Night Of Error

by Desmond Bagley

  There was a lot of mail for Campbell at the main post office. He was back even before I went ashore, clutching a sheaf of papers and disappearing below with Clare. I hoped he'd let her out some time, and it occurred to me to ask her to dine with me that night. It would be nice not to eat surrounded by the others, but nicer still with Clare along. I collected a file from my cabin and set out for Government House, and discovered it to be a rambling edifice in Late Tropical Victorian set in a large garden.

  I had, as I expected to have, a royal tussle with batteries of underlings, secretaries and so forth, but I was persistent and was at long last shown to a room to await a summons for a brief meeting with the Governor. He was a tall, cadaverous man with a thin hairline moustache, sitting behind an imposing desk cluttered with papers. He did not rise but stretched his hand out to me across the table.

  'M. Trevelyan, what can I do for you? Please sit down.'

  I said, Thank you for seeing me, Monsieur- er'

  'My name is MacDonald,' he said surprisingly, and smiled as he saw my expression. 'It is always the same with you English – you cannot understand why I have a Scottish name -but you should know that one of Napoleon's Marshalls was a MacDonald.'

  It appeared that this was one of his usual opening gambits with English visitors, so I said politely, 'Are you any relation?'

  'My father thought so, but many Scots settled in France after the abortive revolutions in the eighteenth century. I, myself, do not think I am descended from a Marshall of France.' He became more businesslike. 'How can I help you, M. Trevelyan?' His English was fluent, with hardly a trace of. accent.

  I said, 'About a year ago my brother died in the Tuamotus, on one of the smaller atolls. There appears to be some mystery about his death.'

  MacDonald raised his eyebrows. 'Mystery, M. Trevelyan?'

  'Do you know anything about it?'

  'I am afraid I have no knowledge of the death of your brother. For one thing I am new here, and am merely the Acting Governor; the Governor of French Oceania is away on leave. And also one would not recall the details of every death, every incident in so large a jurisprudence as this one.'

  I wouldn't describe my brother's death, possibly his murder, as an incident myself; but no doubt the Governor would see it differently. I managed to express my disappointment without actually dismissing myself from his office, which had clearly been his wish, and he settled back to hear me out.

  'We will have something on the files,' he said, and picked up a telephone. While he was speaking I opened my own file and sorted out documents.

  He replaced the receiver. 'You spoke of some mystery, M. Trevelyan.'

  'Mark – my brother – died on an unnamed atoll. He was treated by a Dr Schouten who lives on an island called Tanakabu.'

  MacDonald pulled down his mouth. 'Did you say Dr Schouten?'

  'Yes. Here is a copy of the death certificate.' I passed a photostat across the desk and he studied it.

  This seems to be quite in order.'

  I said sardonically, 'Yes, it's a well filled-in form. You note that it states that my brother died of peritonitus following an operation to remove a burst appendix.'

  MacDonald nodded. I was going to continue but I was interrupted by the appearance of a clerk who put a file on MacDonald's desk. He opened it and scanned the contents, pausing halfway through to raise his head and look at me thoughtfully before bending his head again.

  At last he said, 'I see the British Foreign Office asked for details. Here is the letter and my superior's reply.'

  'I have copies of those,' I said.

  He scanned the papers again. 'All seems in order, M. Trevelyan.'

  I pushed another photostat across the desk. This is an attested copy of a statement made by an English doctor to the effect that he removed my brother's appendix several years ago.'

  It didn't take for a moment and then suddenly it sank in. MacDonald started as though I'd harpooned him and picked up the photostat quickly. He read it several times and then put it down. 'It looks as though Dr Schouten made a mistake then,' he said slowly.

  'It seems so,' I agreed. 'What do you know about him?'

  MacDonald spread his hands. 'I've never met him – he never comes to Tahiti, you understand. He is a Dutchman and has lived in the Islands for about twenty years, administering to the people of the Tuamotus group.'

  But I remembered his wry mouth and sensed that he knew more.

  'He has a problem, hasn't he? Is he an alcoholic?'

  'He drinks, yes – but everyone does. I drink myself,' said MacDonald in mild rebuke. He was not going to commit himself.

  'Is he a good doctor?'

  There have never been any complaints.'

  I thought about Schouten, living in a remote group of islands far from the administrative centre of Papeete. Complaints about his professional capacity would have a way of dying on the vine, especially if most of his clientele were local people.

  I said, 'Did Dr Schouten come to Papeete to report my brother's death?'

  MacDonald consulted his file. 'No, he didn't. He waited until there was a convenient schooner and then sent a letter together with the death certificate. He would not leave his hospital for so long a journey for one death – there are many,. you understand.'

  'So no one saw my brother except Dr Schouten and the two men who found him – and no one has made any investigation, no one has questioned Kane or Hadley or the doctor?'

  'You are wrong, M. Trevelyan. We are not standing in Hyde Park Corner in the midst of a modern civilized metropolis. The Tuamotus are many hundreds of miles away and we have but a small administrative staff – but I assure you that questions were asked. Indeed they were.'

  He leaned forward and asked coldly, 'Are you aware, M. Trevelyan, that at the time of your brother's death he was suspected of murder, and a fugitive from the police?'

  'I did hear that cock-and-bull story. It must have been convenient for your police department to have such a tidy closing of the case.'

  He didn't like that and his eyes flickered. 'Here in French Oceania we have a peculiar problem. The islands have an enviable reputation, that of an earthly paradise. Consequently, men are drawn here from all over the world, hoping to live in ease and comfort. They think they can live by eating the fruit from the trees and by building a little thatched hut. They are wrong. The cost of living here is as high as anywhere else in the world.

  These men who come here are often, not always, the failures of civilization. Most go away when they find that the islands are not the paradise of reputation. Others stay to cause us trouble. Our work here is not to aid the degenerate sweepings, but to maintain the standard for our own people. And when an unknown white who is already in trouble dies we do not make too much fuss.'

  He tapped the file. 'Especially when there is a valid death certificate, apparently in order, especially when we think he may be a murderer, and very especially when he evaded the Tahiti police and ran away to die on some atoll two hundred miles from here.'

  I kept my self-control with some difficulty. 'Yes, I understand all that, but will you make an investigation now? My brother, as. you will see in there, was a scientist, not a beachcomber. And you will admit that there is something wrong with the death certificate.'

  MacDonald picked up the doctor's statement. True, a man cannot have appendicitis twice. Yes, we will certainly interview the doctor again.' He made a note on his pad. 'I will appoint an officer to interview him personally, rather than send a message to the local authorities. It will be done as soon as he next goes out to the Tuamotus.'

  He leaned back and waited for my thanks.

  'When will that be?' I asked.

  'In about three months' time.'

  Three months!'

  'Your brother is already dead, M. Trevelyan. There is nothing I can do to bring him back to life. We also are busy men; I administer an area of over a million square miles. You must realize that the government cannot come to a stop while we'


  'I am not asking you to stop the government. All I'm asking is that you investigate the death of a man!'

  'It will be done,' he said levelly. 'And we will find that the doctor has made an honest mistake. Perhaps he confused two patients on the same day. That is nothing new, but it would be a pity to ruin him for one mistake. We need doctors in the islands, M. Trevelyan.'

  I looked into MacDonald's eyes and realized I was up against a stone wall. Nothing would be done for three months and then the whole affair would be hushed up, covered in a web of red tape.

  I wrote my lawyer's address on a piece of paper. 'I would be obliged if you would let me know the results of your investigation. You can write to that address.'

  'I will let you know, M. Trevelyan. I am sure there will be a simple explanation.' He half stood up, clearly dismissing me.

  I went immediately to the British Consul and got no joy. He was urbane and civil, pointing out that everything Mac-Donald had said was true and that the only thing to do was to wait. 'They'll investigate the matter, don't you worry, Mr Trevelyan. If old Schouten has made a mistake they'll find out.'

  But he didn't sound convincing even to himself.

  I said, 'What kind of man is this Schouten? I gather you know him.'

  The consul shrugged. 'An old Islands type – been here for years. He's done some good work in the past.'

  'But not lately?'

  'Well, he's getting old and'

  'Hitting the bottle,' I said viciously.

  The consul looked up sharply. 'Don't blame him too much for that. He lost his entire family when the Japs invaded New Guinea.'

  I said bitterly, 'Does that excuse him for killing his patients?'

  There was no reasonable answer to that, and I pulled myself together and changed the subject slightly.

  'Have you heard of a man called Jim Hadley?'

  'A big Australian?'

  'That's the man.'

  'Of course he's never been in here,' said the consul. 'We've no official connection, but I've seen him around. He's well known here as a rather hard-headed type, not a man to be crossed I'd say. Your brother chartered his schooner for a while.'

  'Is he really that tough?'

  He frowned. 'Very much so. Not a consular tea party type at all. I wouldn't recommend him.'

  'What about a man called Kane?'

  'Is that the other Australian? His partner, I think – I've seen him with Hadley. It's the same answer, I'm afraid; I've never spoken to him.'

  Tell me honestly – do you think the administration is dragging its heels in this matter?'

  He sighed. 'I'll have to speak bluntly, Mr Trevelyan. When your brother died he was on the run from the police. He was suspected of murder.' As I was going to interrupt he raised his hand. 'Now, don't tell me that's ridiculous. Most murderers have brothers, like yourself, who refuse to believe anything ill of their kin, especially at first hearing.'

  That wasn't what I was going to say, but I kept my mouth shut.

  'When he died, complete with death certificate signed by a qualified medical man, the police called off the hunt, and quite naturally so in my opinion. At the present time the administration has a hell of a lot on its plate, and they had no reason to suspect anyone else. But they'll get around to investigating the new evidence you've brought them sooner or later.'

  'When the trail is totally cold.'

  'I do see your point,' he said. 'I don't think I can do anything about it. But I'll try.'

  And with that I had to be content.

  When I reboarded Esmerelda I felt blue. I think I had expected my news to come with a devastating shock, and it had been dismissed as a hiccup. Clare was on deck and she said sunnily, 'Isn't this a beautiful place?'

  'It stinks,' I said sourly.

  'What are you mad at? You look as though you wouldn't care if the whole island sank into the sea.'

  'It's these damn colonial French. Justice – but at a snail's pace. The British here aren't much better either.'

  'No dice with the Governor?'

  'Oh, they'll make a new investigation in three months – or three years. He doesn't want to lose his precious Dr Schouten. If he looks too closely he might have to arrest the doctor for unprofessional conduct and he doesn't want to do that, so he's going easy on the whole thing – sweeping it under the carpet in the hope that it'll be forgotten. He's got much more important things to do than to find Mark's killer.'

  She was sympathetic and I began to loosen up a little. After a while I even felt cheerful enough to ask her to dine with me, and to my delight she agreed at once. I excused myself and went in search of Geordie, whom I found tinkering with the engine in company with two of the crew. Everyone else had vanished ashore. I took Geordie aside and told him what had happened.

  He wiped the oil from his hands and said, 'Then you're stymied.'

  'Looks like it, as far as authoritative aid goes.'

  'Now's the time to put some pressure on Campbell. You won't get anywhere without him if you want to see Schouten. It's a pity you can't interpret one of those drawings to read Tanakabu – or perhaps you can scare up some good scientific reasons for going there.'

  'As well there as anywhere,' I said morosely. 'I'll work on it.'

  I spent the rest of the day wandering around the town and picked out a restaurant for the evening, and when it came Clare and I took ourselves off for an enjoyable time during which we both avoided any of the subjects concerning the voyage, and got to know each other better. Campbell had booked himself and Clare into a hotel for the time we were to stay in Papeete, but I had declined his suggestion that I too make such an arrangement, so at the end of the evening I escorted Clare to her new temporary home and came back to the ship feeling weary but reasonably happy.

  Early the next morning I saw the Eastern Sun enter harbour. Geordie disappeared with Ian and Jim, and I wandered on deck to find Danny Williams just reboarding.

  'Morning, Mike,' he said. 'Just back from me detective stint.'

  'What's all this?'

  The skipper arranged for some of us lads to keep an eye on Kane. Yesterday he was at the post office and suchlike, and then he holed up in a spot called Quin's Bar. I had Nick follow him today, and I've sent Bill down to hang around Quin's again – we think it's his meeting-place. Yesterday he was asking for someone there.'

  'Good enough,' I said. 'Why not yourself, though? Tired of playing copper?'

  'I thought I'd better pull out. I followed Kane all over Panama and I thought that if I did the same here he might twig.'

  I nodded in satisfaction. Danny was using his brains. After a while Campbell and Clare came on deck, clearly rested and ready for a fresh start, and I decided that this was as good a time as any to work on him. But he anticipated me.

  'Clare's been telling me that you want to go and see this Schouten.'

  I looked at Clare. I hadn't told her that but she must have been reading my mind, and I was grateful. I said, 'Under the circumstances, I thought it might be a good idea.'

  Campbell frowned. 'I don't know about that.' He dug into his pocket and produced a letter. 'Suarez-Navarro are on the move again – heading towards Rabaul. They should be there by now.'

  'Do you know if they're doing any dredging?'

  He shook his head. 'My man doesn't say, but I don't think he could know without a flyover.'

  'Do you want to follow them?'

  Campbell shook his head again irritably as though shaking flies away. 'It's not what I want to do. You don't seem to know where to go next, and apparently Ramirez does. Maybe we should follow him.'

  I looked up and saw a small party coming on board, Paula Nelson diminutive between Ian and Jim, Geordie shepherding her with her suitcase. 'Miss Nelson's here,' I said. 'Let's see where this leads us. If she can identify Hadley for me here we may not have to go and see Schouten.'

  Campbell and Clare had been told that Paula was coming to Papeete and were both full of curiosity about her. I went
over to greet Paula, who looked frankly delighted to see me, and introduced her. I cocked an eye at Ian, who grinned easily. 'No trouble,' he said. 'No one tried anything.'

  Thanks, fellows. We're glad to see you, Paula. Did you have a good trip?'

  'It was wonderful! I've never been on one of those big cruise ships before. And say – I hope you don't mind but I didn't work my passage. It was kind of fun to be one of the tourists for a change.'

  'That's great,' I told her. Before I had a chance to say anything more I saw Nick Dugan coming up and speaking urgently to Geordie, who then levelled a pair of binoculars at the harbour mouth. I left Paula with the Campbells and joined Geordie at the rails.

  Nick said, 'There's the man who was talking to Kane in Quin's Bar.' He pointed. 'He's just gone on board a schooner – and they're getting under way.'

  I took the glasses and focused them on the schooner. A big bull of a man was standing at the wheel, apparently bellowing orders to his native crew. They were getting under way very smartly and there wasn't much time to lose. I had a sudden intuition and called Paula over sharply, thrusting the glasses into her hands.

  'Look at that ship and tell me if you can identify anyone.'

  She had a bit of difficulty focusing at first but then she got it and gave a shuddering gasp. 'It's Jim Hadley,' she said. 'And that's his ship, the Pearl.' Campbell snatched the binoculars and had a look himself.

  'Where's Kane?' I asked urgently.

  'Still at the bar, last time I saw him,' Nick said. 'Bill's on his tail.'

  Ian Lewis had joined us and seemed eager and willing to go on an immediate chase. 'How soon can we get under way, skipper?' he asked Geordie.

  Too long, and half the crew isn't here,' said Geordie. 'But there's no need to go chasing after him – I saw that schooner in Panama. He's following us, damn his eyes.'

  I said, 'So Kane lied again in Panama. I wonder what he'll say this time?'

  'He'll say that his chum Hadley is nowhere around and he'll ask if he can stay with the Esmerelda a bit longer,' Geordie guessed.