The Scarlatti Inheritance(117)

The results were predictable. With him finished, Elizabeth wouldn’t have a chance of reaching Zurich. She’d be killed by Scarlett in Geneva. And the secondary target would then be Janet back in London. She couldn’t stay at the Savoy indefinitely. Derek couldn’t continue his security precautions ad infinitum. She would eventually leave, or Derek would become exasperated and careless. She, too, would be killed. Finally, there was Chancellor Drew, his wife, and seven children. There would be a hundred valid reasons for all to leave the remote Canadian refuge. They’d be massacred. Ulster Stewart Scarlett would win.

At the thought of Scarlett, Canfield was able to summon up what anger was left in him. It was almost enough to match his fear and depression. Almost.

He walked into the sitting room Elizabeth had converted into an office. She was writing on the center table.

“Do you remember the housekeeper at your son’s house?” he said.

Elizabeth put down her pencil. It was momentary courtesy, not concern. “I’ve seen her on the few occasions I’ve visited, yes.”

“Where did she come from?”

“As I recall, Ulster brought her back from Europe. She ran a hunting lodge in … southern Germany.” Elizabeth looked up at the field accountant. “Why do you ask?”

Years later Canfield would reflect that it was because he had been trying to find the words to tell Elizabeth Scarlatti that Hannah was in Geneva that caused him to do what he did. To physically move from one place to another at that particular instant. To cross between Elizabeth and the window. He would carry the remembrance of it as long as he lived.

There was a shattering of glass and a sharp, terrible stinging pain in his left shoulder. Actually the pain seemed to come first. The jolt was so powerful that it spun Canfield around, throwing him across the table, scattering papers, and crashing the lamp to the floor. A second and third shot followed, splintering the thick wood around his body and Canfield, in panic, lurched to one side, toppling Elizabeth off her chair onto the floor. The pain in his shoulder was overpowering, and a huge splotch of blood spread across his shirt.

It was all over in five seconds.

Elizabeth was crouched against the paneling of the wall. She was at once frightened and grateful. She looked at the field accountant lying in front of her trying to hold his shoulder. She was convinced he had thrown himself over her to protect her from the bullets. He never explained otherwise.

“How badly are you hurt?”

“I’m not sure. It hurts like hell.… I’ve never been hit before. Never shot before.…” He was finding it difficult to speak. Elizabeth started to move toward him. “God damn it! Stay where you are!” He looked up and saw that he was out of the sight line of the window. They both were. “Look, can you reach the phone? Go on the floor. Stay down!… I think I need a doctor.… A doctor.” He passed out.

Thirty minutes later Canfield awoke. He was on his own bed with the whole upper left part of his chest encased in an uncomfortable bandage. He could barely move. He could see, blurredly to be sure, a number of figures around him. As his eyes came into focus, he saw Elizabeth at the foot of the bed looking down at him. To her right was a man in an overcoat, behind him a uniformed policeman. Bending over him on his left was a balding, stern-faced man in his shirt sleeves, obviously a doctor. He spoke to Canfield. His accent was French.

“Move your left hand, please.”

Canfield obeyed.

“Your feet, please.”

Again he complied.

“Can you roll your head?”

“What? Where?”

“Move your head back and forth. Don’t try to be amusing.” Elizabeth was possibly the most relieved person within twenty miles of the Hotel D’ Accord. She even smiled.

Canfield swung his head back and forth.

“You are not seriously hurt.” The doctor stood erect.

“You sound disappointed,” answered the field accountant.

“May I ask him questions, Herr Doktor?” said the Swiss next to Elizabeth.

The doctor replied in his broken English. “Yes. The bullet passed him through.”

What one had to do with the other perplexed Canfield, but he had no time to think about it. Elizabeth spoke.

“I’ve explained to this gentleman that you’re merely accompanying me while I conduct business affairs. We’re totally bewildered by what’s happened.”

“I would appreciate this man answering for himself, madame.”

“Damned if I can tell you anything, mister.…” And then Canfield stopped. There was no point in being a fool. He was going to need help. “On second thought, maybe I can.” He looked toward the doctor, who was putting on his suit coat. The Swiss understood.