“I see,” he said again. His eyes dropped back to his hands and he seemed to become uncomfortable, almost embarrassed. “Mr Bly, I am aware that you are a special friend of Dato Haji Abdullah. For him to ask for you to be protected from a woman as beautiful as Mrs Mackintosh suggests that she is perhaps quite dangerous.” He paused before adding, “Maybe now is the time for you to leave Brunei and come back to see your friend again when it is all over.”
“When what is all over?” I asked, knowing I wouldn’t get an answer.
He spread his hands. “I most certainly cannot tell you that, Mr Bly.”
“I understand, but does Dato Haji Abdullah know you are suggesting this to me?”
He shook his head.
“Yes, of course,” he said quietly. “If he were here he too would ask you to consider my suggestion seriously.”
“I will, Inspector.”
“I will leave now, Mr Bly, and once again I am sorry for disturbing your evening.” He stood up and offered his hand. “There are times when you must look beyond beauty and friendship to find the real person, Mr Bly, at other times the wise turn their backs and do not look for anything other than what they see.”
I felt like being flippant and mentioning Dutch orang-utans, but instead I said, “I understand, Inspector.”
“Good night, Mr Bly.”
“Good night, Inspector.”
Chapter Twenty
The following morning, after yet another awful night’s sleep exacerbated by the hotel air-conditioning system making some most peculiar noises, I went to the RIPAS determined to get some answers.
At midnight, I had put a call through to Charles to tell him how delighted I was with his news. By the time we spoke it was after five o’clock in the afternoon in the UK and he answered the phone within a couple of rings. He was overjoyed when he told me Elizabeth was in the conservatory and he was preparing their breakfast. He described the way Elizabeth was as remarkable. She needed to take things slowly at first but the hospital believed she would make a full recovery. He was unbelievably chatty for Charles and I found his high spirits boosted my own, but only temporarily. Once off the phone my own world returned in abundance; each time I closed my eyes the images returned. I wasn’t able to resolve anything and sleep was impossible.
I waited for the morning to come.
By the time I arrived at the hospital I had heard nothing from Abby either, which only added to my worries. After the visit from the Internal Security Police I wondered why I decided to go and see Sophie at all. She knew where I was, if there was anything she wanted me to know she could contact me. Before leaving the hotel, I had established that visiting times at the hospital were reasonably flexible but I had no idea what my reception would be like.
I assumed that the woman resembling Rosa Klebb would still be guarding Sophie, but I was wrong.
Sophie was in a side ward that was impeccably clean, lightly furnished, beautifully air-conditioned and welcoming. I was surprised that I was able to gain access to her without going through any checks, but the nurse showed me to the door without asking any questions and then after a friendly smile and nod of her head she departed to attend to her other duties.
Propped up on a multitude of pillows, Sophie was wearing a white cotton top, and a single sheet, raised slightly by a frame underneath, covered her from the waist down. There didn’t appear to be any drips or the pinging of any monitors. She was reading a magazine. I had bought her a small bag of mixed fruit from the shop in the main foyer.
“Good morning,” I said, standing inside the door looking at her.
She lowered the magazine and beamed at me. “My saviour!” she said.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I suggested, crossing the space between us.
She held out her hand. “At least let me say thank you.”
Her hand was soft in mine and suggested there was nothing ulterior in our meeting, but I still didn’t know what I was really dealing with.
“It’s good to see you looking so well,” I said.
She kept hold of my hand. “Only because of what you did,” she said.
She wasn’t wearing any make-up, but if anything she looked younger without it. She seemed less businesslike and more vulnerable, more feminine. I wanted to put my arm round her and tell her that I would protect her, but from what? Maybe I was the one who needed protecting.
Only she could tell me that.
Sitting on the side of her bed, I reluctantly let go of her hand. She didn’t attempt to take it fully away, leaving it within inches of mine almost as though she was saying it was there, if I needed to hold it again. I couldn’t look at her. It was nothing to do with what I knew or didn’t know, or to do with the bizarre events that had taken place since she was admitted, and nothing to do with what she might be. It was simply that I found her incredibly attractive and appealing. I can’t think of any other way of describing the way I felt; there was something about her that made me want to ignore everything else. The urge to hug her, to comfort her, and to express how I was feeling was enormously strong. I closed my eyes hoping she wouldn’t notice.
Inspector Haji Ismail words came back to me, “There are times when you must look beyond beauty and friendship to find the real person, Mr Bly, at other times the wise turn their backs and do not look for anything other than what they see.”
Was I being wise? I wanted to call on Belinda, I needed to be told what was happening.
“Where are you?” Sophie asked softly, her fingers moving onto my hand again. I shuddered, opening my eyes. “I thought I had lost you,” she added, smiling but a look of concern accompanied her smile.
Feeling flustered I looked around the small ward. “Where’s your minder?” I didn’t know how much Sophie would know, and at that particular moment I really didn’t want to know what she knew, but I had asked the question.
“Minder?” she asked, appearing to be genuinely confused. “Who is supposed to be minding me?”
I wanted to say ‘Rosa Klebb’ but instead I shrugged and said, “Oh, before I left the hospital last night a woman from The High Commission was with you.”
Her frown became more acute. “A woman was sent to be with me?”
Sophie seemed to know nothing about the previous night’s happenings. I shrugged. “The High Commission sent somebody from the Commission to see how you were.”
“Whoever it was left before I woke up this morning.” Her fingers tightened on my arm. “No doubt somebody will be in later, but seriously, Richard, I owe you my life.”
I was embarrassed. Suddenly the tiles on the floor became more appealing than the look in her eyes. Shaking my head I said, “Sophie, I acted on instinct. If I did save your life then it was more by luck than judgement.”
This time she really squeezed my arm. “Look at me!” I lifted my head and saw that her eyes were watering. “Why are some men so self-effacing? If you hadn’t done what you did, my body could well have been flown home in a box on the next available plane.”
“I thought all men were bastards,” I reminded her.
“No, not all, only those who decide to replace me with somebody else.”
Not wanting her to feel indebted to me, I had to move on. We didn’t have a future, therefore there should be nothing that meant either had a reason to contact the other after … after what? After I discovered who she really was? Was that it? Was I scared that the person who was inexorably drawing me closer to her was going to become untouchable?
“How do you feel?” The question sounded trite but I should have asked it the moment I saw her.
She looked upset. “My legs are tingling now more than hurting. Like when you brush your hand against a nettle, the sting is irritating rather than painful. They told me the anti-venom would take a couple of hours to work but afterwards the relief would be magnificent. And they were right.” She was watching me as she spoke, an inquisitiveness replacing the possibility that she had taken offence. When I didn’t say
anything, she continued. “And the scarring is going to be minimal, which is a relief.”
“I’m so pleased,” I managed to say.
The pressure of where I was, what had happened and who I was with was building up in me like the bloody water against one of the dams I built. Unlike my dams, though, I felt I could not open a sluice gate to let some of the pressure out. The relief would have been like the anti-venom Sophie had experienced. I wanted everything to go away, to wake up and be normal.
I wanted to be back with Isabelle and David, with Charles and Elizabeth and share with them the reprieve they were experiencing. I wanted to be with Belinda and feel her with me, next to me, guiding me. I needed to hear her voice, smell her perfume. The half of me that was missing had to return, I wanted to be complete again. These people and their world, and I included Sophie, were alien to me, they were strangers. They were confusing me and I didn’t like them or what they were doing to me.
Their world wasn’t my real world, my world was uncomplicated and easy to control.
Despite the air-conditioning there was perspiration on my forehead, and I could feel beads of sweat trickling down my back. I suddenly felt dizzy, and reached for the side of Sophie’s bed.
“Richard … Richard!” Her voice was an echo. I knew who was speaking but she was in a time warp. I was dreaming. I was asleep. That had to be the answer. I would wake up in a minute.
“Richard … Richard …” It was a different voice. I shook my head. Her voice was calling me. It was Belinda’s voice. “Richard … Richard.” She had come back to me.
It felt as though I was sliding towards her.
Chapter Twenty-One
There was something cool on my forehead and it felt good.
I wondered if I was back in The High Commission. If I were, at least their hospitality had improved. My head was thumping again and I felt more woozy than nauseous. Deciding, once again, to pretend that I was still unconscious, I lay perfectly still. Perhaps they would reveal a little more than they had on the previous occasion.
Something was different, though.
The lights were softer – less penetrating.
There were also voices – distant voices. No, they were coming closer, speaking in a foreign language.
What was it?
Malay?
Why were they talking in Malay in The British High Commission?
The voices were closer, one either side of me.
Somebody picked up my right hand, and I felt fingers on my wrist.
“His pulse is still weak and slow but better than it was,” a man said in English.
“Good,” another man, said.
“He’s a little feverish but his temperature has dropped.”
“What caused it?”
There was a moment’s pause. “Probably too much sun,” the first man said. “He was dehydrated. We pumped a lot of fluid into him. It’s not unusual, they come out here and don’t bother to acclimatise then expect to be able to sit in the sun for hours without any adverse effect. He’s not the first and he certainly won’t be the last.”
“Who is he?”
“His name is Blythe, Richard Blythe.” The man talking to my left had managed to say my name correctly and he didn’t speak English with the usual Malay accent. “He was visiting the woman who was brought in with the sea wasp stings, when he collapsed.”
Collapsed? What did they mean I had collapsed? A stupid question – there’s only one meaning that could be associated the word ‘collapsed’.
I was still in hospital. I was nowhere near The High Commission; there was little point in carrying on the subterfuge. I slowly opened my eyes. The lights were softer but still bright enough for me to lift a hand to shield my eyes.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” the man on my left said.
I turned my head slightly. He was a European: his white coat, white shirt and blue tie were immaculate. He was tanned, had blond hair and he was tall but the most acceptable observation was that he was smiling. I tried to smile back at him but I have no idea whether I succeeded. Moving my head to the right I saw the other man. He was an equally immaculately turned out Malay, taller than average and he too was smiling.
“What … what on earth happened?” I asked through dry lips.
The Malay doctor spoke. “We don’t really know, Mr Bly, but we think you may have had heatstroke.”
Shaking my head, I said, “I don’t understand. I was out on a boat on Saturday, and then on the beach for less than an hour on Sunday. Surely that wouldn’t have been enough to …?”
The European lifted his hand to his mouth and coughed. “I am Doctor Fitzgerald, Mr Blythe,” he said, putting his hands in his coat pockets. “I agree with Doctor Haji Suleiman, we don’t really know. You had all the symptoms of heatstroke but people don’t normally pass out as you did. We are waiting for the results of some blood tests then we’ll know more.”
“So what happens now?” I asked.
“Now you’re back with us, we’ll move you to a side ward. Once we’ve got the results we’ll be able to assess what we should do next.” Both doctors started to move away.
“What time is it?”
Doctor Fitzgerald checked his watch. “A little after midday,” he said. “Your personal belongings are held securely, Mr Blythe. We’ll have them sent to you once you are in the side ward.”
“Thank you. Can I go and see Mrs Mackintosh?”
The doctors exchanged looks. “She’s been moved, Mr Blythe. People from The High Commission came for her about half an hour ago. They have a small medical set up there with a trained nurse, she’ll be well taken care of.”
“I see. Thank you.” I closed my eyes and Sophie’s face floated into my mind.
Suddenly I felt alone.
I didn’t expect to be kept in overnight for further observation but that is what happened … or what was supposed to happen. Although I wasn’t given all the details, evidently the blood tests showed that their initial diagnosis was correct. However, they had detected traces of opiates and alcohol in my blood and they asked whether I was on any medication. Evidently having opiates in my system when coupled with alcohol and too much sun, merely made what happened to me a foregone conclusion.
Shaking my head and saying, no, I wasn’t on any medication, generated some confusion. I would have thought they would have know about my abduction, but … the presence of opiates in my blood made me wonder if after the chloroform attack I was injected with something to keep me under. I remembered Schwartz asking how much I’d been given, and the answer from the nameless man was, ‘enough’. Nothing would surprise me now.
Staying overnight seemed the only option and if I were all right in the morning, I would be released by about ten o’clock after the doctor had done his rounds.
During my forced stay in hospital, I had two visitors, one of whom created a bit of a stir, but both gave me increased cause for concern.
I could see the looks of bewilderment caused by Dato Haji Abdullah bin Basrah Ibrahim, The Minister for Development, visiting this unimportant European who had spent too long in the sun. There was much bowing and scraping but eventually Abby managed to usher what appeared to be the entire hospital staff out of my side ward.
After closing the door, he removed his songkok, pulled up a chair and straddled it. With his arms resting on the back of the chair he looked at me and shook his head.
“I feel rather guilty, Richard,” he said. “We spent too long out on the water on Saturday.”
“Abby, my friend, I’m a grown man. I should have realised.” I noticed that Abby was having difficulty in maintaining eye contact but I put it down to the fact that he was genuinely embarrassed. “How on earth did you find out? I was going to give you a ring when I got out tomorrow.”
He gave a little shrug. “I rang the Sheraton to return your call and they told me you were in hospital but I didn’t know why until I got here.”
“Of course,” I sa
id, “when they decided to keep me in they said they’d ring the hotel to tell them. It could only happen in Brunei. Everybody knows everybody.” I tried to make light of Abby’s continued discomfort.
“I am sorry I didn’t get back to your earlier, Richard, but after the meeting on Sunday we have been busy.”
“Was it to do with what we discussed?”
He shook his head. “No, no, nothing like that. We have a number of foreign dignitaries visiting in the next few months and His Majesty the Sultan didn’t think the preparations were going according to plan.” He smiled for the first time since entering the ward. “And when His Majesty wants something to happen, it happens the way he wants it.”
“Of course,” I said.
I hadn’t expected any visitors and therefore I hadn’t planned any strategies, but I was surprised Abby hadn’t mentioned my abduction form the hospital. It was only a matter of hours after he dropped me off at the Sheraton. If he had arranged for me to be ‘watched’ then he must know.
“By coincidence, Abby, when I was taken ill I was already in the hospital. Yesterday, I went to a beach with Sophie Mackintosh. There was an accident; well ‘accident’ is probably the wrong word, because she almost got herself killed. A box jellyfish stung her when she went in the water. Fortunately, I got her here fast enough for the anti-venom to be effective and she survived. I came to visit her this morning when I was taken ill.”
Abby seemed surprised by what I’d told him. I was quickly coming to the conclusion that he knew nothing about what had happened to me since leaving me at the hotel. His behaviour and lack of knowledge were adding to my own confusion.
Pooh Bridge: conscience stricken Page 23
