Not a Penny More, Not a Penny Less

Jean-Pierre spent over three hours studying the layout of the Casino—its gambling rooms, bars and restaurants, the telephones, the entrances and exits. Then he turned his attention to the gambling itself. He discovered that two shoes of baccarat were played in the Salons Privés at 3 P.M. and 11 P.M., and learned from Pierre Cattalano, the head of the public relations department of the Casino, which of the private rooms Harvey Metcalfe preferred to play in.

Blackjack is played in the Salon des Amériques from 11 A.M. daily. There are three tables, and Jean-Pierre’s informant told him that Harvey always played on table No. 2, seat No. 3. Jean-Pierre played a little blackjack and baccarat, to discover any slight variations in rules there might be from the Claremont. In fact there were none, as the Claremont still adheres to French rules.

Harvey Metcalfe arrived noisily at the Casino just after 11 P.M., leaving a trail of cigar ash leading to his baccarat table. Jean-Pierre, inconspicuous at the bar, watched as the head croupier first showed Harvey politely to a reserved seat, and then walked through to the Salon des Amériques to the No. 2 blackjack table and placed a discreet white card marked “Réservé” on one of the chairs. Harvey was clearly a favored client. The management knew as well as Jean-Pierre which games Harvey Metcalfe played. At 11:27 P.M. Jean-Pierre left quietly and returned to the solitude of his hotel room where he remained until 11 A.M. the next day. He phoned no one and did not use room service.

James’s evening also went well. The taxi-driver was superb. The word “emergency” brought out the Walter Mitty in him: he traveled through Monte Carlo as if it were nothing less than the Rally itself. When James arrived at the hospital in 8 minutes 44 seconds, he genuinely felt a little sick and had to rest for a few minutes in the Entrée des Patients before returning to the taxi.

“Back to the Casino, but much slower, please.”

The journey back along the Rue Grimaldi took just over eleven minutes and James decided he would settle for trying to cover it in about ten. He paid off the taxi driver and carried out the second part of his instructions.

Walking to the hospital and back took just over an hour. The night air was gentle on his face, and the streets crowded with lively chattering people. Tourism is the chief source of income for the Principality, and the Monégasques take the welfare of their visitors very seriously. James passed innumerable little pavement restaurants and souvenir shops stocked with expensive trinkets of no significance that once bought would be forgotten or lost within a week. Noisy groups of holiday-makers strolled along the pavements, their multilingual babel forming a meaningless chorus

to James’s thoughts of Anne. On arrival back at the Casino, James then took a taxi to the harbor to locate Messenger Boy, Harvey’s yacht, and from there once more to the hospital. He then walked the same route and, like Jean-Pierre, he was safely in his room before midnight, having completed his first task.

Robin and Stephen found the walk to the hospital from their hotel took a little over 40 minutes. On arrival Robin asked the receptionist if he could see the superintendent.

“The night superintendent is now on duty,” said a freshly starched French nurse. “Who shall I say is asking him for?”

Her English pronunciation was excellent and they both avoided a smile at her slight mistake.

“Doctor Wiley Barker of the University of California.”

Robin began to pray that the French superintendent would not happen to know that Wiley Barker, President Nixon’s physician and one of the most respected surgeons in the world, was actually touring Australia at the time lecturing to the major universities.

“Bon soir, Docteur Barker. Monsieur Bartise à votre service. Votre visite fait grand honneur à notre hôpital humble.”

Robin’s newly acquired American accent stopped any further conversation in French.

“I would like to check the layout of the theater,” said Robin, “and confirm that we have it provisionally booked for tomorrow from 11 P.M. to 4 A.M. for the next five days.”

“That is quite correct, Doctor Barker,” said the superintendent, looking down at a clipboard. “The theater is off the next corridor. Will you follow me, please?”

The theater was not dissimilar to the one the four of them had been practicing in at St. Thomas’s—two rooms with a rubber swing door dividing them. The main theater was well equipped and a nod from Robin showed Stephen that it had all the instruments he required. Robin was impressed. Although the hospital had only some 200 beds, the theater itself was of the highest standard. Rich men had obviously been ill there before.

“Will you be requiring an anesthetist or any nurses to assist you, Doctor Barker?”

“No,” said Robin. “I have my own anesthetist and staff, but I will require a tray of laparotomy instruments to be laid out every night. However, I will be able to give you at least an hour’s warning before you need make any final preparations.”

“That’s plenty of time. Will there be anything else, sir?”

“Yes, the special vehicle I ordered. Can it be ready for my driver at 12 P.M. tomorrow?”

“Yes, Doctor Barker. It will be in the small car park behind the hospital and your driver can pick up the keys from the reception.”

“Can you recommend an agency from which I can hire an experienced nurse for postoperative care?”

“Bien sûr, the Auxiliaire Médical of Nice will be only too happy to oblige—at a certain price, of course.”

“Of course,” said Robin. “And that reminds me to ask, have all your expenses been dealt with?”

“Yes, Doctor. We received a check from California last Thursday for $7,000.”

Robin had been very pleased with that touch. It had been so simple. Stephen had contacted his bank at Harvard and asked them to send a draft from the First National City Bank in San Francisco to the hospital secretary at Monte Carlo.

“Thank you for all your help, Monsieur Bartise. You have been most obliging. Now you do understand that I am not quite sure which night I shall be bringing my patient in. He’s a sick man, although he doesn’t know it, and I have to prepare him for the operation.”

“Of course, mon cher Docteur.”