Shape of Fear (20 page)

“Things have been happening pretty fast today,” I said. “There are really two situations and two investigations going on. Lieutenant Hardy has been on the Cardew case. Now I suppose he’s in charge of the Loring death. An agent from the Narcotics Bureau named Clark is in charge of the other aspect of things. One or both of them is bound to get around to you, Mr. Girard.”

“They must know that in my official capacity I’ve been right on top of this case for the French Government.” Girard said.

“If you know something you think they ought to know,” I said, “all you’ve got to do is call Mr. Clark in Chambrun’s office.”

“It’s just sitting here, knowing nothing, that’s unbearable!” he said.

I couldn’t figure why he’d sent for me. Surely not just to blow off steam. It was Juliet who suddenly made it clear.

“Mark, I have to go to the hospital,” she said without turning from the windows. Girard was at the table, lighting a cigarette with unsteady hands.

“You mean you want to see Digger?” I asked. “Nobody’s being allowed to see him.”

“By the doctors?”

“And the police,” I said. “If he regains consciousness and can talk, it’ll be the police he’ll talk to.”

“I want to be there!” she said. “It’s inhuman there shouldn’t be someone there he cares for. If it was only for a moment and he knew I was there, it would make a difference to him. I’d never forgive myself if he wanted me and I was sitting here, calmly, in my hotel room.”

“They won’t let you near him,” I said.

“Not if I was there, and he asked for me, and it was a way to give him courage to fight?”

“Juliet simply wants to go to the hospital and wait there for the outcome,” Girard said. “If we were his family, we’d be given permission. Juliet feels—she feels she is the—the closest person to Sullivan,” It was hard for him to say the words.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you think it is I can do for you,” I said.

Juliet turned to me for the first time. “Dear Mark, you have understood from the start how things are. I don’t have the strength or the courage to try to explain the whole thing to the authorities. I can’t ask Charles to do it. They would only laugh at him behind his back, not seeing him for the kind and generous person he is. You could ask this favor for me without awkwardness or embarrassment to yourself.”

“Well, sure. I’ll ask for you,” I said. “There must be a waiting room at the hospital where you could sit. But I don’t think they’ll let you see Digger.”

“I’d be there if he asked for me.”

“We’d both be very grateful to you,” Girard said huskily.

“I’ll go to talk to Clark now,” I said. “I’ll be back.”

It was really rough for Girard, I thought, as I took the elevator down to the fourth floor. To have to help in a situation that revealed so clearly how his wife felt about another man, a man he must look on as a traitor to all things he stood for.

Clark was quick and decisive. His answer was no. “I want everyone connected with this business where I can keep an eye on them every minute,” he said. “I don’t want any of them near Sullivan. Some one of them must be desperate to keep him from talking.”

“Not Juliet,” I said.

“Her husband was on Loring’s list.”

“Then let her go alone,” I said. “She might even be helpful if she was there when he comes to—if he does. He might want to talk to her, to try to clear himself with her, when he wouldn’t talk to the police.”

Chambrun, a small, dark sphinx behind his desk, put in on my side. “Mark may have something there,” he said. “However complex the relationships are, there’s no doubt Sullivan loves this woman, Clark. He might talk to her when he wouldn’t talk to anyone else. Let her go.”

“I don’t want any of them wandering around alone,” Clark said. “I can’t spare a man to send with her.”

“I’ll go with her,” I said.

Clark hesitated. “If you’ll go with her and stay with her …”

“Fine,” I said.

“Make it quite clear to Girard that he’ll be stopped if he tries to leave the hotel.”

“Wouldn’t it be a good idea if you told him that yourself?”

“Okay. I’ll tell him,” Clark said.

“This is all right with you?” I asked Chambrun.

“Yes, it’s all right,” he said, sounding vague. “Don’t let her out of your sight, Mark. It might occur to someone else that she’s the most likely person for Sullivan to talk to. They might not want it to happen. I’ll let Hardy know you’re coming. There’ll be someone there to help you if there’s any trouble.”

I glanced at Clark who was already on the phone to Girard.

“You think she might really be in danger?”

“Sullivan warned us to look out for land mines,” Chambrun said.

I was strangely pleased to be of use to Juliet. She still had that curious magic for me she’d had the first time I saw her.

She was waiting for me when I got back to the Girard suite. It was a cool fall evening and she had on some kind of loose-fitting topcoat. She had one of those large handbags with a strap that looped over her shoulder in a sort of military fashion.

“You’re a better friend than any we’ve had in a long time, Mark,” she said.

Girard, standing behind her, had a bitter smile on his tight lips. “I’m to be a prisoner here,” he said. “It’s ironic they should waste time on me.”

“They’re covering anyone they know who has ever had any connection with this conspiracy,” I said. “On both sides. Even the Ambassador.”

Juliet turned to him. “This may be a long wait, Charles.”

“I know,” he said. “You might call me from time to time.”

“I will,” she said. “I promise.”

So Juliet and I left and went down the hall to the elevators. I was suddenly aware that we were being watched from the housekeeper’s pantry at the end of the hall. Someone there would be phoning Clark. Chambrun’s system was working.

We went down to the lobby without speaking. I saw one of Jerry Dodd’s men standing by the main desk suddenly reach for a house phone. I wondered who else might be watching us when I saw Max Kroll and Lily Dorisch. They were at the travel desk, involved in some sort of discussion with the clerk there. But Kroll saw us. He bent down and whispered something to la Dorisch and she turned to look. We went straight out the Fifth Avenue entrance where Waters, the doorman, hailed a cab for us. As we settled back in the seat, I could feel a little shiver go over Juliet’s body.

“There are people watching everywhere, aren’t there?” she said.

“Routine,” I said.

She sighed. “I’ve asked too much of you, Mark. There’s really no reason why you should come with me.”

“I’m glad to,” I said, “and, anyway, Clark made it a condition.”

“Why?”

“You might as well face it, Juliet. Bernardel and his friends must be desperate to keep Digger from talking. They know, as we do, that he may talk to you when he. wouldn’t to anyone else. They may try to stop it.”

“I see.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll be there, and Lieutenant Hardy, and probably one or two policemen or detectives. You’ll be quite safe.”

The antiseptic smell of a hospital always makes me feel a little sick at my stomach. They were expecting us at the front desk. Digger’s private room was on the second floor. A uniformed patrolman sent by Hardy was there to guide us. We went up in the elevator. Hardy was there, looking grim and tired.

“There’s a waiting room here at the end of the hall, Mrs. Girard,” he said. “You and Haskell can stay there. I don’t think there’s much chance of your seeing Sullivan at all tonight.”

“How is he?” Juliet asked.

“ ‘Doing as well as can be expected,’ ” Hardy said. “That’s all I can get out of the doctors. Still in a coma.”

“We’ll wait,” Juliet said. “But please, Lieutenant, if he shows any sign of coming to …”

“I’ll call you,” Hardy said. “I want him to talk just as badly as you do. There’s a cafeteria on the main floor if you want coffee or sandwiches.”

The waiting room was a bleak, unfriendly place. Through the open door we could see nurses and interns moving about. At the far end of the hall was the door to Digger’s room. The patrolman had taken a chair just outside it and was reading a newspaper. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was almost nine o’clock. I hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast but I wasn’t hungry. I asked Juliet if she wanted to take off her coat.

“It’s nerves, I suppose,” she said, “but I feel chilled.”

So the waiting began. Juliet sat in an uncomfortable-looking maple armchair. I could have sworn that in the first hour she didn’t even move a finger.

I was chain-smoking, moving restlessly to the water cooler outside the door and back again. At half-hour intervals a white-haired doctor went into Digger’s room and came out again almost immediately. I took it to mean there was no change. There must be a nurse in there with him, I thought, along with Hardy.

About quarter past ten I discovered I was out of cigarettes. It seemed like a disaster. I went down to the desk presided over by the head floor nurse to ask where I could get a fresh pack. I was told there was a cigarette machine in the cafeteria on the main floor.

I walked down to where the patrolman sat outside Digger’s door. He looked up from his newspaper.

“I’m out of cigarettes,” I said. “I’d like to go downstairs for a pack. Will you keep an eye on Mrs. Girard?”

“Sure,” he said, “if she stays put. I can’t leave my post here.”

I went back to Juliet, told her I was going downstairs for cigarettes and offered to bring her coffee or anything else she wanted. She’d be grateful for coffee, she said.

I went down the stairway to the main floor and found the cafeteria. It was a busy place at the moment. I got a couple of packs of cigarettes from the machine and then waited in line at the counter to get myself a carton of coffee. I decided to take up a couple of sandwiches, just in case.

I suppose I was there something under ten minutes. As I walked out, carrying sandwiches and coffee, I nearly dropped the lot as I saw Juliet walking briskly toward the main entrance from the street. I called out to her and ran after her. She stopped just short of the revolving doors.

“Juliet! What are you doing here?” I asked her.

“I felt suddenly faint,” she said. “I thought a little fresh air might …” She reached out blindly for the revolving door. “I’ll be all right, Mark.” She went into the door and pushed her way out.

Still carrying the coffee and sandwiches, I stepped into the next compartment and stumbled out after her. She was standing on the top step, swaying slightly.

“Do you think you might get me some spirits of ammonia, Mark? I’m afraid I’m going to …”

“You’d better sit down,” I said. She was standing at the top of a flight of broad stone steps leading down to the sidewalk. “I can’t leave you, but try some of this coffee.” I dropped the sandwiches and began trying to pry the lid off the carton of coffee. That was when I saw Bernardel.

He came out of the shadow to our right, walking straight toward us, his teeth bared in a white, angry smile.

“Mark!” Juliet said. I felt her fingernails bite into my arm.

“Get back inside—quickly!” I said.

She wouldn’t or couldn’t move.

Then I saw that the fat man had a gun in his hand, aimed steadily at us.

“I think this is the end of the road, Madame,” he said. He held out his left hand. “Your handbag, please.”

Juliet let go of my arm, but beyond that she didn’t move. She seemed to be looking for help, but not from me. I tried to move in front of her.

“Just stay where you are, Mr. Haskell,” Bernardel said. “Your handbag, Madame. I trust what I want is there. I should hate to have to strip you in public.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do, Bernardel,” I said, “but you can’t get away with it.”

“Don’t be idiotic, Mr. Haskell,” he said without taking his eyes off Juliet “There’s no use looking about for help, Madame. The friend you were expecting to meet is not coming. He’s been detained—permanently.”

I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I knew I couldn’t just stand there while he threatened Juliet. He wasn’t over five feet away from me, and he was watching her. I launched myself forward in the best imitation of a football block I could manage. I hit him at just about knee level. I expected the gun to go off in my ear, but it didn’t. We both went down, rolling down the steps. I could hear him swearing in French. I kept clawing at him, trying to find the gun hand. Then I rolled away from him and scrambled up. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Juliet running like a deer down the steps toward the sidewalk. I shouted at her to go back inside where there’d be safety—and help.

“Fool! Idiot!” Bernardel snarled at me. He took a swing at me with the butt of his gun. It caught me on the shoulder and sent me staggering back. He ran past me after Juliet.

Juliet had just reached the bottom of the flight of steps when I saw people swarm out from either side of the balustrades, maybe a dozen of them. She turned one way, then the other—and then they had surrounded her.

To my complete astonishment I recognized Pierre Chambrun, standing just aside from the surrounding group.

Bernardel plowed his way into the center of the group and I heard a shrill scream—like an enraged animal’s. It was hard to believe that Juliet could have made that sound.

I
N THAT HANDBAG, SLUNG
by a strap over Juliet’s shoulder, were packets of heroin worth about two million dollars at the local market price. It was easily carried, weighing not more than ten pounds.

At the precinct station house a couple of blocks away from the hospital, the payoff man from the American drug ring was being held. An exact replica of Juliet’s shoulder-strap bag had been taken with him. The cash intended for the Secret Army terrorists was in it. The payoff man had been taken where he waited across the street from the hospital for Juliet to appear and make the exchange.

That much I was told on the way back to the hotel in a taxi. I was so goddam mad I couldn’t make much sense out of what Chambrun had to say. It seemed I’d been used as some kind of a Judas goat to lull Juliet into a sense of security. I couldn’t be civil to Bernardel who rode in the taxi with us. He kept apologizing to me for having clouted me so hard on the shoulder, which ached painfully, I may say. He was grinning from ear to ear, his jowly face looking as though someone had been over it with a sharp-pointed rake. Juliet, screaming, had ripped him to shreds with her fingernails in that crowded moment on the sidewalk. But Bernardel seemed to be as happy as a small boy at a birthday party.