‘Does that mean you’ll do it?’
‘It means I’ll think about it when I’m sober. Henry was adamant you shouldn’t be allowed to involve yourself. He wouldn’t want me to help you.’
‘But I am involved now. And I’m not going to drop it. You have my word on that. So I suppose the question is: would my father want you to help me if I was set on doing this come what may?’
‘Yuh. That’s the question.’ Morahan stubbed out his cigarette. ‘I’ll sleep on it. Come to the office tomorrow morning. I’ll have an answer for you then.’
‘I can’t promise to be there much before noon.’
‘Busy on Appleby’s account, are you?’ Morahan smiled when no immediate answer was forthcoming. ‘OK. Noon it is.’
SAM HAD GONE by the time Max returned to his hotel.
He had left a note on the desk: Let me know if you need anything, sir. S. The sir was a habit Max wished but very much doubted he could cure Sam of.
Max headed out early the following morning and took a taxi from the Gare du Nord to the Gare des Invalides. The driver was in good spirits because of the arrival of warmer weather. ‘Le printemps, monsieur,’ he said, chuckling. ‘Le printemps enfin.’ Spring at last? Well, maybe it was. Max hardly cared.
It was a forty-minute train ride from Invalides to Versailles and a short walk from Rive Gauche station to the stationer’s in Rue de la Chancellerie. Finding himself early, Max treated himself to a light breakfast at a café near the station.
The taxi-driver was right about the weather. It was genuinely balmy. Max sat on the pavement terrace, sipping coffee as a gentle breeze stirred the trees in the centre of the avenue and the town slowly woke around him.
‘May I join you for a moment?’
The question took Max by surprise. He looked up to be met by the lambent gaze of a thin, middle-aged man clad in a morning-suit and bowler hat. He had a clipped moustache and a sharp-featured face and was trailing a cigarette in his right hand. The arm of a pair of metal-framed glasses was visible over the top of his breast pocket.
‘Mr Carr?’ the man added as he sat down.
‘Yes,’ Max replied cautiously. He was virtually certain he recognized Otto Krenz’s voice and accent, but he could hardly afford to assume anything.
‘I believe I’ve seen you at the papeterie in Rue de la Chancellerie.’
‘I sometimes go there, yes.’
‘An excellent shop.’
‘Indeed it is.’
‘Is that what brings you here this morning?’
‘No. I’m, er, hoping to speak to someone who’s presently staying in Versailles.’
‘A tourist?’
‘Not exactly.’
‘Someone here on business?’
‘Yes. State business.’
‘Perhaps I can help you.’
‘Perhaps you can.’
‘What is the name of the person?’
‘Schmidt,’ Max said quietly. ‘Anna Schmidt.’
‘I see.’ Krenz waved the waiter away. ‘If you’ve finished, would you care to walk with me to the papeterie?’
‘Certainly.’ Max drained his coffee, doled some coins onto the table and stood up.
They set off at an ambling pace. Krenz finished his cigarette and paused to light another. Then, as they moved on, he said, ‘Who sent you to me, Mr Carr?’
‘You know the answer to that question. How about an answer to mine?’
‘Frau Schmidt?’
‘I want to see her.’
‘What business do you have with her?’
‘Are you being deliberately obtuse, Krenz?’ Max hardened his tone. ‘You’re a bought man. We tell you what we want. You supply it.’
‘If possible.’
‘And is it possible?’
‘No. It is not.’
‘I suggest you—’
‘She’s no longer here, Mr Carr. She left yesterday.’
‘What?’
‘Gone. A few hours before you called.’
‘Gone where?”
‘Officially, Berlin. Due to the illness of a close relative. But she has not gone to Berlin. I have paid her careful attention since the delegation left Germany. I do not need to tell you who she serves.’
He did not. Nor did Max propose to mention that Appleby had warned him Krenz might well serve the same person. Max could place little confidence in what Krenz told him. He intended to telephone the delegation later to confirm Frau Schmidt had actually left. Meanwhile . . . ‘Where has she gone unofficially?’
‘Marseilles.’
‘Marseilles? How d’you know?’
‘The telephone system at our hotel offers many opportunities to overhear conversations. A woman called and spoke to Frau Schmidt yesterday afternoon. I listened to what they said. The caller did not give her name. They spoke in French. Frau Schmidt was instructed to proceed to Marseilles as soon as possible and lodge at the Pension Marguerite in Rue du Baignoir.’
‘What is Frau Schmidt required to do in Marseilles?’
‘Wait until called for.’
‘Called for by whom?’
‘No name was given. But it was obvious to me who had summoned her. She was not surprised. It seemed to be something she had expected. She has a French passport as well as her German papers and speaks the language quite well. She can travel freely.’
‘What name’s on her French passport?’
‘Camille Strauss.’
‘There was no objection to her sudden departure?’
‘It is known who her master is, Mr Carr. No one would be so foolish as to obstruct him.’
‘But he no longer has any standing with the German government.’
‘Nevertheless he is widely feared by those who know what he is capable of. I detected only relief at her going. It means there is one less spy in the camp.’
‘Are the delegation’s loyalties divided, then, Krenz?’
‘Divided, no. Shattered, yes.’
‘What do you know about Blachette?’
‘Deputy manager of our hotel. Suspected by le Deuxième Bureau of acting as an intermediary between our delegation and an American intelligence broker, Travis Ireton. Both men were killed yesterday. As I feel certain you are aware.’
‘How’s that gone down with your bosses?’
‘Count Brockdorff-Rantzau has personally assured the French Foreign Ministry that we had no improper dealings with Blachette – or Ireton.’
‘A lie, of course.’
‘No, no. The Count believed what he said. Others do what needs to be done without informing our leader. As it is, with no means of predicting the demands likely to be made of us . . . we are chickens in a coop, waiting to be plucked. There is consequently unspoken admiration for Frau Schmidt’s master. And occasionally it is not unspoken.’
‘Is he your master too, Krenz?’
‘Such a question.’ Krenz took a last drag on his cigarette and tossed it away. ‘You said it yourself. I am a bought man. And you represent those who bought me. What else is there to say?’
They had reached the Place d’Armes. Before them, beyond the gilded entrance gate, stood the vast and imposing Palace of Versailles. Its frontage glowed like honey in the morning sun.
‘Look there, Mr Carr.’ Krenz pointed to the centre of the building, the pillared and pedimented section within the inner courtyard. ‘On some day to be determined by our conquerors, we shall be led in there to sign a treaty of shame and humiliation. Count Brockdorff-Rantzau will protest. He may even resign. But his resignation will be as useless as his protests. We will sign. We will have no choice. Unless . . .’
‘What?’
‘Unless the last of our generals left in the field can win against the odds.’
‘Lemmer?’
‘He has not given up, Mr Carr. He has not surrendered.’
‘Why has he sent Anna Schmidt to Marseilles?’
‘You ask me to guess?’
‘I do.’
&nb
sp; ‘It is a port. Perhaps a journey is planned. A voyage.’
‘A voyage to where?’
‘From Marseilles, it must be eastwards, I think, don’t you?’
‘Eastwards?’
Krenz shrugged. ‘I can only guess.’ He paused and looked at Max curiously. Then he asked, ‘Will you go after Frau Schmidt?’
‘If I do, and if I find you’ve lied to me, I’ll come back for you, Krenz. I hope that’s clear. I’ll come back. Without warning. And without mercy.’
Krenz nodded fatalistically. ‘I would expect nothing else.’
MAX ARRIVED AT 33 Rue des Pyramides to find Malory tearing up letters and other papers and feeding them into the fire in her office. The warmth of the morning made it obvious the fire had been lit for one reason only. Malory was flushed and more flustered than Max could ever recall.
‘Schools said you’d be here at noon,’ she said, breaking away from the blaze to greet him.
‘Isn’t he here?’
‘I’m here,’ Morahan announced, appearing from the direction of Ireton’s office. ‘We have two fires going.’
‘Destroying the evidence?’
‘Travis kept a smart French lawyer on a retainer. He’ll hold the police off for a few days at least. But we need to use the time wisely.’
‘Are you worried about Travis’s reputation?’
‘We’re more worried we might face charges if they have the opportunity to go through Travis’s files with a fine-toothed comb,’ said Malory. ‘There are heaps of handwritten notes about deals he kept to himself. I had no idea quite how unscrupulous he was.’ She lit a cigarette and handed it almost unconsciously to Morahan, then lit another for herself, before sitting down behind her desk.
‘I’ve told Malory it might be best if we left Paris,’ said Morahan, propping himself against the desk.
‘You’re probably right,’ said Max.
‘He’s told me what you want him to do,’ said Malory.
‘Were you shocked?’
‘Lord, no.’
‘I came here for your decision, Schools.’ Max looked directly at Morahan.
‘He’ll do it,’ said Malory.
‘She knows me better than I know myself,’ Morahan grumbled good-naturedly. ‘I gave myself until noon to make my mind up. But I won’t make you wait.’ He drew thoughtfully on his cigarette. ‘If you really want to push this boulder up the hill, I’ll put my shoulder to it.’
Max walked across and shook Morahan’s hand. ‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t thank me. I’ll take every cent you’ve got. And I can’t guarantee success. Failure’s much the likeliest outcome, though exactly what failure would mean . . .’ Morahan fixed Max with his gaze. He was determined to communicate the seriousness of what they had resolved to embark upon. ‘There are so many ways this could go badly wrong, Max. More than I can count or anticipate. Travis would have turned you down flat.’
‘I would never have asked Travis.’
‘There’s a condition,’ said Malory.
‘I’ll have the money my father put by deposited in the bank of Schools’ choice first thing Monday morning.’
‘It’s not a financial condition,’ said Morahan. ‘It’s Malory.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘I go too,’ said Malory, studying Max to take full measure of his reaction.
‘You?’
‘I speak some Japanese. I know the country. I have to be with you.’
‘It’s out of the question.’ Max looked at Morahan. ‘Surely you agree, Schools?’
‘Oh, I do. But apparently it’s non-negotiable.’
‘You have a better chance with me than without me,’ said Malory, in a tone suggesting this was a self-evident truth. ‘If my friends are determined to risk their lives, I have to do what I can to save them. It’s really very simple.’
‘Not to me,’ protested Max.
‘Besides, my life will be boring and lonely if I don’t go with you. Like Schools says, I can’t stay here. Maybe I’d have to go home. But I couldn’t bear to do that. Wilmington and I . . . just don’t suit each other any more.’
‘Not to mention that family you don’t spend much time in the bosom of,’ remarked Morahan.
‘Can’t you talk her out of this, Schools?’ pleaded Max.
Morahan shook his head. ‘I stopped trying to talk Malory out of things a long time ago.’
‘You gave him a free hand where assembling his team’s concerned,’ Malory pointed out.
‘Yuh,’ said Morahan. ‘You did.’
‘All right.’ Max had too many other preoccupations to argue with them any longer. And the question of what they would do if and when they reached Japan was so difficult to address he was in no position to deny Malory might well prove valuable. ‘Have it your way.’
‘Will you take Sam?’ Malory asked.
‘Absolutely not. Let the poor fellow stay where he is. He has a good job that might lead on to a better one. He’s done more than enough on my account. I want Sam kept out of this.’
‘I’ll leave for New York straight after Travis’s funeral,’ said Morahan.
‘Wednesday, we think,’ said Malory. ‘Will you still be here then, Max?’
‘I’m leaving Paris tonight. I don’t know when I’ll be back.’
‘Care to tell us where you’re going?’ asked Morahan.
‘Marseilles.’
‘You’re not thinking of travelling to Japan on the same ship as the Tomuras, are you?’
‘Why would I be?’
‘The next service to the Far East from Marseilles sails Tuesday,’ Malory explained. ‘It seems likely Count Tomura and his son will be aboard.’
‘I’m not going to Marseilles because of the Tomuras.’
‘Are you sure about that, Max?’ Morahan looked sceptical. ‘Everything in this affair seems to be connected with everything else.’
‘I don’t plan to get in their way. Not yet, at any rate. What I need to know is when you expect to reach Japan.’
‘Late June or early July’s about as accurate as I can be.’
Max nodded. ‘I’ll make sure I’m there by then.’
‘We’ll arrive by steamer from San Francisco,’ said Malory, who had evidently already considered the practicalities. ‘We’ll disembark at Yokohama.’
‘We’ll meet there, then.’
‘All being well,’ said Morahan, in a tone implying he was far from confident all would be well.
‘There’s something else I want your help with,’ said Max, ignoring the note of pessimism. ‘According to Sam, you and he both suspect le Singe has more documents beyond those he gave you.’
‘Maybe,’ admitted Morahan.
‘Hidden somewhere on the roof above Soutine’s flat.’
‘That’s an even bigger maybe.’
‘But if such documents exist they could be crucial.’
‘You want to go looking for them, Max, is that it?’
‘Yes. But your French is a great deal better than mine. And I imagine we’ll have to do a lot of smooth talking to gain access to the roof. So . . .’
‘All right.’ Morahan pushed himself upright. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Leave it till this afternoon if you want to finish here first.’
‘We should finish this, Schools,’ said Malory.
‘Yuh.’ Morahan glanced at the crackling fire. ‘I guess we should. When’s your train, Max?’
‘I’ll take the sleeper. It leaves at eight.’
‘OK. I’ll meet you by St-Germain l’Auxerrois church at three o’clock. Good enough?’
‘Good enough.’
‘Now I’d better get back to work.’
Wearily, Morahan lumbered off towards Ireton’s office. Malory smiled wistfully after him as he went. Then she looked up at Max and said, quietly but firmly, ‘This is the fusing of several impulses, none of them particularly rational. You do realize that, don’t you, Max?’
‘Just because s
omething’s dangerous it isn’t necessarily irrational.’
‘You want to avenge your father. On some level, Schools wants to atone for his role in Travis’s death. Neither of you has any clear idea of what we’ll unearth in Japan. It’s all crazily risky.’
‘Why are you coming along, then?’
‘Oh, I have irrational reasons all of my own.’
‘It’s strange,’ Max mused. ‘It’s only just over a month ago I stood here in this room and you predicted that one day you’d return to Japan – and so would I. Did you really believe it? I didn’t.’
‘Some things that aren’t believable are true nonetheless.’
Max smiled at her hint of mysticism. ‘If you say so.’
‘How many men have you killed in your life, Max?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘It would to some.’
‘Not to me.’
‘They don’t weigh on your conscience?’
‘No.’
‘What would?’
‘This.’ He looked at her frankly. ‘If I didn’t do it.’
GEORGE CLISSOLD SMILED warmly as he ambled into Sam’s office in the Majestic garage. Sam had laid aside his ham sandwich when he saw George approaching across the repair bay, though he was left with a strand of something sinewy lodged uncomfortably between two molars to remind him that French ham was not to be trusted.
‘Good to see you up and about, Mr Clissold,’ Sam greeted his visitor. ‘The hospital told me you’d been discharged.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said George. ‘Fit to resume service.’
‘Take a pew.’ Sam vacated his chair and plonked himself on the box he kept for such purposes.
‘Thanks.’ George sank gratefully into the chair. ‘The rib’s still giving me gyp.’
‘And the finger?’ Sam nodded at the prominently bandaged digit.
‘Less trouble than a gouty toe, so I can’t complain. Neither of us can, really, considering how neatly our difficulties with the Tomuras have been wrapped up.’
‘You’re right there, sir. Though it’s a mystery why Count Tomura threw in the towel.’
‘Indeed. Nothing Commissioner Zamaron said when he informed me of the development shed any light on the matter. But the Orient’s full of mysteries. Just be grateful when one of them turns out to your advantage.’
The Corners of the Globe Page 31