Ken McClure - The Secret

‘Nonsense, it’s just a job we choose to do,’ said Aline. ‘How about you? Are you flying home tonight?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘In that case... maybe we could share a meal this evening if you don’t have any other plans?’

‘No I don’t’ Steven confessed. ‘That would be nice.’ He had picked up on a hesitation in Aline’s voice, thinking that she might be about to add something but nothing came of it. ‘I think I saw everyone I wanted to see this afternoon with perhaps the exception of Dr Ranjit Khan, but Bill Andrews was present at the scene and he seemed a reliable witness. Maybe I should have spent more time commiserating with Simone’s parents, but having everyone together in the same room was just too good a chance to miss when it came to asking questions.’

‘I’m sure Simone would have understood that you were doing it for her. She was lucky to have such a loyal friend. What now? Investigation over?’

‘I think so. I feel a bit happier in my own mind.’ Once again he got the impression that Aline wanted to say something and this time she did.

‘Steven... Perhaps I haven’t been completely frank with you about all Simone’s concerns. She actually telephoned me from Prague...’

She paused, and Steven urged, ‘Go on.’

‘No, this is not the time or place. It can wait till later.’

‘All right,’ said Steven. He and Aline exchanged details of where they were staying and agreed to meet later at a restaurant situated midway between them that Aline knew and recommended, the Monsonnier.

Steven decided to walk by the Seine for a bit before returning to his hotel. He felt uncertain about the conclusions he’d reached after what Aline had just said — or rather not said. Everything had been pointing to his having read too much into Simone’s letter but now... He wished that Aline hadn’t left him hanging.

On impulse, he walked out on Pont Neuf and leaned on the parapet to watch the river traffic pass by as he thought things through again. He paused and smiled as a bateau-mouche appeared then disappeared under the bridge, leaving a fading calling card of happy voices and piped accordion music. Another load of tourists were living the Paris dream.

Steven acknowledged the possibility that he might be reading too much into Aline’s behaviour. It was pretty clear that Simone’s assertion that something was very wrong had to do with the sloppiness of another agency in the field and their subsequent rudeness. Even if Aline were to tell him later that it was a bit more than sloppiness — maybe downright incompetence — it would be no big deal in the great scheme of things. Everyone gets hacked off with colleagues from time to time and probably even more so in the stressful situations in which the two agencies were working.

Simone had been annoyed about getting the run-around from the meeting organisers in Prague but it was clear why it had happened. Schultz had been unhappy about her intention to criticise another agency openly and had stopped her by denying her a speaking slot. As for the fatal fall, an American aid worker and a Pakistani doctor had been in the gallery at the time of the fall and had witnessed the event. They were both distraught afterwards and one even blamed himself for having distracted Simone with a joke before she fell.

Steven had to consider why Simone had sent the letter at all. Why had she wanted to see him? The letter hadn’t been a simple suggestion that old friends meet up and she would hardly have approached him about the ins and outs of an aid agency squabble, so why had she felt the need to call on the help of an ex-soldier — or an investigator?

The answer wasn’t to be found in the sluggish, muddy water of the Seine or on any of the canvases being studiously worked on by artists on the bridge as he sauntered slowly back to the left bank. He returned to his hotel and showered before calling home.

A breathless Tally answered. ‘I’m just in,’ she said. ‘How’d it go?’

‘I’m glad I came. There weren’t that many people.’ Steven explained why he thought this was.

‘A pity. Did you find out what was worrying her?’

‘It seems that she felt another aid organisation wasn’t doing its job properly and she’d decided to blow the whistle on them.’

‘So her death coming immediately after the letter was a coincidence?’

‘I think so,’ Steven agreed. ‘Another fine Dunbar conspiracy theory ruined by a nasty little fact.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. I suspect Sci-Med are going to be fully occupied with other things pretty soon.’

‘Really?’

‘We admitted two children from a refugee family a few days ago. The lab haven’t confirmed it yet but we think they’re suffering from polio.’

Steven let out a low whistle. ‘That’s a bit of a show-stopper,’ he murmured. ‘We were only talking about this sort of thing before I left. Where are they from?’

‘Afghanistan.’

‘That fits. I’m told it’s one of the few places where it’s still endemic. How bad are the kids?’

‘They’re both displaying lower limb paralysis. One of them looks as if she might be getting worse. Her breathing’s becoming affected and if that happens... poor mite.’

‘This sounds like a nightmare from the past, the days of iron lungs and all that. Are the press on to it?’

‘Not yet.’

‘I take it you’re under pressure to keep it under wraps?’

‘You can say that again. I’m going back to the hospital tonight. An expert is coming up from London to speak to medical and senior nursing staff about the disease and how we should handle things.’

‘Not Tom North?’

‘The very same. Do you know him?’

Steven told her that he’d been to see North to get a briefing about the work Simone had been engaged in.

‘Well, I look forward to seeing you tomorrow when I can tell you all about it. You are coming up?’

‘You bet.’

‘So what are you going to do with yourself this evening, all alone in the city of romance?’

Steven cleared his throat. ‘Actually, I’m having dinner with a young lady.’ He closed his eyes, waiting for the expected ‘What?’ to arrive. It did. He explained who Aline was.

‘Well, don’t get carried away with her selfless dedication, will you?’

‘No chance,’ Steven assured her.

Steven arrived at the Monsonnier at five to eight and sipped kir while he waited. At fifteen minutes past, the waiter asked if Monsieur would like another. Steven said not; his friend wouldn’t be much longer. At half past he decided that Aline wasn’t coming. He apologised, paid for the drink and tipped well before leaving to walk up and down outside for another ten minutes until he felt absolutely sure she wasn’t going to turn up.

Aline’s hotel was only a five-minute walk away so Steven thought it might be an idea to go there and check that she was all right. He had almost reached the entrance before impulse gave way to consideration and he decided that this might not be a good idea after all. It might look as if he were annoyed that she hadn’t turned up and was looking for an explanation when it was a lady’s prerogative to change her mind, he seemed to remember from some way-back code of manners. They had exchanged contact details so presumably she would be in touch to explain at some point — or not.

Steven smiled, thinking how pleased Tally would be when he told her his ‘date’ had stood him up. He smiled again when he considered that Tally was the best thing that had happened to him for years and then felt the familiar pang of guilt before adding the rider since Lisa of course . He had loved Lisa dearly and their time together had been all too short. Maybe that was the reason why loving someone else still felt as though it had elements of betrayal about it. Silly after ten years but still undeniable.