‘No, no, nothing like that. This is much more-’
‘What is it then?’
Garrett dug a hand into his pocket and brought out a folded typewriter sheet. He unfolded it and handed it across the table to Craig. ‘Read that.’
Casually at first, and then carefully, Craig perused what was entitled ‘Report to German Experimental Institute for Aviation Medicine’ and signed ‘Dr. S. Rascher, 3 April, 1944.’ He almost missed Farelli’s name in the first reading, and then he saw it plainly, and read the document a second time.
Craig looked up. ‘What is this supposed to be? Is it what I think it is-those doctors who were tried at Nürnberg and hung for experimenting on human beings?’
‘Exactly. And all Hitler’s allies co-operated in supplying doctors, and Farelli was one of them. There it is-black and white.’
Craig stared at the paper in his hand. ‘Where did you get hold of this?’
‘It’s authentic, all right. A friend of mine in the Caroline Institute made those notes from someone who had seen the photocopy. When the Nobel people were investigating Farelli-they investigated me, too-they found this out, in tracing Farelli’s war history.’
‘I read he was an anti-Fascist, arrested-’
‘Only to a point,’ said Garrett excitedly, as if he were happy at his rival’s weakness, ‘and then-well, there you see it-he decided to play ball and went to Dachau and collaborated with those medical murderers in torturing and putting helpless prisoners to death in experiments.’
Craig dropped the paper to the table. ‘I can’t believe it,’ he said.
‘There it is,’ insisted Garrett doggedly.
Craig looked at Garrett’s glowing, unnatural face, and was dismayed. ‘And this-this so-called evidence-is this what you are giving to Sue Wiley?’
‘Well, I-I thought it seemed the right-’
‘Is that your problem?’ persisted Craig. ‘To do or not to do? Is that what you can’t make up your mind about?’
‘I’ve made up my mind-’
‘But still you’re not sure. Your conscience bothers you. And so you want someone else-your psychiatrist-me-anyone-to give our approval, so you’re not alone.’
‘Well, not exactly.’
‘You want my advice?’ asked Craig.
‘Yes, that’s why I showed you-’
‘Don’t do it,’ said Craig with all the firmness he could muster. ‘Tear this up and forget it.’
‘But-’
‘I said forget the whole thing. What kind of revenge is this-to destroy an eminent physician, destroy him utterly, in return for a punch on the jaw?’
‘It’s not revenge at all,’ protested Garrett.
‘What is it then-righteousness? Cut it out. Who appointed you supreme judge of all men? If a Nobel investigator, an informed and intelligent and balanced man, saw fit to weigh and reject this, why should you veto him and place your sole judgment, emotional and prejudiced, over an expert’s? Who are you to do this?’
Garrett began to shake. ‘A criminal should be punished,’ he said too loudly, so that several at the next table turned to stare.
Craig lowered his own voice, ‘You’re sentencing him to death without trial. Turning this unproved paragraph over to Sue Wiley is like giving a five-year-old boy a loaded Lüger and telling him to go out and play cowboy with the kids. She’ll plaster this a mile high around the world. You’ll ruin Farelli forever.’
‘If he deserves it-’
‘And what if he doesn’t deserve it? What if he can prove this is a mistake? Who’ll remember or pay attention to the retractions. They’re not worth headlines. For the rest of his life Farelli, no matter how innocent, will be the Nazi collaborator who helped kill at Dachau.’ Craig tried to reach the troubled man across from him with anything, even flattery. ‘Dr. Garrett, try to see yourself as others see you. Today you are world famous, Farelli or no Farelli. You are known, respected, applauded-and deservedly. Your discovery is one of the most remarkable in history. You don’t have to stoop to defamation of character to secure your own place. Can’t you see that?’
‘But letting a criminal-’
‘Who says he’s a criminal besides you?’
Garrett pointed to the sheet of paper between them. ‘The evidence is obvious.’
‘It’s circumstantial,’ said Craig, biting the words. ‘Were you there? Did you see it? Have you found actual reliable witnesses? Have you heard Farelli’s side of it? No, I’m sure not. All you have is a scrap of paper.’ He snatched up the paper and read the one line, ‘ “Dr. C. Farelli, Rome.” ’ He looked up sternly. ‘Is that enough, Dr. Garrett? Farelli is an Italian name, and so is Carlo, both common. There must be countless Carlo Farellis the length and breadth of Italy. And some of them physicians, and some of them with war records. Coincidences happen too often, and too often innocent men are injured for life because people refuse to believe in coincidences.
‘I remember reading of a renowned criminal case, a lamentable true story-Adolf Beck, that was his name-he was the victim of circumstantial evidence and misinformation. Just before the turn of the century, a Dr. John Smith was arrested for swindling women out of jewellery. He was arrested, jailed, released. Years later, there occurred another series of similar swindles and a Norwegian chemist residing in London, one Adolf Beck, was arrested, identified by ten women, but what really convicted him was the old file on Dr. John Smith. This Beck’s features, build, scars, handwriting were identical to those of Smith, and so the court decided that Beck was none other than Smith, and he was sentenced to six years in prison. He protested his innocence in sixteen petitions, to no avail. He was released from jail-in 1901, I think it was-and three years later, he was back in jail for swindling jewels a third time, although he pleaded that he was innocent and that it was all a case of mistaken identity. Then, after this long travail, two chance things happened to save Beck. An old identification of the original Smith, overlooked so long, was found, and it said that Smith was circumcised-and Beck was examined and he was not circumcised. And then a man named Thomas was arrested in the act of selling swindled jewels, and he turned out not only to resemble Beck, but to be the original Smith who was, indeed, circumcised. So after all those years in jail, his life ruined, Adolf Beck was freed. And all because of coincidence, hysteria, a mistake in identity.’
Craig halted his impassioned account and glared at Garrett. ‘Do you want to take the risk of having an Adolf Beck on your conscience, Dr. Garrett?’
Garrett had grown pale and smaller, and Craig pressed his point harder.
‘It’s not only that there may have been another C. Farelli at Dachau. What if there was none at all, and this was merely a diabolical trick, this insertion of the name of an anti-Fascist, by one of Farelli’s blackshirt enemies, by Mussolini himself? At the worst, supposing Farelli had indeed been there, your Farelli, our Farelli. Maybe his attendance was enforced at the point of a gun-to obtain his diagnosis and advice. Maybe he was there and did not participate in the actual murders at all. There are all those possibilities, and more. Are you the one to say none of these is correct and only your angry indictment-Farelli capitulated, volunteered, killed others-is the true one? Will you accept that responsibility fully-and tonight, on thin evidence, see a valuable colleague ruined by unprincipled scandal? The decision is yours to make, Dr. Garrett, not mine-your own and no one else’s.’
Craig’s appeal, so fervent, had depleted his reservoir of energy, and he fell back against the chair, exhausted, and waited.
Garrett stared down at the tablecloth, all dumb except for his hands in his lap, opening and closing.
‘There you are, Dr. Garrett!’ It was a young woman’s voice that called out, and they were both startled and turned to find Sue Wiley, wearing, her Robin Hood hat and a military coat, coming towards them. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you!’