MacLean had time to reflect on the past on the ride into the city. The sight of familiar buildings and restaurants forced him to remember the career and lifestyle he had enjoyed before the Cytogerm affair. From being a top surgeon to roughing it on a North Sea oilrig had been a hard road to travel. The thought made him sad but not angry any more. There had been compensations along the way for a lost career but there could be no compensation for a lost life, he thought, as they passed the shop where Jutte used to like buying clothes. MacLean looked at the lifeless mannequin in the window and felt a stab of sadness.
The taxi passed the Stagelplatz Hotel and MacLean looked up at it without emotion. He reminded himself for the umpteenth time that personal feelings must not play a part in this. It was something that Doyle and Leavey had always stressed. ‘If you let it get personal, you can start digging your grave,’ were the words he remembered. ‘Identify exactly what it is you want, plan and execute. Don’t change the plan unless you absolutely have to.’ He had come to Geneva to obtain Cytogerm. That was the sole reason for his visit. There would be no lingering in Memory Lane, no settling of old scores.
The cab stopped outside his hotel and MacLean paid the driver. It looked perfect; it was small, clean and anonymous. He checked in and made himself coffee in his room while he considered how best to contact Eva Stahl. He looked at his watch and decided against phoning. He would shower, change his clothes and go round to the last address he had for her. It was only three miles from the hotel and he needed the walk.
The rain had stopped but the streets were still wet as MacLean started walking through the early evening crowds of well-heeled, well-dressed people. Geneva had an elegance in the evening. He passed a brightly-lit cafe and savoured the aroma of coffee and cigar smoke that lingered round it. Someone opened the door and the sound of laughter came from within. It was a nice sound, thought MacLean but it could have been a million miles away.
He found the street he was looking for and remembered that he had been there before on some social occasion, probably a party given by Eva and her husband. He hadn’t remembered because such occasions were all the same wherever they were held. The door to the building was open; he entered the hall and summoned the elevator to take him to the fourth floor but when he got out he couldn’t remember whether to turn left or right. He chose right and found the name ‘Stahl’ on the third door along.
A man answered. MacLean remembered him as Eva’s husband and smiled. ‘I don’t suppose you will remember me,’ he said. ‘Eva and I used to work together.’
Stahl moved forward to get a better look at MacLean. His movement and the impolite way he stared through narrowed eyes into MacLean’s face suggested that he had been drinking. It was just after seven in the evening.
‘Oh yes,’ he said quietly. ‘I remember you all right.’
MacLean felt embarrassed as Stahl continued to stare at him without saying anything.
‘You’re the one who changed her face and made her beautiful.’ The word was a sneer.
‘Is something wrong?’ asked MacLean.
The man threw back his head in bitter laughter. ‘Wrong?’ he exclaimed. ‘What could possibly be wrong?’
‘Perhaps we could talk inside?’ suggested MacLean.
Stahl took a step back and brought his arm down in front of him in a mock bow. ‘Come in dear Doctor, the least I can do for the man who turned my wife into a whore is offer him a drink.’
MacLean did not go inside. Instead he said, ‘Can I take it Eva no longer lives here?’
‘Eva no longer lives here. We were divorced two years ago.’
‘Have you any idea where she is living now?’ MacLean asked, determined not to be swayed from his objective.
‘Not the slightest,’ slurred Stahl, adopting an expression of smug satisfaction.
‘Then I’ll say good-night,’ said MacLean turning on his heel and starting back along the hallway.
‘Don’t you want to know all the details?’ Stahl called after him.
‘I don’t think so,’ replied MacLean without looking round. Stahl was of no further use to him.
MacLean had a drink in a hotel bar while he considered what to do next. If Eva had remarried or was living with someone else then he might never find her. On the other hand, if she had not remarried and had her own apartment she might be in the phone book.
There was an Eva Stahl listed at 67, Rue Martin. MacLean scribbled down the number on the edge of a beer mat and dialled from a booth in the hotel lobby. His hopes rose when a voice he thought he recognised said, ‘Eva Stahl.’
‘Is that the Eva Stahl who used to work for Lehman Steiner?’ asked MacLean.
‘I work at Lehman Steiner. Who is this please?’
‘Sean MacLean.’
There was long pause before MacLean heard, ‘Sean? Is it really you?’
MacLean assured her that it was.
Eva sounded quite emotional. She made several false starts before managing to say, ‘Sean, I can’t tell you how good it is to hear from you. I had no idea what happened to you. They told me you had some kind of nervous break-down but when I tried to find you, you’d already left Geneva.’
‘Can we meet?’ asked MacLean.
‘Of course,’ replied Eva enthusiastically. ‘How about this evening?’
‘I hoped you’d say that,’ said MacLean. They arranged to meet by the floral clock in the Jardin Anglais in an hour. MacLean was only ten minutes away; he had another drink.
When MacLean saw Eva approaching he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of professional pride. She was wearing a dark blue suit, which emphasised her fairness. Her hair was swept back and clasped revealing the classically beautiful contours of her face. Eva noticed him appraising her. ‘Well, what do you think?’
‘Stunning,’ replied MacLean and meant it.
‘And all thanks to you,’ said Eva. She took MacLean’s arm and they started to walk. ‘Do you really mean that?’ asked MacLean.
‘Of course I do,’ replied Eva. ‘Why would you think otherwise?’
MacLean told her of his visit to her old flat.
‘Oh I see,’ said Eva. ‘You’ve been speaking to Peter and he told you that I was the whore of Babylon?’
‘Something like that,’ agreed MacLean.
Eva sighed and said, ‘It’s ironic really. There never were any other men while I was married to Peter. I loved him; I didn’t want anyone else but he simply couldn’t come to terms with the way I looked after the operation. He became pathologically jealous and suspicious. If I was late in getting home it was because I was seeing someone else. If I had to change my shift it was because I wanted to be with “him”. If we got a wrong number on the phone it was “him” finding out if I was alone.’ It finally got so bad I couldn’t stand it any more; I had to leave him and find a place on my own.’
‘And now?’
‘Peter and I are divorced.’
‘Yes, he told me.’
”The answer to your next question is, yes, there is somebody new in my life. His name is Jean-Paul and we’re very happy.’
‘I’m glad,’ said MacLean. ‘How about Lehman Steiner, you said you still work for them?’
‘Yes I do,’ replied Eva. ‘Is that why you’re here? Are you coming back to work for them too?’
MacLean shook his head and took his time in answering. He had to be careful because he did not want to involve Eva in the nightmare any more than necessary. On the other hand he had to tell her something if he expected her to help. He told her that it was imperative that no one at Lehman Steiner should know he was still alive let alone here in Geneva. For the present he was using the name, Keith Nielsen.
Eva looked puzzled but agreed to keep his secret. MacLean asked her about Cytogerm.
‘That was all over before you left,’ protested Eva.
‘And you haven’t heard of it since?’ persisted MacLean.
‘Of course not, it was lethal, remember? I was one of the lucky ones.’