Читать книгу Hector and the Secrets of Love - Francois Lelord - Страница 15

AT the end of dinner, Gunther put down his cigar and leaned over to Hector. ‘I’d like to have a quiet word with you,’ he said.

‘Whenever you like,’ said Hector.

‘We’ll wait until the others have gone,’ said Gunther.

Everyone seemed quite cheerful at dinner; they had the healthy glow of people who have been swimming in the sea and begun to get a tan, and even old François seemed very jaunty. He was chatting to a young employee of the company and making her laugh. Clara had begun a long discussion with Ethel, and Hector overheard the word ‘multi-orgasmic’, which Ethel seemed to repeat often.

And then everyone stood up and people began making their way back to their bungalows. Hector gave Clara a little wave, and she left, too. As he watched her walk through the door and glance back at him, Hector had another awful feeling, but he quickly told himself he was imagining things – he knew that Clara loved him.

The three of them, Hector, Gunther and Marie-Claire, sat facing one another in big armchairs made of tropical wood in the lounge area in Gunther’s suite. Gunther relit his cigar and the tall maître d’hôtel came in with the drinks they had ordered: cognac for Gunther and Marie-Claire, and coconut milk with a straw for Hector, who had never liked drinking after dinner. The tall maître d’hôtel left the bottle of cognac next to Gunther.

It was dark outside, and you could hear the sound of the waves, and Hector thought about the crabs that were perhaps still making love under the moonlight.

A large file lay on the low table, and Hector was surprised to read on the cover the name of somebody he knew; it was the eminent professor of Happiness Studies he had met in the country of More, or, for people who are fond of geography, America. The eminent professor was a small, skinny man with a big nose and a big tuft of white hair, who spoke very quickly and who thought even more quickly. He was carrying out a lot of complicated research to try to discover whether happiness was largely a question of character (you are happy because you have a talent for happiness) or a question of circumstances (you are happy if you have things in your life that make you happy). The eminent professor’s name was Cormorant, which was quite amusing because with his big nose and his tuft of white hair he looked a bit like the bird of the same name.

Hector liked him a lot and they often exchanged emails. Professor Cormorant told Hector things about happiness which gave him ideas about how to treat his unhappy patients. He and the professor very rarely met and there was a big age difference between them, but they had struck up a long-distance friendship.

‘You know him,’ said Gunther, taking a photo of Professor Cormorant from the file.

‘Of course.’

‘A brilliant mind.’

‘Yes.’

‘An outstanding researcher.’

‘Without a doubt.’

Gunther took a puff of his cigar, as though to calm himself. Hector had the impression he was angry.

‘He’s working for us,’ said Marie-Claire.

‘On happiness?’

‘No, on love.’

Marie-Claire explained that the big pharmaceutical company had funded some new research into love, and as Professor Cormorant was already a world expert in the study of emotions it had been easy for him to switch from happiness to love because both are combinations of complex emotions. Hector was very interested. The professor had never mentioned this new research to him.

‘There was a confidentiality clause,’ Marie-Claire explained, ‘for him and his team of researchers. They were working in collaboration with our researchers.’

Hector looked out of the corner of his eye at Gunther, who was still puffing on his cigar as though to calm himself.

‘Were you developing a new drug?’

‘Do you remember what you were saying this morning? We don’t choose who we fall in love with? We fall out of love with a person we’d like to go on loving? We’re trying to find a solution to that problem.’

Hector was stunned. ‘A drug for falling in love with whoever we want to? Or for staying in love when we want to?’

Marie-Claire didn’t answer and looked at Gunther as though asking his permission to say more.

Gunther sighed.

‘You’ve got it in one,’ he said.

Hector began to think about all the effects a drug like that might have on people’s lives. What if you gave it to someone without them knowing?

‘We’re in deep shit because of him,’ said Gunther suddenly.

It was surprising to hear Gunther swear. This time Hector was sure Gunther was very angry with Professor Cormorant.

Gunther took a swig of cognac then gestured to Marie-Claire to carry on explaining the situation.

‘Our research teams had developed three drugs that acted in three different ways. It was Professor Cormorant’s job to study their effects on the love impulses of healthy volunteers. What we didn’t know was that, aided by a chemist from his university, he had secretly modified the molecules of the drugs we had provided him with, which meant the psychological results he obtained related to those modified products, not to our original drugs.’

Hector said to himself he had always suspected the professor was a bit mad – now he knew for sure.

‘And what were the results?’

‘They were promising,’ said Marie-Claire.

Hector sensed she wouldn’t give any more away.

‘We’re in deep shit because of him,’ Gunther repeated.

You could tell from his voice the cognac had begun to take effect.

Marie-Claire explained that one day the professor had wiped all the most recent results off the computers’ hard disks and had disappeared with all the samples of the modified molecules.

‘And the chemist?’

Again Marie-Claire looked at Gunther, who nodded.

‘The chemist went mad.’

‘Mad?’

‘We think he tried to test one of the new drugs on himself. He’s completely incoherent. He’s been … committed.’

‘That arsehole,’ said Gunther, starting on his third cognac.

Marie-Claire went on to explain that this research into love had cost hundreds of millions of dollars and that they had been about to get some results when the professor had disappeared. Other rival companies were working on the same thing; it was like a multimillion-dollar race.

There was a silence. Seeing Gunther and Marie-Claire looking at him, a question occurred to Hector, the answer to which he was sure he already knew. He asked it just the same.

‘And why are you telling me all this?’

‘So you can find him,’ said Gunther. ‘We need to find Professor Cormorant.’