London Bridge

by Louis-Ferdinand Celine

  The old fool.

  “Where at, sweetie?… Where you got him?”

  I wanted to laugh.

  “In the trunk of my body, dummy!… Inside me!…”

  I step closer… bend down over him, right up against his hair… stick my nose right on top of him… I want a glimpse of Goa under those bones!… Who knows, maybe you can see something!… I can’t see a single thing!… He just kept on wiggling harder and harder… more and more wildly…

  “So, you’re OK?” I conclude… I absolutely didn’t want any bickering… “Great then!… It’s a success, Sosthène! Bravo! Bravo! My dear master!…”

  He’s racked by another convulsion, real horrendous… ten times stronger than the last! It looks like I threw a few logs onto the fire!… Just with my innocent little compliment… He’s wriggling… and writhing his body incredibly out of shape, bending backwards until his head meets his heels and he loops into a perfect O… and still bent backwards he clenches his feet in his mouth… starts gnawing his heels!… It’s awful!… You can’t imagine how extraordinarily supple he is, the way he continues to contort his body… I let out a whoop of enthusiasm… I want to give him a kiss… He’s biting his toes… and then with a heave of his back he flips around on his feet!… That’s the way he is!… And what an expression on his mug!… What a smile!… What ecstasy!… He’s in bliss!…

  “My dear boy!… My dear boy!…” he calls me… Total bliss!…

  And then he confides in a whisper: “He’s still not used to it… Shh! Shh!… Most of all, don’t bump into me!… I’ve got him in my belly!… Be careful!…” He’s warning me.

  “The least little goof-up!… One wrong word… one careless word! Whoosh!… He’ll fly off!… The least little jolt!… He’ll be up and away, and it’s over!… We’ll have lost him!…”

  Ah! Pretty serious stuff…

  “I’ve got him in my belly!… I’m breaking him in!…”

  That’s the latest!… The reason why he’s tiptoeing around on eggshells!… Ah! Great, really terrific!… This is perfect!… The best thing would be for us to call it a night… the pantomime has gone on long enough! Ah! Time for intermission! A little snooze!

  “Beddy-bye, Goa!…” I coo.

  He takes it the wrong way.

  “So don’t you believe in him?… Do you? Just come right out and say it!…” His dander’s up again.

  Ah! Fuck it all!

  “No, you don’t believe in him!… No, you’re making fun of me!”

  Ah! He couldn’t stand for my doubting-Thomas routine!… He wanted faith!…

  “Yes, I do! I do! I believe!… You’re completely right!… But I’m sleepy! Do you understand?”

  Ah! He jumps back… starts sounding off… chewing me out again.

  “Sleepy! Sleepy!… Will you just listen to that!… Ah! That good-for-nothing bastard! And me standing here with Goa in my belly!… It does me one hell of a lot of good to hear that!… You just listen to what I’ve got to tell you!… You don’t deserve anything!… And me standing here with Goa in my trunk!… All over my body!”

  He thumped his scrawny torso, and then his thighs and his butt… He sounded hollow!

  “Here! Here! Hear it?”

  “Yes! Yes! You’re right, Sosthène!…”

  I wasn’t going to start bickering… I was falling asleep where I sat… He came over to egg me on, spouting crap right in my face…

  “I already had him once in Benares! You hear that? I already had him once!”

  He was shouting at the top of his lungs… I had to listen.

  “I already had him for two weeks!… I know what you can do with him!… Hand me the phone!… You can do everything!… You hear me!… You’re incarnate!… You’ve got the power! The third!… You hear me!… The third!”

  Another fresh idea!… He wanted to give me proof of his Goa! Ah! I couldn’t wiggle out of this one! No way!

  “I know him! I’m telling you! I know him! He’s possessing me!… I’m possessing him!…”

  He started pacing back and forth, holding his belly in both hands… from the door to the window… he just wouldn’t call it a night, Christ Almighty!… All simmering and seething with enthusiasm!…

  I go: “You’re gonna catch cold!”

  He was stark naked and in a sweat.

  “Hand me the phone! Hand me the phone!…”

  His one big obsession. I hand him the phone.

  “Who’s the toughest guy in London?” he asks me point-blank.

  He catches me up short.

  “Who you scared of most?”

  I just stand there like a jerk.

  “Just wait till you get a load of this number!…”

  “Whatcha gonna do?” I ask.

  “Never mind!… It’s not me talking!… It’s Goa… It’s him inside me!”

  He thwacks himself on his forehead, his belly, his sides… He’s showing me he’s not himself any more… That he’s one-hundred-percent Goa, through and through! He’s possessed… And then he bows towards the window… And solemnly too!… Real solemnly!… Keeps going lower!… A big deep bow…

  “Spirits of the Night!” he intones.

  He throws the window wide open… He’s going to catch his death! Another two… three greetings!

  “Goa! Goa!…” He’s shivering… talking to himself… muttering a prayer!… Takes a deep breath! Prostrates himself butt up in the air…

  “Goa! Goa!…” he calls out just like that imploringly… How scrawny he is!… All skin and bones!… I can see his backside! His pointy ass!… He runs through his acrobatic routine all over again… a good ten… fifteen times more!… Genuflections!

  Homage to Goa!…

  OK! That’ll do… He’s back up on his feet! Primed! Radiant! Raring to go!… All energized with emanations and faith!… The faith of the Brahmans!

  “Get me the phone! You loafer, let’s go!… Hand me the ear trumpet!” Now he’s cocksure… there’s trouble brewing!

  “Did you come up with the name of your big bad wolf?” he asks me.

  He’s itching for action.

  I can’t imagine who he thinks he can be scaring… especially over the phone this way.

  “I’ll put the curse of Mourvidias on him!… You heard what I said!… It’s the worst curse of all!… It hunts you down wherever you are!… So who is it you want me to take on? You still haven’t given me a name yet! Wait till you see what his ugly mug’ll look like in a week! Ah! whooh, look out! I’m telling you! You’ve never seen anything like the curse of Mourvidias!”

  I can see he wants to pull one over on me, get me going on the idea. “Call up the French Consul! Now there’s one lousy creep for you!”

  True, that guy pissed me off, goddamn it! Ever since I dropped by his office! And he had me bounced out on the street! Ah! The bastard!… Ah! I’d’ve got one terrific kick if a log came crashing down on his damn face!… Some huge sucker, wham!… Ah! Let me see some of that magic!… Let it tear him limb from limb, fucking hell! The French Consul!

  “Hand me the phone book, you little devil! You wait and see what I do to that chump of yours! I’m going to fix him real good! Wait and see how you find your French Consul in a week! You’ve got no idea how bad a curse can get! The very one I’m throwing on him!… Through Goa! But got to strike while the iron’s hot! Come on, let’s go! Goa’s emanations! He goes on the fritz over next to nothing!”

  We both look for the number… riffling through the phone book… “Bedford!… French Consul!… Bedford Square!… Ah! Here it is! Tottenham 48-486!”

  “Dial it up!… Ask for him!”

  He couldn’t manage himself.

  “Four! Eight! Four…”

  I help out.

  Consulate on the line!… I hand him the ear trumpet…

  “I want to talk to the French Consul! In person!”

  High and mighty, no ifs, ands or buts.

  The person on the other end starts spluttering…
r />   “What’s it about?”

  Ah! He flies into a fury. Ah! He won’t stand for this! He grabs the phone away.

  “You hear me! The French Consul!”

  “Sir, the Consul’s in bed!” comes their reply.

  “In bed!… In bed!… Go wake him up quick! The President’s on the line!… You hear me, the President! This is Raymond Poincaré! So get your ass in gear! Shake a leg!”

  That’s the way he carries on.

  Ah! Decisive as hell! No mistake on that score!…

  They start scurrying at the other end of the line… sounds of a switchboard being plugged and unplugged… voices talking over each other… Ah! Got it!… Consul on the line!

  “Hello! Hello! French Consul!…”

  “Hello! Hello! Is that you, Monsieur le Consul? President Poincaré on the line!… You wait and see…” he whispers to me… “Just wait and see!…” He gives me a wink… shows me he’s confident!…

  “Hello! Hello! Is that you, Monsieur le Consul? Ah! very well, thank you! This is President Poincaré!… I’ve got one thing to tell you… Shit! Shit! Shit! You’re nothing but a dirty rotten son of a bitch! And Goa’s going to make you croak!… Yessiree!…”

  Bang! He hangs up!… Ah! You bet he’s thrilled to death!… Jubilant! Kicking up his heels! Jumping and shimmying with joy… in the raw just like that and completely off his rocker… all around the carpet… doing his Brahman victory jig!

  That’s how he is!

  “You hear that? Did you? I really gave it to him good… Three ‘shits’ will do the trick! Just imagine!… His curse’ll last for eighty years! That’s the minimum when you’re working with Goa, between eighty and ninety years!… Just imagine what a number I did on him… He’ll never break it!… That’s a Benares job for you!”

  He’s juiced up like crazy! Over this telephone success of his!… He prances around in a circle again… does his saraband of victory!… Without a weary bone in his body now! He’s really tripping the light fantastic!…

  “Three shits! Three shits!” he gloats. “Ah! My boy!… Ah! My boy!… Can’t you come up with anybody else? Some other rotten bastard? So we can knock him for a loop! Go on, hurry up! We don’t have a minute to lose!” Clearly the guy’s all whipped up, in the throes of his trance as Prince of the Emanations!…

  “Hey, he’s scratching my bone! He’s scratching my bone! Feel my hip right here! That’s the real true sign! Ah! Ah! The absolute best! We got to pray a little more!… Hold on! Hold on!”

  He prostrates himself again… Bow… another five or six times!… To the Spirits of the Night! With the ritual bleat “Goa! Goa!”… Ah! That did the trick!… He’s all set for another round! Leaps to his feet! All right!…

  “Are we ready?”

  “Hit it! Click! Click! Clack! I’m throwing a terrific curse!…”

  He’s tipping me off…

  “A whammy that’ll knock the breath out of him!… That’ll make him throw himself under a tram! That’s the magic I’ll send his way! Come on, join your magic to mine!…”

  He’s advising me. That’s how cocksure he is!… Ah! The guy floors me… but who knows, maybe he’s onto something after all? Maybe he’s got influence?… Like the people who hold seances?… Ah! It really makes me wonder… He sure as hell looks like he’s convinced!… Big-time magic’s such a swindle!… A scam for charlatans and their cohorts!… A Robert-Houdin* racket!… But still and all, maybe he really is conjuring?… Screwing people up long-distance?… It really had me stumped! Ah! I try and come up with a name! What the hell!…

  “Nelson! What about Nelson? There’s a stinking scumbag for you!” Seeing as he wanted a son of a bitch.

  “Ah! That guy, yeah… Ah! That guy!”

  I’d forgotten about him.

  But Nelson doesn’t have a phone!… Skip to somebody else!…

  “What about Matthew? The copper! Now there’s a name for you… A lousy bum!… Fuck, do your stuff!… Bump him off… Ah! Man, if you could get that guy! Throw a curse on him!… Go ahead, like this!…”

  Ah! Look out!… I gave him a little demonstration myself… I throw a whopper!… I suggested Matthew!… Ah! I couldn’t stand the sight of that guy!… Ah! You’d better believe it!… He was hands down the sneakiest of the bunch!… The biggest snake in the gang!… Any way you looked at him!…

  “Get me Scotland Yard! Pass me the guy on the line! Ah! Come on, what are you waiting for?… We’ve got to do it before dawn!… After the sun’s up the magic goes kablooey! It peters out! Goa!… After dark’s the only time!… He’s a night spirit!…”

  Matthew was over in Whitehall!… A Whitehall exchange!… I knew it by heart… 0! 1! 0! 0! 1!…

  We reach them on the first ring…

  “Hello? Hello? Scotland Yard?… Whitehall!… Oh. One. Oh. Oh one! Got it.”

  “Hello, Miss! Please! It’s urgent! Urgent! Chief Inspector Matthew! Very urgent! Matthew Donald!”

  Discombobulation like last time!… They need to track him down in the department!… Ah! Not there!… Yes, he is too!… No, he’s not!… Their zzz-pop-crackling racket… Deafening!… That switchboard of theirs makes a hash of everything… Ah! The oafs! They’ll need to ring him up at home and check whether he’s there!… Maybe he’s home and in bed!…

  “Call him up! A special emergency! Special! Wake him up right away! And make it snappy!…”

  Acting high and mighty becomes a habit fast… I was even turning into Goa myself!… In no time flat I was talking in the magic voice…

  “Special!… Special!…”

  They had to call him at home.

  “Special! Special! About a crime!…”

  I really cracked the whip… and no crapola!…

  Ah! His home phone… Brrring!… Brrring!… An answer! Presto, he’s on the line!…

  “Hello! Hello!…”

  We listen to our separate ear trumpets… that’s Matthew all right!… That’s his voice!…

  “Your turn!…” I go to Sosthène. “Your turn!”

  He was the demon after all!…

  “Shit! Shit! Shit!…” he hollers into the gizmo… But so fast!… Much too fast!… He slams the receiver down!… Running for cover!…

  “You mean that’s it?” I ask.

  “Ah! So what do you want?… The curse’s on him!” he answers me just like that…

  But I couldn’t see how… no way!… I wasn’t buying it!…

  “You scared of Matthew, Sosthène?…” Ah! I accuse him to his face. Ah! I lower the boom on him!… He woke me up!…

  “Scared?… Ah! Scared!… Ah! You damn little pest!… Goa’s not scared of anything!… Get that through your thick skull, snotnose!… Not anything!…”

  He’s ticked off!

  “Go on, quick! Another name!…”

  He’s badgering me… wants me to toss him another victim… Ah! I’m thinking… Ah! I draw a blank!…

  But then: “Ah! What about your pals down at the Leicester?… Don’t you want to add those hooligans to the list? You could shake them up a little!… It won’t do any harm!… Spook them a little!… They’re just a bunch of lazy bums!…”

  “Ah! No! Not those guys!…”

  He doesn’t want anything to do with them!… He doesn’t want me to wake up Cascade!…

  “You scared of him too?”

  Just what I figured!…

  “No! But they’re small fry… they wouldn’t count for the magic spells… We need fat cats… big shots… not a pack of cheap hoods!…”

  “So think of somebody yourself, Mr Picky-Picky!…”

  “What about the Lord Mayor?”

  Now there’s a name that lights his fire… what a stroke of genius!…

  “Did you ever see him in his wig? In his golden coach? He’s a big shot!… I’ll reduce him to smithereens, and how! As soon as Goa gets down to work! I want him to collapse in his coach as soon as he sets foot inside! That’s my wish! Yessiree! Wham! Let’s go! Up and at ’e
m, come on with me!…”

  I’m with him all the way.

  “Now get him on the phone!…”

  “At this hour? You out of your mind?”

  “Go ahead! Listen to me! Say you’re King Alfonso of Spain! Announce that Alfonso is on the line!”

  In a way it’s not too hare-brained!…

  I dial City 7-124, the number’s in the phone book… The operator tries to connect me.

  “Hello! Hello! The Lord Mayor, please. The King of Spain here! Alfonso!” Just asking for him cracked me up!

  It surprises them at the other end of the line… leads into yet another wild tizzy!…

  “Hello! Hello! King of Spain here! Esta you, Mayor? Yes? Yes? Yes?”

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” they answer.

  “Well then, shit!… Shit!… And shit!… Goa says to kiss his ass! Which means you’ll be croaking any time now!…”

  With that, bang! Hard! We hang up!…

  “You hear that? That’s a group curse! An anathema! The anathema of the avalanches! The major grand power! The absolute worst curse in the world!… Hear how I threw that one?… Did you see me in action?… He’s in for it now!… You can take it from me!…” Ah! So proud of himself!…

  This Sosthène de Rodiencourt, Old Red Fuzz, is incredibly diabolical!… I’d never have guessed just how much!… This curse-throwing business has him on top of the world!… Gambolling around in his omnipotence!… Doing a Benares farandole!… All around the beds, the goof!…

  “I’ve got to warm him up!…” he shouts to me while bouncing around… still going on about Goa!… “The cold temperature’s bad for him!… It freezes him up… demagnetizes him! He loses three quarters of his strength!… That’s a fact! Let’s go, hit it with that fork!” He was throwing me back on the job! Back to my table settings and my click! click! click!… In a steady barrage… nice and steady… He does his saraband and then a pirouette! A glissade! Another pirouette! Just like that all around the carpet!… Ah! The tyrant, make no mistake… just like on page 81… the entire red-gold-and-blue watercolour drawing!… But he’s got no props!… Neither shield nor breastplate!… No grimacing mask! Just his birthday suit! With me on drums… Click! Click! Click! Clack! Clack! Clack! He’s giving his all! Getting all worked up… He slams into the armoire… wham!… Too psyched up! He collapses!… Plop! Full body flop!… Takes a few sniffs… bucks up!… And he’s off again!… He rears up… like a circus pony!… Ah! It’s wonderful! What a comeback!… This belongs in a horse show!… Absolutely! A first-class riding school!…