The Secret (Dr Steven Dunbar 10) by Ken McClure Read Free Book Online Page B

mourners were mainly colleagues and administrators from Médecins Sans Frontières with perhaps a few representatives from other aid agencies.
    Simone’s father, a stooped, elderly man with a head of fine, pure white hair that seemed to respond to the merest suggestion of m ovement in the air, spoke of a wonderful, loving daughter who had always had a good heart. Her boss spoke of an inspiration to others and the very embodiment of all that was good in the medical profession. Steven felt that the third person to speak, a friend from medical school days, hit the nail on the head when she said that Simone – much as she loved her – had always made her feel inadequate. Everyone agreed that planet earth was a poorer place for having lost Simone Ricard.
    Because the funeral was being held in Paris and not Marseilles where Simone’s parents still lived, the reception afterwards was held in a small hotel on Boulevard St-Marcel. Steven introduced himself to Simone’s father, not expecting him to have heard of him, so he was surprised when Jacques Ricard exclaimed, ‘The English soldier? Simone spoke of you. I think you may be the only soldier my daughter ever approved of.’
    Steven felt pleased – absurdly pleased; even vulnerable, like a ten-year-old hearing universal praise for the first time. He shook Ricard’s hand and nodded, indicating sympathy and thanks together, then turned to the MSF man who had spoken at the funeral, hoping that he might point him in the direction of people who had served with Simone in Afghanistan or had been at the Prague meeting. He was directed towards Dr Aline Lagarde, who he learned had been working with Simone on the anti-polio drive in the Afghan border region, and went over to introduce himself. She was a dark-haired woman in her thirties wearing an elegant black trouser suit over a lilac blouse which seemed to complement the striking colour of her eyes.
    ‘Ah yes, Dr Dunbar. Simone spoke of you many times.’
    After opening exchanges about the awfulness of what had happened Steven encouraged Aline to tell him about the work that she and Simone had been engaged in. He had always been a good listener and this had served him well in past investigations. Experience had taught him that you could learn a lot about people by keeping your mouth shut and your ears open. In this case, he had to decide whether or not to mention the letter he’d had from Simone and it did not take him long to conclude that Aline Lagarde was an intelligent, caring woman who he felt could be trusted to be discreet. He told her about the letter and asked if she had any idea what Simone had meant by saying something was very wrong.
    ‘The letter was sent from Prague?’ Aline queried.
    Steven felt she’d asked the question in order to give herself time to think through her reply. ‘Yes.’
    ‘Simone had . . . concerns.’
    ‘Shared by you?’
    ‘You could say that,’ Aline seemed nervous. She considered for a long moment before going on, ‘Simone was unhappy about our region being one of the big stumbling blocks in the bid to eradicate polio. We had more cases than anywhere else in the past year. I think she was afraid that people might see it as our fault.’
    ‘But the Afghan/Pakistan border is a huge area; the logistical problems must be tremendous,’ said Steven.
    ‘Exactly,’ Aline agreed. ‘I kept telling her that. We’re also talking about the FATA.’ She answered Steven’s questioning glance with, ‘The federally administered tribal areas. It’s a wild, lawless region, a bit like the old wild west.’
    ‘Only east,’ said Steven with a smile. ‘But surely you can’t be the only aid agency working in the area?’
    ‘No, of course not; several other agencies are represented there . . . That’s sometimes the root of the problem.’
    ‘Really?’ Steven probed.
    Aline looked as if she had no real wish to continue but Steven’s unflinching gaze persuaded her to continue. ‘People like to