‘Philip!’ Jan’s voice was suddenly angry. ‘This is nothing to do with you. Keep out of it. You hear?’ He turned to Bilvidic and said in French: ‘You say I’m not under arrest?’
‘No.’
‘I have important work to do here. We’re opening up a silver mine. Since I’m not under arrest, is there any reason why I should have to come to Casablanca with you?’
Bilvidic shrugged his shoulders and smiled coldly. ‘If you refuse to accompany me voluntarily, then I have orders to arrest you on a charge of entering Maroc under another man’s name and with another man’s papers.’
‘I see.’ Jan hesitated and then turned towards the door. ‘Very well. The sooner we get started the better,’ he said-and his voice sounded tense. I listened to his footsteps going slowly down the passage. He didn’t pause as he went out to the waiting car.
‘Monsieur?’ Bilvidic was looking at me. His assistant came in and he ordered him to fellow Jan. I glanced at Julie. She was looking pale and a little scared.
‘What do you want me to do, Philip?’ Her voice trembled slightly. ‘There must be something I can do?’
‘Do you think you could drive the bus alone as far as Ouarzazate?’
‘Of course.’
‘Go to the gite d’etapes there and phone the British Consul at Rabat. Tell him the whole thing. Make him understand that this man is Dr Kavan.’
‘But how do you know — ‘ She stopped abruptly. But she had said enough. I suddenly realised that she, too, wasn’t certain about Jan’s identity. ‘I’m worried about you,’ she said. ‘Not him.’
‘Just do as I ask.’
She nodded. ‘Yes, of course. And then I’ll come on to Casa.’
‘It’s too long a drive.’
‘I’ll leave the bus at Ouarzazate and come on by CTM.’ And then she smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be there to bail you out.’
Bilvidic must have understood the gist of what we had been saying. ‘If you are going to Ouarzazate, mademoiselle,’ he said, ‘then perhaps you will be so kind as to take Madame Kavan with you. She also has to go to Ouarzazate …’
I slipped out of the office and walked down the passage. I had seen Karen standing by the open door of one of the other offices. She heard me coming towards her and turned. Then she went back into the office. When I reached the door she was standing by the window, staring out at the desert. She couldn’t see the car from there. She was staring out at nothing, deliberately trying to avoid me. She was quite still and her face was set hard like a mask.
I went over to her. ‘Why on earth did you say he was Wade?’ I said. ‘Can’t you see it doesn’t matter any more? You’re safe. You’re both of you safe. There was no point in it.’ She stared at me as though I were a stranger to her. ‘For goodness’ sake tell them the truth. I don’t know what Jan’s idea is, but it’ll only land him in real trouble. Come back now and tell Bilvidic who Jan is.’
But she made no move. ‘If that is what he wants, he would have spoken to me.’ She said it flatly and without hope.
‘He doesn’t understand,’ I said. ‘He doesn’t know what he’s doing. A body has been found in Portugal and sooner or later the police will — ‘
‘It is my husband’s body.’ Her voice was toneless as though she was repeating something in her sleep.
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ I said, and I caught hold of her and turned her towards me. ‘Go out to the car and talk to him. Tell Bilvidic the truth.’
She stared up at me, her eyes wide with sudden hostility. I thought for a moment she was going to struggle, but then her body went slack under my hands and her eyes were blank. It was as though she had withdrawn completely inside herself. ‘Don’t you understand?’ I cried, shaking her. ‘If you let the police go on thinking he’s Wade, he’ll face a serious charge. Wade had a motive for killing your husband. For God’s sake tell them who he is.’
But she said nothing and her face remained quite blank. I let her go then with a feeling of hopelessness. Years of living in a police state had taught her this one refuge — silence. But surely there was some way I could persuade her. ‘You’re not in Czechoslovakia now,’ I said. ‘Please try and understand that I want to help you.’
She remained quite still, her lips tight shut. It was as though I hadn’t spoken. She was as obstinately silent as Jan had been earlier. I felt a sense of futility and exasperation. ‘Can’t you understand how the police — ‘ I stopped there, for footsteps sounded in the passage.
‘You are ready, monsieur?’ It was Bilvidic. He had paused by the open door, waiting for me. I glanced at Karen. There were tears welling from the corners of her eyes. I was shocked. I’d never seen her cry before. ‘Tell him now,’ I said.
But she turned her head away. It was a movement of denial, a final refusal. ‘Come, monsieur,’ Bilvidic said.
I turned then and went to the door. There was nothing more I could do. ‘Madame,’ Bilvidic said, speaking to Karen. ‘I have arranged with Mademoiselle Corrigan for you to travel with her. There is not room for more than four in the Citroen. She will take you to Ouarzazate.’
Thank you, monsieur.’ Her voice was no more than a whisper.
Bilvidic hesitated. Then he touched my arm and led me out to the car. ‘La pauvre petite,’ he said and his voice was softened by sudden pity for her. ‘She had hoped so much that her husband wasn’t dead.’
I didn’t say anything. There was no longer any point. The two of them together had effectively convinced Bilvidic. I was glad Karen was going with Julie, It might help, and anyway it meant that she and Jan wouldn’t be sitting side-by-side for hours on end in the enclosed space of the car stubbornly refusing to acknowledge each other. When we reached the Citroen Jan was already seated in the back with the second police officer. It was raining and the wind was thrashing through the palmerie. There wasn’t a soul in sight. The forts, the souk, the track leading down to Ksar Foum-Skhira — it was all empty and lifeless.
‘It is strange weather for this country,’ Bilvidic said. ‘I have never known such a winter.’ He said it for the sake of making conversation. He motioned me into the passenger seat and went round to the other side of the car. He glanced towards the mountains, his eyes
THE STRANGE LAND
shuttered against the rain. Then he shrugged his shoulders and climbed in behind the wheel.
Jan was sitting, staring straight in front of him. He didn’t look at me. He didn’t seem to be looking at anything. His eyes were quite blank and he seemed to have withdrawn inside himself as his wife had done and again I was conscious of this as something learned in a country that was outside of my experience, in a police state. It was as though the line of mental contact between us had been suddenly cut.
The engine roared and we swung round, slithering on the wet sand, spraying it up behind us. I glanced back and saw Julie and Karen walking out towards the bus. I looked at Jan again. But he hadn’t moved. He was staring straight ahead; not at the piste, nor at the mountains — rather at the future that was in his mind. A jagged line of lightning stabbed the darkness of the sky above the gorge and the noise of thunder went rumbling through the hills. Then the rain came down and the mountains were blotted out.
CHAPTER THREE
A gust of rain swept over us as we went out past the Foreign Legion fort. It drummed on the bonnet and stabbed into the sand. A grey murk enveloped us. Looking back I saw the old bus turn and begin to lumber along in our wake. The rain came in gusts. Nobody in the car talked. The only sound was the click-click of the windscreen wipers. The wheels spun in a soft patch, flinging sand up in sheets like a brown spray. I wondered how the bus would behave on the sticky surface of the piste. It was a heavy vehicle for a girl to drive and the going would be bad through the mountains unless the rain eased up. ‘You should have let me go with Mademoiselle Corrigan,’ I told Bilvidic angrily. I was thinking of the section of road overhanging the gorge where the road gang had been working.