Bloodthirst Page 17

  Holly might have told Stromberg of their so-called love affair.

  That’s ridiculous, he told himself. I only became suspicious of Stromberg after Bruno called on me in London. There is nothing to connect Anne-Marie with that. But …

  ‘Dr Pilgrim.’ Nurse Bergman’s clipped accent broke his train of thought. ‘The little girl has gone back to sleep. We can start the tests whenever you like.’

  ‘Right,’ Peter said. ‘Did it end happily?’

  ‘Pardon me?’

  ‘The story. Did the Snow Princess escape from the Wolf King?’

  ‘There are still many pages to read. And please do not talk of wolves.’ She gave a mock shudder. ‘They say the wolves are returning to the forest. It must be so because I have seen one of the black men with a gun.’

  Lunch had just concluded when the Vlad neatly sidled up to the clinic pier. From a terrace Peter, saw Anne-Marie, a slender figure in silver-grey slacks and fawn windcheater, disembark while one of Stromberg’s Haitian servants hefted her suitcases from the cockpit As he watched Stromberg greet her with a formal bow, he realized that, despite the mental agony he had suffered over her mysterious husband, he still loved her as much as ever.

  When the French girl had refreshed herself after the journey, she was ushered into the common-room whose landscape windows presented a panorama of the island-dotted lake. Her eyes widened as she saw Peter, but he pretended not to notice and lowered his eyes to a month-old copy of The Lancet. Dr Stromberg made the introductions.

  ‘ … this is Dr Hansen, my second in command … and this is Dr Pilgrim whom you may have seen at the London. Mademoiselle Clair — Dr Pilgrim.’

  Peter stood up and said: ‘Ah yes, the London, eh? Pleased to meet you. Excuse me, I have some tests under way.’ And he made a quick exit. Thank God she had not cried out with surprise at seeing him, he thought as he strode down the corridor of handleless doors. He wanted to be alone with her when it was the time for explanations.

  It was ten o’clock in the bright evening as Peter sat with his back against a rock and his fishing rod angled over the quiet water. A small bank covered with dwarf birch hid the clinic from view. Occasionally the breeze carried faint cries from some members of the staff who, with their day’s duty over, were relaxing on the clinic’s tennis court.

  ‘Peter!’ Anne-Marie stood by the bank, looking down on him.

  ‘Hello, Anne-Marie,’ he answered, his eyes fixed on the red float bobbing in front of him.

  ‘Peter, did you arrange for Dr Stromberg to offer me this job?’

  ‘Honestly, I was as surprised to see you as you were to see me.’

  ‘Is that true?’

  ‘Yes. But in one way I’m glad you’re here.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes.’ He moved the rod slightly to make the float dance to another spot. ‘I apologize for hitting you at the Maison. It was inexcusable, and I regret it more than … ’

  ‘Peter!’ Anne-Marie interrupted.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Peter, Pierre, kiss me!’

  He looked up at last. The low sun gave a warm lustre to the pale gold hair which fell across her face. Next moment he was holding her in his arms.

  When they released each other she sat beside him while he squinted at the float.

  ‘I didn’t know your Paris address so I couldn’t write,’ he said.

  ‘My letter is probably waiting for you in London. I wrote care of the hospital.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Only that my father gave Alain the finance he wanted for his wretched gallery, in return for agreeing to get the divorce through quickly. It was over long ago, Peter. What I felt for him was killed within months of the wedding.’

  ‘Tell me some other time,’ said Peter. ‘I don’t want to talk about it now. You do love me, don’t you?’

  ‘If ever I had any doubts, I was sure of it when you drove off so dramatically.’

  He grinned. ‘That makes two of us.’

  ‘What a wonderful coincidence for us to meet here.’

  ‘I hope it’s a coincidence.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Then he told her in great detail how Bruno had arrived in London with Holly’s taped diary.

  ‘That’s why I gave you the cold shoulder when you arrived,’ he explained. ‘I didn’t want Stromberg to see any connection between us. I don’t want you to get involved … ’

  ‘Peter, I am involved because you are. Poor Holly. I had no idea — and you think she may be out on that island?’

  He nodded.

  ‘But, Peter, this is so like a Poe story — I cannot believe it.’

  He glanced at his watch.

  ‘This should prove we mean business,’ he said and brought out the little radio. ‘Hello, Bruno. Hello, Bruno.’

  A quiet answer came from the microphone-speaker: ‘Hearing you clear, doctor.’

  ‘He handed the instrument to Anne-Marie and winked at her.

  ‘Is that Bruno Farina?’ whispered Anne-Marie.

  ‘Who the hell is that?’

  Peter took the Hitachi back and quickly explained.

  Then he said: ‘Listen, Bruno, this is important. Stromberg is leaving for Helsinki the day after tomorrow. This gives me a chance to get to the island. There are no boats here, apart from the Vlad, so I’ll use the canoe. Dismantle and take it through the forest to the inlet where that pine stands by itself. Hide it in the reeds under the tree. Okay?’

  ‘It took me an hour to put it together, now I have to take it apart again,’ Bruno’s metallic voice complained. ‘Why can’t I paddle across?’

  Peter explained he wanted him to remain at large so he could act in case of an emergency.

  ‘At least, I’m officially one of the staff there,’ he continued. ‘If the Tontons get suspicious I can point out I’m crazy about fishing. If they caught you they could drown you in the lake and no one’d be the wiser.’

  ‘All right, but be careful.’

  ‘You bet I’ll be careful. I’ll take the transceiver with me, and you open the channel even hour on the, hour in case I have anything to report’

  ‘Okay. Give Anne-Marie a kiss for me.’

  Peter switched off.

  ‘Now, darling, you’d better go back and get some sleep. I’ll stay here for another half hour and try to get a bite. I don’t want them to realize you’ve been with me.’

  They kissed and she disappeared into the rustling silver birches which lined the lake margin.

  Chapter 21

  With a clipboard of notes in his hand, Peter Pilgrim walked down a long passage where circular windows overlooked Lake Inari. A sudden rainstorm had blown up and large drops streamed down the plate glass, distorting the lake, which had turned a dirty grey, and the threshing trees lining it. Peter wondered how Bruno was making out in his small tent.

  But he forgot his friend when he saw Anne-Marie walking towards him in a white terylene uniform with her nursing medals and fob watch hanging from the top pocket. As she drew nearer he could see her face was white and strained.

  ‘Peter, I must talk to you,’ she said as they met.

  ‘Are you all right, Anne-Marie?’

  She nodded. ‘Where can we meet so it will seem natural?’

  ‘The rain’s nearly over. Let’s meet at the tennis court at lunch break. That’ll seem innocent enough.’

  ‘Alright, Sacré Coeur, I’ll be glad when we’re away from here.’

  Wraiths of steam were rising from the asphalt court when Peter sauntered out at midday. The rain clouds had been blown away and now the sun made the air humid. He stood with a knot of staff members, watching Nurse Bergman exchanging shots with plump Dr Hansen. In the background a Haitian polished Dr Stromberg’s black Mercedes. The doors gaped and Peter glimpsed the wolfskin seat covers Holly had mentioned on her tape.

  ‘Hello, Dr Pilgrim,’ Anne-Marie said casually. ‘Isn’t it warm?’

  ‘Hello, Sister Clair,’
he answered politely. ‘It gets surprisingly hot in these northern latitudes. The thermometer sometimes goes up to ninety degrees.’

  ‘Really? Shall we sit down and wait for the court to be free?’

  ‘Splendid.’

  They walked to a bench out of earshot of the others.

  ‘Anne-Marie, what’s the matter? You looked very strained this morning.’

  ‘Oh, Peter, it was dreadful. Something horrible happened in the night. I had pulled the blind down to make it dark and I dozed off. Then I had a very vivid dream.’

  She coloured slightly.

  ‘To be honest, I dreamed you were in bed with me and we were making love. It was so real. I could feel your hands touching me, and particularly I was aware of your mouth on my skin.’

  ‘Go on,’ said Peter. ‘This is fascinating — I wish I’d been there in the flesh.’

  ‘You will be soon, I hope,’ she smiled. ‘I don’t suppose an erotic dream is unusual. Most people have them, and I had been thinking about you when I went to sleep. But this one was almost too vivid for a dream; your mouth felt so real I began to wake up.

  ‘It was very strange. I was in that funny state between waking and sleeping, just drifting and enjoying the sensation … for a moment I thought you’d risked the TV cameras and come to me. Then I woke up properly and, Peter, I wasn’t alone.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yes. I felt this body in the bed. Its arms were round me and its mouth was … was at my breast I switched on the bedside lamp and I saw it was Britt Hallström.’

  ‘My God!’

  ‘I was terrified because of what she did to that orderly. I touched my throat to see if it was bleeding, but she had not bitten me there. She was just using me like a lover … ’

  She rubbed her hand across her violet eyes.

  ‘At least I know now I haven’t any lesbian tendencies,’ she said with a shaky laugh. ‘At least, not with little girls.’

  ‘What happened then?’

  ‘It was grotesque. I tried to push her away, but she just whispered to me in Swedish. I couldn’t understand the words, but I got the message. When she saw I wasn’t interested in … well, you know … she spat at me and ran out of the door. Afterwards I might have thought it was a nightmare, except for her nightgown on the floor, and a certain soreness.’

  ‘Anne-Marie, you know what this means?’

  ‘I think so. The doors of the patients’ room can only be worked by remote control. Someone deliberately opened the door of Britt’s room for her to find her way to mine … to make me one of them.’

  She lowered her head and Peter saw tears gathering in her eyes.

  ‘That’s it, all right,’ Peter agreed. ‘Thank God you woke up before she … before she … ’ He trailed off, not wishing to put his thoughts into words.

  ‘Peter, we must get out of here.’

  He nodded. ‘I’m going to take a look at that island, then we’ll meet up with Bruno and get the Citroen.’

  ‘I’m coming with you in the canoe.’

  ‘Yes, we must keep together. Stromberg will be leaving this afternoon. Once the Vlad gets clear we’ll cross to the island. You won’t have to spend another night here.’

  From the tennis court Nurse Bergman called to them:

  ‘We have finished. You can play now.’

  ‘We’d better keep up the pretence,’ said Peter, and the two young people strolled out to play as though they had not a care in the world.

  * * *

  Bruno Farina lav on his back close to the tent and watched tatters of cirrus move slowly across the sky. He had just concluded a brief radio conversation with Peter who reported that Stromberg had left with Saturday and two of his black servants in the Vlad. When the sun was lower he and Anne-Marie would set out for the island in the canoe.

  When Bruno asked why Anne-Marie was taking the risk, Peter said: ‘She refuses to be left behind. Besides, I think she’ll be safer with me after what happened last night.’

  ‘Good luck to you both then,’ Bruno had said. ‘I’ll listen out for you on the hour. Ciao.’

  As usual he felt lonely when the tenuous link ended. But he was not as alone as he thought; in the deep shadow of the trees a stocky man with a broad flat face was watching him with the unflickering gaze of a patient hunter.

  * * *

  Peter Pilgrim and Anne-Marie slipped away from the clinic while the staff were busy with the evening meals. They quickly crossed the tennis court, where earlier the French girl had managed to beat Peter despite her succuba experience, and hand-in-hand ran through the forest, keeping the lake to their left.

  Breathlessly they reached the inlet where a tall pine stood like a lonely sentinel. It took them several minutes to locate the canoe which Bruno had camouflaged so thoroughly. Careful toot to tear its fabric against the rocks, Peter launched it.

  ‘Ever done any canoeing?’ he asked.

  She shook her head. ‘But don’t worry; I can swim like a fish if we tip over.’

  ‘We won’t tip if you sit still amidships. Luckily my father used to take me canoeing when I was a boy.’

  After Anne-Marie had settled herself, he pushed the frail craft forward and adroitly climbed in. He used the single-bladed paddle Indian-style, and found he still had enough skill not to have to cross it from side to side. For a while he skirted the shore to keep out of sight of the clinic, then turned and headed in the direction of the pine-covered islands. In the distance the orange light of the low sun flashed on the clinic windows, and he prayed they would not be spotted by the remaining Tontons Macoute while they crossed the open water.

  Paddling so hard trickles of sweat ran into his eyes, Peter soon reached the cover of the first island. He slowed to get his breath, then steered towards the island on which he had seen the square windowless building. It was higher than the others in the group, with massive granite boulders tumbled on its shores.

  He dug the paddle into the water and expertly drove the canoe’s bows up a tiny beach of dark sand. Anne-Marie jumped ashore and helped Peter run the craft out of the water.

  ‘The annexe is on the other side,’ he told her. ‘I’ll contact Bruno to tell him we’ve arrived safely, then we’ll cross over.’

  They sat in the shade of a lichened monolith. While Peter extended the aerial, Anne-Marie pointed to the surface of the stone. On it was carved concentric rings and spirals through which ran a snake-like line.

  ‘Must be an ancient Lapp monument,’ he commented. ‘Hello … Hello … Bruno? We’ve made it. We’re going to investigate now. Wish us luck!’

  It took only a few minutes to walk through the pines to where the tall rectangular building stood. A smaller one stood nearby built of concrete blocks, from which came the faint thump-thump of a diesel generator. Behind this was a large fuel storage tank.

  ‘There’s the entrance,’ whispered Anne-Marie, pointing to a wide arched door.

  She added with a slight shiver: ‘It’s more like the door of a tomb.’

  Peter nodded agreement, and without another word they softly approached the anonymous building. On the lintel above the bronzed portal was carved in Gothic lettering: Et ego in Arcadia.

  ‘Seems a damn strange hospital annexe,’ muttered Peter. He pressed his hands on the door and it slowly creaked in.

  * * *

  ‘Wish us luck!’ came the distorted voice from Bruno’s transceiver.

  ‘“Luck,”’ muttered Bruno as he switched it off and ran the aerial into the socket. He looked up to see a silent circle of impassive men surrounding his small camp, each dressed in a baggy blue costume with red and yellow fringes. On their feet were soft boots of reindeer hide and in their hands rifles pointed steadily at him.

  Only one was not in Lapp costume, a broad, middle-aged man who wore a black leather flying jacket. There was a look of lively intelligence on his wide features. His brown hair was streaked with blond where sun and wind had bleached out the colour.

  ‘I thi
nk English is our common language,’ he said to the tensed Italian.

  Bruno nodded.

  ‘Good,’ said the man, squatting near the rock against which Bruno was sitting. ‘My name is Uutsi, and I am what you might call the captain round here — is that the word? It is quite a few years since I studied English at Uppsala University.’

  ‘It’ll do,’ said Bruno. ‘And who are these gentlemen with the firearms?’ From his pocket he took a white packet of Disque Bleu, tore it open and proffered it to Uutsi.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, taking a cigarette. ‘As you can see, we are Sabme — what the Finns call Lapps, which simply means “Land’s end folk”.’

  Bruno nodded.

  ‘At the moment we are on a wolf hunt,’

  ‘I have heard wolves,’ Bruno remarked tossing the packet to the nearest Lapp. The man caught it with his free hand, but his eyes never left the Italian.

  ‘We are after a very big wolf,’ said Uutsi.

  ‘So am I,’ said Bruno. He indicated his camera mounted on the tripod. ‘But I use different weapons.’

  ‘I know,’ said Uutsi. ‘I have picked up several of your walkie-talkie transmissions.’

  Bruno exhaled but said nothing. As yet he was not sure whether this strange band was friend or foe. Was he the ‘big wolf, or was it someone else? Looking at their determined, slightly Asian features he hoped he was not the wolf.

  ‘Time passes, so I must be brief and frank,’ continued Uutsi. ‘I picked up your talk on the radio in my aircraft. I have a floatplane moored at Ivalo. So I sent one of my men to watch you. It was mainly for your own protection. There are evil people abroad.’

  Bruno’s surprise must have shown in his face.

  ‘You are surprised I have a plane,’ laughed Uutsi. ‘Then you do not understand us Sabme. Because we prefer our old costumes and follow our reindeer as we have done for centuries, it does not mean we scorn the advantages of the twentieth century. Thanks to our great herds we are not a poor folk, but we have not changed our basic way of life because it is the life we want. We are a very old people, and we live in exactly the same territory as we did when we were first mentioned in recorded history. Few races can claim that.