Lost, as he was, in his reverie, Garrett did not hear the heavy carved oak door of the Audience Chamber as it was opened and closed behind him. What he heard, after, were the footsteps, and he swung around, erect as possible, to meet the King man to man.
‘Good morning, Dr. Garrett. It is gracious of you to come so promptly.’
It was not the King of Sweden who spoke to him, and now approached him, but a shorter, stockier man, in his sixties, wearing a disappointing dark blue business suit.
He shook Garrett’s hand. ‘I do not know if you remember me,’ he was saying. ‘I am the Baron Johan Stiernfeldt. We were introduced at Mr. Hammarlund’s dinner.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Garrett. ‘The Foreign Office phoned this morning-’
‘At my urgent request,’ said the Baron. ‘I am really acting, as so often I do, on behalf of His Majesty. I will detain you but a minute or two. Shall we be seated?’
There were two low velvet stools, with crossed gold legs, against the tapestry that depicted a pastoral scene, several feet to the right of the throne. They walked to the stools and sat, the Baron Johan Stiernfeldt easily, Garrett uncomfortably and still chagrined by the absence of the one whom he had expected.
‘It is my understanding,’ said the Baron, ‘that you are a close acquaintance of Dr. Erik Öhman, our cardiac specialist at the Caroline Institute, who has followed in your footsteps. He has spoken highly of you and gratefully of your contribution to his own work.’
‘I’ve been only too glad to be of some small assistance to him,’ said Garrett modestly, his ego rising once more.
‘Perhaps it is presumptuous of us, then, when you are a guest of our nation and here on pleasure, to request your assistance in a personal matter. His Majesty was troubled about the propriety of this, and Dr. Öhman was consulted at length, and at last it was decided that we might take the liberty of hoping for one more favour from you.’
Unconsciously, Garrett preened. ‘I certainly don’t know what favour I can do for a King, but whatever is commanded, I am at His Majesty’s service.’ He liked the gracious roll of his reply, and hoped that he would remember it for Sue Wiley.
‘Excellent! In advance, we thank you,’ said the Baron. ‘Now to the favour. Dr. Öhman informs us that he has already spoken to you of his next transplantation case.’
Garrett tried to remember. ‘There was a Count, if I recall-’ He gave up. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to refresh my memory.’
‘The patient is Count Rolf Ramstedt, a distant relation to His Majesty and a relation for whom His Majesty has the deepest affection. Count Ramstedt is seventy-two, an athletic person of strong constitution and in the finest health-that is, until recently when he was stricken by an incurable heart ailment. I am a layman and cannot properly explain his illness, but I am told that it is grave and his situation critical. Perhaps you will remember the case from widespread newspaper accounts recently when Dr. Farelli, accompanied by an American newspaperwoman, visited the patient and gave an interview on the possibilities.’
Garrett’s face constricted. ‘Yes, I remember now.’
‘Dr. Öhman has been the soul of candour with His Majesty. For reasons beyond my comprehension, the case provides certain difficulties-’
‘Yes, so Dr. Öhman told me.’
‘-but, nevertheless, Dr. Öhman feels, after numerous tests, that Count Ramstedt qualifies for transplantation surgery, that organ transplantation can be successfully effected because the patient’s immunity mechanism will respond to the serum. With this assurance, the King has seen fit to allow Dr. Öhman to proceed with surgery tomorrow morning. However, His Majesty feels that as if by some kind fate, the world’s two foremost authorities-the discoverers, in fact-of this heart transplantation happen to be in Stockholm to reap the rewards of their genius. The King would like to avail himself of the knowledge that you and Dr. Farelli possess. Since the operation is one that involves him emotionally, and beyond that will be widely reported in the world press, His Majesty feels a responsibility to see that the patient has every advantage. As much as he has faith in Dr. Öhman-and he has absolute faith in that young man-he would feel more secure if you could attend the surgery tomorrow morning, stand by, so to speak, in order that Dr. Öhman may draw upon your assistance and experience if necessary.’
‘Does Dr. Öhman know of this?’
‘He has given his wholehearted approval,’ said the Baron, ‘and would be much relieved if you would share his responsibility.’
‘I will share it, of course,’ said Garrett. ‘I will be on hand.’
‘Capital!’ exclaimed the Baron. ‘Surgery was originally scheduled for seven tomorrow morning. It will now be delayed until nine in the morning, so that Dr. Öhman may have time to go over his charts and plan with you.’
Garrett saw, at once, the advantage of his participation, his collaboration, so dramatic, to save a relative of the King through the discovery that he had made. Before the entire world, he would be able to demonstrate why he had won the Nobel Prize and why he deserved it alone. It was this last that troubled him now. The Baron had said that the King wished Öhman to avail himself of the services of both himself and Farelli. That would not do, and he must be firm and make it a condition of his co-operation.
Baron Johan Stiernfeldt had risen, and that was when Garrett spoke his mind.
‘There’s just one thing,’ he heard himself saying. He came off the velvet stool and joined the aristocrat. ‘Few laymen are acquainted with the tension that accompanies this difficult surgery. Speed and precision are the saving virtues. I have found, in my long experience in heart transplantations, that two make for good surgery, but three is a crowd.’
‘I am afraid I do not understand, Dr. Garrett. What are you suggesting?’
‘I assume you mean to confine the assistance given Dr. Öhman to myself alone. Since Dr. Öhman and I have exchanged notes on our work, and know each other, we will be able to perform at maximum efficiency together. A team of two-Dr. Öhman and I-will guarantee successful outcome. A third surgeon might make the undertaking extremely difficult.’
Baron Johan Stiernfeldt’s visage was stern. ‘Do you mean that you do not wish Dr. Carlo Farelli to attend the surgery?’
Garrett felt a wave of relief. It was understood. His victory was within his grasp. ‘Exactly, that is exactly what I mean.’
‘I am afraid that is impossible, Dr. Garrett.’
The reply was unexpected. ‘Why is it impossible?’ he wanted to know petulantly.
‘Because at eight-thirty this morning, the King had Dr. Carlo Farelli in his private quarters for breakfast, and together, at some length, they discussed the details of the impending surgery. The King has already accepted Dr. Farelli’s gracious offer to be of assistance.’
Garrett stood aghast. ‘The King himself saw Farelli?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Baron Johan Stiernfeldt, ‘and quite relieved was His Majesty. You see, as I have explained, the King was reluctant to make any imposition upon your time and Dr. Farelli’s time. Then, at last, he was convinced that the requests should be made. But before he could do so, Dr. Farelli relieved His Majesty of any embarrassment by voluntarily coming forward and offering his services to the King. You can imagine His Majesty’s delight and appreciation. And-I suppose I can tell you this-it was Dr. Farelli’s assurance at breakfast, that you would be as honoured as he was himself to co-operate, that induced the King to have me meet with you forthwith… Is anything the matter, Dr. Garrett? Are you having a dizzy spell?’
In Carl Adolf Krantz’s apartment overlooking the Mälaren, fifteen minutes had passed since Daranyi’s arrival, and now the Hungarian looked up once more from his memoranda and waited while his host finished his writing behind the obstructing fern.