Turning Back the Sun(34)

The Notification of Death still lay on the desk beside Rayner”s hand, with one of Ivar”s pens beside it. Against “Cause of Death,” it read, “Cardiac Arrest.” Rayner wondered: is he really expecting me to sign it without question?

“But of course Zo? is bright …” Ivar”s smiles and laughter came and went, yet somehow made no difference to his face. It was as if his face were temporarily missing. Except that once or twice its eyes flickered down to the form, encouraging Rayner to pick up the pen.

In the end Rayner said, “We”d better get on with the inspection, then.”

“Will that be necessary?”

“I can”t sign an autopsy for a corpse I”ve never seen!”

“Of course not.” Ivar stood up. His smile was faintly disconcerted. “I”m not familiar with the procedures.” Rayner realized, with surprise, that Ivar wanted his esteem. “And the surgeon is absent at the moment.”

He led the way down a short passage and opened an iron door. The Intelligence lieutenant materialized behind them. Rayner found himself in a room which must once have been a cell. It reeked of chlorine. The body lay on a table in a linen sack. The lieutenant untied and eased back the cloth from the head and shoulders. “He died about twelve hours ago.”

The man was no more than forty-five years old. His closed eyes made two dark-lashed crescents on his flat face. From the high cheekbones his features tapered to the natives” soft mouth and a tiny, withdrawn chin. It was an oddly humorous face, rather delicate. Its lines of pain—if that is what they had been—were all smoothed away. At any moment, it seemed, the eyes might fly open and the mouth crinkle into laughter.

Rayner pulled the sack from the naked body. The lieutenant fidgeted on the far side. Ivar stood behind Rayner, with the Notification in his hand. Rayner recognized no obvious sign of heart failure—the feet were unswollen—and there was no incision. He began to feel angry. How this native had died had been decided irrelevant. As for him, he was being enrolled as the army”s pawn.

He asked, “How did the surgeon arrive at his diagnosis?”

The lieutenant answered smoothly, “I”m not sure.” Ivar said, “The man collapsed in his cell early in the night.”

It was difficult to detect bruising on the dark skin, but it appeared to Rayner that the whole region beneath the rib cage was heavily contused. A discoloration blacker than the natural skin tone spread unevenly down to the man”s crotch. It looked as if he had been systematically hit.

“How did this happen?”

For an instant the lieutenant looked confused, then his gaze followed Rayner”s finger and he stooped down to stare. He said, “He got into a fight with another prisoner.” But when Rayner looked at the lieutenant the watchful eyes and ambiguous lips no longer expected to be believed. They seemed simply to be saying, Even if you don”t cooperate, we”ll do as we”ve decided.

Then, when Rayner ran his hands over the native”s skull, he encountered beneath the thick hair a sudden bulge. The skin was almost unbroken, but the tissue had thickened into a hard swelling ten centimeters across. And the surgeon had not even shaved his head.

Rayner straightened up. On either side, Ivar and the lieutenant had stiffened into silence. He said, “I thought your man had performed an autopsy.”

“He didn”t think it necessary,” the lieutenant said.

The Notification of Death rustled in Ivar”s hand, but his smile had faded back into an expression of plastic concern. Rayner felt suddenly tired. If he didn”t sign the form, it would make no difference. They would merely forge the papers, or suppress the death altogether. On the bare table the native”s flared nostrils and soft mouth kept their hint of whimsical humor. But the frail-looking body accused him. He said: “This needs a proper postmortem —something I”m not qualified to carry out. The abdominal bruising could mean a ruptured spleen or several other causes of death. Most likely, in my opinion, he died from a fractured skull. So we need X-rays.”

Ivar said, “That won”t be possible.”

It was futile, Rayner knew, to argue. He said, “Then there”s nothing more I can do.” He turned and opened the door behind him.

Then Ivar touched his forearm, smiling, with the familiar gesture which claimed old friendship, and handed him the Notification of Death form. For a moment the flagrancy of this so astonished Rayner that he took it. But in his erupting anger the treatment of the native and of himself were inextricably joined. He laid the form on the table beside the corpse”s feet, and saw his pen tremble as it wrote in thick, jagged words: “Cause of death: Cerebral contusion consequent on a head wound.”

Ivar took the form, and his smile vanished. The lieutenant was dragging the linen sack back over the body. Ivar said, “You”re making things more difficult for us.”

“You”ve made them impossible for me!”

Ivar began pacing back and forth in front of him, the few steps which the cramped room allowed. He appeared to be contemplating something, but perhaps just hated to concede defeat in front of the lieutenant, who was tying the neck of the bag in a neat double bow. It was only after the subaltern had left, closing the door which Rayner had opened, that Ivar said, “I hoped at a time like this you would realize there was something more important than medical etiquette.”