“Knife wound.”
“Where?”
“Here in Paris. About an hour ago, I guess. And then I fell into the Seine.”
She shook her head. “Monsieur, I do not know what you do for a living, and I do not want to know. But whatever it is, I think you should find some other type of job.”
Court laughed a little, setting fire to the stab wound. “My skill set is not conducive to honest work.”
“I’m sorry. I do not understand these words.”
“Never mind. Justine, we can stanch the knife wound with this bandage, more or less, but if I don’t get some blood in me, I’ll pass out.”
“The clinic is close by, but it is closed.”
“We’re going to open it,” Court said. “Let’s go. I need to be on the move in under an hour.”
Justine had been wrapping a compression bandage tight around Court’s waist to hold the thick square of gauze she’d placed over the knife wound. “Move? You don’t need to move at all! For days. Do you not understand how badly injured you are?”
“Youdon’t understand. I have someplace I have to be! I just have to get patched up so I can leave!”
She clenched her teeth, and her eyes widened. “Monsieur, I am no doctor, but I can promise you there is no place you need to be right now other than in medical care. You could die within zee hour.”
“I’ll be okay. I have to be.”
Justine knelt down, unlocked a low cabinet, and began pulling equipment from it. “That is impossible! If we give you a transfusion, zee blood will just leak out of your stomach if you move. You need stitches. When you get the stitches they will just break if you try to move.”
Court thought it over. He looked down to his wrist-watch to find it was three a.m. “I... I need to get to Bayeux, up in Normandy.”
“Tonight? Are you crazy?”
“It’s life or death, Justine.”
“Yes,yourdeath, monsieur.”
Court pulled Maurice’s envelope of cash from his pocket. It was soaked, but it was a miracle it had survived the river, as had his car keys. He handed the soggy envelope to Justine. “How much is it?” he asked as she looked through it.
Her eyes returned to his. “It’s a lot.”
“It’s all yours. Just help me get to Bayeux before eight a.m.”
“If you can’t even drive a car, what do you expect to do when you get there?”
“I can drive the car, but I need you to stitch me up and bandage me while I drive. We can do the transfusion on the way.”
She stood slowly. Said each word alone. “Sutures? In, zee, car?”
Court nodded.
“While you drive zee car?”
“Yes.”
She muttered something in French that Court did not understand. He picked up the word fordogsand figured she was saying it was due to moments like these that she preferred her patients to be the four-legged variety.
She tied the bandages around his waist and helped him put his wet dress shirt back over his shoulders. She did not look up from her work as she spoke. “What is going on in Bayeux early on a Sunday morning that you absolutely cannot miss?”
“Would you believe me if I told you I was singing in the church choir?”
