The Unbegotten Read online

  ‘What name?’ Maddern demanded, more to gain time to think than because he hadn’t heard.

  ‘She is a Sue or Susan,’ the man repeated in his curiously soft, persuasive voice. ‘And Dr. Palfrey is with you, also.’

  ‘Supposing he is.’ Maddern began to feel angry.

  ‘Do not allow Palfrey to talk to Susan,’ the speaker ordered. It was a threat or a warning, in spite of the quiet voice and precise words. ‘Do you understand that? She is not to talk to Dr. Palfrey, nor is she to go away with him. That is most important.’

  He held on for a few moments, and his breathing sounded over the wire; it was almost as if he were having difficulty in drawing breath. Then there came the sound of the receiver being hung up, very gently, and the line went dead. At first, Maddern hardly realised that, he was so incensed. And just when he had thought he was calmer! How dare any man order him about? My God, if the caller were here. . .

  Maddern put the receiver down slowly and stood rigid for a few moments, until anger subsided. Then he went out by the front door and stood watching the idyllic scene: the last roses, fading, but still lovely. The leaves of trees already touched with the yellows and browns of autumn promise. It was a perfect day, the tall trees in the casde grounds, beech, elm and birch massed against the sky. As he watched, he heard the sharp tap, tap, of a woodpecker’s beak.

  At last, Maddern turned, closed the door, and went in to Palfrey. Palfrey lay comfortably, at full length. His head moved but he did not stir until Maddern stepped in front of him. His eyes were open but drowsy with sleep.

  ‘Hallo,’ he murmured. ‘I must have dropped off.’

  ‘Do you good,’ said Maddern. ‘How much rest do you get?’

  ‘Not enough, doctor!’ Palfrey sat up cautiously then turned his head experimentally in each direction. His face brightened. ‘My head’s clearer,’ he said, with relief. ‘You are a worker of miracles. Thank you.’ Now he sat upright as Maddern leaned against a seventeenth-century oak coffer on which stood a well-polished copper kettle. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I had a telephone call from a stranger just now warning me not to allow you to question the girl, Sue or Susan, or to take her away,’ Maddern told him. ‘And I didn’t like it much.’

  ‘No,’ said Palfrey. ‘You wouldn’t.’

  ‘Palfrey.’ Maddern’s voice became sharp. ‘I want to know more about this affair. I’m personally involved, now. I want to know what I’m involved in.’

  ‘Yes,’ Palfrey said, in the same tone as he had just said,

  ‘No.’ He shifted his position and went on, ‘I’ll tell you soon. But first, how mad do you get?’

  ‘What has that to do with it?’ Maddern asked roughly.

  ‘A great deal. You could be an enormous help to me, but any man who can’t control his temper would be less help than hindrance. Quite recently I was involved in a case when a man who had lived a lonely life after a happy marriage helped me. He was extremely able and efficient. But then, he got angry rather than mad.’

  ‘I can control myself,’ Maddern retorted, stiffly. ‘I’m not at all sure I want to help you. I shouldn’t worry about that too soon.’

  Palfrey smiled, very gently.

  ‘You’ll want to help,’ he said, and stretched out a hand as if in supplication. ‘No, don’t take umbrage at everything I say. We’ll never get anywhere if you do.’

  Maddern snapped, ‘We won’t get anywhere if you don’t come to the point.’

  It was far too ill-mannered, of course. He was venting his anger on Palfrey who had perhaps done the least to deserve it. He didn’t fully understand himself, and yet in a way he was not surprised. He felt irritated much of the time but usually kept his moods to himself. He would feel like flaring up at a patient or a nurse, or at Mrs. Witherspoon, but usually retained enough control to suppress the impulse. Since he had met this Palfrey, he had not been able to keep so tight a hold on himself. He needed no telling that helping the delivery of the last child to be born in Middlecombe had upset him badly, and the visit of Palfrey and the Special Branch police had further disturbed him.

  Palfrey, expressionless, said, ‘No, it won’t. The point is that there are three areas of Great Britain where the population rate has come to a stop, and all animal life including human appears in danger. It’s possible that there are other areas of the world where the same thing is true, including regions from which we might normally never hear. In other places it would be regarded as a happy natural phenomenon and not cause alarm. All I know is that we don’t yet know the explanation and we have to find it. Didn’t you have a flash idea at the hospital this morning?’

  ‘Yes,’ Maddern admitted.

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘The possibility that someone is using this area as an experimental one for controlling population.’

  ‘Ah,’ breathed Palfrey. ‘Ah. That’s my fear, too.’

  ‘Why the devil don’t you find out?’

  ‘I only started trying to a week ago,’ said Palfrey.

  Maddern hitched himself up on the coffer, heavily.

  ‘What took you so long?’

  ‘That’s another good question, although you’ve already had the answer. Reports didn’t reach a high enough authority earlier.’

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ Maddern retorted flatly.

  ‘Nevertheless, it’s perfectly true. When did you first begin to worry?’

  ‘Oh, months ago.’

  ‘Months? Nine, eight, seven, six—’ Palfrey broke off. Now his face had a hawk-like look as if he had been touched with anger, too.

  ‘About five, I suppose.’

  ‘What took you so long?’

  ‘We’ve had long periods during which there has been a big drop in the birthrate before,’ Maddern answered. ‘This isn’t a heavily populated area. I put it down to the over-use of the pill, which came late here, and the fact that a large proportion of our young people go to the big cities and some women attend the visiting clinics. It really wasn’t more than three months ago that I began to worry.’

  ‘And when you began to worry, what did you do?’ asked Palfrey.

  ‘Talked to some of my colleagues.’

  ‘Were they worried, too?’

  ‘Some of them were, but no one saw anything sinister in it—just peculiar.’

  ‘Ah. How long was it before you all began to worry?’

  ‘I suppose, two months,’ said Maddern.

  Oddly, this sharp form of interrogation close to a cross- examination did not worry him. He saw what Palfrey was getting at and understood why the other man, in turn, should feel angry. This time Palfrey paused for a few moments before going on, ‘And what did you do then?’

  ‘We called a meeting—oh, I know, I know,’ Maddern went on, slipping off the coffer and beginning to pace the room. He chose to walk where the oak beams were at their highest, so hardly had to bend his head. ‘It wasn’t until two months ago that we sent a report to the Western branch of the Hospital Board and to the General Medical Council. We dallied. Didn’t want to face up to the facts of the situation. Did the doctors in the other areas do the same?’

  ‘Yes,’ answered Palfrey.

  ‘And now you get blamed for delay!’ Maddern stood straight in front of Palfrey, and went on with real feeling, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Palfrey said. ‘It’s just not important now.’

  ‘But it’s true.’

  ‘Yes, it’s true,’ said Palfrey. ‘The local doctors dithered and the medical and hospital boards procrastinated, so it’s only a matter of ten days since we had any information at all. We had unofficial reports that something odd was happening. I went to the place in Wales first. Their last newborn was born eight days ago.’

  ‘Good God!’ exclaimed Maddern.


  ‘And when I began to enquire I ran into trouble,’ went on Palfrey.

  ‘Such as broken heads?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ Palfrey answered slowly. ‘There is some kind of invisible force—please don’t laugh—which exerts pressure at awkward times. I was once pushed over a cliff when no one at all was in sight. Another time I was pushed in front of a moving car. I don’t yet know the nature of this force but I think I know its significance,’ Palfrey added.

  ‘You were recognised, and someone didn’t want you to investigate,’ remarked Maddern. ‘I—ah—I thought Z5 was a very large international organisation. I didn’t think you took an active part in the sense of being a leg-man, or—’ Maddern broke off. ‘Sorry. I don’t mean to be insulting. But isn’t this all rather odd?’

  ‘Very,’ agreed Palfrey. ‘Although the picture of me sitting in an electronically controlled operations room in London and keeping in touch by remote control isn’t exactly a true picture, either. I came here myself because four Z5 agents who were sent here a week ago all died in a car which went out of control. The driver was so expert that loss of control must have been induced; perhaps by this unidentified force. The point is, there comes a time when you can’t let other men die for you. I’m here in person because I hope to draw the murderer’s fire—or the force itself. I know one thing,’ Palfrey went on, in a cold voice. ‘A young woman, much like the Sue you know and dressed in the same way, was near the scene every time.’

  It was on the tip of Maddern’s tongue to say ‘I don’t believe it,’ but he checked himself. They stayed as they were, Maddern standing, Palfrey looking up at him. Maddern was seeing Sue’s lovely elfin face in his mind’s eye.

  Chapter Six

  THE SEARCH

  Palfrey looked up into the other man’s face, and studied it feature by feature. Maddern was a surprise in many ways, not least in his appearance. He was too plump and too pale but had fine brown eyes and a well-shaped mouth even if his chin did recede so much that it was lost in the fleshy jowl. The way he had acted at the hospital and the way he had behaved here showed him unmistakably for a man of rare decisiveness and exceptional skill. He undoubtedly had a chip on his shoulder, and he was unhappy chiefly because he was lonely.

  He, Palfrey, understood loneliness only too well.

  What Palfrey most liked about Maddern was his quickness of mind, coupled with his shrewdness. He reached most conclusions much faster than most men, seemed capable of seeing through all the incidental trivia to the heart of a problem or a situation.

  He asked, ‘Had you seen Susan before?’

  ‘I saw her in my garden, climbing an apple tree, for the first time,’ Maddern answered.

  ‘Have you ever caught sight of her before that?’

  ‘I don’t understand you.’

  ‘Have you caught a passing glimpse of her in Middlecombe, for instance?’

  ‘No,’ answered Maddern flatly. ‘What are you wondering about? Whether she’s been here for some time or whether she came because you were here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It looks as if she came just for you or your men,’ said Maddern. ‘Are you sure she was involved in the death of your agents?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How can you be?’ demanded Maddern, sceptically.

  ‘She’s very lovely, isn’t she,’ said Palfrey. ‘It’s hard to believe that anyone like her could hate and kill. Isn’t that in your mind?’

  ‘She is sick,’ Maddern stated, simply.

  ‘I think you’re right. But that doesn’t make her any the less dangerous.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ agreed Maddern. ‘I saw her shoot at the men in the garden. She is murderously inclined all right, and from the way she behaved I would say she is full of hate. And there’s hysteria with it, and I suspect she’s psychopathic. Sick, as I say. She needs to have treatment and she needs to be kept under observation. However, that doesn’t answer my question. How can you be sure she was involved?’

  ‘I am absolutely sure after what has happened here,’ Palfrey answered. He hesitated before going on, ‘We had reports of two or three young women arriving in the West Country by a form of rocket. At first we were inclined to dismiss the story as another version of the flying saucer legend, but we investigated. Two of my agents were already in the area, finding out what they could about the barrenness. I assigned them to the rocket women. They found three—the one they called Sue and two others. Each girl, when approached, went berserk: you saw Sue go berserk today. They fought off my agents who were taken completely by surprise.’ Palfrey paused again, looking very sombre; when he went on, Maddern sensed and could understand the fear in him. ‘In her rage one of them said that the whole human race would die out.’

  Maddern ejaculated, ‘My God.’

  ‘Yes,’ Palfrey said, sombrely. ‘Well, the “accidents” followed, this curious invisible pressure or force. And once I came down here the attacks were stepped up. I’ve come to believe the girls and the way they reached the area means that they see me as a threat to whoever is responsible for the barrenness. The message from your mysterious man suggests the same thing. But—’ Palfrey broke off.

  ‘What?’ asked Maddern, after what seemed an interminable time.

  ‘No one who knows me or Z5 could possibly expect the warning to have any effect. It was almost naive.’

  ‘I see what you mean,’ Maddern said gruffly. ‘And I see why you can’t take risks with Sue. She’s your one clue, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes,’ Palfrey answered. ‘The one clue. Well!’ He became more brisk as he asked, ‘How long will she be under sedation?’

  ‘Probably another four or five hours.’

  ‘What exactly did this man on the telephone say?’

  ‘He told me not to allow you to talk to her. And he said that she mustn’t go away with you.’

  ‘Is that really all he said?’

  ‘Yes. There was no overt threat, only an implied one. Do you know the man?’

  ‘No,’ answered Palfrey. ‘It’s the first time anyone has come into the open, if we can call that coming into the open, except for the girls. If you’d describe exactly what happened, from the moment he started to speak, I would be grateful.’

  Maddern felt a little impatient but controlled himself and described precisely how the man had spoken, how he had sounded, and he remembered every word. When he finished, Palfrey said musingly, ‘It sounds to me as if he might have been playing for time, after being shaken by Sue’s capture. It’s a remarkable thing,’ he added, ‘but men who think they have irresistible power in their hands become so out of touch with reality, that whenever they run up against effective opposition or a defeat, they lose their heads.’

  ‘You make it sound as if such men are two-a-penny,’ Maddern remarked. ‘The question is, what are you going to do?’

  ‘I know what I would like to do,’ said Palfrey.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Keep her here.’

  ‘What good would that do?’

  ‘You could begin to treat her when she came round.’

  ‘I’m no psychiatrist.’

  ‘You aren’t far off,’ Palfrey said. ‘Is there a good psychiatrist in Middlecombe?’

  Maddern hesitated, now being forced to think of two things at once, and wanting to give all his attention to the girl. He was fascinated by her. Even now it was hard to believe that a girl so delicate, so fragile-looking, could fight like a wildcat. He wanted to find out more about her, wanted to help her. This was simply part of his nature; he was a doctor and a healer by instinct and character as well as by training, but there was something more than that in his attitude towards this girl whom he did not know.

  ‘Yes,’ he said at last. ‘Congleton.’

  ‘Would he help?’ asked Palfrey.

 
Maddern considered the question and then answered, ‘You mean, would he take personal risks for a patient?’

  Palfrey actually laughed.

  ‘You go devastatingly straight to the point. Yes. Would he?’

  ‘I should think so,’ answered Maddern. ‘I’d have to explain this particular risk.’

  ‘I wouldn’t object,’ Palfrey said. ‘Do you yourself fully understand it?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ answered Maddern, without hesitation. ‘I might be pushed under a tractor by this invisible force any time!’

  He laughed, in turn. ‘I think that’s one of my chief troubles, I never have a chance to take a risk, and I’m a pioneer by nature!’

  He stood very close to Palfrey, looking down intently, while Palfrey returned his gaze with the same intentness. He looked much better. The pain and the weariness had gone from his eyes, and his cheeks had regained their healthy tan.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Do I understand that you think that there is a man, or there are men, who have turned this and two other areas barren? That there are no children in the womb and so, in these parts of the world at least, there could be a gradual end of life?’

  ‘It could happen.’

  ‘And a man, a human being, is responsible?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘And he could spread the barrenness throughout the land?’

  ‘Obviously there is danger that he could,’ Palfrey said. ‘Until we find who is doing it, and how we don’t know for sure.’

  ‘If this is done by human agency, then someone has the power to control the birthrate. So, he can exert absolute control over man’s destiny.’ Maddern backed off a foot or two but did not look away. ‘Is that what you mean?’

  It was exactly what Palfrey meant and feared; it could not have been put more succinctly. This man had a mind of rare quality, rare positiveness. It was almost wrong to risk losing it in the present circumstances. There was great intentness in Maddern, too; his whole body seemed to be on edge.

  ‘Yes,’ Palfrey said, at last. ‘That is exactly what I mean.’