A Noble Profession - Page 17

down at regular intervals to spend a weekend in the villa next door, the only other house within a radius of about a mile, and his meetings with Arvers occurred under ideal conditions of security. Claire sent the in- formation back by radio, operating either from the villa or from the back parlor of Mrs. Morvan’s grocery. Her mother, whom she had contacted at once, was the only person in the area who knew of her clandestine activities. The old woman had offered her help, and, after a certain amount of hesitation, Arvers had agreed to accept her assistance. It was to her house that the messenger came from time to time to collect the reports, since Arvers had no direct dealings with this agent. Dr. Fog had insisted on this point. The experts in London appeared to be quite satisfied with the information that had been collected thus far.

Austin, who was living in Rennes in a safe house that was also unknown to Arvers, met the couple from time to time at a secret rendezvous and saw for himself that they were both doing their jobs. He felt there was nothing more for him to do and was relieved when he

received a signal from Dr. Fog asking him to come back to London if he thought the situation no longer required his presence in France. Since this was, in fact, his considered opinion, he made the necessary arrangements for his return, and a light airplane flew in one night to take him back.

The following morning found him once again in Dr. Fog’s office. Contrary to the attitude of indifference he had shown on the eve of Austin’s departure, the doctor actually now seemed impatient to hear what he had to say and to know the results of his supervision. He asked Austin not to omit a single significant detail.

“I’d better begin, sir, with the period we spent atthe parachute training center prior to the drop. It was only a few days, just long enough for some preliminary training and five practice jumps, but we were hardly out of one another’s sight for a moment.”

“Good,” said the doctor; “go on. A man’s reactions at the prospect of a parachute jump are most important. It’s usually an extremely instructive experience and makes a deep impression on certain temperaments. I’ve known perfectly brave men who were incapable of launching themselves out of an aircraft. I remember putting a certain captain through this test—a real tough fellow, I assure you. He had proved his courage countless times. Well . . .”

He spoke of these tests and trials as though they were simple laboratory experiments. Austin could not help smiling now at this old familiar manner of his, which once had made him feel so uneasy.

“Well,” the doctor continued, “it was utterly pitiful, a dreadful exhibition. The whole team was ashamed o him. When he was given the order to jump, he clung to the nearest man, the nearest object, anything he could get hold of. He was clawing at the fuselage with his nails. When he saw they were going to heave him out by force, he implored them—yes, he actually implored them with tears in his eyes—to let him off. He was reduced to an absolute jelly, Austin, and yet, as I said before, the fellow was a hero."

“Nothing like that happened to Arvers, sir—or to me, for that matter, though I certainly didn’t enjoy it, I assure you. As for the girl, sir, I may as well tell you right away, I have nothing but admiration.”

“Really?"

Austin seemed to recall his own experience as a parachutist with anything but pleasure.

“To be permanently as calm and cool as she was during that sort of ordeal, you’ve either got to be an insensitive brute, which she obviously isn’t, or else be uplifted, anesthetized, by some sentiment sufficiently deep and powerful to make a mockery of fear and deaden your reactions to it.”

“Didn’t I tell you there was bound to be some passion in our team?” said Dr. Fog.

“She was perfectly detached, sir—that’s the only word for it: detached. During those few days I’m sure she didn’t once give a thought to the fact that she would have to launch herself into the void at a height of three thousand feet. Her courage came to her quite naturally; it didn’t entail the slightest effort. Her appetite wasn’t affected, she spoke in her usual tone of voice and didn’t have much to say. She looked on this stage of the training as an insignificant formality. . . . A one-track mind, in which there was no room for any sensation—that’s the impression she gave me, sir.”

“Perhaps it’s just an exalted feeling of patriotism?”

“Perhaps,” Austin replied, in the same tone of disbelief the doctor had used to make this suggestion.

They looked at each other in silence for a moment, then Austin observed pointedly:

“She never took her eyes off him.”

“Really?”

“Not for a minute, sir; not for a second.”

“That doesn’t surprise me unduly,” Dr. Fog said thoughtfully. “But what about him? Let’s hear about him for a change.”

“He behaved like a brave man, if that’s what you want to know. I could give you some details . . .”

“That’s the stuff!” the doctor cried eagerly. “Let’s get on to the details.”

“The day before our first jump, during the afternoon, in the course of exit practice from an aircraft on the ground, I began to detect certain symptoms in him: fits of absent-mindedness, sudden attacks of pallor—all very normal under the circumstances. That evening, during dinner. I'm sure he had no appetite at all, and yet . . .”

“Yes?”

Austin went on, his brows furrowed in a visible effort to recall the scene.

“He took a big helping . . . and it wasn’t what he had intended to do, I noticed that. He was going to pass the dish on, after taking no more than a spoonful, when his eyes met Claire’s. I told you she never let any of his gestures escape her, not even at mealtimes. He changed color at once and his features seemed to shrivel. He took the dish back and gave himself an enormous helping.”

“Excellent,” Dr. Fog said, rubbing his hands together. “And did he eat it all?”

“At first I thought he wouldn't be able to manage it; he could hardly lift his fork to his mouth and he had difficulty in chewing. I could see what an effort he was having to make, and it wasn’t hard to visualize the painful progress of the food down his throat. Each mouthful made him shudder from head to foot. At one moment his arm dropped to his side, as though it had lost all feeling. He seemed to be at his last gasp.”

“Excellent,” the doctor again remarked. “I see you kept him under close observation.”

Tags: Pierre Boulle Thriller
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