The Mammoth Book of Dracula (19 page)

“I trust you have had a pleasant afternoon?”

“Wonderful!” Thompson had blurted out, but the dark-haired man did not seem to notice anything amiss.

Later, after the couple had showered and dressed, they drove back to the hotel, the girl chattering away in Greek and Karolides listening intently as he steered the big machine skilfully and safely between what Thompson regarded as dangerously narrow gaps in the traffic, something he would never have attempted himself. Perhaps it was the residue of his accident, but he still felt nervous over motor vehicles.

Despite his protests, he was again the guest of the pair at dinner that evening, though he was disappointed when the girl left the table early, saying she had an appointment to meet friends at the Casino. After the two men had lingered over coffee and liqueurs in a side salon, they parted amicably and Thompson went back to his room. He spent half the night lying awake, consumed alternately with happiness and guilt.

~ * ~

IV

It was with mingled relief and disappointment that Thompson saw that there was no sign of his hosts in the Magnolia dining room when he came down late to breakfast the next morning. He later learned from the hotel proprietor that Karolides and Ravenna had gone up the coast to visit friends for two or three days. Left to himself, Thompson went for solitary walks on the heights above the hotel, but neither the sun nor the romantic vistas of sea and sky held his attention any more. He wandered aimlessly and at last sprawled in the shade of a great cypress tree and tried to clarify his whirling thoughts.

He had never been in love before. Somehow, the experiences so commonplace to the majority of mankind had- eluded him. It was true he had not sought it; he had been too absorbed in his scientific work. He had been an only child, and his parents had died years before and he had few surviving relatives. Yet something disturbed him about Ravenna’s attitude. A beautiful, wealthy and obviously sought-after girl who moved in the international set, why had she chosen him of all people? Or was he merely a passing fancy to a woman to whom having sex with an almost complete stranger was as commonplace and meant no more than if another woman accepted a cup of coffee from a friend?

Yet the more he mulled it over, he could not accept that. He did not wish to, of course, and a small hope was growing within him, as a flame ignited in dry undergrowth slowly blossoms into a roaring furnace. But he could not afford to get too carried away or he might be in for a terrible disappointment. So he busied himself in mundane matters as the day slowly passed; he wrote letters to friends in the north of England and in London; and to colleagues in his laboratory. Or rather, letters to the former and exotic cards to the latter.

He still had several weeks of his convalescence to run, and he would take things slowly and see what developed on Ravenna’s return. Then, on the third morning, a sudden thought struck him and he sought out the proprietor of the Magnolia to ask if the couple had quit the hotel. That suave gentleman smiled and said they were due back that afternoon. Reassured, he ate a leisurely lunch at a restaurant in the town and later in the day again swam out into the bay and then sunbathed on the rocks, hoping that Karolides and his daughter would have reappeared when he got back to the hotel.

He saw the big green touring car was parked in the concourse and a hotel employee was carrying in luggage. He hurried into the lobby with a beating heart. He met Karolides on the staircase coming down, immaculate in a white tropical suit and a scarlet tie. He started to ask if the couple had had a pleasant visit with friends but something stamped on Karolides’s face stopped him. There was an ineffable sadness about the mouth and eyes. He took the Englishman familiarly by the arm and they went down the stairs together. He anticipated Thompson’s next question.

“Ravenna is resting,” he said. “She is very ill, I am afraid. Our trip was not a social occasion, unfortunately.”

Thompson felt a tightening of the heart and expressed his concern. The two men were at the bottom of the staircase now and Karolides looked at him gravely.

“Shall we go into the lounge? It is always deserted at this hour. If you could spare a few minutes I should be grateful. It is most important.”

Thompson readily agreed, and soon the two men were seated on gilt chairs with a marble table between them, in the empty silence of the vast room, where rococo mirrors gave back their pale images, illuminated by the misty light that filtered through the drawn blinds. Karolides began without preamble.

“You may think what I am going to tell you is an impertinence and my request an imposition, but I would be grateful if you would hear me out.”

Thompson found he could not speak, but gave the merest of nods. Had he found out something about him and Ravenna? Surely she would not have told him? But he need not have worried. It was nothing like that. Karolides leaned forward until his hypnotic eyes were boring into the other’s.

“As I noted before, Mr Thompson, you are a blood specialist and a very distinguished one. I might say, in fact, one of the two leading specialists in the world. Ravenna is extremely ill, I am afraid. She suffers from a rare blood deficiency. So rare is her group that only a handful of people in the world have the same.”

Amid his alarm at the state of Ravenna’s health, Thompson felt a quickening of interest but he kept silent as the other went on.

“We have travelled the world to find a cure but without result. She has remissions when we are able to get occasional transfusions, but that is not the answer. I happen to own a rather celebrated clinic along the coast here. We have run your particulars through our computer and have obtained a fascinating CV.”

He held up his hand as the other started forward.

“Please hear me out, Mr Thompson, and forgive my presumption. You must know that such details are readily available to the medical fraternity on a worldwide basis.”

He smiled thinly.

“In fact, to the non-medical fraternity also; such is the spread of these electronic marvels. You are one of that small select band of people who have this extremely rare group. As I have said, I am not a medical man and I forget its actual designation.”

He lowered his voice and leaned forward again, his pale, distinguished face bearing a supplicating expression.

“I know you are on holiday; I know you have had a bad accident. And I am asking a great deal. What I am attempting to say is this. I suspect you have a growing fondness for Ravenna. It really is a matter of life and death. I implore you to help us by giving some of your blood. In other words to undergo a transfusion at my clinic under the expert supervision of Professor Kogon, whose name may not be unknown to you.”

He paused, his eyes never leaving the other’s face, and Thompson felt a little rivulet of perspiration trickle down his forehead. He mopped it away with his handkerchief to conceal his confusion. And Karolides had been right. He was more than fond of the girl and alarmed and dismayed by this threat to her safety. He did know Professor Kogon’s work well. He was also a blood specialist, but in a different area, and he had written some fascinating papers which explored hitherto unknown forms of research.

Instead of answering the millionaire directly he said something very strange, that appeared to have come unbidden to his mind.

“My great-grandfather was of Greek extraction ...” he began haltingly.

Karolides gave him a brilliant smile.

“Ah! So Greek meets Greek! I knew there was a rapport between us as soon as we first met. It is a million to one chance that you and Ravenna have the same blood typing. As I have already said, I know little or nothing of medical matters, but the professor and his colleagues are working on a synthetic compound which may, if perfected, save her. But that will take time, obviously. In the short term, you are our only hope. I can assure you that the earth is yours if you will agree to my suggestion.”

Thompson gathered himself together.

“You realize this can only be temporary ...” he began.

Karolides put a hand on his arm.

“That is all we ask. We have found, in fact, that with care the remission can last as long as six months. Anything can happen after that.”

Thompson hid his surprise as best he could.

“But,” he answered, “I will do everything I can.”

Karolides’s face was transformed.

“Then you agree!”

“Certainly! Anything to help Ravenna.”

~ * ~

V

Thompson sat back in his cane chair and looked out toward a clear blue horizon. He still felt a little weak, even after a day, but he relished the sight of Ravenna’s smiling face. Karolides’s gleaming clinic had been everything he had said, and Thompson and Professor Kogon had had interesting conversations on their specialities and had compared notes on their individual research. The actual transfusion procedure had rather puzzled him and he did not recognize the equipment in use, which Kogon had assured him was the latest technology and embodied a machine which he and his colleagues had themselves designed.

In fact its workings were unlike anything in his own experience, and Thompson had actually fainted during the minor operation. When he came to himself he was lying on a bed in another room, with one of Kogon’s colleagues raising a small glass of cognac to his lips. As soon as he was fit to travel, Karolides had driven him back to the Magnolia, saying that Ravenna was staying on at the clinic overnight as the professor wanted to keep her under observation.

In his euphoric mood, the Greek had suggested a fee so munificent that it had taken Thompson’s breath away, but he had smilingly declined all his host’s offers. Karolides had finally given up with good grace, but had insisted that Thompson should be his guest for the remainder of his holiday and that he would pay all his bills at the hotel. In the end Thompson had graciously given way, but he had privately resolved to buy Ravenna some extravagant piece of jewellery to express his feelings toward her and also to repay Karolides’s own generosity.

Ravenna had only just come back from the clinic that morning and the Greek had told him that she was resting. She had come to his bedside after the operation, and before he had quite recovered had expressed her gratitude in a most touching manner, impulsively seizing his hand and kissing it, much to his embarrassment. Just before lunch, Karolides had met him in the lounge by appointment and had brought him a sheaf of computer print-outs relating both to the transfusion and to the components of both Ravenna’s blood and his own. They were identical, as Thompson had expected, but there was a curious symbol which occurred again and again throughout the calculations; vaguely, it reminded him of the curious tattoos on Ravenna’s thigh and breast.

“Greek, is it not? But my knowledge of Greek is very hazy at this distance in time.”

Karolides gave him a smile in which sweetness was mingled with melancholy.

“It is our own private notation, which you will not find in any textbook or lexicon. It refers to
agape,
which, as you must know, is the word for ‘love’ in the Greek language.”

Somehow, Thompson felt a little uneasy at this and wished to turn the conversation in another direction. As though sensing his thoughts, his companion added, “You will be quite yourself in a day or two, Mr Thompson. Professor Kogon tells me that he had to extract a little more blood than usual to restore Ravenna, but I am sure you will not regret being so generous.”

“No, of course not,” Thompson had replied.

Karolides had then become brisk. “Ravenna will be sleeping this afternoon but will join us at dinner. In the meantime I would suggest a little expedition. I have something interesting to show you. We will go by car, of course, but may I suggest four o’clock, as it will not be quite so hot at that time of day?”

Thompson had readily agreed and now he was waiting for Karolides’s call. It was still only half-past three, and he had put down his novel as much out of boredom as tiredness. He found his white-coated waiter at his elbow.

“Monsieur would like iced
lemonade?”

Monsieur would, and he passed the remaining half-hour in pleasant contemplation of the scenery, all the time his mind revolving the enigma of Ravenna and whether the incident on the raft had happened or not—it had now assumed such a dream-like quality in his mind. Presently he heard the imperative salvo on the horn of Karolides’s car and descended to the hotel concourse to find the Greek already at the wheel, a blue silk scarf at the open vee of his expensive scarlet sports shirt, which he wore beneath one of his white tropical suits.

“A perfect afternoon for our little expedition, Mr Thompson,” he observed, as his guest slid into the seat alongside him.

“Where are we going?”

Karolides shot him a mysterious smile.

“All in good time, Mr Thompson,” he said softly. “A little way along the coast, actually. It’s rather a curiosity and connected with my own family at a great distance in time.”

Thompson was intrigued.

“Would you care to tell me a little more about it?”

Karolides glided expertly around a group of motorcyclists who were swerving too close, turned off the Corniche at the next junction and set the car’s long bonnet snaking up into the foothills.