Zoé appeared five minutes later, dressed and ready to meet the world, having managed to apply a generous dab of makeup before hurrying downstairs to meet their guest.
Leanne's husband explained that he wanted to take them up on their offer of a lift to the clinic to collect his wife's things. He sounded in a dispirited mood. Matt put an arm on his shoulder. It was a move that Alain would probably appreciate, and he felt better in himself for doing it.
Alain pulled himself free and waved his arms in a gesture of despair. "Leanne knew something she did not tell me. Whatever it was, I think it is why Dr. Kappa killed her."
"Then tell the police," said Matt.
"And would they believe me?"
Matt felt like saying no, of course they wouldn't. He noticed Zoé's critical glare. "I can keep an eye open for anything suspicious. I know how to look for something out of order." As he said it he realized just how condescending he sounded.
"My car is in for repair." Alain shook his head. "I could get a taxi but I cannot face the thought of going alone to speak with Reverend Mother. I am sorry."
"Of course we will drive you," said Zoé. She paused. "I have an idea."
Matt guessed that her hesitation was not as spontaneous as she wanted it to sound.
"I am just going upstairs." She ran into the hall.
Matt guessed what she had in mind. "No, Zoé!"
Her high heeled fashion shoes clattered up and then down the wooden staircase. "Just wait till you see what Matt sent for." Her voice sounded breathless from the sudden burst of energy. "These are..." She frowned as she searched in her mind for the French word. "Matt uses them to listen to people talking."
"Ah, les micros. I understand."
"Good. Well, Matt is going to hide les micros while we are at the clinic."
"No, Zoé, we only got them because..."
"Go on," insisted Zoé. "We only got them because...?"
Matt bit his lip. It was unfair of her to force him into the corner. "Because Leanne asked us to do something," he added.
Alain's tired face showed a spark of curiosity. "Leanne wanted you to put les micros in the clinic?"
Matt sighed. He'd lost the argument. If he'd been prepared to do it for Leanne, admittedly with a bit of arm-twisting by Zoé, he ought to do it for Alain. But these cheap toys weren't the right tools for the job. This could turn into the big one. "It's not like a domestic job. I can't just break in and leave these behind."
"You are not breaking in, Matt. Alain is going to get us through the gates -- officially." Zoé looked at Alain encouragingly. "We will all help Matt hide them when we collect Leanne's belongings."
Matt groaned. "I know I usually rush into things, but not this one. A PI who jumps in without looking usually jumps into the deep end -- thinking it's shallow."
"But Alain wants us to help."
Matt knew he'd not only lost the argument, he'd lost the battle. Alain Corbin was watching him closely, and at the same time Zoé was trying to deliver a withering look that dared him to chicken out. He picked up a small black box with miniature clips attached to two protruding wires. "How are we going to get this onto the phone lines?"
"You were telling me a few days ago," said Zoé.
"You can't have been listening. I said there was nowhere obvious to put a pickup on the hillside."
"Then clip it on the telephone line inside the building."
Somehow he was being caught up in Zoé's enthusiasm. He was always a sucker for a challenge. "I'll have a look round -- just to see what we need. I'll contact Ken again and get something decent sent over. These bugs aren't good enough for a high security site."
Zoé sounded chirpy. "Bring les micros with you. We might get a chance to use them. All right? D'accord?"
Matt slipped the three bugs into the top pocket of his lightweight denim shirt. It wouldn't be all right. He knew that for a fact. "I've not even checked to see if they work." Not that it mattered. As soon as they were inside the clinic, Zoé would forget all about them.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Clinic of the Little Sisters of Tourvillon
"THIS SITE must be shut to visitors from noon today, Dr. Kappa."
Archbishop Valdieri referred to a pad of notes on his lap as he spoke. Official recognition of a holy vision was still the reason the public were being given for the Holy Father's visit. His medical treatment would remain top secret.
"You've heard of GIGN no doubt." Valdieri deliberately raised his eyebrows as he made eye contact with Kappa. "Formally they're the Groupement D'Intervention de la Gendarmerie Nationale. Site security will be in the hands of France's top anti-terrorist unit."
"I thought perhaps the local police, or even the army..."
"Not if we want the Papal visit to remain hidden from the world." Valdieri shook his head vigorously. "Imagine the wagging tongues in the village if a circus of armed men was seen rushing around the place. I want your security staff to remain on site, but their presence is solely for cosmetic purposes."
The senior surgeon had papers of his own to refer to and kept his eyes down. "I've asked Maxwell Wilcox, our head of security, to join us. I must warn you, Your Excellency, he's expecting a key role."
Security was his number one priority and Valdieri had no qualms about stepping on sensitive toes. "Then he'll be disappointed."
Jim Kappa coughed awkwardly. "The news might be better coming from you."
"I'm sure he'll understand the need for a professional force."
"Do the GIGN know what they're doing?" Jim Kappa's voice expressed more than surprise. Mockery.
"Have you ever seen a GIGN member, Dr. Kappa?"
"Probably not."
"That's because they're invisible. Either I surround the grounds with crack troops and draw everyone's to the area -- or I enlist invisible forces of the highest caliber. Thanks to the generosity of the President of France I have been able to choose the GIGN option. Just half a dozen of their men could keep this hillside safe against a determined terrorist attack." Valdieri paused, staring at Kappa. "There will be fifteen."
"The local police won't like it."
"The local police won't know."
Kappa scribbled something on his pad. "News sometimes gets out."
Valdieri had been looking for this opportunity. He put on his legendary smile that generally scared the guilty. "If the news gets out, Dr. Kappa, we will know where it came from -- and where it went. In other words, it will have come from one important member here to a brother member in the French police."
Kappa started to rise from his black leather armchair but he slowly relaxed and swung it away to face the window. "I think I am starting to understand the real purpose of your visit, Your Excellency."
Valdieri tilted his head sideways, attempting to read the surgeon's expression, but the chair was too close to the window. "The purpose of my visit is to report to the Vatican that security at the Little Sisters of Tourvillon is one hundred percent tight. The Holy Father will not be coming until I am entirely satisfied. For some time now I have been collecting the names of members of a secret Masonic group."
"A legal group!" Kappa shifted his chair to face his accuser. "It's only within the Church that such groups are illegal. I am not within the Church."
"Semantics, Dr. Kappa." Valdieri put up a hand in a gesture of friendship. "Look at it this way. The Holy Father intends to stop anti-Christian teaching by secret societies on the fringe of the Church. Would you fault him in that?"
Kappa shrugged.
Valdieri smiled. "Rest assured that the Vatican has no jurisdiction over Masonic practices in the secular world. Abuses of power are for the civil courts."
"But only when there is sufficient evidence of corruption."
"Naturally. You must know as well as I do that I would not be able to pursue you, or any other member, through the courts."
"You're being remarkably candid." Kappa rubbed his hands together, probably in anxiety and certainly not in ela
tion.
"Dr. Kappa, an inquiry into membership of lodges is not the primary reason for my visit. I make no accusations at present. However, if I thought that K7 or any similar group posed a threat to the Pope, you and I would not be talking right now. I would be at another clinic, making appropriate arrangements for the Holy Father to be treated there."
"An inferior clinic, Your Excellency."
"You are so right, Dr. Kappa. Inferior -- but safer. I just want you to know where we both stand."
Kappa had his black leather chair facing the window again. "Your attitude makes it extremely difficult for me to work on the Pope's medical condition."
"If you want to be kept in the background..."
"No!" The chair was quickly swung to face the room. "As I told the Vatican committee last month, my skills are fully at the Holy Father's disposal. Perhaps if we..." Kappa broke off to answer his phone. "Yes, in about two minutes." He replaced the handset slowly. "Maxwell Wilcox is on his way."
"You were about to say something?"
"The Board hopes that the Vatican will view our personal connections here with understanding, Your Excellency, assuming we are successful in returning the Holy Father to full health. Might that not be so?"
"I cannot say."
"But it's possible?"
Valdieri knew he was being boxed in. "While the Holy Father lives he will continue to probe every secret society that involves the Church. He has made that absolutely clear."
Kappa shook his head. "I imagine that with the right medical treatment the Pope has many years of life ahead of him."
"We all pray that it will be so. After several weeks of agonizing within the Vatican, the decision to use Tourvillon was made by a small group of papal advisers. They acted on my recommendation. Your surgical techniques are unparalleled in Europe. Unparalleled in the world, I might say."
There was a soft knock at the door and Maxwell Wilcox entered before Kappa could respond to the flattery. Valdieri watched the man in the navy blazer glance briefly in his direction.
"I didn't realize the Archbishop was still with you, Jim. I hope I'm not too early."
Kappa beckoned Wilcox into the large armchair the other side of the window. Valdieri smiled wryly to himself. That chair would have suited him, and he could have kept an eye on Kappa's face each time the man looked out of the window. Now he knew why it had remained empty. These two men were devious, and at times like this probably very close. He was being ignored as Wilcox got into conversation with Dr. Kappa.
"Nurse Corbin's husband is calling this morning, Jim."
Kappa looked startled. "What the hell for?"
The head of security seemed surprised at the question. "He's coming to collect his wife's effects. And he wants to talk to the Mother Superior. Is that okay with you?"
Kappa nodded briefly. "As long as he's gone before midday. That's when the Archbishop is closing the location to all visitors."
Wilcox turned to Valdieri. "The hell he is! Nobody told me."
The man with the shiny gold buttons on his blazer annoyed Valdieri. "That is why I asked you to come here, Mr. Wilcox, so I could tell you."
Maxwell Wilcox pointed first at himself and then at Valdieri. "You asked me to come, Archbishop?"
Kappa was quick to pour water on the fire. "The Pope's security is now Archbishop Valdieri's responsibility, Maxwell."
Maxwell Wilcox seemed to be fighting down a rising anger. "Before we go any further, Jim, we need to establish exactly who's in charge of what."
Valdieri sighed inwardly. He wanted this man on his side but it sounded as though there was little chance of that happening. He tried to put things diplomatically. "There is no suggestion that your work here is anything but exemplary, Mr. Wilcox. You can blame me for the decision to use outside security forces, but it's the way we do things at the Vatican."
"There's never been any trouble on this site," Wilcox mumbled.
Valdieri smiled. "Then let us hope we can keep it that way." He turned to Kappa. "Tell me about the nurse who died earlier this week."
Kappa had his chair towards the window. "Nurse Corbin died of massive internal bleeding within the brain, caused by a virus she probably picked up in town. There was an existing weakness."
Valdieri noticed that Kappa's response sounded dismissive, as though a death amongst the staff was a trivial matter. "Not a common occurrence, I'm sure," he said.
Kappa got up and made his way to the drinks cabinet. "No, not a common occurrence, Your Excellency, but this clinic is not always able to bring off a miracle." He laughed anxiously. "Unfortunate timing though. Puts a dent in our track record." He shifted nervously on his feet. "If it's any consolation, the nurse's death was inevitable. The Holy Father has nothing to be concerned about."
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Clinic of the Little Sisters of Tourvillon
THE GUARD left the security barrier down as he came forward. That was when he noticed Alain in the front passenger seat of the old Mini.
"Alain Corbin!" The expression of delight quickly changed to sorrow. "Alain, my friend, I am so sorry to hear about Leanne. These are your friends?" The guard nodded first to Matt, and then to Zoé who was in the small rear seat.
"Bonjour, Maurice." Alain sounded very down. "Yes, these are my friends. I have come to collect Leanne's things." He showed the letter from the Medical Board.
"They asked you to come up here at a time like this?" The guard shook his head before returning to the gatehouse for instructions.
A more senior man came out to read Alain's letter before going back inside to use the phone.
"That's Aldo," said Maurice the guard. "He's a pain. We're on a special alert today, so you may not be allowed in."
Matt could see what Maurice meant. The high steel gates beyond the barrier remained firmly closed and could not even be passed on foot.
"If they search us, they'll find the bugs," whispered Zoé.
"I said we shouldn't have brought them." Matt revved the engine to keep it running smoothly. "Just smile. Trust me."
Aldo returned from the phone. "Your two friends are to remain here," he snapped.
"They are not just friends," protested Alain. "They are helping me in my time of grief."
Matt looked at Alain. It must be a bleak task, coming to collect the clothes and personal effects of your dead wife. No wonder Alain needed them with him this morning.
Maurice was quick. "I could go with them, Aldo."
Aldo stared at the car. Matt knew from his manner that he was a tough security expert, assessing them closely. "Wait here." Aldo finished his appraisal and returned to the phone.
The conversation was long. Without a hint of a smile he marched back to the car. "Maurice, escort the three of them to Mr. Clarkson's office. I want them back through these gates in..." He studied his watch. "An hour at the most."
The barrier was raised but Matt had to wait for Aldo to walk ahead and open the steel paneled gates. Maurice told them to continue up the long zigzag drive as far as the main entrance. He would follow in the Moke.
Ahead lay the spacious hospital of the Little Sisters. Matt watched as a songbird rose high into the air like a guardian angel of the sick. There was no sign of Zoé's black kites, which meant that the songbird was safe for now.
Everything about the hospital said care and healing. This was not a place where inquisitive nurses died. Matt blipped the throttle and the small engine responded with a buzz, before settling to a slightly unsteady note. He shifted the gear lever into first and let the clutch in slowly.
*
STEVE MICHENER stood at his window attracted by the sound of a bird singing. It echoed the optimism he felt. If there was a God above that blue sky he deserved a vote of confidence on a morning like this. He recalled the night he had lain in bed terrified by the disappearance of the pinpoints of starlight. It seemed to belong to a different lifetime.
France was a wonderful country, and the team at the clinic wer
e so considerate. He'd bet money that the people would be just as friendly out there in the countryside -- if only he could speak their language. Anyway, he was lucky to have a room with a view of farmsteads and villages spread across a landscape of brown fields.
He laughed to himself. When his consultant in Los Angeles had insisted on urgent treatment, the name of Avignon had come up. He'd heard of the place. Sur le Pont d'Avignon. On the Bridge of Avignon. A stupid rhyme from school. But there had been no Pont for him -- just this distant view of the town.
Keep back from the window. He recalled Nurse Corbin's warning the day he'd arrived. Sometimes the paparazzi would hang around the village with their long lenses, hoping to snap someone famous. She'd even offered him a room round the back for added privacy.
Butt this was too good a scene to miss. He felt good about everything. And relieved.
"Mr. Michener, such a marvelous recovery."
Dr. Bernetti and Dr. Kappa stood in the doorway, both in dark suits. The smaller guy wore an expensive Italian design. He smiled, as much to himself as to them. These doctors really dressed the part. Staying here might cost the earth but they sure made a fuss of you. The world's top surgeons even came round in pairs.
The doctor in the Italian suit walked forward speaking his crazy English, his arms outstretched. "Mr. Michener, you able to stand by yourself already? I think you a good advertisement for our clinic."
Michener laughed as he staggered forward unsteadily to take the outstretched hands in his. "You folks are the best, I tell you. When I came here I thought I didn't have a snowball in hell's chance of walking out alive. And now look at me."
Dr. Bernetti beamed. "You a wonderful patient, Mr. Michener. You make up your mind to get better. Forza di volontà. Willpower. See, Dr. Kappa, the power of the mind, it is a wonderful healer."
Michener grinned, anxious to show off his perfect teeth. "You guys are too modest. You knew just where to put the knife. The headaches have gone, although ... leaning down just now to get my book from under the bed gave me one hell of a pain."
Dr. Bernetti sounded horrified. "Mr. Michener, you no do that! You most unwise. The blood supply to the brain, it go up when you go down. There are stitches, very delicate stitches inside your head."
Michener laughed. "Hey, can't you guys understand a joke? Would I do anything to damage myself? Like hell I would. I've a new movie coming up in the fall. I had to borrow against it to pay for your little excavation inside here." He patted the bandages on his head tenderly.
Shroud of the Healer Page 11