Estoril

by Dejan Tiago-Stankovic

  ‘Do you know how long it takes for honey to go bad?’

  ‘I know it can become sugary, but I’ve never heard of it going bad.’

  ‘But do you know how many years it takes for it to go bad so that it’s inedible?’

  Bruno thought for a minute and then confessed that he did not know.

  ‘No end of years,’ said the boy proudly, revealing the secret. ‘Because honey can’t go bad.’

  ‘Where did you learn that?’

  ‘They found honey in the pyramids of Egypt. They opened the jars and the honey was still edible. After five thousand years!’

  ‘If I’d died today, I’d have died without knowing that,’ said the amazed driver.

  IT IS ONLY WITH THE HEART THAT ONE CAN SEE RIGHTLY

  On the other side of the glass pane it was spring. It had stopped raining and the sun was shining. Ivan looked out at the surrounding buildings, their wet façades shining like polished scenery. He was startled out of his reverie by a voice, almost a whisper. It came from behind.

  ‘Don’t move.’

  It was von Karstoff. Ivan had not heard him come in. He obeyed. He did not move.

  ‘Now turn around slowly... Very slowly. No sudden moves,’ his handler said softly.

  From Ivan’s point of view, the situation was more than worrying: a Nazi officer had a gun aimed at his back.

  Realistically speaking, there was no chance of escape: behind him was a man with a firearm, in front the option of jumping through a closed second-floor window. He was unlikely to survive either. In such a situation a practised agent does what he is told. Slowly, calmly, Ivan started turning around as instructed, aware that even the smallest sign of nervousness could be fatal. He did not raise his hands, nor, in honesty, had he been told to do so. Instead, slowly, inch by inch, he moved his right hand towards his belt and pistol. Midway, as if in slow motion, he caught sight of von Karstoff’s reflection in the mirror and breathed a sigh of relief.

  False alarm. Ludovico was not armed. He was standing in the middle of the room, looking somewhat grandfatherly, dressed in a silk dressing gown and slippers. His hands were raised, as if in surrender, and his head slightly sunken between his shoulders. He was looking not at Ivan but at the little animal perched on his left shoulder. It was a small, reddish monkey, like the ones organ grinders use to collect money from the public. All the little creature needed was a red fez and a vest. Ivan stopped reaching for his pistol and completed his slow-motion pirouette. It seems that we will not see a single bullet fired in our wartime novel.

  ‘Benito?’ Ivan asked, though he knew it wasn’t Benito. Benito was darker and considerably bigger.

  ‘Ssssh! Quiet!’ von Karstoff beseeched him. ‘I brought her just for you to see her. You wait here until I put her back in her cage.’

  Holding his body and neck stiffly to one side, he shuffled across the parquet to the next room.

  ‘It’s a female. Her name is Josefina. Benito died while you were in the States. He came down with pneumonia and was gone in a matter of days. He was old. I got this one the other day from a colleague in Africa.’

  ‘Why did you tell me not to move?’

  ‘She’s young and is easily unnerved. And when that happens she likes to pull your hair. They need time to get used to people. When he was a baby the late Benito bit me straight through my fingernail,’ he said, showing the scar on the tip of his index finger.

  *

  Ludovico was more than satisfied with what Ivan brought back from Britain: sketches, notes, maps and photographs, slightly overexposed but usable all the same. Then he began asking the questions on his list:

  ‘Did you see any unusual convoys of vehicles?’

  ‘No,’ replied the agent.

  ‘Do you know where Eisenhower’s headquarters is?’

  ‘I heard various versions. I think it’s on Grosvenor Square, but south London and Kent are also being mentioned.’

  ‘Did you see any equipment for a naval landing?’ asked the handler.

  ‘Just once I saw four trucks with something that looked like boats, but made of wood and tarpaulin. I don’t know if that’s what they were.’

  ‘What do you know about their underwater mine fields?’

  ‘You’ve got some photographed maps there,’ replied the agent, pointing to the documents the Englishman had given him.

  This was followed by a question asked of all agents at the time.

  ‘Have you got any idea of the most likely site for the Allied landing?’

  ‘Nobody knows that yet. But there will be one,’ said the agent.

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think it will be Pas de Calais or even Brittany. Rumour has it that it might be Norway. Or Greece. Some say that Dalmatia and Montenegro are out of the game, others that they are ideal because the local population is ready to fight on the side of the Allies,’ said the agent.

  ‘Normandy?’ asked the handler.

  ‘Anything is possible. That option has also been mentioned, but less often. The officers I talked to don’t know, but most of them think that there would be too many casualties because of the terrain there.’ Ivan’s answer was as confused as the reports of all the other German agents in Britain. And that was no accident. Every last one of them had been turned; their dispatches said what the British told them to say, the aim being to confuse the enemy.

  ‘When are you going back to London?’ asked the handler, pouring drinks.

  ‘As soon as I find a ticket,’ replied the agent.

  ‘Make it soon and come back quickly,’ said von Karstoff. ‘The boss, Admiral Canaris, will be coming to Lisbon soon. I’m sorry to tell you but in his opinion you are not worth the money they are paying you. I hope this report will change his mind. I think the best thing would be for the two of you to meet each other in person and talk. And one more thing: try not to stay in central London. Our side has a new weapon and is planning to use it soon.’

  ‘What do you think about it?’ Duško wanted to know.

  ‘Honestly?’

  ‘Honestly.’

  ‘I’m getting more and more afraid. We’re fucked when they win anyway, but if we destroy London, no German will escape alive.’

  * * *

  That same afternoon, Duško said to Gaby:

  ‘Let me take you out to dinner. A proper, elegant dinner. Put on something nice.’

  The irony of the request did not escape the boy who had only one suit to his name, but he pretended wide-eyed innocence.

  ‘Why? Are we celebrating something?’

  ‘We are.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Whatever. Why not celebrate?’

  * * *

  Gaby had now started to have a drink on special occasions. At the age of thirteen he began having a glass of wine with lunch, because the hotel staff said it was good for his growth. More recently, he would also have a glass of champagne with Duško. Raising their glasses, Popov confessed to his friend:

  ‘I’d like to discuss something of vital importance with you but you must promise not to say a word about it to anybody. Promise?’

  The boy nodded his head. But that was not enough for Duško.

  ‘Listen, I’m confiding in you because you are my best friend; if you tell anybody I could get into a lot of trouble. You understand?’

  ‘I understand, I understand! I won’t tell a soul,’ the boy promised.

  ‘What do you think, my wise man of the East, what should a person do if he’s afraid?’

  ‘Afraid of what?’

  ‘Not of what, for what. I’m afraid for my life,’ said Duško.

  ‘How afraid?’

  ‘So afraid that I’ve even started being afraid of my own friends. Today I wanted to kill a man who is my friend, because I thought my life was at stake.’

  ‘That’s weird. I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe you should get out of here until you’re over it,’ said Gaby after giving it some thought.

  �
�I think so too!’ Duško agreed.

  ‘Get going, then.’

  ‘Thanks for your support. You’re a true friend. But I can’t. I don’t have any money. Could you lend me some?’

  ‘Again?’

  ‘I know you said you wouldn’t give me any more. I wouldn’t be asking if the situation weren’t so serious.’

  The boy sat there, thinking. His older friend pressed on:

  ‘Come on, I’m just asking you to lend me money, and you look as if I want to take out your kidney. My life is in danger. It’s no joke. Who’s going to help me if not you?’

  The boy said nothing. Duško had not expected him to be so unwilling.

  ‘Why are you being so tight-fisted? It’s not money you earned working in a coal mine, for heaven’s sake. You’re my best friend. Who else would you give it to if not me?’

  The boy finally made up his mind. Objectively speaking, it was true: after Papagaio, Duško was his best friend.

  ‘All right. I’ll lend you enough to keep you going for a while. After that you’re on your own. You’re a grown-up man. How much do you need?’

  ‘Ten thousand will do it.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I only lend as much as I am prepared to write off. I’ll give you five thousand,’ the boy said.

  ‘Are you nuts? You don’t have to write it off. You know me! I’ll repay it.’

  ‘I said five, and five you’ll get. Five thousand is a lot of money. Take it or leave it.’

  It was obviously Gaby’s final offer.

  ‘All right, all right. Give me the money now, before you change your mind.’

  ‘No. You’ll squander it. It’s better if I give it to you when you leave. All right?’

  ‘You don’t trust me?’ Duško said, trying to manipulate him.

  ‘No, I don’t,’ said the boy.

  There was no room for further negotiation. The boy switched to a completely different subject.

  ‘Let me ask you something. How did you interpret the sentence: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye?’

  ‘Where did you get that from?’ asked Duško, perplexed.

  ‘From Tonio’s book, the one I lent you. So you didn’t read it, after all?’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ Duško lied. ‘It’s just that I’ve become somewhat forgetful lately.’

  ‘So, what do you think?’ the boy wanted to know.

  ‘I’m rather shallow and Tonio is a philosopher,’ Duško replied. ‘You’d better ask him.’

  ‘I asked him in a letter, but he hasn’t answered it yet. Anyway, I want to know what you think. What did he really mean to say?’

  ‘What did it say exactly again?’

  ‘It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye,’ repeated the boy.

  ‘Aha, It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye... I would say, offhand, that he meant we men are not particularly clever. We just care what a woman looks like, if she has a pretty face, a good body... Understand? But actually, what is essential is invisible to the eye. She can be the best-looking girl in the world but if you don’t understand each other, forget it.’

  ‘All right,’ the boy said, his voice flat. He did not find the explanation persuasive. In the final analysis, how can you ask someone to explain literature to you if he doesn’t read?

  THINGS HAVE BECOME A LITTLE COMPLICATED

  Mademoiselle Maristela got in touch with Popov early that evening for no particular reason. The message was: Tomorrow morning at ten. In other words, they were to meet at the casino at ten o’clock that evening, which was less than two hours away.

  He arrived at the casino fifteen minutes early. He found Elizabeth at the bar. She did not usually come early. He was even more surprised when she caught his eye. That was strictly forbidden and had never happened before in a public place. Duško had an undefined, uncomfortable premonition. They quickly took their places at the roulette table.

  Elizabeth placed her first chip on the zero. This was a secret signal activating a so-called reserve code. It meant the situation was urgent. That was news in itself. Duško had been trained for this procedure but he had never seen it in practice. He placed his bet on black, signalling that he understood. She started her dictation by placing her chip on the number 12. That was the letter L. Then, after skipping a round, she went for the following: 22-5-18-8-1-6-20-5-20. So, 12-space-22-5-18-8-1-6-20-5-20. That meant L VERHAFTET. L ARRESTED. L? Ludwig!? So somebody had arrested Ludwig.

  It was a balmy evening. On his way back from the casino, he sat down on a bench to smoke a cigarette and think about the possible repercussions of Ludwig’s arrest. He smoked three cigarettes. He could not come up with anything intelligent.

  He returned to the hotel relatively early, considerably before midnight. Manuel greeted him at the door, Renato smiled at him as he passed Reception, and a vodka vermouth was waiting for him at the bar. The music was loud. It was an evening like any other at the Palácio. And then Black walked up to him. He was acting strangely, as if they had not seen each other for days. Embracing Duško warmly, Black whispered something into his ear.

  A few drinks later, Duško announced that he was going to bed early. Taking the lift to the third floor, he joked with the lift boy (‘Fucking anything these days, kid?’), teetered out and unsteadily made his way down the long corridor to his room. The hotel bellboy who was following him that evening put his ear to the door but heard nothing, so he went on his way.

  Duško expected to find Jarvis waiting for him in the room. That is what the hotel manager had whispered in his ear when he’d embraced him. But he was wrong. Jarvis was waiting for him in the bathroom. They said not a word, shook hands, closed the door, turned on all the taps so that the sound of the running water bounced off the ceramic tiles, and sat on the edge of the bathtub.

  ‘Johnny Jebsen has disappeared. He was last seen the night before last entering an apartment near the German embassy. They think the Gestapo drugged him and took him across the border in the boot of a car.’

  Jarvis stopped there. Jebsen was a good friend of Popov’s, maybe his best friend, and he would need a moment to digest such bad news.

  ‘Johnny has been caught?’

  ‘Yes. And he wasn’t alone. They’ve arrested von Karstoff too. He left urgently for Berlin the day before yesterday. The Gestapo arrested him at the airport.’

  ‘Is the source reliable?’ Duško asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said the Englishman. ‘Luckily, none of it seems to be connected to you. The information I have is that they were arrested because of some financial misappropriation. Were you involved in anything?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean exactly, but probably not.’

  ‘Even better. All the same, the service feels it would be best to remove you as soon as possible. They’ll interrogate the two of them. Torture them. Your name may crop up. You know too much. We can’t let the Germans get their hands on you.’

  ‘What exactly do you mean when you say it would be best to remove me? You’re not planning to get rid of me, are you?’

  ‘As far as I know − no. They just want to transfer you to London. Do you have a Portuguese entry-exit visa in your passport?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then try using that passport to leave the country. This is a British passport in your name.’ He handed a new document to Popov. ‘With a visa. Use it only in a crunch. It’s better if nobody knows that you’ve got two passports. In the event that they won’t let you out of the country even with British papers, our consul, who will be discreetly on the scene, will intervene. Here is a ticket for tomorrow. And eight hundred pounds. That will be enough until you find your feet.’

  ‘And my family in Belgrade?’ Popov asked. ‘They can be caught and sent to a concentration camp at any moment.’

  ‘We’ve thought of that as well. Tomorrow, as late as possible before you lea
ve, you will send Elizabeth a letter. Best do it from the airport. Tell her that a ticket suddenly came up for the same day, that you’re leaving and will contact her from London. Then all we have to do is convince Berlin that you were arrested in London and sentenced for espionage. The Germans will see your family as a guarantee that you won’t talk while in prison. Soon they’ll forget all about you. They have more important things to do than take their revenge on you.’

  Only one question remained:

  ‘I must remind you that the Bajlonis have still not been issued visas,’ said Duško.

  The playboy envisaged Jarvis telling him that visas were not within his jurisdiction and that he should try going to the right office. He started by saying:

  ‘Listen...’

  But the agent stopped him.

  ‘You listen to me for once. Listen to me and think good and hard whether it is wise, in this case, to be so rigid. I’m afraid we may jeopardize the security of the operation.’

  ‘Why?’ The mere mention of security being jeopardized upset Jarvis.

  ‘Lila knows too much,’ said Duško.

  ‘What’s “too much”?’

  ‘Enough for you to listen to me so that we don’t have another Pearl Harbor.’

  ‘Are you bluffing?’ Jarvis asked.

  ‘Look, you’re the boss, you have the final say, but I want the record to show that I think it would be better for everybody if she was on your territory and not here. Especially now, with this situation. It’s as if we’re saying to the Germans “be my guest”.’

  ‘You’re bluffing,’ Jarvis insisted.

  ‘No. I’m warning,’ the agent replied.

  *

  The very next day, a dispatch marked State Secret and addressed to Room 39 flew by diplomatic pouch to England. What follows are the most interesting parts of the document:

  1) Upon the subject’s arrival immediately stage his arrest at the hotel.

  2) Provide Tricycle with discreet accommodation and a false identity until the war is over. (Under no circumstances can he be allowed to leave Britain. Keep him under observation as he is prone to be wilful and cause incidents.)