Десмонд Бэгли - High Citadel

The doctor leaned back in his chair and put both his hands flat on the desk. ‘I’m McGruder. What can I do for you, Major?’

Garcia flicked his glove against the side of his well-cut breeches. ‘We — the Cordilleran Air Force, that is — thought we might be of service,’ he said easily. ‘We understand that you have two badly injured men here — the men who came down from the mountain. We offer the use of our medical staff and the base hospital at the airfield.’ He waved. ‘The ambulance is waiting outside.’

McGruder swivelled his eyes to the window and saw the soldiers taking up position outside. They looked stripped for action. He flicked his gaze back to Garcia. ‘And the escort!’

Garcia smiled. ‘ No es nada ,’ he said casually. ‘I was conducting a small exercise when I got my orders, and it was as easy to bring the men along as to dismiss them and let them idle.’

McGruder did not believe a word of it. He said pleasantly, ‘Well, Major, I don’t think we need trouble the military. I haven’t been in your hospital at the airfield, but this place of mine is well enough equipped to take care of these men. I don’t think they need to be moved.’

Garcia lost his smile. ‘But we insist,’ he said icily.

McGruder’s mobile eyebrows shot up. ‘Insist, Major Garcia? I don’t think you’re in a position to insist.’

Garcia looked meaningly at the squad of soldiers in the courtyard. ‘No?’ he asked silkily.

‘No,’ said McGruder flatly. ‘As a doctor, I say that these men are too sick to be moved. If you don’t believe me, then trot out your own doctor from that ambulance and let him have a look at them. I am sure he will tell you the same.’

For the first time Garcia seemed to lose his self-possession. ‘Doctor?’ he said uncertainly. ‘Er... we have brought no doctor.’

‘No doctor?’ said McGruder in surprise. He wiggled his eyebrows at Garcia. ‘I am sure you have misinterpreted your orders, Major Garcia. I don’t think your commanding officer would approve of these men leaving here unless under qualified supervision; and I certainly don’t have the time to go with you to the airfield — I am a busy man.’

Garcia hesitated and then said sullenly, ‘Your telephone — may I use it?’

‘Help yourself,’ said McGruder. ‘But it isn’t working — as usual.’

Garcia smiled thinly and spoke into the mouthpiece. He got an answer, too, which really surprised McGruder and told him of the seriousness of the position. This was not an ordinary breakdown of the telephone system — it was planned; and he guessed that the exchange was under military control.

When next Garcia spoke he came to attention and McGruder smiled humourlessly; that would be his commanding officer and it certainly wouldn’t be Rodriguez — he didn’t go in for that kind of spit-and-polish. Garcia explained McGruder’s attitude concisely and then listened to the spate of words which followed. There was a grim smile on his face as he put down the telephone. ‘I regret to tell you, Doctor McGruder, that I must take those men.’

He stepped to the window and called his sergeant as McGruder came to his feet in anger. ‘And I say the men are too ill to be moved. One of those men is an American, Major Garcia. Are you trying to cause an international incident?’

‘I am obeying orders,’ said Garcia stiffly. His sergeant came to the window and he gave a rapid stream of instructions, then turned to McGruder. ‘I have to inform you that these men stand accused of plotting against the safety of the State. I am under instructions to arrest them.’

‘You’re nuts,’ said McGruder. ‘You take these men and you’ll be up to your neck in diplomats.’ He moved over to the door.

Garcia stood in front of him. ‘I must ask you to move away from the door, Doctor McGruder, or I will be forced to arrest you, too.’ He spoke over McGruder’s shoulder to a corporal standing outside. ‘Escort the doctor into the courtyard.’

‘Well, if you’re going to feel like that about it, there’s nothing I can do,’ said McGruder. ‘But that commanding officer of yours — what’s his name...?’

‘Colonel Coello.’

‘Colonel Coello is going to find himself in a sticky position.’ He stood aside and let Garcia precede him into the corridor.

Garcia waited for him, slapping the side of his leg impatiently. ‘Where are the men?’

McGruder led the way down the corridor at a rapid pace. Outside Forester’s room he paused and deliberately raised his voice. ‘You realize I am letting these men go under protest. The military have no jurisdiction here and I intend to protest to the Cordilleran government through the United States Embassy. And I further protest upon medical grounds — neither of these men is fit to be moved.’

‘Where are the men?’ repeated Garcia.

‘I have just operated on one of them — he is recovering from an anaesthetic. The other is also very ill and I insist on giving him a sedative before he is moved.’

Garcia hesitated and McGruder pressed him. ‘Come, Major; military ambulances have never been noted for smooth running — you would not begrudge a man a painkiller.’ He tapped Garcia on the chest. ‘This is going to make headlines in every paper across the United States. Do you want to make matters worse by appearing anti-humanitarian?’

‘Very well,’ said Garcia unwillingly.

‘I’ll get the morphine from the surgery,’ said McGruder and went back, leaving Garcia standing in the corridor.

Forester heard the raised voices as he was polishing the plate of the best meal he had ever enjoyed in his life. He realized that something was amiss and that McGruder was making him appear sicker than he was. He was willing to play along with that, so he hastily pushed the tray under the bed and when the door opened he was lying flat on his back with his eyes closed. As McGruder touched him he groaned.

McGruder said, ‘Mr Forester, Major Garcia thinks you will be better looked after in another hospital, so you are being moved.’ As Forester opened his eyes McGruder frowned at him heavily. ‘I do not agree with this move, which is being done under force majeure , and I am going to consult the appropriate authorities. I am going to give you a sedative so that the journey will not harm you, although it is not far — merely to the airfield.’

He rolled up the sleeve of Forester’s pyjamas and dabbed at his arm with cotton-wool, then produced a hypodermic syringe which he filled from an ampoule. He spoke casually. ‘The tape round your chest will support your ribs but I wouldn’t move around much — not unless you have to.’ There was a subtle emphasis on the last few words and he winked at Forester.

As he pushed home the needle in Forester’s arm he leaned over and whispered, ‘It’s a stimulant.’

‘What was that?’ said Garcia sharply.

‘What was what?’ asked McGruder, turning and skewering Garcia with an icy glare. ‘I’ll trouble you not to interfere with a doctor in his duties. Mr Forester is a very sick man, and on behalf of the United States government I am holding you and Colonel Coello responsible for what happens to him. Now, where are your stretcher-bearers?’

Garcia snapped to the sergeant at the door, ‘ Una camilla. ’ The sergeant bawled down the corridor and presently a stretcher was brought in. McGruder fussed about while Forester was transferred from the bed, and when he was settled said, ‘There, you can take him.’

He stepped back and knocked a kidney basin on the floor with a clatter. The noise was startling in that quiet room, and while everyone’s attention was diverted McGruder hastily thrust something hard under Forester’s pillow.