The Strange Land

by Hammond Innes

  ‘But why?’

  ‘It is nothing to do with us, monsieur. I do not wish to drive through the night any more than you do. Nor do I enjoy being here in the desert for Christmas Day,’ he added sharply. ‘It is because of the British authorities. This man’ - he nodded towards Jan - ‘has been masquerading as Dr Kavan. They insist that the matter of his identity is resolved immediately. If you do not like it, then you have only your government to blame.’

  ‘But I tell you he is Dr Kavan.’

  ‘Non, wow.’ He shook his head. ‘It is no good, monsieur. Undoubtedly he is Wade.’ He tapped a sheaf of notes that lay in front of him on the desk. ‘You see, the body of Dr Jan Kavan was washed up on the coast of Portugal near Cape St Vincent four days ago.’

  There was a sudden silence in the room. Jan had moved forward slightly as though to ask a question. But now his eyes were fixed on the floor again. I was conscious of the tenseness of his body.

  Bilvidic rose and moved behind the desk. ‘Tell me, monsieur, how much did Kavan tell you about himself when he applied for the post of doctor at your Mission?’

  ‘Not very much,’ I said. ‘Just that he was a qualified doctor and that — ‘

  ‘He did not tell you he was a famous scientist? Ah, well then, you would not appreciate the interest this matter has aroused. It is in all the British papers. But now that his body has been discovered his disappearance is no longer a mystery.’

  ‘If you’re certain the body was from the Gay Juliet, then it is Wade’s body.’ I looked across at Jan. Why the devil didn’t he say something? ‘What makes them think it’s Kavan’s?’ I asked Bilvidic.

  ‘It is definite, monsieur. We have a full report at headquarters. The state of the body, of course, was not good. But the general description is exact, and he is wearing a windbreaker purchased in Durham, which is where Kavan worked. It even had the name Kavan on it and in the pocket is a watch inscribed in Czech which was given to Kavan by his wife.’ He shook his head. ‘There is absolutely no doubt, monsieur. But the British insist that we check the identity of your friend here, and. also there is the matter of illegal entry into Morocco.’

  ‘Listen, monsieur,’ I said. ‘I assure you that this man is Kavan. There were two men on the boat - Kavan and Wade. It was Kavan I pulled out of the sea at Jews’ Bay.’

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Tell me one thing,’ he said. ‘Did you ever meet this Dr Kavan - when you engaged him to be your doctor, for instance?’

  ‘No. It was all arranged by letter.’

  ‘Exactly. In fact, you have never seen the real Dr Kavan. You have no idea what he looks like.’

  ‘I assure you — ‘

  But he cut me short, leaning quickly forward. ‘Have you had occasion to call on this gentleman’s services as a doctor?’

  ‘No, not personally, but when — ‘

  ‘So you do not know if he is a doctor or not. Have you ever heard him speak Czech?’ I looked across at Kavan. ‘Well, have you, monsieur? Has he ever spoken one word of Czech since you have known him?’

  ‘It’s no use, Philip,’ Jan said quietly, speaking in English.

  ‘Oh, don’t be a fool. All you’ve got to do is talk to him in your own language.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Don’t you realise what this may lead to?’

  He didn’t answer me, but turned away towards the window and stood there, staring out at the drab expanse of rainswept sand. He seemed suddenly to have withdrawn from the room.

  I was angry and a little scared. ‘Are you crazy?’ And when he still said nothing, I turned back to Bilvidic. ‘I give you my word that this man is Kavan,’ I told him in French.

  He frowned, annoyed at my insistence. ‘You admit, monsieur, that he is the man you rescued from the sea at Tangier?’

  I nodded.

  ‘And he is also the man who shared your room at the Hotel Malabata, the man you put on the plane at Tangier Airport?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And yet you still insist that he is Kavan?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Very well.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Then we will settle it finally.’ He nodded to the plain-clothes man standing against the door, and he opened it and disappeared. There was a momentary silence as we waited, and then footsteps sounded on the bare concrete of the passage. There was the man’s heavy tread, and also the shorter, lighter tap of a woman’s heels.

  We were all of us facing the door as it was thrust open and she entered. It was Karen Kavan and she stopped in the doorway, her face frozen with the shock of seeing us there. Her gaze went straight to Jan. But he made no move. He just stood there, looking at her, his face expressionless. She turned to me then. There was a desperate, bewildered look in her eyes - it was as though she was pleading for me to tell her what to do.

  And then Bilvidic’s voice cut the stillness of the room. ‘One question, madame.’ He pointed t6 Jan. ‘Is this man your husband?’

  I saw her hesitate. I thought she was going to tell him the truth. But then Jan turned away again towards the window and her face froze so that there was no sign of recognition in it. ‘No.’ She was looking straight at the detective, her face white and strained, just as it had been in the cafe by the waterfront in Tangier, and she was twisting at the gold band of her wedding ring. Her features might have been chiselled out of stone, they were so controlled.

  ‘Have you ever seen him before?’

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice was scarcely above a whisper.

  ‘What is his name, please?’

  Again the momentary hesitation. ‘So far as I know it is Monsieur Wade.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Bilvidic nodded and the plain-clothes man opened the door for her. She paused a moment. Then she went quickly out, and Jan made no move to stop her going. He had turned at the sound of her footsteps, that was all, and he stood there, staring at the open doorway through which she had passed, his face empty of all expression. I couldn’t stand it.

  ‘For God’s sake!’ I cried. ‘Tell them who you are. Have them bring your wife back again. Don’t you see what you’re doing to her?’

  I had spoken in English, but he replied in French. ‘It is useless.’ His voice was harsher now, suddenly determined.

  I stared at him. If he had just said one word to her, I turned to Bilvidic. ‘Monsieur. I want you to bring the girl back. These two — ‘

  ‘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.’

  ‘J
ust 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.

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I am sorry. But it is not possible. They will be all right.’

  A heavier gust hit the car. The wheels slithered and spun. The rain was turning the powdered sand of the piste to a thick, red paste. The mountains were blotted out entirely. I glanced back. I could see nothing but wet sand and rain through the rear window. The bus, like the mountains, had disappeared from sight and I cursed the Frenchman under my breath. It was no weather in which to make two girls drive a heavy vehicle over mountains on a narrow, treacherous track. Once more I tried to persuade him to let me change places with Karen and keep Julie company in the bus, but he shook his head. ‘Non, monsieur. We must be in Casablanca by this morning.’

  ‘You’ll never make it in this weather. You might just as well…’ The full weight of the storm hit us then and the rest of the sentence was drowned in the roar of the rain. It sheeted down, bouncing on the bonnet, drumming on the roof, cutting visibility to practically nil. The wheels churned in the mud of the piste. The car slithered and swayed. And then the rain slackened again and there were the mountains right ahead of us.

  We reached the harder surface at the foot of the mountains and began to climb. Away to the left I saw the watch tower above Kasbah Foum, and the debris of the ruined city gleamed blackly through the rain. Sections of the track were running with water and in places there was a soft surface of mud. The car had front-wheel drive and the engine laboured as the wheels spun in the soft patches. We reached the spot where the road had been repaired and I looked down into the black gulf of the gorge. The whole place seemed to be streaming with water and, on the remote fringe of visibility
, I saw the towers of Kasbah Foum looking withdrawn and hostile as they stood guard over the entrance to the gorge.

  ‘If we could have had two more days.’ There was a note of bitterness in Jan’s voice as he said this and he was leaning forward in his seat, peering down the mist-wrapped length of the gorge.

  Then we had turned the corner under the cliff overhang and the gorge was behind us. Far below us down the mountain slope, I glimpsed the bus nosing its way across the flat valley floor. Then it was lost in a curtain of rain. ‘They’ll never make it,’ I said as the Citroen’s wheels spun again on a soft patch and Bilvidic fought the wheel to regain control of the car.

  ‘Then they will stop and wait,’ he replied impatiently. ‘The girl is not a fool. She will not try it if it is not possible.’

  But I wasn’t sure. Julie knew it was important for her to contact the British Consul. She’d go on as long as she thought there was a chance of getting through. And Karen was with her. Karen would want to go on, too. ‘I think we should stop,’ I said.

  ‘No.’

  ‘They could go over the edge in these soft patches.’

  ‘Stop worrying, monsieur. They will be all right. They will be going uphill. Downhill, it would be different.’

  ‘You forget that the bus has rear-wheel drive. You can easily skid the back wheels….’

  ‘They will be all right, I tell you,’ he repeated angrily. And then he was fighting the wheel again and suddenly the whole road ahead was blotted out by another storm.

  It swept down on us like a cloudburst, drumming on the car, beating at it as though trying to flatten it into the mud of the piste. A little spill of stones slithered in a trickle of water down the bank to our right. It had become very dark and all we could see was the rain and a few yards of mountain stretching ahead of us. The rain was solid like a million steel rods thrust at an angle into the ground. The car juddered, the engine roared. Mud spurted up past my window as the wheels clawed at the surface.

  I glanced back. I didn’t know what I imagined I would be able to see. I was scared for Julie. I wanted to reassure myself that the bus was all right. But I could see nothing - only the rods of rain gleaming dull like steel against the utter blackness of the storm. I turned and gripped Bilvidic’s arm. ‘You must wait,’ I shouted at him. ‘You must wait for them.’