The Secret

FIVE

Steven felt glad that he’d come to Simone’s funeral. He’d been assuming that he would be an anonymous face among hundreds of mourners but that wasn’t the case: there were fewer than fifty people there. Although this puzzled him at first it made sense when he thought it through. Simone didn’t have a social life; she did not have a wide circle of friends. She had spent her entire working life abroad among the sick and dying of other countries. Those who had known and loved her in these far-off places were in no position to come to Paris to mourn her death. Apart from family members who comprised less than a dozen, Steven reckoned, the mourners were mainly colleagues and administrators from Médecins Sans Frontières with perhaps a few representatives from other aid agencies.

Simone’s father, a stooped, elderly man with a head of fine, pure white hair that seemed to respond to the merest suggestion of movement in the air, spoke of a wonderful, loving daughter who had always had a good heart. Her boss spoke of an inspiration to others and the very embodiment of all that was good in the medical profession. Steven felt that the third person to speak, a friend from medical school days, hit the nail on the head when she said that Simone — much as she loved her — had always made her feel inadequate. Everyone agreed that planet earth was a poorer place for having lost Simone Ricard.

Because the funeral was being held in Paris and not Marseilles where Simone’s parents still lived, the reception afterwards was held in a small hotel on Boulevard St-Marcel. Steven introduced himself to Simone’s father, not expecting him to have heard of him, so he was surprised when Jacques Ricard exclaimed, ‘The English soldier? Simone spoke of you. I think you may be the only soldier my daughter ever approved of.’

Steven felt pleased — absurdly pleased; even vulnerable, like a ten-year-old hearing universal praise for the first time. He shook Ricard’s hand and nodded, indicating sympathy and thanks together, then turned to the MSF man who had spoken at the funeral, hoping that he might point him in the direction of people who had served with Simone in Afghanistan or had been at the Prague meeting. He was directed towards Dr Aline Lagarde, who he learned had been working with Simone on the anti-polio drive in the Afghan border region, and went over to introduce himself. She was a dark-haired woman in her thirties wearing an elegant black trouser suit over a lilac blouse which seemed to complement the striking colour of her eyes.

‘Ah yes, Dr Dunbar. Simone spoke of you many times.’

After opening exchanges about the awfulness of what had happened Steven encouraged Aline to tell him about the work that she and Simone had been engaged in. He had always been a good listener and this had served him well in past investigations. Experience had taught him that you could learn a lot about people by keeping your mouth shut and your ears open. In this case, he had to decide whether or not to mention the letter he’d had from Simone and it did not take him long to conclude that Aline Lagarde was an intelligent, caring woman who he felt could be trusted to be discreet. He told her about the letter and asked if she had any idea what Simone had meant by saying something was very wrong.

‘The letter was sent from Prague?’ Aline queried.

Steven felt she’d asked the question in order to give herself time to think through her reply. ‘Yes.’

‘Simone had… concerns.’

‘Shared by you?’

‘You could say that,’ Aline seemed nervous. She considered for a long moment before going on, ‘Simone was unhappy about our region being one of the big stumbling blocks in the bid to eradicate polio. We had more cases than anywhere else in the past year. I think she was afraid that people might see it as our fault.’

‘But the Afghan/Pakistan border is a huge area; the logistical problems must be tremendous,’ said Steven.

‘Exactly,’ Aline agreed. ‘I kept telling her that. We’re also talking about the FATA.’ She answered Steven’s questioning glance with, ‘The federally administered tribal areas. It’s a wild, lawless region, a bit like the old wild west.’

‘Only east,’ said Steven with a smile. ‘But surely you can’t be the only aid agency working in the area?’

‘No, of course not; several other agencies are represented there… That’s sometimes the root of the problem.’

‘Really?’ Steven probed.

Aline looked as if she had no real wish to continue but Steven’s unflinching gaze persuaded her to continue. ‘People like to imagine that aid agencies work together in perfect harmony, but people are people. Apart from the inevitable petty arguments and jealousies which always crop up in every walk of life, government approval and cooperation tends to vary with the country of origin of the team involved. Let’s say, some agencies are more welcome than others in Pakistan and Afghanistan.’

‘I hadn’t considered that angle.’

‘Simone always tried to rise above such difficulties. "Forget the politics and think of the children" was her mantra. She did her best to build bridges between us and the other agencies where possible and hated the very idea of having to observe strict geographical boundaries when it came to helping children.’

‘Who sets the boundaries?’

‘It’s agreed at government level. Aid agencies have assigned territories to work in. I suppose the idea is to stretch the aid as far as it’ll go and avoid overlap.’

‘Makes sense, I suppose.’

‘It would if we were all working on a flat plain with everything marked out in grid squares,’ agreed Aline, showing a feistiness that had previously been kept under wraps. ‘But the border country between Pakistan and Afghanistan is not like that. We are talking mountain passes and deep valleys and lots of uncharted areas where, if you come across a village, your instinct is to help, not wonder if it’s in your allotted territory or not.’

‘But surely everyone understands that?’ said Steven.

‘You’d be surprised. We came across a village recently where many people were ill, including children. According to the elders, an aid team had been to the village once to vaccinate the children and give out medicine but hadn’t come back. Simone got in touch with the relevant agency to ask about vaccine scheduling and was told to “butt out”. They said it was none of her business and she should stick to her own region.’

‘Crazy,’ said Steven. ‘And did you?’

‘No, Simone was furious. We collected blood samples from the sick for lab analysis and gave the children their second dose of vaccine. It was her intention that we should return to that village after she got back from London.’

‘Was that the sort of thing that Simone wanted to bring up at the Prague meeting?’

‘I think it may have been,’ replied Aline uncertainly.

Steven thought it strange that Aline didn’t know what her colleague and had intended to talk about. ‘What made Simone decide to attend the meeting?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know. She didn’t tell me she was going,’ said Aline with more than a hint of embarrassment. ‘I think it must have been a last-minute decision. As far as I knew she was actually on her way to London to seek more funding from big business. I suppose she must have thought it was a good opportunity to get a look at the bigger picture surrounding polio eradication.’

‘And maybe vent her frustrations to some of the head honchos about the bureaucratic problems you were having?’

Aline smiled. ‘That too. Simone said you were a clever, resourceful man. She said you’d been a tremendous help in giving advice about treating people under difficult field conditions. She passed the expertise on to the rest of us but always gave you credit.’

‘That sounds like Simone,’ said Steven. ‘She always did the right thing.’

Aline laughed. ‘That’s exactly what she said about you.’

Steven and Aline exchanged contact details and agreed to keep in touch before Steven went off in search of the organiser of the Prague meeting, who he had learned earlier was Dr Thomas Schultz of the World Health Organisation. Schultz, a small, gnome-like man with grizzled features wearing a rough tweed suit was standing, head bowed, staring at the floor as another, taller man spoke insistently into his left ear while waving his arms around to accentuate whatever point he was making. Although Schultz appeared to be listening intently, Steven noticed his eyes dart to the side from time to time as if searching for an escape route.

He was wondering how to interrupt proceedings when he sensed someone at his shoulder and turned to find Aline there. ‘You’d like to speak to Schultz?’ she asked. Steven agreed that he would. ‘That’s Edelman monopolising him, Charles Edelman, an American who oversees the spending of US government money in their international aid programme. I’ll try to give you a window…’

Steven watched as Aline approached Schultz and Edelman and heard her exclaim, ‘Dr Edelman! I haven’t seen you for ages, not since the meeting in… where was it? Berlin, two years ago?’

As Edelman turned towards Aline, she expertly took his elbow and edged him away, offering smiling excuses to Schultz. Steven took his cue and moved in to introduce himself to Schultz, saying that he’d been a friend of Simone’s. They exchanged a few words about the sadness of her death before Steven said, ‘I understand Simone wanted to speak at the Prague meeting, doctor?’

Schultz nodded but seemed uncomfortable with the question. He cleared his throat unnecessarily and said, ‘She made a late request but we have a very tight schedule to stick to at these meetings. It was difficult to fit her in. These things have to be decided months in advance.’

‘I take it you know what she wanted to speak about?’

‘She had something to say about territorial problems between the various aid organisations in the region she was working in.’

‘But you weren’t keen on letting her do that?’ Steven ventured. It was a gamble, based on what Tom North had said about Simone thinking the meeting organisers were trying to avoid her.

Schultz sighed. ‘I have a difficult job, Dr Dunbar,’ he said. ‘What I strive to do is maintain harmony between the various volunteer groups. Having someone from one group stand up and criticise another at an international meeting was not going to help matters so you could say I wasn’t too keen, yes.’

Steven nodded. ‘It can’t be easy… but I understand that Simone’s complaint wasn’t just about territorial concerns. She believed that another agency wasn’t doing its job properly…’

‘I really couldn’t comment. I have no knowledge of that and rumours along those lines could be most damaging to our common cause.’

Steven thanked Schultz politely for his time, and the WHO man was about to move away when Steven added, ‘Do you think I could have a list of the people who attended the meeting, and their affiliations?’

Schultz’s demeanour changed. He turned with an angry look on his face. ‘May I ask why?’

‘I might want to talk to some of them.’

‘May I ask exactly who you are?’ asked Schultz coldly.

Steven told him and gave him his card.

‘And what jurisdiction do you imagine you have here?’

‘None at all,’ replied Steven. ‘Do I need it? Surely a list of people attending a scientific meeting can hardly be confidential?’

Schultz’s expression suggested he was struggling to keep his temper in check. ‘I’ll see that one is sent to you.’

‘Would it also be possible to have a list of the people who went on the trip to the Strahov monastery too?’

Schultz sighed, then said, ‘That was arranged locally. You can ask Dr Mazarek, who is standing over there.’ He pointed. ‘He made the local arrangements. He’ll be able to help you.’

Steven looked to the tall fair-haired man indicated by Schultz. He was in conversation with Simone’s parents.

‘What exactly is it you’re investigating, Dr Dunbar?’ asked Schultz.

‘I’d just like to know a bit more about the circumstances surrounding Simone’s death, doctor.’

‘It was a tragic accident. What more is there to know?’

‘Probably nothing, I’m sure.’

‘You give me the impression you’re looking for some kind of scandal, and that is something which could damage the cause that Simone fought so hard for. Any rumour — however unfounded — that her death was anything other than an accident and… well, I’m sure you know what the press would make of it.’

Steven nodded. ‘Believe me, Dr Schultz, damaging the cause that you and so many organisations work for is the last thing on earth I’d want to do. On the other hand… Simone Ricard was my friend. If she had concerns, I’m sure they were well founded.’ Steven ended his comment with a hard stare that made Schultz break eye contact, and turned away.