Chez Max (15 page)

And suddenly, as if under all that pressure a curtain had been drawn aside or a door had swung open, I saw the way out. Or rather, I saw how things were. Or how they could have been. Because how could he have guessed that I'd known the truth about him since yesterday, that the Hallsund story had put me on his trail? Outwardly, everything was just fine. I hadn't said a word to give myself away. I just had to keep calm and find my way out of this fix.

Raising my head, I said in a reasonably firm voice, ‘The TFSP got in touch with me directly after our conversation yesterday. It turned out that they were shadowing the illegals mainly because of you, kind of on behalf of Self- Protection. Self-Protection wants to know about some kind of offence that can be pinned on you, so they'll have leverage against you.'

‘Oh yes? What kind of offence?'

‘Well… they don't seem to know precisely what themselves. But I think they suspect you of letting illegals go now and then. Or maybe even of something more serious.'

‘Something more serious?'

‘Well, perhaps of hiding the Iranians yourself. I mean…' I paused for a moment, and felt that I was getting myself better under control all the time. ‘Remember, what you say about the state of the world is known in-house, and of course Self-Protection know about it too. That's why they want something that they can hold against you. To make sure you keep quiet in future. For instance, when you said in the canteen the other day that the TFSP posted firing squads by the Fence – that upset certain people quite a lot.'

Chen shrugged his shoulders. As he did so, I registered the fact that his smile had disappeared. He was even looking thoughtful. For the first time since he'd turned up I felt my tension relax a little, and simultaneously I had to work hard to hide the hatred rising in me. This must be something like the way the Border officials had felt about Hallsund when, in spite of knowing that he was fooling them and in spite of the names he called them, they had no option but to keep a civil tongue in their heads and crawl to him.

‘At least it's not too far-fetched to suppose, in that connection, that you sometimes follow up your words with deeds.'

‘Hmhm. Why did you call the Localization Office?'

‘Well, I thought if they were after you, they'd probably be bugging your phone.' I had been expecting that question, and secretly I felt a little triumphant. ‘Really, Chen, you must believe me. Yesterday evening I just wanted to make sure there was nothing in the TFSP's suspicions. And of course there wasn't. I saw you walking home with your girlfriend. If you were really involved with hiding the illegals, then…' I let the sentence trail off, unfinished.

‘You mean I'd have chased off in panic to do something?'

‘Well… after you'd heard about the surveillance from me, that would have been the obvious reaction.'

Chen frowned, then pushed himself away from the doorframe and began slowly walking up and down the room. As he did so he looked around attentively, noticing what was on my desk, looking at the shelves, reading the titles of books and the labelling of files, leafing through papers, even bending down to look in the bottom compartments of the shelving unit.

I made an effort to appear mildly annoyed by this invasion of my private space. But I was thinking: he doesn't know what to do next! He's just putting on an investigator's usual show. That's the only thing he can think of now.

Finally he stopped in the middle of the room, hands back in his trouser pockets – although the pose didn't look so casual now, it was more as if he didn't know what to do with his hands – turned to me and said, ‘There's something wrong there.'

I looked attentive and injected sympathy into my voice. ‘But Chen – please don't worry. It must have occurred to you that you're a thorn in Self-Protection's side. Well?' I leaned towards him. ‘We'll get this sorted out between us. After all, I'm the best witness that there's no substance in such suspicions. On the contrary: you did the one right and proper thing – just as we'd expect from Super-Chen. You kept watch on the illegals in their hideout so that you could find the people-smugglers who got them in – full stop. And even if you
had
intended to let the illegals go… well, it's an open secret that you sometimes turn a blind eye to those who can be regarded as social misfits rather than criminals. And let me tell you something: above all, there's your high reputation at the Ashcroft agency. Imagine if you were only Chen the criminal-catching machine! No, you still have a heart in spite of all your success, that's what people admire in you – and if I may say so, it's what I in particular admire in you.'

I heaved a small sigh and looked at him with deep emotion, as if I hoped with all my heart that I had lifted a little of the burden of anxiety from his shoulders.

Chen was looking disgusted, but I was used to that. Then he took one hand out of his trouser pocket and rubbed his eyes. When he took the hand away his expression was weary and somehow clouded.

‘There's something wrong there,' he repeated. ‘And please stop spewing all that garbage. You're only putting a strain on your imagination, and when you don't have much of some commodity you want to use it sparingly. Anyway, I don't believe a word of what you said. You were following me yesterday, you were going to follow me again today, and I assume you thought you could turn the refugees into a rope to hang me with. I mean, you're well known for what I might call the hole-and-corner manner of your Ashcroft operations: friends, neighbours, your Ashcroft partner – it's a wonder you haven't grassed on any of your own staff yet. I'm sure one of them snaffles a rump steak from time to time.'

He was still looking wearily at me, and perhaps it was that expression in his eyes, but anyway, I wasn't afraid of him any more. And at bottom what he said was only the abuse I was accustomed to hearing from Chen. If he'd really guessed what I knew about him, his approach would have been different. After all, everyone at Ashcroft knew he didn't shrink from physical violence in an argument. He'd twice set about colleagues, and the only thing that saved him had been witnesses saying those colleagues had been indulging in racist language. For what that was worth. Just think of all the comparisons with Hitler and the Gestapo that I'd had to put up with from him over the years…

And who was he to say I had no imagination? Chen's assessments were usually not entirely random, but in this case… well, if he'd had the faintest idea how much imagination I could summon up! Imagination had led me to the truth about him!

No doubt about it: Chen was down and out for the count. Which didn't necessarily mean he might not get up again quickly; I never knew with Chen. He might think of some way to corner me any moment. I had to get him out of my apartment.

In the same emotional tone as before, I said, ‘I'm really sorry you think of me like that. I think we ought to have a serious talk about our partnership as soon as possible. We can't go on like this. However,' I said, looking at my watch, ‘I have to get down to the restaurant for when we start serving lunch.' And although I hadn't thought of it before – it seemed obvious, or so I thought, that I ought to offer him some inducement to leave – I suggested, ‘Why don't you come back here after three or thereabouts? I'll bring us up something nice to eat, and we'll try to settle all our misunderstandings at our leisure, how about that?' I smiled and raised my hands, shrugging, in an ironically powerless gesture. ‘I mean, we're still working partners, aren't we?'

I didn't often manage to take Chen by surprise, but I'd obviously done it this time. He was staring at me incredulously.

‘And by the way,' I went on blithely, ‘I was going to ask you to take a look at our inner courtyard some time anyway. We want to put some attractive climbing plants in, and I thought that as a gardener you might be able to help us. I know my request may come as a bit of a surprise just now, but…'

I was smiling again. Not a shred of malice in my head, a clear conscience, anxious to preserve harmony – good old simple-minded Max. I thought I could read Chen's thoughts in his face.

After a brief pause, he said, ‘I hope you know what you're doing.'

‘I know I'd like to get everything straightened out between us again.'

He shook his head. ‘You're planning something, my dear Max. I've been in the business long enough to sense that. I really meant to go to Youssef now and tell him that my partner is spying on me. But don't worry, there's time enough for that, after all.' He cast me a fierce, challenging glance. ‘First of all, I'd like to know if you're really dangerous. That would be something new – good old Max!'

‘Dangerous…' What an absurd suspicion. And from Chen of all people! It was no effort for me to stare at him as if he were talking utter nonsense.

‘Yes, well.' Chen dismissed it. ‘See you later then, if you like. But think hard about what you're going to say to me about yesterday evening. I've never turned in a colleague yet, and to be honest I'd hate to do it, even with you. However, I have to know the truth. And you can leave out all that nonsense about wanting to make sure I was innocent.'

He turned to the corridor and went a few steps before turning round once more. ‘Oh, and by the way, it
is
farfetched to say I follow up my words with deeds. I'm much too comfortably off for that, probably too cowardly too. But I'm not blind or stupid, I'm not entirely cynical either. Above all, however, I'm an Ashcroft man. And if I do now and then let a social misfit go, as you put it, that doesn't mean I'd give any potential criminal a chance.' He nodded to me. ‘Don't forget that.'

I listened to him walking away, opening the door of the apartment and closing it behind him. His footsteps echoed on the stairs. For a while I waited in anxious expectation of hearing those footsteps turn back again. At last I sank back in my chair, exhausted, and stretched my legs.

Above all, however, I'm an Ashcroft man…
what a joke! The best evidence that he was
not
an Ashcroft man, but was hiding something, lay in that very sentence. Since when did Chen feel he had to explain himself to me?
I'm much too comfortably off for that, probably too cowardly too.
Chen as a law-abiding little cog in the wheel, nothing more than a ‘good cop' letting petty criminals off… had he forgotten that I'd heard him every week for years emptying buckets full of hatred and criticism over our world? And now, all of a sudden:
That doesn't mean I'd give a potential criminal a chance.
Oh no? Even if I was by some chance doing him an injustice with my Hallsund comparison and he truly had no connection with any suicide bombers – what, might I ask, was he but a potential terrorist himself, with his corrosive, coarse talk? He'd be the perfect example of someone who so far had lacked only the right opportunity.

But of course he
hadn't
lacked it. For one thing was certain: Chen would never have set things up to get into my apartment just to demand an explanation of why I'd been shadowing him. A man with a clear conscience wasn't bothered by a thing like that. And if he
was
bothered, why hadn't he gone straight to Youssef? That's what I'd have done in his place. And no doubt he hated me as much as I hated him. That meant he couldn't go to Youssef, and what he said just now had been an empty threat. Could I go to Youssef myself?

Not yet, I thought as I rose and went into the kitchen to pour myself a cognac, but maybe this evening. I'd simply tell Chen to his face, over our late lunch, what I thought, and I'd have a recorder running, and then we'd see! This time it was up to me to catch him on the hop. Today was by no means over yet.

I drained the glass, went into my bedroom and changed the coverall and boots for a pale brown suit and beige suede shoes. I planted a bug on myself in the tool room.

When I appeared in Chez Max a moment later, Ravelli greeted me with, ‘Hi, boss! Has the pretty chicken flown the coop?'

‘She's still preening her feathers, Ravelli. Set two good servings of that sausage and sauerkraut aside, would you?'

 

Just before two I saw the last customers off. Half an hour later the dining-room was cleared and swept, and the dishes were in the dishwasher.

I was sitting at a table near the glazed door that led to the courtyard, drinking a glass of white wine and wondering how best to confront Chen with what I knew. Suppose he lost control of himself? Suppose he physically attacked me? Suppose he saw nothing for it but to shut me up, as they say? There were a number of things in the dining room – chairs, vases, candlesticks – that could be used as blunt instruments. I saw him before me, I could hear what he'd say: ‘So you've thought far enough to pinpoint me as a terrorist – but not far enough to work out that, to a terrorist, one victim more or less probably doesn't mean much. You don't think I'm going to let you simply walk out of here and wreck my entire organisation, do you?'

And then what? Chen was ten years younger than me, and a good deal stronger and quicker off the mark.

Alexi came out of the kitchen with a tea-towel, stopped by the bar, dried his hands and said, ‘All done and dusted, boss. Would you like me to come in an hour early this evening? Then we could get that ivy out of the way before we start serving dinner.'

I hesitated. ‘No, Alexi, it can wait until tomorrow.'

‘Okay.' He tapped his forehead. ‘See you later, and have a nice afternoon.'

‘Thanks, Alexi. You too.'

After he'd left, I went to close the front door, took out my telephone and called Chen.

‘Yes?'

‘Just calling to say lunch is ready.'

‘What luck. Here I was even boasting to everyone: my partner wants to wring my neck, but first he'll wine and dine me at the incomparable Chez Max. Well, I know where my priorities lie.'