Doctor Frigo (4 page)

‘There is also a yearly ritual, Commissaire, designed to shield me from any revival of the temptation to satisfy my curiosity. When I visit the consul at Fort de France to have my passport renewed, I am always reminded firmly that its use is limited. It is valid for travel everywhere except to my own country.’

‘Well, your mother has been dead for six months now. Do you intend to go on respecting her sentimental wishes about your national status for ever?’

‘With her people the customary mourning period was at least one year. I shall respect that. I have no doubt, though, that if I were ever to produce a French passport at the Fort de France consulate and ask for a visa, my request would be refused. The regrets would be differently phrased, that is all.’

‘Yes, I see. Well, one final question, Doctor. The present régime – the Oligarchy as it is called – is known to be far from stable. If a revolutionary coup backed by the armed forces were to result in the establishment of a government headed by Democratic Socialists or by a coalition disposed to remove these restrictions you speak of, would you then wish to return there from exile?’

‘For a brief visit perhaps. Not permanently. My work is here and I enjoy doing it.’

‘As the son of your father you might even be offered a post in the new government – as Minister of Health
perhaps.’ He said it with a smile, but he was far from joking.

‘I would certainly refuse it. My childhood immunized me against political ambition, Commissaire. I am a doctor and the only advancement I look for is in my profession.’

He had said that it was his final question and I assumed that with my answers to it the interview would be at an end. My failure to proceed with the application for French papers had been explained; the suspicion that I might have been dabbling in émigré politics had been, I presumed, satisfactorily allayed. So, to save him the trouble of dismissing me I got up to leave.

He responded irritably. ‘I am afraid we haven’t finished, Doctor. Sit down please.’

I obeyed. ‘You said that you had questions. I’ve answered them.’

‘And now you will kindly listen to my reasons for asking them.’

I said nothing and probably looked arrogant. I am told this is Dr Frigo’s usual reaction when he is in any way put out.

Gillon’s response was to lean forward with narrowed eyes. ‘In the matter of your eventual application for papers, Doctor, you may as well know that all such applications by foreigners are normally referred to us for approval and comment.’ He pointed a finger at me. ‘We can say yes or
no. You may like to think about that before refusing your co-operation.’

‘I haven’t refused anything.’

‘Good. Then we can proceed.’ On his desk there was a second dossier, one with a yellow cover. With a forefinger he turned it round so that I could read the name lettered on the front.

VILLEGAS Lopez, Manuel.

‘How much do you know about him?’ he asked.

‘Apart from the fact that he leads the Mexico group, not a great deal. For the past ten years he has worked as a lecturer in the Cuidad Universitario. He must be about fifty now, I suppose. As a student he went to the United States. I’m not sure which university there, but it was for training in architecture I believe.’

‘Civil engineering, and that is what he has been teaching in Mexico City. He has been an Associate Professor at the university.’

‘When he was elected to the central committee of the Party he was working with a firm of architectural consultants, I know. It could have been as an engineer, I suppose. I was studying for my baccalauréat at the time. That would be sixteen or seventeen years ago. I remember my father saying that Villegas was the sort of new blood the committee needed – young but not too young and trained in a profession, a socialist who had been able to shed most of the doctrinaire cant without compromising his convictions.’

‘You sound as if you’re quoting. Were those the exact words your father used to describe Villegas?’

‘Yes, but I mustn’t mislead you, Commissaire. It’s not because of Villegas that I remember them. Those were the words my father always used to describe an up-and-coming Party member who had earned his approval. They meant that the man in question had become enough of a pragmatist to see eye-to-eye with him, or that my father thought he had. He wasn’t always right of course. When he was wrong
the man who didn’t see eye-to-eye after all was said to have gone wild again.’

‘Did Villegas ever go wild again?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘What else did your father say about him?’

‘Nothing that I recall. I wasn’t very interested anyway. Villegas was just a new boy on the committee. The leaders there were all of my father’s generation, men like Calman, Acosta and Hermanos.’

‘What about Segura Rojas?’

‘Uncle Paco, you mean?’

‘
Uncle
Paco?’

‘That’s what we called him as children. Segura used to come to our house a lot at one time. Because he often brought us expensive presents he became an honorary uncle.’

‘Villegas now refers to him as his Minister of Foreign Affairs. They’re very close, it seems. You didn’t know that?’

‘I knew that Segura was in Mexico. The last I heard of him was that he had bought a house in Cuernavaca. Uncle Paco was always one of the rich socialists. He had family money from land holdings in Venezuela. He must be very old now.’

‘Sixty-eight, if you call that old. I suppose that at your age you do. But you still think of him as Uncle Paco, eh?’

‘I hadn’t thought of him for years until you mentioned his name just now, Commissaire.’

‘Well, you will probably be seeing him soon. You referred, Doctor, to Villegas as being based in Mexico. That is no longer true. For the last two months he has been based here. Segura is with him.’

I stared at him in disbelief, but he was suddenly busy tidying his desk, stacking Villegas’ dossier with several others in a neat pile.

‘Here, Commissaire! In heaven’s name why?’

Commissaire Gillon finished with the dossiers, folded his arms across his chest and then looked up.

‘He applied for permission to reside here temporarily for the purposes of vacation and on health grounds and permission was granted. The decision to grant permission was made in Paris. Why it was made is none of my business and certainly none of yours. I would strongly advise you not to speculate about or discuss it. My task is to see that the stay here of Monsieur Villegas, his family and his entourage, of which your Uncle Paco is a member, remains uneventful, protected and, as far as possible, unpublicized. It is also my responsibility to see that he remains in good health. That responsibility, Doctor, I am now delegating to you. You will become Monsieur Villegas’ regular medical attendant, and I can tell you now before you ask that Dr Brissac has been consulted and given his consent to the arrangement.’

I said the first thing that came into my head. ‘And what about Monsieur Villegas? Has he given
his
consent?’

‘When he was given permission to reside here it was made clear that all arrangements for his security and welfare would be in the hands of this office.’

‘But where a doctor is concerned he is surely entitled to some freedom of choice.’

‘Certainly, and he has already exercised it by dismissing Dr Massot.’

‘On what grounds?’

‘Lack of communication. You said yourself that Massot’s Spanish left something to be desired. So does Villegas’ French. A certain amount of ill-feeling was generated between them, I gather.’

‘You say that Villegas came here, at any rate partly, on health grounds. Is there anything in particular the matter with him?’

‘According to Dr Massot, the man is a hypochondriac and perhaps also a secret drinker. I have the Massot report here if you would like to see it.’ He reached for the Villegas dossier.

‘I don’t think that would help. Has Villegas been told about me?’

‘Of course. Son of his old leader, qualified in Paris, a valued member of the local hospital staff with immediate access to modern diagnostic facilities and consultative advice, plus complete fluency in Spanish – we gave him all the facts needed on which to base a judgement.’

‘And he agreed to accept me?’

‘Unhesitatingly and with expressions of the warmest approval. He already knew, by the way, of your views on the subject of your mother’s Florida associates. I dare say he will question you, as I have, on your other political leanings. From what you have told me I don’t anticipate any difficulties there. He may try to convert or indoctrinate you, of course, and enlist you as a supporter, if only because of your name. But I imagine’ – he smiled sweetly – ‘that you will be as evasive or equivocal with him as you have been with me.’

I did not respond to the provocation. ‘It sounds, Commissaire, as if you are expecting me to be making regular calls on this patient. Do you know of any medical reason why I should do so?’

‘I know of no specific illness. However, I would like you to see him not less than twice a week, Doctor, to become in effect a friend of the family.’ He paused briefly to let that sink in. ‘You will be entitled, I should add, to an honorarium of five hundred francs a month from DST funds for this service. That is the sum Dr Massot was being paid. It should compensate you adequately, I believe, for the extra time and work involved both in visiting Les Muettes – that is the villa in which Villegas is living – and in making your reports to this office …’

‘Reports?’

He held up his hands defensively. ‘Please allow me to finish. You doctors! I had the same initial reaction from Massot. I am not asking you to violate your oath, your professional code of ethics. That, I am well aware, enjoins secrecy on you – at least, secrecy in matters which ought not, in the doctor’s judgement, to be spoken of. Naturally,
I would not presume to ask you to report to me on the state of your patient’s liver or kidneys. On his general state of mind, however, and of that of his entourage, on the effect on his disposition, say, of any particular visitor he may receive – those are matters, I feel, of a non-professional nature on which you could properly give your impressions for our guidance. I would also hope that, should you be approached – and you may well be approached once it is known outside that you are the man’s doctor – by any person or persons seeking information about the occupants of Les Muettes, that too would be known here at once. So, regular reports. As I told you, our task is to protect our guest. And not only from diseases of the flesh, but from all other threats, actual or potential, to his well-being. You see?’

‘I see.’ Despite its thick coating of sugar the taste of the pill inside was unmistakably nasty. But there seemed no point at that moment in prolonging the interview by telling him that I had no intention whatever of acting as a DST spy.

He nodded approval. ‘Good. In anticipation of your understanding and co-operation we have made an appointment for you to see Villegas at his villa tomorrow morning at eleven. I hope that will not be too inconvenient for you, but I am sure that Dr Brissac will be helpful.’

‘Very well, Commissaire.’

‘Reports may be made verbally by telephone but must be confirmed weekly in writing.’

I got up to go but he raised his hand. ‘I have referred to Les Muettes as the patient’s villa. I should perhaps mention that for security reasons of his own – perhaps he hoped to deceive the Press – Villegas did not lease the villa himself. That was done on his behalf by Segura, your Uncle Paco. So that is the name that you will see on the post box at the outer gate. You will also find one of my security boys on duty there. He will have his instructions. Just identify yourself to him.’

‘All right.’

I again made to leave. This time he let me get as far as the door.

‘One more thing, Doctor. A small piece of information, but it may serve, when you are thinking over what has been said in this room today, to set your mind at rest in a sensitive area.’ He paused then went on slowly. ‘Colleagues of ours in another department made a secret but very full investigation into the circumstances of the plot against your father. And they made it immediately after the tragic outcome. A précis of their report was recently made available to us by the Quai d’Orsay.’ He picked up a sheet of paper and read from it. ‘
No conclusive evidence was found by our investigators which implicated any particular member of the Democratic Socialist Party in the Castillo assassination plot. This information may be communicated to Doctor Castillo at your discretion.
’

‘Thank you, Commissaire. No
conclusive
evidence?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Does that imply that there was
in
conclusive evidence?’

‘I haven’t the slightest idea, Doctor. I was merely giving you the information I was told I might give just as I received it.’

I thanked him again.

When I went through the outer office on my way out, the telex machine was silent; but the operator, now sifting through the long tear sheets on the table beside it, was still groaning as he worked.

Late that afternoon, after I had seen Gillon, I met with Dr Brissac in his office. Naturally, he wanted a detailed account of my interview at the Préfecture; but as I was sure that he would chatter about it to Gillon the next time they played bridge I was careful to be discreet. However, I told him about the honorarium, and, although I doubted very much whether he had had anything to do with obtaining it for me, thanked him for doing so. He waved my thanks away graciously and offered to lend me one of the hospital’s portable electro-cardiograph machines if I thought I needed it. I would have to borrow a car in which to transport it though. He disapproved of my motocyclette which he considered an insufficiently dignified mode of transport for a doctor. He reminded me that, with an extra five hundred francs a month coming in, I would be able to afford the down payment on a car.