Doctor Frigo Read Online Free PDF Page A

still be documents to prove it. Bureaucrats are cautious men, reluctant to destroy records even when ordered to do so. No one can ever quite be sure that they will not one day prove valuable.’
    ‘I understand. The documents may exist but nobody is going to produce them out of the blue for you to see. And even if you knew where they were you would still have to know which bureaucrat had charge of them and what sort of bribe would be required. Am I right?’
    ‘There is also a yearly ritual, Commissaire, designed to shield me from any revival of the temptation to satisfy my curiosity. When I visit the consul at Fort de France to have my passport renewed, I am always reminded firmly that its use is limited. It is valid for travel everywhere except to my own country.’
    ‘Well, your mother has been dead for six months now. Do you intend to go on respecting her sentimental wishes about your national status for ever?’
    ‘With her people the customary mourning period was at least one year. I shall respect that. I have no doubt, though, that if I were ever to produce a French passport at the Fort de France consulate and ask for a visa, my request would be refused. The regrets would be differently phrased, that is all.’
    ‘Yes, I see. Well, one final question, Doctor. The present régime – the Oligarchy as it is called – is known to be far from stable. If a revolutionary coup backed by the armed forces were to result in the establishment of a government headed by Democratic Socialists or by a coalition disposed to remove these restrictions you speak of, would you then wish to return there from exile?’
    ‘For a brief visit perhaps. Not permanently. My work is here and I enjoy doing it.’
    ‘As the son of your father you might even be offered a post in the new government – as Minister of Healthperhaps.’ He said it with a smile, but he was far from joking.
    ‘I would certainly refuse it. My childhood immunized me against political ambition, Commissaire. I am a doctor and the only advancement I look for is in my profession.’
    Apropos my profession, it is 02.00 hrs. Sister brought me a glass of freshly made tea. Clearly a peace offering. Emboldened, I decided to broach delicately the subject of her wart. A crass error on my part from all points of view. It is not a wart but a pigmented naevus. She deeply offended. My apologies profuse. Her acceptance of them theoretical only, as pressed lips and inward look made clear. In future must mind own business. After rounds should try sleep, but feel must finish Gillon account first. To hell with pigmented naevi. To hell with Gillon.
    He had said that it was his final question and I assumed that with my answers to it the interview would be at an end. My failure to proceed with the application for French papers had been explained; the suspicion that I might have been dabbling in émigré politics had been, I presumed, satisfactorily allayed. So, to save him the trouble of dismissing me I got up to leave.
    He responded irritably. ‘I am afraid we haven’t finished, Doctor. Sit down please.’
    I obeyed. ‘You said that you had questions. I’ve answered them.’
    ‘And now you will kindly listen to my reasons for asking them.’
    I said nothing and probably looked arrogant. I am told this is Dr Frigo’s usual reaction when he is in any way put out.
    Gillon’s response was to lean forward with narrowed eyes. ‘In the matter of your eventual application for papers, Doctor, you may as well know that all such applications by foreigners are normally referred to us for approval and comment.’ He pointed a finger at me. ‘We can say yes orno. You may like to think about that before refusing your co-operation.’
    ‘I haven’t refused anything.’
    ‘Good. Then we can proceed.’ On his desk there was a second dossier, one with a yellow cover. With a forefinger he turned it round so that I could read the name lettered on the front.
    VILLEGAS Lopez, Manuel.
    ‘How much