Cat O'Nine Tales: And Other Stories (12 page)

He turned out
the bedside light and slept soundly.

When Dick woke
the following morning, he found that he too was covered in sweat. The sheets
were also soaked, and when he turned over to look at his wife all the color had
drained from her cheeks.

Dick eased
himself out of bed, slipped into the bathroom and took a long shower. Once he
had dried himself, he put on one of the hotel’s toweling dressing gowns and
returned to the bedroom. He crept over to his wife’s side of the bed and once
again refilled her empty glass with tap water. She had clearly woken during the
night, but not disturbed him.

He drew the
curtains before checking that the
Do Not
Disturb
sign was still on 191/595 the door. He returned to his wife’s side
of the bed, pulled up a chair and began to read the
Herald Tribune.
He had reached the sports pages by the time she
woke. Her words were slurred. She managed, “I feel awful.” A long pause
followed before she added, “Don’t you think I ought to see a doctor?”

“He’s already
been to examine you, my dear,” said Dick. “I called for him last night. Don’t
you remember? He told you that you’d caught a fever, and you’ll just have to
sweat it out.”

“Did he leave
any pills?” asked Maureen plaintively.

“No, my darling.
He just said you weren’t to eat anything,
but to try and drink as much water as possible.” He held the glass up to her
lips and she attempted to gulp some more down. She even managed, “Thank you,”
before collapsing back onto the pillow.

“Don’t worry,
my darling,” said Dick.

“You’re going
to be just fine, and I promise you I won’t leave your side, even for a moment.”
He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. She fell asleep again.

The only time
Dick left Maureen’s side that day was to assure the housekeeper that his wife
did not wish to have the sheets changed, to refill the glass of water on her
bedside table, and late in the afternoon to take a call from the minister.

“The President
flew in yesterday,” were
Chenkov’s
opening words.
“He’s staying at the Winter Palace, where I’ve just left him. He wanted me to
let you know how much he is looking forward to meeting you and your wife.”

“How kind of
him,” said Dick, “but I have a problem.”

“A problem?”
said a man who didn’t like problems, especially when the President was in town.

“It’s just that
Maureen seems to have caught a fever. We were out in the sun all day yesterday,
and I’m not sure that she will have fully recovered in time to join us for the
signing ceremony, so I may be on my own.”

“I’m sorry to
hear that,” said
Chenkov
, “and how are you?”

“Never felt
better,” said Dick.

“That’s good,”
said
Chenkov
, sounding relieved. “So I’ll pick you up
at nine o’clock, as agreed. I don’t want to keep the President waiting.”

“Neither do
I
,
Anatol
,” Dick assured him.
“You’ll find me standing in the lobby long before nine.”

There was a
knock on the door. Dick quickly put the phone down and rushed across to open it
before anyone was given a chance to barge in. A maid was standing in the
corridor next to a trolley laden with sheets, towels, bars of soap, shampoo
bottles and cases of Evian water.

“You want the
bed turned down, sir?” she asked, giving him a smile.

“No, thank
you,” said Dick. “My wife is not feeling well.” He pointed to the
Do
Not
Disturb
sign.

“More water,
perhaps?” she suggested, holding up a large bottle of Evian.

“No,” he
repeated firmly and closed the door.

The only other
call that evening came from the hotel manager. He asked politely if madam would
like to see the hotel doctor.

“No, thank
you,” said Dick. “She just caught a little sun but she’s on the mend, and I
feel sure she will have fully recovered by the morning.”

“Just give me a
call,” said the manager, “should she change her mind. The doctor can be with
you in minutes.”

“That’s very
considerate of you,” said Dick, “but it won’t be necessary,” he added before
putting the phone down. He returned to his wife’s side. Her skin was now pallid
and blotchy. He leaned forward until he was almost touching her lips–she was
still breathing. He walked across to the fridge, opened it and took out all the
unopened bottles of Evian water. He placed two of them in the bathroom, and one
each side of the bed. His final action, before undressing, was to take the
DON’T DRINK THE WATER sign out of his suitcase and replace it on the side of
the washbasin.

Chenkov’s
car pulled up outside the Grand Palace Hotel a
few minutes before nine the following morning. Karl jumped out to open the back
door for the minister.

Chenkov
walked quickly up the steps and into the hotel,
expecting to find Dick waiting for him in the lobby. He looked up and down the
crowded corridor, but there was no sign of his business partner.

He marched
across to the reception desk and asked if Mr.
Barnsley
had left a message for him.

“No, Minister,”
replied the concierge.

“Would you like
me to call his room?”

The minister
nodded briskly They both waited for some time, before the concierge added, “No
one is answering the phone, Minister, so perhaps Mr.
Barnsley
is on his way down.”

Chenkov
nodded again, and began
pacing
up and down the lobby, continually glancing toward the elevator, before
checking his watch. At ten past nine, the minister became even more anxious, as
he had no desire to keep the President waiting. He returned to the reception
desk.

“Try again,” he
demanded.

The concierge
immediately dialed Mr.
Barnsley’s
room number, but
could only report that there was still no reply “Send for the manager,” barked
the minister. The concierge nodded, picked up the phone once again and dialed a
single number.

A few moments
later, a tall, elegantly dressed man in a dark suit was standing by
Chenkov’s
side.

“How may I
assist you, Minister?” he asked.

“I need to go
up to Mr.
Barnsley’s
room.”

“Of course,
Minister, please follow me.”

When the three
men arrived on the ninth floor, they quickly made their way to the Tolstoy
Suite, where they found the
Do Not
Disturb
sign hanging from the door knob. The minister banged loudly on the
door, but there was no response.

“Open the
door,” he demanded. The concierge obeyed without hesitation.

The minister
marched into the room, followed by the manager and the concierge.
Chenkov
came to an abrupt halt when he saw two motionless
bodies lying in bed. The concierge didn’t need to be told to call for a doctor.

Sadly, the
doctor had attended three such cases in the past month, but with a
difference–they had all been locals. He studied his two patients for some time
before he passed a judgment.

“The Siberian
disease,” he confirmed, almost in a whisper. He paused and, looking up at the
minister, added, “The lady undoubtedly died during the night, whereas the
gentleman has passed away within the last hour.”

The minister
made no comment.

“My initial
conclusion,” continued the doctor, “is that she probably caught the disease
from drinking too much of the local water...” he paused as he looked down at
Dicks
lifeless body...”while her husband must have
contracted the virus from his wife, probably during the night.

Not an uncommon
occurrence among married couples,” he added. “Like so many of our countrymen,
he clearly wasn’t aware that...” he hesitated before uttering the word in front
of the minister–
“
Siherius
is one of those rare diseases that
is
not only
infectious but highly contagious.”

“But I called
him last night,” protested the manager, “and asked if he’d like to see a
doctor, and he said it wasn’t necessary, as his wife was on the mend and he was
confident that she would be fully recovered by the morning.”

“How sad,” said
the doctor, before adding, “if only he’d said
yes.
It
would have been too late to revive his wife, but I still might have saved him.”

P
atrick
O’Flynn
Stood in front of H. Samuel,
the jeweler’s, holding a brick in his right hand.
He was staring
intently at the window. He smiled, raised his arm and hurled the brick at the
glass pane.

The window
shattered like a
spiders
web, but remained firmly in
place. An alarm was immediately set off, which in the still of a clear, cold
October night could be heard half a mile away
More
important to Pat, the alarm was directly connected to the local police station.

Pat didn’t move
as he continued to stare at his handiwork. He only had to wait ninety seconds
before he heard the sound of a siren in the distance. He bent down and
retrieved the brick from the pavement, as the whining noise grew louder and
louder. When the police car came to a screeching halt by the curbside, Pat
raised the brick above his head and leaned back, like
an
Olympic
javelin thrower intent on a gold medal. Two policemen leaped out
of the car. The older one ignored Pat, who remained poised, arm above his head
with the brick in his hand, and walked across to the window to check the
damage. Although the pane was shattered, it was still firmly in place.

In any case, an
iron security grille had descended behind the window, something Pat knew full
well would happen. But when the sergeant returned to the station, he would
still have to phone the manager, get him out of bed and ask him to come down to
the shop and turn off the alarm.