The Snow Tiger / Night of Error (51 page)

He offered me his hand and said. ‘It’s not often we get strangers on Tanakabu – at least not at this end of the island.’ His accent was heavily Dutch but his English was as fluent as the Governor’s.

I said, ‘We just came in.’

‘I know. I saw the lights of your ship as you came through the pass, and then I heard Piro’s jeep coming.’ He waved towards the window. ‘That is why you see no patients about – sometimes they shock casual visitors, so on those occasions I keep them out of sight.’

He opened a cupboard. ‘Will you have a drink?’

I said, ‘My name is Trevelyan.’

Schouten dropped the glass he had taken from the cupboard and it smashed on the floor. He turned his head sharply and looked at me over his shoulder. I saw that his face had turned a sickly yellow under the tan and his eyes were furtive and haunted.

‘Trevelyan?’ he mumbled. He seemed to have difficulty speaking.

‘Yes.’

He turned round. ‘Praise be to God,’ he said. ‘I thought you were dead.’

I looked at him in surprise. ‘Dead! Why should I be dead?’

He sat at the desk, his hands clutching the edge. ‘But they said you were dead,’ he said softly. His eyes were brooding and seemed to be looking at something else – something terrible.

Then I caught on – he thought I was Mark! I said, ‘Who said I was dead?’

‘I wrote out the death certificate – here at this desk. Mark Trevelyan was the name. You died of peritonitis.’ He looked up at me and there was fear in his eyes.

I said gently, ‘I’m Michael Trevelyan – Mark was my brother.’

He gave a long shuddering sigh, then his gaze dropped to the glass on his desk and he picked it up and drained it in one swallow.

I said, ‘Perhaps you’d better tell me about it.’ He gave no answer, merely hunching his shoulders and avoiding my eyes. ‘You’ve said too much – and too little,’ I pursued. ‘You must tell me what happened to Mark.’

He was an old man, rotten with loneliness and drink and the sight of people’s bodies falling apart and he couldn’t withstand a mental hammering. There was a stubbornness in him but also a softness at the core, and I was brutal in my approach.

‘My brother didn’t have appendicitis – that was an impossibility. But you forged a death certificate. Why?’

He hunched over the desk, his arms before him with the fists clenched and remained silent.

‘My God, what kind of a doctor are you?’ I said. ‘Your medical association isn’t going to like this – you’re going to be struck off, Schouten. Or maybe you’ll be hanged – or guillotined. A man is dead, Schouten, and you’re an accessory. The best thing that is going to happen to you is a gaol sentence.’

He shook his head slowly, then closed his eyes as though in pain.

‘You’re an old man before your time even now, and ten years in gaol won’t improve you. They’ll take away your brandy and you’ll scream for it. Now, what happened to Mark?’

He opened his eyes and looked at me bleakly. ‘I can’t tell you.’

‘Can’t – or won’t?’

The muscles of his mouth tightened and he remained stubbornly silent.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘You’re coming with us – we’re going back to Papeete and you’ll tell your story to the Governor. I’m putting you under civilian arrest, Schouten. I don’t know if that has any validity under French law but I’ll chance it. I’ll give you ten minutes to collect whatever you want to take with you.’

Something happened inside Schouten and I knew I was getting to him. He jerked up his head and stared at me. ‘But I can’t leave the hospital,’ he said. ‘What will happen to the people here?’

I pushed hard. ‘What will happen to this hospital when you’re in gaol? Or even dead? Come on – get your things together.’

He pushed back his chair abruptly and stood up. ‘You don’t understand. I
can’t
leave these people – some of them would die. I’m the only doctor here.’

I looked at him without pity. I had a cruel advantage and I had to use it – there was nothing else I could do. ‘You should have thought of that before you killed my brother,’ I said.

His muscles tensed and for a moment I thought he was going to jump me. I said sharply, ‘You may be big, Schouten, but you’re old and soft! I’m tougher than you and you know it, so stay clear of me or I’ll whale the daylights out of you. I’m sorely tempted.’

His mouth twitched and he almost smiled. ‘I wasn’t going to attack you, Mr Trevelyan. I’m a peaceful man. I don’t believe in violence – and I didn’t kill your brother.’

‘Then for Christ’s sake, what’s the matter with you? Why won’t you tell me what happened?’

He sat down again and buried his face in his hands. When he raised his head I saw that his cheeks were streaked with tears. He said with difficulty, ‘I cannot leave the hospital, but you must guarantee its safety, Mr Trevelyan. You see, they said – they said they’d burn the hospital.’

‘Burn the hospital! Who said that?’

‘What could I do? I couldn’t let them burn it, could I?’ What I saw in his eyes made me begin to pity him.

I said gently, ‘No, you couldn’t do that.’

‘What would happen to my people then? I had fifty patients – what would have happened to them?’

I took the bottle and poured some brandy into a glass. ‘Here,’ I said, ‘drink this.’

He took the glass and looked at it, then set it down on the desk. ‘No. It’s past time for that.’ His voice was stronger. ‘I couldn’t help it. They made me do it – I had no choice. It was covering up a crime or losing the hospital.’ He threw his arms out. ‘I thought the people out there were more important than bringing a murderer to justice. Was I right?’

‘What happened to Mark?’ I said in an even voice.

His eyes went cold. ‘You must promise protection for the hospital,’ he insisted.

‘Nothing will happen to the hospital. What happened to my brother?’

‘He was murdered,’ said Schouten. ‘On a schooner out in the lagoon.’

I let out my breath in a long sigh. Now it was in the open. All the shadowy suspicions had crystallized into this one moment, and all I felt was a great pity for this wreck of a man sitting at the desk.

I said slowly, ‘Tell me what happened.’

So Schouten told me. He had more colour in his face now, and his voice was stronger. His account was factual and he made no excuses for himself; he admitted he had done wrong, but all his thoughts were for his patients. It was a sad and cruel story.

‘The schooner came through the pass early last year. She was a stranger, like yourselves – the only ships that put in to Tanakabu are the copra boats and it wasn’t the right time for them. She entered the lagoon and dropped anchor just opposite the hospital – out there.’ He nodded towards the sea.

‘Two men came ashore. One was about your size, very thin. The other was a big man – as big as me. They said there had been an accident and a man was dead. They wanted a death certificate. I took my bag from the corner there and said I’d come aboard, but the big man said no, it wasn’t necessary, the man was already dead, anyone could see that, and all they wanted was a bit of paper to say so.’

Schouten smiled slightly. ‘I laughed at them and said what they wanted was impossible – that the body must be seen by a doctor. Then the big man hit me.’ He fingered the side of his cheek and said apologetically, ‘I couldn’t do anything – I’m not young any more.’

‘I understand,’ I said. ‘Tell me, were their names mentioned?’

‘The big man was called Jim, the other man called him that. His name I don’t remember. There was another name said, but I forget.’

‘All right. What happened then?’

‘I was astonished. I couldn’t understand why the man had hit me. I got up and he hit me again. Then he pulled me up and sat me in this chair and told me to write a death certificate.’

My lips tightened. It was only too probable that the big man was Hadley and the other was Kane. I’d have a reckoning with Kane when I got back to the
Esmerelda.

‘I wouldn’t do it,’ said Schouten. ‘I asked why I couldn’t see the body and the other man laughed and said it was in a mess and it would turn the stomach even of a doctor. Then I knew there was something very bad going on. I think they had killed someone, and it was someone who could not just disappear – there had to be a death certificate.’

I nodded. ‘What happened then?’

‘The big man hit me again and kept on hitting me until the other made him stop. He said that was not the way to do it. Then he turned on me and wiped the blood from my face very gently, and while the big man sat drinking he talked to me.’

‘What did he talk about?’

‘The hospital. He said he thought it was a good hospital and that it was doing good work in the islands. He asked how many patients I had, and I told him – about fifty. He asked if I was curing them and I said yes, some of them, but others were incurable. I just looked after them. Then he asked what would happen if there were no hospital on Tanakabu, and I said it would be a very bad thing – many people would die.’

Schouten caught my hand and said appealingly, ‘I told him all this – I told him freely. I didn’t know what he wanted.’

‘Go on,’ I said tightly.

‘The big man started to laugh and then he hit me once again. He said, “That’s so you’ll take notice of what I’m saying. You sign that certificate or we’ll burn the whole bloody hospital.”’

He dropped his head into his hands. ‘What could I do?’ he said in a muffled voice.

I was angry, more angry than I’ve ever been in my life before. If Kane and Hadley had been in that room then I’d have killed them without mercy.

Schouten said brokenly, ‘He said that he didn’t care if he burned the patients either – it was all one to him.’ His eyes looked at me in slow horror. ‘He kept lighting matches as he talked to me.’

‘So you signed the death certificate.’

‘
Ja
. I made it out as they wanted, then I signed it. Then the big man hit me again and the other man said, “If you breathe a word about this we’ll know it and we’ll come back, and you know what will happen to this collection of grass shacks you call a hospital.” Then the big man set fire to the thatch over there and while I tried to beat it out they left. They were both laughing.’

I looked over to where there was a patch of new thatching.

‘What nationality were these men?’

‘I lived in New Guinea once – that is an Australian mandate and I’ve met many Australians. These men were Australians.’

‘Did you see them again?’

Schouten nodded sombrely. ‘The big man – yes. He keeps coming back. He says he is keeping an eye on me. He comes and drinks my brandy and lights matches. He has been back – three times.’

‘When was the last time?’

‘About a month ago.’

That would be Hadley – not a nice character from the sound of him. There were plenty like him as concentration camp guards in Hitler’s Germany but the type is to be found among all nationalities. They weren’t a very good advertisement for Australia.

Schouten said, ‘I didn’t dare tell the police. I was frightened for the hospital.’

I ran over his terrible story in my mind. ‘You don’t remember the other name you heard?’

He shook his head. ‘Not yet, but I think it was the third man on the boat – he was not a local crewman.’

‘What other man?’

‘He didn’t come ashore but I saw him on the deck of the schooner – a very tall, thin man with a hooked nose, very dark. I saw him only once, when the boat was coming in.’

I thought about that but it didn’t ring any bells. I said, ‘I’m sorry it happened, Dr Schouten. But you realize you will have to tell the authorities now.’

He nodded heavily. ‘I realize it now. But I was so afraid for my patients. This is an isolated atoll – there are no police here, no one to guard against violent men. I am still afraid.’ He looked me in the eye.‘What is to prevent these men, or others like them, from coming back?’

I said harshly, ‘I know who these men are. They won’t trouble you again.’

He hesitated and then said, ‘So. I will write a letter which you can take to Papeete. You understand, I cannot leave the hospital.’

‘I understand.’ This would make MacDonald sit up and take notice. I would be very pleased to deliver Schouten’s letter in person.

‘Will you send people to guard us right away? You have promised no harm will come to us here.’

I thought that we could leave some of the lads with him while we went back, or even send a radio message for assistance before we left. Hadley would follow us back to Papeete, if he was indeed on our trail, and a couple of Geordie’s stalwarts would be more than a match for him if he landed after we’d left.

Schouten said, ‘The letter will not take long, but you must make yourself comfortable while I write. You would not drink with me before – will you drink now?’

I said, ‘I’d be honoured, doctor.’

He went to the cupboard and got another glass, stirring the broken pieces on the floor as he did so. ‘You gave me a shock,’ he said ruefully. ‘I thought the dead had come to life.’

He poured a stiff drink and handed it to me. ‘I am deeply sorry about your brother, Mr Trevelyan. You must believe that.’