Doctor Frigo (21 page)

Another forty minutes and it was over. I had done nothing but hold the special specimen containers and, as each was sealed, write what I was told to write on the label.

‘That is all,’ said Professor Grandval finally.

Villegas sat up. ‘What do you think, Professor?’ The facial injections had made it even more difficult for him to articulate clearly, but Grandval understood.

‘There are several possibilities, Monsieur,’ he said blandly. ‘As soon as I have been able to form an opinion I will let Dr Castillo know. It may take several days.’

‘I feel like a pincushion. You couldn’t make your tests here?’

‘I prefer to do my own laboratory work in Paris. It is
better that way. A pleasure to have met you, Monsieur Villegas.’

I showed the patient down to his car and noticed that in the DST escort car behind it there were two men. As Monsieur Albert predicted, the security watch on the Villegas entourage has been doubled.

When I got back to Professor Grandval he was closing and locking his instrument bag.

I did not ask him what preliminary conclusion he had come to. If he wanted to tell me anything he would do so without my asking.

‘I told him several days,’ he remarked, ‘so that he does not press you too much for news.’ He paused, staring into vacancy, then added: ‘An interesting case. It usually starts in the hands and forearms. That pastor I mentioned in my lecture was unusual in that respect too. Difficult to spot in the very early stages. You did well.’

Going down in the lift he spoke again. ‘No, it wasn’t your name in the papers, was it, Doctor? It was your father’s. He had some sort of accident.’

‘He was assassinated.’

‘Well, with politicos I suppose that is a sort of accident. You’ll hear from me by Saturday I hope.’

The garrison commander’s car was waiting at the staff entrance. Professor Grandval gave me a smile as he was driven away.

He said that I had done well. It is no consolation. He has now made it plain what he thinks. I would sooner have done badly.

No word from Grandval yet. Delvert called to ask when we may expect it. Told him I didn’t know but would advise him when it arrived. He said that would be unnecessary. All communications from Professor Grandval to me would be carried by the army communications centre.

Presumably the Professor knows. He must have had another encounter with the ‘secret police’ at the airport before his departure last night. Can only hope it didn’t spoil his dinner.

Had just arrived home when a military jeep drove up. A corporal asked to see my identity card and then delivered a sealed envelope for which I had to sign.

Inside was a message from Professor Grandval. It consisted of seven words:

I went and poured myself a very heavy drink. The bottle was still in my hand when the phone rang.

‘You have the message?’ Delvert asked.

‘Yes.’

‘What does it mean?’

‘I’m not telling you over the telephone, Commandant. I’m having a drink.’

A pause. ‘I’ll come over.’

He got here in five minutes. I had a drink waiting for him. He would, I thought, need it. ‘Well, what does this gibberish mean, Doctor? Serious or not serious?’

‘For my patient, very serious. For you, that’s up to you to decide. I can tell you, though, that Villegas will not continue for very long to be of any use to you or to anyone else.’

He sat down and took the drink I was offering him.

‘All of it please, Doctor,’ he said.

‘The disease is also known as progressive muscular atrophy and that pretty well describes it. It is a disease of the central nervous system. The cause is unknown. Some theories have been advanced, including syphilis and lead poisoning, but they are only theories, and as far as we are concerned of no practical value.’

‘But you can cure it.’ It was a statement.

‘No you can’t cure it. You can give what we call supportive therapy to ease the patient’s worse discomforts, but that’s about it. Death can take place in a few months or it may take place in two or three years, but it certainly takes place. From the patient’s point of view, you might say, the sooner the better.’

‘Was this the serious thing you suspected?’

‘No. What I had in mind was some lesser evil.’

‘What?’

‘Muscular dystrophy. In an adult that usually involves only the face and neck muscles. It is serious but not fatally so. It is to some extent treatable and controllable.’

‘How?’

‘Massage chiefly and keeping the patient active. Glycine has been used as a medication.’

‘But this atrophy which he has is neither treatable nor controllable?’

‘Neither. Naturally, you won’t take my word alone for that statement, but you’re unlikely to find any doctor who disagrees with it.’

‘Could Professor Grandval be wrong in his diagnosis?’

‘He could, but I don’t think he is. You can get a second opinion of course. Perhaps you should. I’ve no doubt the patient will want one.’

‘That can be discussed later. Assuming that Professor Grandval is right, what is the course of this disease? What happens? The speech difficulty gets worse I suppose.’

‘Oh yes, though I couldn’t say how rapidly. This case is a bit unusual in that it was possible to make the diagnosis early because the disease drew attention to itself in this way. Usually the onset is more insidious, affecting the muscles first of the hands and forearms, then the shoulders. The leg muscles later become weak and spastic. All the muscles tend to shrink and fibrillate, that is they quiver and twitch. When the disease spreads to the brain, chewing, swallowing, and speaking become very difficult indeed. The tongue fibrillates too. By that time the lips remain parted and the patient drools. Any attempt to control facial movements results in a violent contortion of the entire face.’

He sighed heavily. ‘Delightful. Anything else?’

‘Nothing pleasant, I’m afraid. The patient is subject to frequent fits of laughing or crying, for no apparent or particular reason. More and more rest becomes necessary. Eventually the patient has to be fed through a nasal tube.’

He stood up abruptly and took more than a sip of his drink. Then he nodded. ‘Thank you, Doctor. You’re not by any chance exaggerating?’

‘I’m sorry, Commandant. It
is
a horrible disease.’

‘And nothing can be done.’

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘How long?’

‘I’ve already told you. I don’t know. The speech problem will increase, but how rapidly I can’t say. I used the analogy of a man running a race the other day. It was not my own, but the patient’s. He will gradually stop running sooner and sooner.
How
gradually remains to be seen. And, of course, other things will happen.’

‘Could he last a month, more or less as he is?’

‘Possibly. Possibly two months. But the rate of deterioration in these early stages is really quite unpredictable.’

‘I see. What are you going to tell your patient?’

‘The truth, of course, sooner or later. When, I don’t know. I hadn’t got as far as that yet. As you have read the message to me from Professor Grandval you will know that he is sending a written report. I shall probably wait for that. Commissaire Gillon will have to be told of course.’

‘Why?’

‘I am at least partially responsible to him.’

‘That message you received a short while ago, Doctor, is an official signal and highly secret. I’ll have it back please.’

I handed it over.

‘Commissaire Gillon,’ he went on, ‘will be told all he needs to know – that the disease is serious. And he will be told by me. Muscular dystrophy, I think you said, was the disease you suspected.’

‘Yes.’

‘Then, unless you are instructed otherwise, that’s what it is.’

‘Are you asking me to lie to my patient, too, Commandant?’

‘It might be a compassionate thing to do in this case, don’t you think? After all, you have nothing to offer him except compassion, have you? But I leave that decision to you, Doctor.’

He left.

After a while I walked across to see Elizabeth.

Later, I told her some of what had happened. I know that doctors are not supposed to talk about their patients – Frigo was disapproving vigorously – but I had to unburden myself a little. Besides I had already talked to Delvert.

Elizabeth, too, was brutally practical.

‘I suppose a month or so would be sufficient,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘There would be the television appearances, of course, and the radio speeches, but I dare say they could
be taped in ten-minute sections and spliced together afterwards.’

‘I suppose they could.’

‘The live news conferences would be more difficult to manage. Still, with a little ingenuity and careful preparation it should be possible. The first two weeks will be the important ones.’

‘But then what? How do you manage a formal speech to the Organization of American States, for example, or an address to a new elected Assembly?’

She brooded for a time and then began running her fingers through her hair. ‘You make other arrangements,’ she said finally.

‘What other arrangements?’

She gave me a sombre look. ‘What happened to the Emperor Ferdinand?’ she demanded.

I didn’t know, and, since I didn’t much care just then what had happened to him, I didn’t ask.

I came home, and, having written the above, have taken a sleeping tablet.

The tablet hasn’t worked so I have taken a second.

While waiting for that to take effect I have consulted my Hapsburg reference books.

The Emperor Ferdinand, it seems, was an imbecile who suffered from rickets and epilepsy. ‘I am the Emperor and I want noodles,’ he is said to have bawled at his chamberlain during a state banquet.

Metternich succeeded in having Ferdinand replaced after a few weeks – the so-called ‘pre-March interregnum’ – by the Archduke Louis.

The Archduke, apparently, was only stupid.

RUE RACINE II

FORT LOUIS

ST PAUL-LES-ALIZÉS

In her invitation Doña Julia had said that at Les Muettes they keep traditional hours. Knew that that meant dinner at ten-thirty or even later so made myself an omelette here before leaving. As I was wearing my dark suit and a tie, decided not to go by moto. Took a taxi instead, knowing Antoine would telephone for another when I wanted to leave.

A mistake. I would have done better to have taken my moto and risked being rained upon.

The two DST men on the gate were those who had escorted Villegas when he had gone to the hospital for the consultation with Professor Grandval, so they knew me by sight and their check on my identity card was perfunctory. The taxi driver was less fortunate. He and his vehicle were both searched. He complained bitterly, though to me, not the DST men.

There was an extra car parked in the courtyard with a local self-drive hire service decal on the rear window, and I wondered if Delvert had also been invited. It couldn’t be Gillon, I thought, because he would have had his own car.

It was neither of them. Delvert had said that I would find there a lawyer, a priest and a gangster. The last person I had expected to find as well in that house was Rosier.

I didn’t see him immediately. Everyone seemed to be out on the terrace, but as Antoine started to lead me towards it
Doña Julia hurried in and told him that some of the guests’ drinks needed replenishing.

‘So glad that you were able to come, Doctor.’ She sounded a trifle breathless.

‘A pleasure, Doña Julia.’

She took me by the arm and steered me towards the hi-fi alcove. ‘But before I introduce you to our visitors I did want a private word with you.’

I started to mumble something but she was already having her private word.

‘I am worried about Don Manuel, Doctor. Extremely worried.’ Her eyes challenged me as if I had been about to deny the statement.

‘For any particular reason?’ I asked. It wasn’t a casual enquiry. Four days had elapsed since I had last seen him and for a man with his condition there could be unexpected changes.

‘Because he is worried about himself,’ she said. She threw her hands up dramatically. ‘Ever since he saw that Professor he has been more and more anxious as each day passes. I asked him to telelphone you, but he said no. When you had the report you would tell him.’

‘Well, that’s quite right, Doña Julia. Professor Grandval has had laboratory work to do and the report to write. Yesterday was a Sunday. I doubt if he was able to airmail the report from Paris until this morning. Perhaps by Wednesday …’

‘But did this Professor say nothing at all to you at the time? Give no opinion at all?’

‘These eminent consultants are very jealous of their reputations, Doña Julia. They do not make guesses or deliver hasty judgements, especially when they are dealing with members of provincial hospital staffs. They make certain of their facts before they speak. That is, after all, what they are paid for.’

‘Ah, and that is another thing. Who
is
paying this eminent gentleman?’

The truthful answer to that would have been that I didn’t know, and hadn’t thought to ask Delvert. Presumably his people were. I said: ‘His services were requested by the hospital, Doña Julia. I have no doubt that the Ministry of Public Health will be dealing with that matter.’

‘It is all extremely worrying.’

‘Uncertainty always is. The moment I receive Professor Grandval’s written report I will let Don Manuel know.’

‘You can see for yourself, Doctor, that there is nothing the matter with him but fatigue through overwork and anxiety for our country’s future. I wish that this upsetting consultation had never taken place.’

So did I. Fortunately she decided that it was time for her to resume her duties as hostess.

‘But, as you say, Doctor, we can only wait and think of pleasanter things. You and our guests must meet one another.’