Bilvidic was seated beside Frehel’s desk, tapping his teeth with a silver pencil. ‘Monsieur l’Inspecteur tells me you have already met,’ Frehel murmured. Bilvidic got up and brought a chair for me. Frehel seated himself at the desk. He was obviously curious and his eyes glanced quickly at each of us in turn.
Bilvidic turned his chair so that he faced me. ‘I think you understand, monsieur, why I am here.’
I nodded.
He produced a pack of American cigarettes and handed them round, ‘You were telling Madame last night how you rescued this Monsieur Wade from the wreck and took him back to your hotel.’ His manner was friendly, his tone almost conversational. ‘Would you kindly repeat the story so that I can check it against my notes. I would like every detail, if you please. You understand, of course, that this man has disappeared completely?’
‘I read the newspaper story,’ I said.
He nodded. ‘Alors, monsieur.’
So I went through the whole sequence of events from the moment I had sighted the yacht trying to make for the harbour at Tangier. He had his notebook in his hand and a sheaf of typewritten pages, and he constantly referred to these, checking my story with neat little ticks in the margin. He didn’t interrupt me until I came to the loss of the passport and the odd behaviour of the patrone at the Hotel Malabata. ‘Un moment, monsieur. The patrone says only that Wade had mislaid his passport.’
‘That’s not true,’ I said, and I explained what had actually happened. I was sweating a little and the palms of my hands were moist. I was reaching the difficult part and I found I still hadn’t really made up my mind.
‘Can you explain why the patrone should attempt to retain Wade’s passport illegally?’
‘Yes,’ I said, seeing an opportunity to gain time. ‘I think he had been bribed by a man called Kostos.’
‘Kostos?’
‘He’s a Greek,’ I said. ‘He used to be involved in smuggling,‘but now — ‘
‘Yes, yes. I know about Kostos.’ His tone was impatient. ‘But what is he to do with Wade?’
‘He came to see him at the hotel.’
‘Ah, out. I wished to ask you about that. We are curious about this Greek. He left Tangier suddenly two days ago. I think we trace him to Marrakech, but we are not — ‘
‘To Marrakech?’ I stared at him. Had Jan been right after all?
‘Oui, to Marrakech.’ Bilvidic nodded. ‘We believe he was accompanied by a notorious agent provocateur.’
‘You mean Ali d’Es-Skhira?’
The name slipped out and he pounced on it. ‘How did you know that?’
‘Kostos mentioned the name that time he came to see Wade in my room,’ I said quickly to cover myself.
‘Ah, yes. Will you tell me exactly what Kostos said?’
I gave him the gist of it without mentioning Kasbah Foum. And whilst I was talking, I was thinking that it must be true, the whole incredible story that Jan had told me. Ali d’Es-Skhira would never return to Morocco and risk being arrested by the French unless the matter was urgent. There was no doubt in my mind that the pair of them were headed for Foum-Skhira. It was this that finally decided me.
‘And now, monsieur,’ Bilvidic said when I had finished, ‘let us go back to your departure from the hotel. The patrone has withheld Wade’s passport and you have ordered the driver of the taxi to take you to the British Consulate. You were going to make a protest, eh?’
I nodded.
‘But you did not go there, monsieur. Why? Where do you go after you leave the hotel?’
‘Wade changed his mind,’ I said. ‘He decided not to go to the Consulate after all. He asked me to drop him in the Zocco Grande.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘What happened then?’
‘Nothing. I was leaving Tangier by the evening train. I never saw him again.’
He glanced down at the typewritten notes. ‘This would be about fifteen-thirty hours, eh? And your train did not leave until twenty-one thirty. Would you please tell me what you did during the rest of the day?’
I filled in as best I could. And then, suddenly, he said, ‘Why did you book two berths on the wagon-lit?’
In all my concern that he might know about my visit to the airport, I had forgotten all about the problem of explaining that extra berth. I improvised quickly: I had booked the extra sleeper for the man I had gone to Tangier to meet and afterwards I had found a letter waiting for me at the British Post Office saying that he was flying direct to Casa and would I meet him there. I think my hesitation could only have been fractional, for he didn’t seem to have noticed it. ‘And the man you went to meet was this Dr Kavan?’
I nodded.
‘And that is the man who is here now, the man you were dining With at the auberge last night? You met him at Casa?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Bon.’ He seemed relieved. He looked across at Frehel. ‘At least there is no mystery about the disappearance of this Dr Kavan from the boat. The British security officers have made an error. He was never on the boat.’ He chuckled, and then checked himself as though remembering he was on official business. ‘In fact, there is no mystery at all. There are not two men on the boat, only one. There remains only the disappearance of this man Wade.’ He glanced down at his notes, and then went back over my statement of what Kostos had said on the occasion he had come to the hotel. I knew it was all right then. Jan was clear for the moment.
We went over several points and then finally he sat back and lit another cigarette. ‘You say you have checked Dr Kavan’s papers?’ he asked Frehel suddenly.
The Civil Controller nodded.
‘And they are in order?’
‘Oui, Monsieur l’Inspecteur.’
‘Bon.’ He looked across at me. ‘What do you know about this doctor, monsieur?’
‘Not very much,’ I said, keeping a tight hold on my voice. ‘He’s a Czech refugee.’
‘Is that all he has told you about himself?’
I didn’t say anything and he shrugged his shoulders as though glad not to have to go further into the matter. ‘Alors, monsieur — the statement…’
It was almost midday before the statement was typed. When I had signed it, he drove me back to the auberge himself. ‘Au revoir, monsieur,’ he said as I got out. ‘I am going back to Casablanca now.’ His hard, grey eyes looked at me fixedly. ‘There is nothing you wish to alter?’
‘No,’ I said.
‘You realise that it will all be checked?’
I nodded.
‘Bien, monsieur. We will hope there are no inaccuracies, eh?’ He gave me a thin-lipped smile. And then he asked me if I should be leaving Enfida during the next few days.
‘I don’t know,’ I said.
He nodded. ‘I quite understand. In view of the catastrophe …’ He gave a little shrug. ‘But if you do leave, monsieur, I should be grateful if you would inform. Monsieur Frehel and give him your new address. You understand?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
He nodded again and turned the Citroen in a tight circle, disappearing in a cloud of dust down the road towards the bridge. I turned and went into the auberge, but Jan wasn’t there. I called Madame out of the kitchen and she told me that Julie had arrived shortly after I had left. She and Jan had gone off together.
I went up the mountain road then and cut down to the caravan. They must have been watching the track, for they both came out to meet me. But then Jan stopped and Julie came on alone. She looked very pretty with her black hair hanging down over her orange shirt. She was wearing slacks. She looked slender and graceful and cool. ‘Is it all right?’ she asked. Her voice sounded nervous and I knew Jan must have explained the situation to her. I didn’t say anything and she took my arm. ‘I’ll get you a drink.’ And then she added, ‘Don’t keep him waiting, Philip. It’s important to him.’
‘All right,’ I said. And I called out to Jan and told him he needn’t worry for the moment.
It was extraordinary. The man seemed suddenly to come to life. It was as though I had released a spring inside him. He caught hold of my hand and his grip was so tight it hurt. I’ll never forget this, Philip. I’ll never forget it.’ He was like a man reprieved. ‘What decided you? All through breakfast this morning … I wanted to get a decision out of you, but that man Bilvidic was sitting there. What decided you?’