Papillon (55 page)

“You want me to be killed? Why are you taking away my knife? I guess you realize you’re sending me to my grave?” Nobody answered, not the guards or the Arab turnkeys. They opened the door and I entered our
case
. “I can’t see a thing. Why only one lamp?”

“Papi, come here.” Grandet pulled me by the sleeve. The room was strangely quiet, as if something serious had just happened or was about to.

“I don’t have my knife. They took it away from me at the door.”

“You won’t need it tonight.”

“Why?”

“The Armenian and his friend are in the can.”

“What are they doing there?”

“They’re dead.”

“Who did it?”

“Me.”

“That was fast work. What about the others?”

“There are still four left in their
gourbi
. Paulo gave me his word he wouldn’t do anything until he’d talked to you.”

“Give me a knife.”

“Take mine. I’ll stay here.”

I went over to their
gourbi
. My eyes were now used to the semi-darkness. I finally made out the group. They were standing glued to each other in front of their hammocks.

“Paulo, you wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes.”

“What do you want?”

Prudently I left a good four feet between us. The knife was open inside my left sleeve and its handle was well cradled in the hollow of my hand.

Paulo said, “I wanted to say I think your friend has had his revenge. You lost your closest friend; we’ve lost two. In my opinion that’s enough. What do you say?”

“Paulo, I’ll consider your offer. What we could do, if you agree, is call off any action between our two
gourbis
for the next week. During that time we can consider what to do next. Is that all right with you?”

“Yes.”

I left.

“What did he say?”

“They think Matthieu got his revenge with the death of the Armenian and Sans-Souci.”

“No,” Galgani said.

Grandet didn’t speak. Jean Castelli and Louis Gravon agreed to the peace treaty. “What do you think, Papi?”

“In the first place, who killed Matthieu? The Armenian, right? I suggested an agreement. I gave my word and they gave theirs that, for the next week, nobody moves.”

“Don’t you want to avenge Matthieu?” Galgani asked.

“Look,
mec
, Matthieu has been avenged enough. Two men died for him. Why kill still more?”

“Were they in on it or not? That’s what we have to find out.”

“Excuse me, but good night everybody. I’ve got to get some sleep.”

Or, at least, I needed to be alone. As I stretched out on my hammock, I felt a hand slide over me and gently remove the knife. A voice whispered, “Try to sleep, Papi, and don’t worry. We’re taking turns keeping watch.”

There was no real motive behind my friend’s brutal murder. The Armenian had killed him because Matthieu had made him pay up a hundred and seventy francs for a poker hand. And the son of a bitch had felt humiliated because he had to do it in front of thirty or forty players. Given the squeeze by Matthieu and Grandet, he had to cough up. So, like a coward, he killed Matthieu, a born adventurer with his life before him. It was a heavy blow for me, and my only satisfaction was that his murderer had survived him by only a few hours. But it wasn’t much.

With the speed of a champion fencer, Grandet had plunged his knife into their throats before they found time to protect themselves. The place where they fell must be damn bloody, I thought to myself. Then I wondered who had dragged them into the toilets. But I didn’t want to ask. Behind closed lids I saw the sun go down again, tragically purple and red, casting its last rays on that Dantesque scene—the sharks fighting over my friend … the mutilated torso swaying toward the boat.... So it was true that the bell summoned the sharks and those bastards knew dinner was ready when the bell rang.... I saw again the dozens of fins, flashing a dull silver, scooting like submarines around and around.... There must have been over a hundred.

It was all over for my friend; he had come to the end of the road of the condemned.

To die for nothing at forty! My poor old buddy. I couldn’t stand it here any more. I didn’t care if the sharks ate me so long as I was trying for my freedom. There’d be no flour sacks, no rock, no rope. No spectators either, no convicts, no guards. And no bell. If I had to get eaten—well, let them eat me alive, fighting the elements on the way to Grande Terre.

I’m through, I told myself. No more overplanned
cavales
. Just Diable, two sacks of coconuts, and off into the arms of fate.

After all, it was only a matter of physical endurance. Forty-eight to sixty hours. Would that long immersion, plus the muscular effort to stay upright on the coconuts, end by paralyzing my legs? If I had a chance to go to Diable, I’d experiment with it. At all costs, I must get off Royale and go to Diable. After that we’d see.

“Are you asleep, Papi?”

“No.”

“Want some coffee?”

“If you do.” I sat up in my hammock and took the mug of hot coffee and the lighted Gauloise Grandet handed me.

“What time is it?”

“One o’clock. I started my watch at midnight, but since you were thrashing around, I figured you weren’t asleep.”

“You were right. Matthieu’s death really hit me, but his burial and the sharks were even worse. That was horrible.”

“I don’t want to hear about it, Papi. I can imagine what it was like. You shouldn’t have gone.”

“I thought the story about the bell was so much crap. And I thought the wire around the rock would keep the sharks from reaching him on the way down. Poor Matthieu. PU see that ghastly scene for the rest of my life. Tell me, Grandet, how did you manage to rub those two out so fast?”

“I was at the end of the island, fitting an iron door in the butcher shop, when I heard they’d killed Matthieu. It was noon. Instead of going up to camp, I went to the shop, pretending I needed to get something for the door. I was able to slip a double-edged dagger into a yard-long tube. The handle of the dagger and the tube were both hollow. I carried the tube back to camp at five. The guard asked me what it was for, and I told him that the wooden bar of my hammock was broken and I was going to replace it with the tube. It was still daylight when I entered our room, so I left it in the washhouse. I went and got it before roll call, when it was beginning to get dark. The Armenian and Sans-Souci were standing in front of their hammocks, with Paulo a little behind. You know, Jean Castelli and Louis Gravon are brave men, but they’re getting old and can’t move fast enough for that kind of close infighting.

“I wanted to have it done before you got back so you wouldn’t be involved. With your record, if things didn’t work out right, you’d get the maximum. Jean put out the light at one end of the room, Gravon at the other. It was almost dark, the only light coming from the gas lamp in the middle. I had a big flashlight that Dega had given me. Jean moved forward with me following. When he reached the two men, he aimed the light right in their eyes. The Armenian was blinded and raised his arm to protect his eyes—it gave me just enough time to plunge my knife into his throat. We did the same thing to Sans-Souci. He pulled out his knife but couldn’t see to aim it. I gave it to him so hard the knife came out the other side. Paulo threw himself on the floor and rolled under the hammocks. Jean had turned off the flashlight, so I couldn’t see Paulo. That’s what saved him.”

“Who pulled them into the can?”

“I don’t know. I suspect it was the men in their
gourbi
who wanted to get their
plans
out of their gut.”

“There must have been damn near a sea of blood.”

“You’re not kidding. They were stuck like pigs. They must have been drained to the last drop. The idea of using the flashlight came to me when I was preparing my knife. A guard in the shop was changing the batteries in his. I got in touch with Dega right away and asked him to get me one. Now they can do a routine search; it doesn’t matter. An Arab turnkey returned both the flashlight and dagger to Dega. That part was easy. And I have nothing to be sorry about. They killed our friend when his eyes were blinded by soap; I killed them when their eyes were blinded by light. We’re quits. What do you say, Papi?”

“You did right. I’m grateful to you for going at it so fast and especially that you kept me out of it.”

“Never mind about that. I did my duty. You’d suffered enough, and you want your freedom so much I had to do it.”

“Thanks, Grandet. It’s true, and I want to get out now more than ever. But first we have to make sure this business ends right here. To be frank, it wouldn’t surprise me if the Armenian didn’t tell his
gourbi
before he killed Matthieu. Paulo would never have gone along with such a cowardly murder. He knows the consequences much too well.”

“I agree. Galgani is the only one who thinks they’re guilty.”

“We’ll see what happens at six o’clock. I won’t do the latrines. I’ll pretend I’m sick so I can watch developments.”

Five
A.M.
Our
case
leader came up to us and said, “
Mecs
, think I should call the guardhouse? I just found two corpses in the toilets.” That seventy-year-old
bagnard
wanted us—of all people—to think that, since six o’clock when the
mecs
were bumped off, he had known nothing. The room must be covered with blood; the men couldn’t have helped tracking it around.

Grandet gave the old man some of his own back. “What? You mean to tell me there are two stiffs in the toilets? How long they been there?”

“How should I know?” the old man said. “I’ve been asleep since six o’clock. Just now I was going in to piss and slipped on a slimy puddle and landed on my face. I lit my lighter, saw it was blood, then I found the
mecs
in the toilets.”

“Why don’t you call for help and see what happens?”

“Guards! Guards!”

Guards came running. “What you yelling about, you old goat? Is your
case
on fire?”

“No, chief, but there’re two corpses in the can.”

“What you expect me to do? Bring ’em back to life? It’s five-fifteen now. We’ll do something about it at six. Don’t let anybody near the toilets.”

“That’s impossible. How can I? The men have to piss.”

“I suppose you’re right. Wait. I’ll report it to the duty guard.”

Five guards appeared. We thought they were coming into the room, but they stopped by the grill.

“You say two dead men are in the toilets?”

“Yes, chief.”

“Since when?”

“I don’t know. I just found them now.”

“Who are they?”

“I don’t know. I just found them now as I was going to piss.”

“Well, then, stupid, I’ll tell you. One of them is the Armenian. Go have a look.”

“Yes, you’re right. It’s the Armenian and Sans-Souci.”

“O.K. We’ll wait for roll call.” And they left.

At six o’clock the first bell rang. The door opened and the two men who distributed coffee went from place to place with the bread man immediately behind.

Six-thirty, second bell. It was now daylight and the alley was full of bloody footprints.

The two wardens arrived. They were accompanied by eight guards and the doctor.

“Everybody strip and stand at attention in front of your hammocks! My God, this is a real slaughterhouse. There’s blood everywhere!”

The deputy warden was the first to go into the toilets. When he came out, he was as white as a sheet. “They were completely drained. Of course, nobody saw or heard anything?”

Absolute silence.

“You, you old fool, you’re supposed to be the guard here. These men are bone-dry. Doctor, how long would you say they’ve been dead?”

“Eight to ten hours.”

“And you didn’t find them until five? You saw nothing, heard nothing?”

“No. I’m hard of hearing; I can barely see. Besides, I’m seventy years old, and forty of them I spent in the
bagne
. So you see, I sleep a lot. I go to sleep at six, and it was only because I needed to piss that I woke up at five. It was pure luck, because usually I only wake up with the bell.”

“You’re right there. It was pure luck,” the warden said with heavy irony. “Everybody slept peacefully the whole night through—guards and convicts alike. Please have the stretcher-bearers take the two corpses to the hospital amphitheater. I’d like you to do autopsies, Doctor. As for the rest of you, file out into the yard as you are.”

We each filed past the wardens and the doctor. They examined every inch of our bodies. No one had a wound, although many were splattered with blood. They explained it was from slipping on the way to the toilets. Grandet, Galgani and I were examined even more minutely.

“Papillon, which is your place?” They searched through everything I owned. “Where’s your knife?”

“My knife was taken from me by the guard at the door. Last night at seven.”

“That’s true,” the guard said. “He made a big stink about it, too, said there were people who wanted to kill him.”