, and you too, Lisa. You’ve been most helpful.’

Gordon and Mary left the office and returned to the main concourse. ‘I should have realised earlier that there was no way that the operation could have been carried out in such a short space of time. Davies’s idea of recuperation in France was really a non-starter. The Trools just came up with a clever way of getting Anne-Marie out the country; they pretended she was their daughter.’

‘They seem to have thought of everything,’ said Mary.

‘God, I wish I knew where they’d gone,’ exclaimed Gordon.

‘The sooner you phone Davies the better. Make sure the French police are checking the Paris hospitals and clinics,’ said Mary.

‘Clinics!’ exclaimed Gordon. ‘Dawes’s clinic!’

‘You’re not making any sense,’ said Mary, now having to watch Gordon search through all his pockets as if he were on fire

‘When I was at the house in Aberlyn,’ said Gordon, ‘I found a leaflet about a French clinic. It was being used as a bookmark. I didn’t think too much about it at the time but now I see, it has to be the place. Anything else would just be too much of a coincidence.’

Gordon found what he was looking for and unfolded it. ‘See!’ he said, showing it to Mary.

‘Phone Davies and tell him right now!’ said Mary.

Gordon made the call on his mobile phone after finding a quiet corner behind a row of cleaning trolleys. Mary waited nearby. ‘Did you get him all right?’ she asked when he rejoined her.

Gordon said that he had. ‘He’s going to contact the French police right away.’

‘Good,’ said Mary, her shoulders sagging in relief. ‘I only hope they get there on time to stop it. Meanwhile, I suppose we’re back to playing the waiting game.’

‘Wait?’ echoed Gordon. ‘Us? Oh no. We’re off to Paris.’

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