A noise intruded. A motor, rolling and disruptive. He did not care for it; it interfered with the freedom of his own particular sea. Then a hand was on his arm. Then another, gently pulling him up.
“Come on,” said the voice, “help me.”
“Let go of me!” The command was shouted; he had shouted it. But the command was not obeyed. He was appalled; commands should be obeyed. Yet not always; something told him that. The wind was there again, but not a wind in Zurich. In some other place, high in the night sky. And a signal came, a light flashed on, and he leaped up, whipped by furious new currents.
“All right. You’re all right,” said the maddening voice that would not pay attention to his commands. “Lift your foot up. Lift it! … That’s right. You did it. Now, inside the car. Ease yourself back … slowly. That’s right.”
He was falling … falling in the pitch black sky. And then the falling stopped, everything stopped, and there was stillness; he could hear his own breathing. And footsteps, he could hear footsteps … and the sound of a door closing, followed by the rolling, disruptive noise beneath him, in front of him, somewhere.
Motion, swaying in circles. Balance was gone and he was falling again, only to be stopped again, another body against his body, a hand holding him, lowering him. His face felt cool; and then he felt nothing. He was drifting again, currents gentler now, darkness complete.
There were voices above him, in the distance, but not so far away. Shapes came slowly into focus, lit by the spill of table lamps. He was in a fairly large room, and on a bed, a narrow bed, blankets covering him. Across the room were two people, a man in an overcoat and a woman … dressed in a dark red skirt beneath a white blouse. Dark red, as the hair was. …
The St. Jacques woman? It was she, standing by a door talking to a man holding a leather bag in his left hand. They were speaking French.
“Rest, mainly,” the man was saying. “If you’re not accessible to me, anyone can remove the sutures. They can be taken out in a week, I’d guess.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“Thank you. You’ve been most generous. I’ll go now. Perhaps I’ll hear from you, perhaps not.”
The doctor opened the door and let himself out. When he was gone the woman reached down and slid the bolt in place. She turned and saw Bourne looking at her. She walked slowly, cautiously, toward the bed.
“Can you hear me?” she asked.
He nodded.
“You’re hurt,” she said, “quite badly; but if you stay quiet, it won’t be necessary for you to get to a hospital. That was a doctor … obviously. I paid him out of the money I found on you; quite a bit more than might seem usual, but I was told he could be trusted. It was your idea, incidentally. While we were driving, you kept saying you had to find a doctor, one you could pay to keep quiet. You were right. It wasn’t difficult.”
“Where are we?” He could hear his voice; it was weak, but he could hear it.
“A village called Lenzburg, about twenty miles outside of Zurich. The doctor’s from Wohlen; it’s a nearby town. He’ll see you in a week, if you’re here.”
“How? …” He tried to raise himself but the strength wasn’t there. She touched his shoulder; it was an order to lie back down.
“I’ll tell you what happened, and perhaps that will answer your questions. At least I hope so, because if it doesn’t, I’m not sure I can.” She stood motionless, looking down at him, her tone controlled. “An animal was raping me—after which he had orders to kill me. There was no way I was going to live. In the Steppdeckstrasse, you tried to stop them, and when you couldn’t, you told me to scream, to keep screaming. It was all you could do, and by shouting to me, you risked being killed at that moment yourself. Later, you somehow got free—I don’t know how, but I know you were hurt very badly doing so—and you came back to find me.”
“Him,” interrupted Jason, “I wanted him.”
“You told me that, and I’ll say what I said before. I don’t believe you. Not because you’re a poor liar, but because it doesn’t conform with the facts. I work with statistics, Mr. Washburn, or Mr. Bourne, or whatever your name is. I respect observable data and I can spot inaccuracies; I’m trained to do that. Two men went in that building to find you, and I heard you say they were both alive. They could identify you. And there’s the owner of the Drei Alpenhäuser; he could too. Those are the facts, and you know them as well as I do. No, you came back to find me. You came back and saved my life.”
“Go on,” he said, his voice gaining strength. “What happened?”
“I made a decision. It was the most difficult decision I’ve ever made in my life. I think a person can only make a decision like that if he’s nearly lost his life by an act of violence, his life saved by someone else. I decided to help you. Only for a while—for just a few hours, perhaps—but I would help you get away.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“I almost did, and I’m not sure I can tell you why I didn’t. Maybe it was the rape, I don’t know. I’m being honest with you. I’ve always been told it’s the most horrible experience a woman can go through. I believe it now. And I heard the anger—the disgust—in your own voice when you shouted at him. I’ll never forget that moment as long as I live, as much as I may want to.”
“The police?” he repeated.
“That man at the Drei Alpenhäuser said the police were looking for you. That a telephone number had been set up in Zurich.” She paused. “I couldn’t give you to the police. Not then. Not after what you did.”
“Knowing what I am?” he asked.
“I know only what I’ve heard, and what I’ve heard doesn’t correspond with the injured man who came back for me and offered his life for mine.”
“That’s not very bright.”
“That’s the one thing I am, Mr. Bourne—I assume it’s Bourne, it’s what he called you. Very bright.”
“I hit you. I threatened to kill you.”
“If I’d been you, and men were trying to kill me, I probably would have done the same—if I were capable.”
“So you drove out of Zurich?”
“Not at first, not for a half hour or so. I had to calm down, reach my decision. I’m methodical.”
“I’m beginning to see that.”
“I was a wreck, a mess; I needed clothes, hairbrush, makeup. I couldn’t walk anywhere. I found a telephone booth down by the river, and there was no one around, so I got out of the car and called a colleague at the hotel—”
“The Frenchman? The Belgian?” interrupted Jason.
“No. They’d been at the Bertinelli lecture, and if they had recognized me up on the stage with you, I assumed they’d given my name to the police. Instead, I called a woman who’s a member of our delegation; she loathes Bertinelli and was in her room. We’ve worked together for several years and were friends. I told her that if she heard anything about me to disregard it, I was perfectly all right. As a matter of fact, if anyone asked about me, she was to say I was with a friend for the evening—for the night, if pressed. That I’d left the Bertinelli lecture early.”
“Methodical,” said Bourne.
“Yes.” Marie allowed herself a tentative smile. “I asked her to go to my room—we’re only two doors away from each other and the night maid knows we’re friends. If no one was there she was to put some clothes and makeup in my suitcase and come back to her room. I’d call her in five minutes.”
“She just accepted what you said?”
“I told you, we’re friends. She knew I was all right, excited perhaps, but all right. And that I wanted her to do as I asked.” Marie paused again. “She probably thought I was telling her the truth.”
“Go ahead.”
“I called her back and she had my things.”
“Which means the two other delegates didn’t give your name to the police. Your room would have been watched, sealed off.”
“I don’t know whether they did or not. But if they did, my friend was probably questioned quite a while ago. She’d simply say what I told her to say.”
“She was at the Carillon, you were down at the river. How did you get your things?”
“It was quite simple. A little tacky, but simple. She spoke to the night maid, telling her I was avoiding one man at the hotel, seeing another outside. I needed my overnight case and could she suggest a way to get it to me. To an automobile … down at the river. An off-duty waiter brought it to me.”