‘What if they insist on coming with me?’
‘Make a point of going to the bathroom just before the train enters the station in Lyon.’
‘And if I don’t do this?’
Parvelli handed the phone back to Steven and nodded to Stroud who pressed the tip of the soldering iron into the sole of Macandrew’s foot and kept on pressing. Macandrew’s scream of pain tore through the room as the iron sank into his flesh.
Parvelli took the phone from him and clicked it off.
The shock of what had happened, followed by a tsunami of pain, forced Macandrew to spiral down into merciful unconsciousness.
When he came round, he didn’t feel much pain at all but then his head felt fuzzy so he knew that he had been drugged. Gingerly, he used his left foot to feel if his right had been bandaged: it had but it didn’t feel like a proper bandage. He had just started to wonder how bad the damage to his foot was before he found himself drifting back into semi-consciousness again. He was to remain in this drug-induced twilight state for many hours to come, reacting only to major stimuli.
At one point, he was aware of being carried from the apartment and knew that it was night because of the darkness of the sky and the fact the streetlights were on. He realised later that he was travelling through city streets because of the motion of the vehicle and vague traffic sounds. At intervals, Stroud loomed up out of the mists that surrounded him and his curiously expressionless face came close to his as he was given yet more medication to keep him in drug-induced limbo.
Macandrew had absolutely no conception of the passing of time over what was in reality an interval of some thirty-six hours. When he finally did come round, the agonising pain in his foot told him that medication had stopped. On top of this, he was thirsty — very thirsty. His mouth felt like the floor of a sun-scorched desert. He tried sitting up but found that his right wrist was handcuffed to the head of the bed. It felt warm in the room and he could see the sun shining outside. The fact that the window was open suggested that he was no longer in Paris. He remembered the instructions given to Simone and deduced that he must now be somewhere in the south of France.
As full consciousness returned, pain and thirst made him call out. The fat man responded. He came into the room and surveyed Macandrew with his slow-blinking stare for a few moments before leaving again. Stroud appeared and Macandrew asked for water and something for the pain. He was given a plastic cup, half full of tepid water which he steeled himself to sip rather than gulp down. He held out the cup for more and the fat man complied mutely.
As Macandrew worked the water round his gums he became conscious of the fact that he hadn’t had a wash since leaving Simone’s apartment and God knows how long ago that was. The stubble on his face rasped against his shirt collar and he saw the sweat stains on it. Then, as he looked down at his bandaged foot, a vaguely sweet smell in the air registered with him. It was unpleasant and somehow disturbingly familiar. An alarm went off in his head as he realised what it was. It was the smell of a bacterium, Staphylococcus aureus! — a constant bugbear in all surgical units. The wound site must be turning septic! The appearance of the bandage confirmed his fears. It was filthy.
Macandrew started to panic. ‘Christ man, my foot’s infected!’
‘There’s nothing I can do,’ said Stroud.
‘I have to clean the wound.’
‘Later,’ said Stroud.
‘At least, give me something for the pain?’
Stroud left the room and came back a few moments later with two capsules which he tossed on the table. Macandrew threw them into his mouth and washed them down with the last of the water in the cup. He held it out for more and the fat man complied.
The capsules dulled the pain but the nightmare of infection was adding to Macandrew’s anguish. If the wound was left to fester, blood poisoning would almost certainly ensue and he might well die. His head fell back on the pillow as he faced up to another unpleasant fact: he was worrying about a long-term problem when he might not actually have a long-term to worry about. As soon as Simone handed over the notes, both he and she would become expendable. The thought had no sooner entered his head than he heard Simone’s voice next door. Voices were raised and she was demanding, ‘Where is Dr Macandrew?’
Simone’s eyes filled with horror when she saw the state of him. She sank to her knees beside him, putting her arm round his shoulders and pushing his matted hair back from his forehead. ‘Oh Mac,’ she said. ‘What have they done to you?’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Macandrew hoarsely. ‘I couldn’t refuse to make the phone call.’
Simone put her finger to her lips. ‘You couldn’t do anything else.’ She looked down at his foot. ‘My God, what did they do to you?’
Macandrew told her and Simone gasped. ‘The bastards!’
‘Enough! Have you brought what we told you to bring?’ interrupted Stroud who was standing behind her. Parvelli, who had brought Simone to the apartment, stood threateningly beside him.
When Simone didn’t respond Stroud snapped angrily, ‘Come! You wanted to be sure he was alive and you can see that he is.’
‘Only until you hand the notes over,’ said Macandrew. ‘Then we both become surplus to requirements.’
‘I haven’t got them on me,’ said Simone.
‘What?’ said Parvelli.
‘I’m not entirely stupid. I wasn’t going to take the risk of you just taking them and then killing us.’
Parvelli took a menacing step towards her but Stroud stopped him. ‘Where are they?’ he demanded.
‘I have a proposition,’ said Simone.
Parvelli made to move closer again but Stroud again put a restraining hand on his arm. ‘Go on.’
‘You want the notes very badly. You think that, once you have them, you will be able to make as much of the protease as you want. Am I right?’
‘What’s your point?’ asked Stroud.
‘The chances of you being able to synthesise the chemical would be about the same as me flying to the moon on a broomstick.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘No, it was difficult, even for a top-flight biochemist like John Burnett to synthesise it. Amateurs would have no chance. You need us alive. Dr Macandrew and I are both trained scientists. I suspect that you are not.’
Macandrew closed his eyes and wished Simone well with her gamble. He personally had trouble reconstituting TV dinners let alone carrying out complicated biochemical syntheses.
‘What have you done with the notes?’
‘I mailed them along with the protease.’
‘To whom?’
‘To myself... at the Post Office... here in Marseilles.’
Sixteen
Simone was left alone with Macandrew while Stroud and the others left the room to consider the situation. ‘You are in a lot of pain,’ she said.
‘I think the wound’s infected: the dressing was dirty and hasn’t been changed.’
‘Animals!’ said Simone.
‘Were the police on the train?’
Simone nodded. ‘They were but they had to keep their distance in case I was being watched. I was snatched when we stopped outside the station at Lyon. I don’t think the police were expecting that.’
‘You don’t think they were able to follow?’
‘I’d like to think so but it all happened so quickly. The train stopped at a signal outside the station. They obviously knew about that — maybe even arranged it — and that’s when they grabbed me. They had a four-wheel drive vehicle waiting in a field by the track. It was over in seconds. I really don’t think the police were prepared for that. They were expecting to follow from Lyon station because they thought that’s where I’d be met. I hate to say it but we may be on our own.’