It Takes a Thief

by Niels Hammer

  The waitress came with the wine and he had to taste it to see if it had turned. Her concentrated expression – focused upon his reaction – suggested – if disregarding the flowery hat – a peculiar resemblance to the portrait of Charlotte Dubourg by Fantin-Latour – for she was thrifty and had possibly a consolidated stake in the restaurant – if judging by her unconsciously proprietary air –

  “Yes, that’s all right, thanks. And my estimate of six hours is based on giving them about nine minutes’ attention each, though that may be too much. I’ve prepared forty-two sheets of paper with the following points, name, mother’s and father’s name, date of birth, place of birth, residence, diagnosis, first operation, second operation, third operation, remarks. So we just have to add the appropriate details.”

  “You’re obviously just looking for one woman or one girl in particular?”

  “Yes, I’ll – ”

  “Cheers! After all it was a good idea you had of bringing me up here, I’m really looking forward to twenty-four hours of fishing, so here’s to the chance that you’ll find that mystery woman of yours.”

  “And here’s to the chance that you’ll catch at least a ten pound Salmon to-morrow.”

  “It does have some body, and quite a nice flavour.”

  “Do you remember that evening when we had dinner with Mary and Peregrine, and I tried to suggest what the notion of the sacred once might have meant because Charlotte irritated me?”

  “Oh yes! Of course I do.”

  “Well, I was very elated and bewildered. The previous evening I had been trying to find the nest of the Barn Owl in the church tower or in one of the old hollow trees. When it was half past twelve I gave up and taking a short cut through the gardens I used the back entrance of the house and went straight to bed as I intended to get up well before dawn as usual. When I had been asleep for about two hours or so I was suddenly woken by the presence of someone else in the room.”

  “A burglar?”

  Seymour’s curiosity rose steeply.

  “It was still dark. I could only see an indistinct human silhouette in front of my writing table, but I could hear how the drawers were pulled out, one by one, very softly. It suggested a meticulous and careful attitude that intrigued me. The silhouette indicated that the thief would have to be standing with the back towards me, and I managed to get hold of the flashlight on my bedside table without making a sound.”

  “But what has that to do with – ”

  “Wait!”

  To seek refuge and refreshments of past impressions in the flavour of the wine.

  “I held the flashlight ready just beneath the eiderdown with my finger on the switch. As there was nothing of value in my drawers the thief turned round and began moving up beside the bed, probably to have a look at my bedside table. I could clearly see a beam of red light now – like that of a Helium-Neon laser, but more diffuse; and as I expected that the light at any moment could come sweeping in over my face, for I did not know if my presence in the bed had been detected, I threw the eiderdown aside, turned on the flashlight and sat up in the bed while simultaneously trying to defend myself from an attack. More or less by chance I caught hold of the edge of the thief’s black mask. As I pulled at it the string snapped and I felt a violent kick on my arm but did nevertheless not lose my grip on the flashlight, and try to imagine my surprise, consternation and wonder when I saw that the thief was a woman.”

  “A woman? Jesus Christ! A woman, so that’s why!”

  “Yes, but when I tore the mask away from her face she became very surprised and said three words ‘Oh heaven, no’ or rather ‘Oh hivven nae’ and as she said that, while sitting in the bed and looking up at her with the strong light of the flashlight illuminating her face and her mouth I caught a glimpse of something that looked like a scar in her palate, and maybe, only maybe, a very minute deformation of her upper lip.”

  “So Scotland was the obvious place – ”

  “Yes, I have now interviewed twelve women altogether, roughly about her age, in Inverness, Kirkwall, Buckie and here in Aberdeen; and the Doric accent, especially the accent of Moray and Buckie, seems, at least according to my sporadic samples, to come closest, or indeed to be identical to hers, so of special interest to-morrow will be female infants born in the Moray-Banff-Fraserburgh area, and only secondarily if born in Aberdeenshire.”

  “But if you had nothing, then what did she steal?”

  “What did she steal? Oh only my heart.”

  Seymour burst out laughing till the tears wetted his cheeks.

  “Poor Ralph, nothing of importance, just your heart, but what was it about her that made you – ”

  “Her face, the look of annoyed surprise in her eyes, a blue-black infinity surrounded by the greenest of green seas, the white-hot icy anger in the tone of her voice, the ruthless violence with which she kicked me, the audacity she would have to be able to break into people’s houses for a living, the courage she would have to be able to enjoy such thrills and confront such dangers; and I forgot to say, that as soon as I had seen her face she turned round and dived out of the window, using the Wisteria as a ladder, but it was torn away from the masonry because of her speed or her weight, so she landed on the lawn as if under a parachute.”

  “Then what did you do?”

  “I rushed down, but only to hear the sound of a vanishing car. She had apparently parked on the other side of the road.”

  “What kind of car did she have?”

  “I did not see it. The twilight was just beginning. She thought the house was empty as I had come up by the back stairs. The light there cannot be seen from the front of the house. She had a shock when she lost her anonymity and that brought her down to the emotional depth where she expressed herself spontaneously by using the accent and melody of her childhood.”

  “That was certainly fortuitous, but you’ve also been damn lucky, both to have discovered such an anomaly as the scar in her mouth and to have frightened her enough to use her original accent. But was there anything else about her that – ”

  “I’ve been asking myself that question a number of times without coming any closer to a proper answer. Yet I suppose that it’s a combination of many factors. She struck me as being lovable and charming, she moved with exquisite grace, certain of her bodily strength; and she has to be bold and independent-minded to take up such a profession; but she has of course also to be resourceful and to be able to conduct her affairs successfully; however, retrospectively it seemed to be a presence I sensed surrounded her, like an aura I cannot describe or even understand regardless of the perspective I apply.”

  “Do you know how romantic a story it really is?”

  Au fond acceptance but attempts to analysis would come as conditioned reflexes – malgré lui.

  “Maybe not, for to me it was real, no, not just real, it was a reality that was more intense, more real than the ordinary reality of our present moment. The whole incident was charged with meaning, with significance. I experienced it as a natural chain of causation in spite of its other-worldly connotations. Of course, it’s extraordinary, but in a way everything is, as everything is truly and utterly unique, bound never to happen again in the history of the universe, but I forgot, how’s your venison?”

  “Quite, but still there are experiences with significant similarities which happen often and some which do not, and this is certainly one of the truly rare ones, so you’re very lucky, and it’s really delicious.”

  “Lucky?”

  He smiled to think of himself as lucky.

  “Yes, don’t you see it? Adventure, meaning in life? It gives you something to live for, excitement. You’re the author of your own fate. It’s a fairy tale, a drama, a real story or life rather as it ought to be.”

  A sudden sadness condensed around his head as a sombre cloud to obscure his presence.

  �
�Now, what’s wrong?”

  “Wrong? Well, it’s just that everything now has become so routine-like, you know. I miss the surprises, the unforeseen turns and twists, the things that make you come alive.”

  “Is it Jessie?”

  “Maybe and maybe not. It’s all so bloody predictable, that’s what I react to, I think, the daily run of identical complaints.”

  “But you do a lot of people a lot of good. There can be no greater meaning in life than that. I do not do anybody any good at all. It’s you who are privileged. I have to run around looking for meaning in a flower, in a painting, in the mirage of a woman while you have meaning, like an avalanche, coming in through the front door of your consulting room.”

  “Perhaps then I ought not to complain too bitterly?”

  “Nonsense, if you feel dissatisfied you must complain. It’s far worse pretending. Maybe you work too hard? Can’t you close the clinic Fridays or Mondays? Then we could go fishing, say from Thursday evening to Monday morning, you could just come in early or if we went abroad, catch an early plane back. It would make a significant difference, giving you three full days in which to do something you love doing; and it would even make you a better doctor, for the unconscious attitude of a doctor, his positive feeling for life, must have a distinct influence on the prospects of his patients. You would inspire them with more hope, with more confidence, and by becoming more aware of your own subconscious impulses you would also be better at diagnosing the diseases, at least the psychosomatic ones, of your patients.”

  “You’re very persuasive, but it would mean a reduction in income of about twenty percent.”

  “But you could easily manage with twenty per cent less, now, because of the house.”

  “Well, probably, but Jessie wouldn’t like it, you know.”

  The fading colour of his voice reflected the toll of the persistent undertow of a woman’s will.

  “If you told her you would be a happier man, then she would be a happier woman.”

  “You should tell her then, she believes you whatever you say.”

  “Oh no, she likes arguing – ”

  “Yes, she’s stubborn like a deaf mule when it suits her.”

  “We could do that next week, and you can let your accountant sort it out, so that you will know exactly if it’s possible or not, and if it is, which I bet it is, you can invite me to dinner and we’ll persuade Jessie to accept a better and happier life, both for you, the children and for herself.”

  “You make it all seem so easy. It’s quite deceptive.”

  Seymour swung the wine in his glass round and round so that it nearly flowed up over the rim.

  “In a way it is. The reason you find it difficult is your habits. You have to disregard some old dendritic connections and give yourself time to form new ones. That’s all. And you know it as well as I do, or much better in fact.”

  “I’m a busy general practitioner. I don’t have time to think or even to read the best papers.”

  “But you will soon, anyway, and we ought to have a glass of Cognac.”

  “Yes, but when do we have to begin to-morrow?”

  The waitress approached as quickly as a Magpie at a kill – guided by her sixth sense.

  “Two glasses of Cognac, please, de Luze would do! And Seymour, would you like coffee?”

  “No, then I can’t sleep. Chocolate, if possible.”

  “All, right, two chocolates, cacao powder plus cane sugar or honey in milk. And I think that if we begin around nine we would have to get up at about a quarter past seven. The hospital’s only five minutes away from our hotel.”

  “But what will you do when you’ve found all the female infants of whom one presumably may be the woman you’re looking for?”

  “First I’ll have to see if some of them have married as it will indicate that they still are staying here in Scotland. Hopefully this will eliminate at least half of them. Concerning the rest I’ll ask Fjodor to get in touch with one of his sources to generate lists of the female members of all the martial arts clubs in the vicinity.”

  The waitress came with two cups of chocolate and two large glasses in which the Cognac at the bottom appeared to be forgotten drops.

  “Thanks, but could you please treble the amount of Cognac in the glasses?”

  “Of course, just a moment!”

  “But what makes you sure she is a member of a martial arts club?”

  “Two things. Firstly, it would be extremely expedient for her to practise one or two forms of martial art. It would give her a very considerable advantage in dangerous situations, and secondly, her kick was decidedly well-aimed and as forceful as the kick of a Horse. In order to keep fit she would have to be a member of such a club.”

  The waitress came to fill their glasses and her coffers.

  “Thanks! It looks much more human now. I will begin with the clubs lying within a radius of about one hundred kilometres, and then simply look for matching names.”

  “You have three parameters. Accent, cleft palate and athletic prowess. It seems to be pretty straightforward when you look at it in this way.”

  “It is rather straightforward basically; but of course, I might have had better clues, for example the number plate of her car, or I might have had my car and followed her home. So if seen in this light I might have had a bit more luck.”

  “But still, these three clues are pretty exceptional or conclusive even, and the statistical chance of having all three of them appearing simultaneously is bound to be rather slim.”

  “That’s true, but on the other hand I might even have caught hold of her there and then, but instead she just dived out of the window as if she had broken into a houseboat and not a house. I surmise that the cleft palate could have functioned as an environmental pressure that furthered her innate tendency to be independent minded. She had to rely on her own resources. It would have made her lonely, at least when she reached the age where children begin to become conventional because of conforming to the cast iron norms of their surroundings.”

  “Could her notion of becoming a thief have been fostered by a sense of feeling wounded?”

  “That’s possible; but the impression I had of her face did not give me any associations to ingrown chagrin or bitterness, quite the contrary.”

  “I certainly hope you’re right, but a woman who is a professional thief would – ”

  “Have you noticed that in situations of great excitement, great danger or great joy the faculty of the senses are sharpened to such a degree that the amount of details you register become highly increased and that that which normally would appear as two seconds suddenly take on the duration of two solid minutes?”

  “To some extent, yes.”

  “I think that in such a couple of intense seconds one may become aware of having as many sense impressions, images and thoughts as one might appear to have in a whole lifetime.”

  “You mean that the threshold of consciousness is lowered to incorporate data about which one ordinarily would remain totally unaware?”

  “Precisely. The greatest challenge in life is of course to lower this threshold of consciousness.”

  “But how far can that be done; that is the question?”

  “Maybe there are no limits. Eventually one’s consciousness will merge with that of infinity.”

  “That’s basically the perspective of Neoplatonism and Plotinus or even of Whitehead.”

  “Indeed, for there are far more things – ”

  “While I’m a man of science I’m also certain that there’s more to life than mere science.”

  By looking into the amber coloured liquid of his crystal bowl the primal truth was revealed.

  “So whether a scientist is aware of the existence of this reality or not has nothing to do with the experiential data and the theories that are available,
as they are common knowledge; it only depends upon how far into himself he has been granted the grace to see – ”

  Sucking on the glimpse of this truth made it thinner and thinner but there was nothing else to –

  “Dante has expressed this very succinctly. E déi saper che tutti hanno diletto, Quanto la sua veduta si profonda, Nel vero in che si queta ogn’ intelletto, which could be transmogrified as It’s clear that all have a degree of delight that depends on how deep their insight is into the truth that answers every question.”

  “The perspective is then simultaneously κοινὴ αἴσθησις and profound. So it’s only when seeing things at this depth that curiosity and thirst for knowledge can be satisfied completely; but that would also mean that having had such a pure experience science would become uninteresting, for the urge to discover would have been saturated to such an extent that scientific enquiry would lose all or at least most of its allure.”

  “Maybe it also would depend on character traits though it’s this subjective factor, this degree of self-insight that determines everything. We all talk about reality as if we were seeing identical images, identical patterns, but we see different images, different patterns; and failure to acknowledge this is the single greatest source of misunderstanding.”

  “That’s why people with similar character traits and experiences sniff each other out. There has to be a common ground, a recognisable identity to facilitate communication.”

  Contemplating the further implications they dissolved – prompted by the dark as well as by the approach of sleep – in the mellow fragrance that rose up from their glasses. When the last drops had been drained off from the rims and he had paid they went back to the hotel.

  “Shall we meet for breakfast at ten to eight or there about?”

  “Yes, let’s do that, then we can skip lunch and begin fishing early in the afternoon.”