by Derek Haines
‘You’re truly mad Marie. All right. Half an hour.’
‘Thank you Jean-Paul. Really.’
‘Get your gorilla suit on, and I’ll buy some bananas on the way.’
*****
‘Where’s Marie?’
‘I told you, Milo. She had to go home.’
Sylvie Rousseau and Luc Fleury tried their best to pacify Milo and Mary, but it was no surprise that it was a difficult task. They had become attached to her, and now they were looking for someone or something to replace the security Marie gave them.
‘You need to be strong for Mary now Milo,’ Luc said. ‘You’ll be moving from here soon. Into your own apartment.’
‘With Mary?’
‘Yes. Mary will have her own room too.’
‘And sky?’
‘Yes Milo, of course. You’ll both have windows to see the sky.’ Sylvie assured Milo.
‘And clouds?’
‘Yes Milo.’
Milo left Sylvie and Luc and returned to his room. Mary was sitting in his bed waiting for him.
‘Where have you been, Milo? I’ve been waiting for you.’
‘I was with Sylvie and Luc.’
‘Did you find Marie?’
‘No Mary. Marie has gone home. To Geneva.’
‘I miss her, Milo.’
‘I do to, Mary. But we have each other. I’ll look after you.’
‘Oh Milo,’ Mary said as she hugged him.
‘Do you still like my breasts?’
‘Of course Mary.’
‘You can hold them if you like.’
‘How did you get them, Mary?’
‘Oh Milo. I’ll show you. Stand up.’
Sylvie passed Milo’s door and was mortified by what she saw. She ran to get Luc and they looked on quietly, and then went back to the office.
‘What should we do Luc?’
‘Nothing.’
‘What do you mean, nothing? We can’t….’
‘Yes we can Sylvie. We can turn a blind eye.’
‘But….’
‘No buts as far as I’m concerned. Let them have some enjoyment together.’
‘But it’s not ……’
‘Not what? Right? Proper? They’re adults, Sylvie.’
‘It’s George. This George…..’
‘No it’s not Sylvie. Mary and Milo are equals. There’s no coercion here.’
‘So we note this?’
‘No. I don’t think so. They’re going to need each other for a long time Sylvie. We can’t expect them not to be close.’
‘I just can’t, I mean, I really don’t know what….’
‘Our job is almost done Sylvie. Do you want them to be guinea pigs and medical cases forever?’
‘No. I suppose you have a point. Time to let go?’
‘Yes Sylvie. There’s always that point, isn’t there?’
An hour later Luc passed Milo’s door and found Milo and Mary asleep in each other’s arms. He went back to find Sylvie.
‘Come with me.’
Sylvie followed. When they returned to the office, Sylvie closed the door and said, ‘Yes Luc. I understand. Time to let go.’
‘I’ll recommend that they are well enough for the surgery to remove the monitors. They need that last step before they can become fully human again.’
*****
‘What? The spooks?’
‘No, not spooks. Just a short mission that needed confidentiality.’
‘But you’re a Geneva cop.’
‘Yes. But from time to time there are things a cop has to do.’
‘So, do you disappear off the face of the earth often?’
‘Nope. First time.’
‘So I was the lucky one then?’
‘No Jean-Paul. I was the lucky one to have met you. I’m just so sorry it happened when it did. I really wanted to call you, but I wasn’t allowed. I couldn’t even call my mum.’
‘Do you have to go back?’
‘I’m not sure. I really don’t know. I’m still officially seconded, but I go back to work as normal in Geneva tomorrow.’
‘So this case? It’s not finished?’
‘No. But I think my part has. Maybe in a couple of months I might have to do something.’
‘And you can’t tell me anything about it.’
‘They’re not secrets Jean-Paul. It’s just part of being a cop. Confidentiality.’
‘Like a doctor?’
‘I suppose. But really, it’s just a job.’
‘Well, if you have to disappear again, can you leave me a sign or something?’
‘What, a neon sign saying, I’m gone!’
‘Naaa! Maybe just a secretly positioned fridge magnet.’
‘Can we go shopping for a special one after my shift tomorrow?’
Jean-Paul opened his arms and Marie fell into them and buried her face in his chest. ‘Of course we can.’
Marie woke at five a.m. She showered and dressed and returned to her bedroom. She kissed Jean-Paul and he woke.
‘I love you,’ she said, and gave him a key.
‘See you later my love.’
Jean-Paul smiled, and she kissed him again.
Chapter 23 - The Art Of The Achievable
‘Thank you for coming again so early. I hope we can cease these extra early morning meetings shortly,’ Staheli said, as he opened their now daily council meeting. ‘I have some progress to report. Moon and Seaton are doing very well, and I have received advice that they are in good enough health to undergo surgery to remove the monitors from their heads. In consultation with the Army’s Medical Examiner, Ernst Gehrig, I have decided to make a request to Dr. Mueller at CERN to supervise this procedure.’
‘Do you think he’ll agree?’ Françoise Klausner asked.
‘I hope so. He seemed to express some concern for them, and as we know little about the apparatus or procedure I have been advised this would be the best possible solution. In other developments, the US, UK and Russia are all pushing to take care and responsibility for the people down there.’
‘To transfer it?’ Schellenberg asked.
‘I prefer the term, to take responsibility.’
‘So we just let them go?’
‘There are a number of outstanding issues that would find agreement easier to reach if we manage this situation well.’
‘Political expediency then?’
‘Look. We’ve all been in politics long enough to know that it’s the art of the achievable. We’re at the point now where we can either scream and carry on, invade the place and probably end up with dead bodies and a long list of enemies. Or we take the pragmatic approach and do the best in the situation we’re faced with.’
‘Such as?’ Klausner asked.
‘There is a list of outstanding bi-laterals with the EU that may find a smoother road. Some issues we have currently with the banking regulators in the US, and perhaps beneficial trading terms for energy supplies from Russia all spring to mind.’
‘Have we forgotten about the people down there? And the morality?’ Marc Guyer asked.
Staheli sat quietly before answering. ‘The only way this can be done is in total secrecy. As I said before, this place will have never existed. The same as our recent morning meetings have not been minuted, and will never have occurred. The measures we need to take will be by my order only, which I will never have given. It will not be a Federal Council decision. There will be no record of this matter at all.’
‘With due respect. That’ll mean you could face prosecution if any of this gets out in the future,’ the justice minister advised.
‘I understand what I need to do,’ Staheli said, with a grave tone in his voice. ‘My prime consideration in this matter is for Switzerland and for the people down there. This way they will at least survive, and I can only hope that they are treated better, and that the program will gradually be phased out. This is my understanding from speaking with the three sponsors of the program. At the same time, th
ere will be considerable benefit for Switzerland, as we endeavour to conclude some complex and long outstanding multi-lateral and bi-lateral agreements.’
‘Is there any way you can do this with the backing of the Federal Council?’ Klausner asked.
‘No. There can’t be a trace left of this. The mistakes made in secret after the war, now need to be solved the same way. In secret, and hopefully forever lost in history as was supposed to have happened after Nuremberg.’
Françoise Klausner looked at Rudiger Staheli and saw his face. Etched with impending guilt at what he was about to do. As much as she hated the proposed solution, she knew there was no practical alternative.
‘You’ll be on you own with this,’ Klausner said, and broke the silence.
‘Yes, I fully appreciate the gravity.’
‘Will you brief us on developments?’ Karl Schellenberg asked.
‘No. When you leave this meeting, this matter will never have existed.’
‘Very well Mr. President. I’m leaving this meeting that never happened,’ Françoise Klausner said, clearly indicating her agreement, and was followed by her five council colleagues.
Rudiger Staheli sat alone. Hating the decision he had had to make, but knowing he had no alternative. The usher came in some ten minutes later.
‘Is everything all right sir?’
‘Fine. Just having a small rest before my next meeting,’ Staheli said, as lightly as he could to the usher. He grabbed his brief case and set off for his office.
‘Get me Dr. Wilhelm Mueller on the phone,’ he asked his personal secretary, as he grumpily walked into his outer office.
‘Yes, certainly sir.’
Staheli went to his desk, and took a tablet to help the pain in his chest. He sat quietly until his phone broke his time of trying to relax his tightening chest.
‘Hello Dr Mueller.’
‘Hello sir. What can I do for you?’
‘I want these devices removed from Seaton and Moon.’
‘May I ask why?’
‘They’re tracking devices. I don’t want these things on Swiss citizens.’
‘Those two are not Swiss though.’
‘They are now, Dr Mueller.’
‘I see,’ and Staheli could almost hear Mueller thinking on the other end of the telephone. ‘The procedure would have to be done here.’
‘No, Dr Mueller. Impossible. It’ll be done in a Swiss hospital.’
‘But special surgical tools are required.’
‘Bring them with you.’
‘I have to say sir, that with all due respect, you can’t make this demand.’
‘Dr. Mueller. I’ve discussed this matter with your government. They have agreed to revoke your passport and allow us to list you with Interpol as a wanted criminal. It’ll take me less than two hours to have these matters dealt with.’
‘I must protest at ……’
‘Protest all you like Dr. Mueller. Your government has abandoned you. If you want out of here and a continuation of your employment, I suggest you get the tools you need, and do as I ask.’
‘So I have no choice then?’
‘No. Unless you want to rot in jail for the rest of your life.’
‘And if the procedure is not successful?’
‘Dr. Mueller. For your sake, and for the sake of many of your staff, you will make doubly sure that this procedure is totally successful.’
‘When will this take place sir?’
‘I’ll have my army medical people contact you. They’ll arrange for your transport for the procedure.’
‘Very well sir.’
‘Good day to you, Dr. Mueller.’
‘Excuse me sir,’ Staheli’s personal secretary said, as he entered. ‘You have a doctor’s appointment at three.’
‘Cancel it, and get me the Secretary of State on the phone.’
‘But it’s very early in the US sir.’
‘She’s in Jerusalem I believe. Get to it,’ Staheli said, impatiently and out of character. His secretary turning on his heels at the barked order.
On another line, Staheli rang the French president.
‘It appears the whole facility is on Swiss soil. Can’t be one hundred percent sure, but that’s the best I can say at the moment.’
‘And the facility itself? Where are you at?’
‘Hopefully in a few weeks, it will never have existed.’
‘Are you sure about this Rudiger?’ the president asked, in a concerned tone.
‘Yes. I’m sure.’
‘All right. Let me know if you need anything.’
‘Will do.’
Just after Staheli hung up, his other phone rang. It was the Secretary of State.
‘You need to speak, sir?’
‘Yes. You’ll have immediate access to evacuate.’
‘Right. And?’
‘We’ll keep the two escapees. They are Swiss nationals now, and we will release Dr. Schmidt to you after the facility is cleared.’
‘Anything else.’
‘The banking enquiry will go away I trust.’
‘I’ll advise the President sir and come back to you as soon as I can.’
‘Very well.’
After he finished, he called the German Chancellor, but he was in a meeting. He left a message for his call to be returned. Immediately, he picked up the phone again and called the Foreign Minister’s office in Moscow.
‘He’s in a meeting sir.’
‘Can he be interrupted just for few minutes? It’s important.’
‘Just hold please sir.’
Rudiger Staheli reached into his top draw and opened the small pill bottle and put another pill in his mouth, as his chest was tightening and making breathing difficult.
‘Are you there sir?’
‘Yes.’
‘Just putting you through.’
‘Rudiger.’
‘It’s almost done. Get the energy contact finalised inside two weeks and the matter will disappear from here. Your friends will make the travel arrangements.’
‘Understood Rudiger. Consider it done.’
‘Thanks.’
Staheli’s secretary appeared again.
‘The medical examiner is here sir.’
‘Yes. Send him in.’
‘Good morning sir.’
‘Yes, good morning. Now let’s get this moving. Make contact with Mueller at CERN and get him organised to supervise the surgery. Call Fleury in Ticino and have him ready the two patients. I want it done within the next two days.’
‘So soon sir.’
‘Yes. We need these tracking devices out of action, and let these two poor souls get on with some kind of a life.’
‘Any chance of a little longer sir.’
‘No. None. I suggest you get on to Mueller as soon as you leave.’
‘Yes sir.’
‘Advise me as soon as it’s been organised. Here’s my mobile number,’ Staheli said, as he wrote his number on his note pad.
‘Yes sir.’
When Ernst Gehrig had left, Staheli’s secretary gave him a message that the Chancellor had returned his call.
He picked up the phone and called back.
‘Yes Mr. Staheli,’ the Chancellor said in a coolish tone. They had never seen eye to eye on many issues, and he was sure the Chancellor was waiting for next year’s presidency rotation before trying to negotiate the outstanding bi-lateral agreements.
‘The head of the facility is German.’
‘What?’
‘I think you’d prefer he disappears further east.’
‘You can’t be serious.’
‘I’ve met with him. Dr. Wilhelm Mueller. Our intelligence confirms that he is the son of a German officer found guilty at Nuremberg.’
‘So what’s your position?’
‘Get the bi-laterals sorted with Françoise Klausner and her team. Signed within two weeks, and your problem will disappear.’
‘Are you making a threat her
e?’
‘No. Certainly not. A statement of fact, that’s all.’
‘What if the people further east don’t take him?’
‘He’ll still disappear.’
‘Get Klausner to contact the minister.’
‘Very well. Thank you for your understanding.’
‘You’re playing a very dangerous game you know.’
‘Yes, I know the ramifications.’
‘Right, let me know when it’s all done.’
‘Yes. Will do.’
By late afternoon, Staheli had contacted everyone he needed to, except for the British Foreign Secretary. It had been a long day, and he knew he could be contacted just as easily at home. The pains in his chest had eased a little, but he still felt uncomfortable and considered a short rest a good idea. He was also waiting to hear from the US. He needed their agreement as soon as possible.
When he arrived home, he was glad his wife was holidaying in Italy with her sister. He didn’t need company tonight. Laying down on his sofa and trying to let the stress dissipate, he fell asleep.
*****
‘Where are we going Sylvie?’
‘Back to Geneva, Mary. To take out that silly thing in your head.’
‘It doesn’t bother me really,’ Milo said.
‘But it will be much better to have it out Milo. You don’t want anyone from Sootere being able to find you, do you?’ Luc reasoned.
‘Will they do that?’ Mary asked.
‘We just want to make sure. That’s all,’ Luc said.
‘Will we come back here?’ Milo asked.
‘No Milo. After the procedure, and you’re both well enough, you’ll move to your new home,’ Sylvie said, with a confident smile.
‘Where will it be?’ Mary asked.
‘Near a lake, with a view of the sky, clouds and mountains,’ Luc replied.
‘We’ll like that ,won’t we Mary?’
‘Yes, Milo. We will.’
Luc Fleury nor Sylvie Rousseau told them exactly where, as it was to be kept secret until after the surgery in Geneva. But they knew they would be well cared for in a medically supervised home for adults with mild mental illness. Sylvie knew the centre, as she had visited it on a few occasions. It was located just outside of Brunnen, in the German heart of Switzerland, and would offer both Milo and Mary the security and quiet life they deserved.
*****