1966 - You Have Yourself a Deal Read Online Free

woman,” Smernoff said. “Kovska wouldn’t know the difference.”
    The two men burst out laughing, they were still laughing as Smernoff pulled into the courtyard of the Russian Embassy.
     
    * * *
     
    John Dorey arrived at the American hospital at 16.40 hours.
    He was thoroughly irritated because he knew he had lost valuable time, but he had to be certain that the tattoo marks on this woman were genuine. It had first been necessary to locate Nicolas Wolfert, the U.S. Embassy’s Chinese expert. It so happened that Wolfert had taken a day off and was fishing on his small estate at Amboise. By the time he had been located, brought by helicopter to Paris, rushed in a car to the Embassy, then put in the picture four valuable hours had been wasted. With Wolfert, Dorey had brought along Joe Dodge, the Embassy’s top photographer.
    Dr. Forrester, a tall, lean man with tired, dark ringed eyes received Dorey in his office while Wolfert and Dodge waited in the corridor. Forrester had already been alerted by O’Halloran of the possible importance of his patient and was more than willing to cooperate.
    “This could be top secret,” Dorey said as he sat down. “I’m relying on you, doctor, to see this woman isn’t got at. There are plenty of reasons why she should be murdered. I want her food prepared only by someone you can completely trust and no nurse, unless you can guarantee her, is to attend her.”
    Forrester nodded.
    “Captain O’Halloran has already gone over this with me. I’m doing my best. What else do you want?”
    “I want photos of the tattoo marks. I have a photographer waiting.”
    Forrester frowned.
    “The marks are on the woman’s buttock.” He leaned back and surveyed Dorey. “You can’t send some strange man into her room, expect her to expose herself while he takes photos. This I can’t allow.”
    “So she’s conscious?”
    “Of course she is conscious. She’s been conscious now for the last three days and she is in a very highly nervous state.”
    “I must have those photographs,” Dorey said, a rasp in his voice. “They may even have to be sent to the President. Give her a shot of Pentathol. Then she won’t know she has been photographed. It won’t take more than a few minutes. I also want my Chinese expert to see the markings. Let’s get it done right away.”
    Forrester hesitated, then shrugged.
    “Well, if it’s that important,” he said, reached for the telephone, spoke quietly, then hung up. “Your men can go up in ten minutes.”
    “Fine.” Dorey went to the door and spoke to Dodge, then he came back and sat down again. “Tell me about this woman.”
    “On arrival she was found . . .”
    “I know all that. I read your report,” Dorey said impatiently. “What I want to know is . . . is she faking? Is she really suffering from amnesia?”
    “I would say so. She doesn’t respond to hypnotism. She had on arrival a small bruise at the back of her head. This could have come when she collapsed and it might have caused loss of memory. It is a little rare, but it could be possible. Yes, I think her loss of memory is genuine.”
    “Any idea how long it could last?”
    “Your guess is as good as mine. A week . . . a month . . . I don’t think longer than a month.”
    “How about scopolamine?”
    Forrester smiled.
    “We considered using scopolamine, but it is dangerous. If she is faking, it would work, but if she isn’t, there’s always the risk it would drive her memory deeper into herself. If you want to try it, I won’t object, but if she is really suffering from amnesia then scopolamine could retard her memory recovery by months.”
    Dorey thought for a long moment, then he got to his feet.
    “I’ll see you again after I’ve talked to my Chinese expert. Thanks, doc, for your cooperation. I’ll try and get her moved as soon as I can organise a place for her.”
    Thirty minutes later, Wolfert, a squat balding man whose pink and white complexion belied his