Shadow of Death

Obviously, they felt this could become a matter for police investigation.

“What happened?” Koesler asked.

“Well, Mr. Toussaint’s body was discovered in Regent’s Park. It was most fortunate he was found so soon, really. A romantic young couple strolling by the lake almost literally stumbled upon him. Otherwise, I fear he wouldn’t have been found till daylight . . . and I very much doubt he would have been alive at that point.

“In any case, he was brought in here at,” the doctor consulted his chart, “2230 . . . no, 2235, to be precise. At first blush he was thought to be dead.” He looked up. “That’s when our attendant called you. But then, one of our people thought she heard a sigh escape from Mr. Toussaint. She checked and got a pupil reaction and then we all began to work very quickly indeed.”

“Is he conscious?” Beauchamp inquired.

The doctor shook his head. “He was comatose when we first examined him and that condition has remained unchanged.”

“Then what exactly is ’is condition?” Somerset asked.

“Critical. Extremely critical.”

“And you can’t tell yet what happened to him?” Koznicki asked.

“A beating, I should think. A beating the likes of which, I’m glad to say, we don’t see often.” Again, the doctor referred to his chart. “So far, we’ve found the following fractures: frontal,” he looked up from the chart, “that’s his forehead.” Then, “right and left zygomatic.” Again he looked up. “That’s both cheekbones. Right mandible . . . that’s the lower jaw; nose; clavicle . . . that’s the collarbone; right and left humerus, radius, and ulna . . . that’s both upper and lower arms; all ten fingers; ribs—seven fractures to the ribs . . .”

As the doctor proceeded through his medical litany, Koesler first flinched, then felt his stomach turn. He feared he was going to be physically ill. His companions were taking notes very professionally.

“. . . right femur . . . that’s the thigh; and tibia . . . that’s the lower leg; both patellae . . . that’s the kneecaps, several metatarsi in each foot. Then dislocations: one hip and one shoulder.”

“That it?” asked Somerset.

“That’s all we have found so far.” He stopped, suddenly aware of Koesler’s wanness, and looked at the priest with professional concern. “Are you all right, Father?”

Koesler half-nodded in a peremptory manner, while his right hand made an impatient I’m-all-right-please-go- on gesture.

The doctor looked at him doubtfully, but resumed. “The good side of it is that, as far as we can tell, incredibly—miraculously—there’s been no internal bleeding, and no collapsed lung. With all those fractured ribs, you fear a thing like that.”

“Well, then,” said Beauchamp, “it’s a professional job, no doubt of that. But tell us: What is the prognosis?”

“Too soon to say, actually. I’d guess his age to be in the late forties, early fifties—”

“He’s fifty-six,” Koesler said quietly.

“Really! He does appear younger. But even at fifty-six . . . now that’s a fairly young age when one speaks of recovery from a thing like this. And, outside of the massive multiple injuries, he seems in excellent physical condition. All in all, I would guess there to be something like a 40 percent chance of survival.”

“That’s all?” Koesler, newfound hope ebbing, seemed stunned.

“Father,” the doctor replied, “let me assure you: for the severity of the beating your friend received, he is very, very fortunate merely to be alive. From the extent of his injuries, I do not believe his assailant or assailants meant for him to survive. And now, we are faced with, in effect, trying to put Humpty Dumpty together again.

“And even if he survives, we cannot be sure he will suffer no permanent physical or neurological after- effects.”

Koesler fought waves of nausea. “Then I’ll stay here.”

“What? Here at the hospital?” asked the doctor.

“No, here in London.”

“You’re on holiday then?”

“A charter,” said Koznicki. “We were scheduled to leave tomorrow for Ireland.”

“Then, by all means, go. Believe me. Father,” said the doctor earnestly, “your staying in London can serve no useful purpose whatever. There is nothing you can do for Mr. Toussaint. He will, believe me, not be at all conscious of your presence . . . or your absence. I do not even expect that he will regain consciousness for several days—if at all. And when and if he does, we will then have to ascertain to what extent, if any, he has sustained brain damage. Although, it is odd . . .” His brow furrowed and his voice trailed off in puzzlement.

“What is odd?” pressed Koznicki.

“Oh, only that with what seems to have been a brutally methodical shattering of most of the bones in this man’s body, there is no damage to the cranial bones—as if whoever did this deliberately left that part of his skull uninjured.

“Well, in any event,” he looked again at Koesler, “after we get done patching him as best we can now, he’ll be in an intensive care unit, with virtually all visitors barred. After that—IF he survives to that point—it will be a long period of bed rest while we hope and pray no blood clots form.

“So, truly, Father, there is absolutely nothing you can accomplish for your friend by remaining in London.”

“But—”

“The doctor is correct, Father,” said Koznicki. “You should go on with us. Don’t forget: We still have Cardinal Boyle to protect. If there is any dramatic change in Reverend Toussaint’s condition—for better or worse—we’ll be only an hour away by plane in Ireland.”

“I suppose you’re right,” said Koesler, without a great deal of conviction.

“Meanwhile, we’ll notify Mrs. Toussaint, and make arrangements for her to come and be with her husband,” Koznicki added.

“That very thought was just crossing my mind.” Koesler sounded slightly heartened.

“Oh, and by the by, doctor,” said Somerset, “the blackguards who did this aren’t likely to be delighted when they discover he’s still alive. So we’ll be keepin’ security on him around the clock.”

The doctor nodded.

Koznicki smiled. “That is very good of you, Superintendent.”

“Not at all. That’s perfectly all right, Inspector. And not to worry: we’ll get ’em. We’ll get ’em as have done this to your friend. And you can put your bottom dollar on that!”

10.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Kamego. Welcome aboard for this little hop over the Irish Sea. Our flying time will be approximately fifty minutes. I’m afraid our altitude will not be sufficient to climb out of these clouds. So, while it was raining in London as we departed, it will be raining in Dublin when we arrive. But, as they say in Ireland, it is a soft day. If you’ve never experienced it, take my word, you’re in for a treat. I just want to assure you, there is a sun up above these clouds. Take it on faith.”

“And you must take what I am saying on faith also, your Eminence,” said Inspector Koznicki. “You still need every bit as much protection and security as you have needed since we uncovered this plot.”

Boyle loosened his safety belt and turned partly toward Koznicki. “You don’t believe the danger is over . . . or at least diminished?”

“No, I know it is not, your Eminence. With all due reverence, you are still alive.”

Boyle thoughtfully ran an index finger across his lips.

“Their plan is to do away with you,” Koznicki continued. “They have attempted twice to do just that. They failed the first time and tried again. They failed the second time. We have every reason to believe they will try again.”

“I suppose you are correct.”

“I know these precautions we urge on you are irritating and that they restrict your movements on what was planned as your vacation, but you must understand their necessity.”