Doctor Frigo by Eric Ambler Page A

Poor S-dec! They long ago got rid of those brutal Corsicans, or so they say. They have been reformed and reorganized and taken over by the army. They no longer kidnap people and torture and kill. They are pure in heart. But still nobody loves them, because nobody quite believes. They need a brilliant coup to help them with their new image. Once thatis established it won’t matter whether they are loved or not. They will still be feared, but they will look like a responsible and efficient secret service again, steadfastly upholding the glory of France.’
    I sighed again, rather more loudly. ‘Elizabeth, I haven’t the slightest idea what you are talking about.’
    ‘You mean what has S-dec to do with Villegas? Surely, it is obvious. Ultimately they hope to control him. But they can’t do so yet. The DST hates S-dec – always has and always will – that is well known. But while Villegas is on French soil it is DST which has the control. Why do you think Gillon wants these reports from you? Against whom do you think he is warning you when he refers to persons who might approach you seeking information about the occupants of Les Muettes? The Press, the CIA? Well perhaps those also. But mainly he is warning you against S-dec.’
    ‘Why on earth should S-dec be interested in Villegas? You know you still haven’t told me why you think he’s really here.’
    ‘No, I haven’t, have I.’
    I was beginning to get annoyed. ‘I’ve just thought of one very good reason for myself,’ I said. ‘In fact I’m pretty sure it’s the right one. Climate may have nothing to do with it, but it could be his health. He’s suffering from dyspepsia. He just can’t take any more Mexican food.’
    She had the grace to smile and then kissed my cheek. ‘Very good, darling. I wish it were true, but I don’t think it is. I think that there is a game being played and that in it Villegas has suddenly become a card worth having, one that might make the difference between winning and losing a wonderful fortune.’
    I got to my feet and yawned.
    ‘Yes, Ernesto, I know. You’re tired and you have to get some sleep. We’ll drive back now and I’ll tell you about it on the way.’
    And in the car, at last, she told me.
    ‘Three months ago,’ she said, ‘a group of men, four travelling together, spent two nights in the hotel. They were all booked on the Friday Air France flight to Paris, but they broke their journey here, instead of going on through to Fort de France, because one of them had been sick and still had a touch of dysentery. Two of them were French, the sick man was Norwegian. The fourth was a Dutchman and it was him I got to know. He came into the gallery just to look, and ended by buying a Molinet. Naturally we talked.’
    I nodded. Anyone who buys a Molinet is always of special interest to Elizabeth. There would have been quite a lot of talk.
    After a moment she went on.
    ‘This Dutchman happened to mention where they had been, where it was that the dysentery had been picked up. They’d all four of them had it in turn, he said, and considered themselves lucky to have picked up nothing worse. They had been in the Coraza Islands. You know them, Ernesto?’
    ‘I saw them once.’
    The very name was an evocation of childhood.
    The Corazas are a group of off-shore islands about a hundred kilometres south of the capital and just visible from the mainland at Careya Point. I had been a small boy when I had seen them. It was just after my father had bought his first car, and we had gone down there, the whole family, on a picnic. From the headland where we stopped you could just see two of the islands. They looked like small blue-black clouds on the horizon. I remember asking my father if we couldn’t one day get a boat and go out to them.
    It seemed that there were many reasons why we couldn’t do that.
    I can still remember what my father said.
    ‘
Well yes, we could go there, Ernesto, but first we would have to obtain