I sat down, shattered. It was immaterial now whether that answer came from him or through him. In either case it was the Building that spoke. What fantastic cunning, to utilize even the approach of death, the very marks of its proximity, to conduct official business!
Still, this was no final solution. They were merely letting me know that everything had been taken note of, all my little sins, impersonations, excuses, treasons. I was being given a reprieve; the time for sentencing had not yet come.
Cut the Gordian knot or be strangled by it, be convicted or found pure as the driven snow … as if my destiny was to have some monument raised in my name—either in this Building or the other! Any moment now guards could break in and seize me, arrest me, terminate me. But such tactics were out of fashion. Besides, they knew I couldn’t stay here by the sleeping Admiral now that I had received the message, they knew I would take up my wandering again, like a dog nursing its injured paw.
Suddenly angry, I paced the luxurious carpet. The Admiral sat in his armchair, shrunken, so unlike the hale and hearty portraits that stared out fiercely from the walls. I looked around with the impatience of a thief, feeling that as yet I had done nothing of consequence, that even my transgressions hardly counted for anything. If only I could attract attention to myself, do something spectacular, rise or fall, it didn’t matter … even disaster would be a victory … even the worst crime…
The desk had an unusual number of locks; it evidently contained valuable documents. I knelt and pulled gently at one of the drawers. Inside were cardboard boxes tied with rubber bands and marked “one teaspoon three times a day,” and there was a strongbox full of pills. The next drawer had more of the same: nothing but medicine. I found a bunch of keys and proceeded to try them, one by one, in the locks, getting down on all fours behind the desk. No, this they hadn’t foreseen, that I would be capable of such a low deed, rifling the Admiral’s desk, and under his very nose! There was no turning back now; this was not the sort of thing one could explain away later. My hands trembled as I pulled out box after box, tore the wrappings off packages—nothing, nothing but bottles, vials, jars of salve, tranquilizers, Band-Aids, medicine for corns, suppositories, supports and trusses, safety pins, cotton balls and cotton swabs, all sorts of sprays and powders, eyedroppers, tweezers, thermometers. That was all?!
Impossible! It was a trick! Camouflage! I tapped the remaining drawers. I felt around, heard the click of a hidden spring, reached in and pulled out—a cap, a stick, a slingshot, a spotted stone, a dried leaf, and—aha!—a sealed packet. I broke the seal and several cards fell out, the kind that come with bubble gum. What else? Nothing else.
They were animal cards: a donkey, a zebra, a buffalo, a baboon, a hyena, and an egg. A donkey? That meant… I was an ass? What about an elephant? Awkward, thick-skinned. Hyena? Let’s see, a hyena fed on carrion … the old man? And a baboon? Baboon, monkey, monkey business, ape—an ape apes, of course! Then … they had anticipated my attempted burglary … and the egg? What did the egg say?
I turned the card over. Ah! The cuckoo. The cuckoo puts her egg in another bird’s nest—an act of treachery, falsification! What then? Assault? Murder? But how could I murder that poor old man with moles? Anyway…
“Peep,” he mumbled under his breath and began to snore in a tremolo, like a nightingale, a very old nightingale.
That was the last straw. I threw everything back in the drawers, brushed off my knees, stepped over a puddle of spilled medicine, and collapsed into a chair. Not to deliberate on what I should do next, but just to collapse—to collapse in despair and exhaustion.
7
I have no idea how long I sat there. The old man gave an occasional snort in his sleep, but that couldn’t rouse me from my stupor. Several times I got up and went to see Major Erms, and it always turned out to be a dream. Then the thought occurred to me that I could simply sit there, just sit there—they’d have to do something about it eventually. Except what about those long, long hours I had spent in that horrible reception room? No, they’d let me rot first…
Quickly, I gathered up my papers and went to Major Erms. He was at his desk, writing something with one hand and stirring coffee with the other. He lifted his blue eyes and looked straight at me. There was a cheerful strength in those eyes, the joyful attitude of a puppy pleased with everything, a puppy … a dog … was there something in that? But he interrupted my thoughts by saying:
“You’re late! I was beginning to think—poof!—into thin air! Where were you?”
“With the Admiral,” I said, taking a seat. He tilted his head in a gesture of mock respect.
“Indeed,” he said. “You don’t waste time. I should have known.”
“Cut that out!” I yelled, rising from my chair, my fists clenched.
“What?” he gasped, astonished. But I didn’t let him speak. The dam had burst and my words came pouring out and nothing could stop them—I told him about my first meanderings through the Building, about the Commander in Chief, about the suspicion which even then had taken hold of me like an illness, and I told him how that suspicion had affected all my subsequent actions, how I was ready to accept the role of martyr, an innocent man convicted on circumstantial evidence, a man without a single blot on his record, and how I had prepared myself for the worst, but even the worst had been denied me and I was left to myself, always to myself, always infernally alone, and I told him how I wandered from door to door on business that made no sense, no sense to anyone… I told him everything, but even as I told him, I knew it was in vain. I repeated myself, I groped for words, circled, feeling something was missing, something didn’t quite hold together… Then a thought hit me, and I began to think out loud, think the whole thing out—that is, if I were to be of any use at all (putting aside all personal claims, illusions, hopes), then wasn’t it foolish, even criminal, to waste me in this way? What would the Building gain if I fell to pieces? Nothing! Then what purpose did all this nonsense serve, and wasn’t it about time they called it quits and gave me back my instructions, acquainted me with at least the general idea of the Mission, whatever that might be? For my part, I could guarantee that I would endeavor, with all my heart and soul, above and beyond the call of duty, pledging loyalty, faith, devotion…
Unfortunately my speech, chaotic enough to begin with, did not improve towards the end. Out of breath, shaken, I stopped in mid-sentence. Major Erms’s blue eyes stared at me in consternation. Then he lowered them and stirred his coffee, fumbling with the spoon—ah, he was embarrassed, embarrassed for me!
“Really, I don’t know…” he began in a quiet and friendly way, though I thought I detected a note of severity in his voice. “I don’t know what to do with you. To take such risks … such schoolboy pranks … opening medicine chests, really! It’s painful even to mention it! How could you let your imagination run away with you like that?” He was increasingly stem, yet somehow still maintained that incredibly sunny disposition of his.
This time however I was not going to be led around by the nose. I said quickly:
“And my instructions? Why didn’t you explain them to me? Prandtl categorically refused to. In fact, he actually—he stole them from me—”
“He what?”
“He didn’t do it himself, there was this fat officer in the room … but Prandtl knew about it, I’m positive.”
“Oh, so you’re positive. That’s nice. And do you have any proof of this?”
“No,” I admitted—but immediately resumed the offensive: “Look, Major Erms, if you really want to help me, tell me right now what was in those instructions!”
And I looked him in the eye.
“So that’s what you’re after!” He burst out laughing. “My dear fellow, how could I possibly remember? Really, there are so many—just look!” He picked up thick stacks of paper from the desk and waved them in the air. “You honestly expect me to remember all this? Come on, have a heart…”
“No!” I said firmly. “I don’t beli
eve you! You say you don’t remember anything? Not even the general idea? Well, I just don’t believe you!!”
If only I hadn’t gone too far. After all, he was the only man I could count on, my last resort. Even now, I felt this. If he were suddenly to confess that he was only acting under orders, that he was not what he seemed to be, not Major Erms the honest young man with friendly, blue eyes but just another part of the Building—then nothing remained for me but to go to that bathroom upstairs and…
Major Erms did not speak for a long while. He rubbed his forehead, he scratched his ear, he sighed.
“You lost your instructions,” he finally said. “All right. That’s something. It calls for disciplinary action. I’ll have to initiate proceedings. But don’t worry, it won’t be bad—unless you left the premises at any time. You didn’t leave the Building, I hope?”
“No.”
“Thank God!” he sighed with relief. “In that case, the whole thing will be a mere formality. We’ll take care of it later. As far as what you’ve said in this office is concerned, I didn’t hear any of it, understand? If I listened every time a colleague blew off steam here, well—I wouldn’t be fit to hold this position!” His fist hit the desk. “You doubt my sincerity. Why should I like you, you wonder, when we hardly know each other?” He spread his arms. “But it isn’t like that at all. Please pay attention to what I have to say. I’m not just another petty official pouring over a lot of meaningless papers, I’m not another blasted bureaucrat! I’m a terminal, a port, a stopping-off point for our very best people, people who are on their way—there. Now, you’ve been singled out for a Special Mission. So while I don’t know you personally, I do know that on that basis alone (not everyone gets a Mission, after all) you merit my respect, my trust, my friendship—particularly as your work demands that you will be alone for an indefinite period of time, alone and in the greatest peril… I would be a swine indeed if, under those circumstances, I didn’t do all in my power to offer you a helping hand—not merely in an official capacity, but in every capacity possible! You are angry that I don’t recall your instructions? You have every right to be angry! I have a lousy memory, it’s true. On the other hand, my superiors don’t hold that against me. In our business, it’s not healthy to remember too much. Suppose you’re about to leave on your Mission and I happen to blurt out—unintentionally, of course—some detail, oh the most unimportant trifle. Yet, finding its way there through certain channels, it could prove fatal, destroy you. You understand? Isn’t it better, then, for me to forget what passes through my hands? Otherwise, I’d have to be constantly on my guard, watch every word… And then, it’s not every day that someone loses his instructions! You can hardly blame me for not having prepared for that eventuality! We’ll start disciplinary procedures against you, that can’t be helped—but do get rid of these unfounded suspicions.”
“Very well,” I said. “I understand. At least, I’m trying to understand. But what about my instructions? Someone must have the originals!”
“Sure!” he answered with a characteristic toss of his blond hair. “The Commander in Chief has them in his safe. You need special permission to get at them, of course. Those things can’t be done in a hurry. But it shouldn’t take too long!” he added hastily.
“May I leave this with you?” I asked, placing my folder on his desk.
“What is it?”
“Didn’t I tell you? It’s the folder they switched on me.”
“Ah, there you go again!”
He shook his head.
“I wonder,” he said, half to himself, “if I shouldn’t send you to Medicals…”
But he opened the folder and glanced at the plan and the map sewn together with white thread. He examined them. There was an odd look on his face.
“Peep,” he muttered under his breath.
His bright eyes lifted and met mine.
“Mind if I leave you for a second? Just a second, I promise…”
I didn’t protest, especially since he took the compromising documents with him. He went out by a side door, didn’t even bother to shut it; I heard a chair move, and then a faint scratching sound. I got up, tiptoed over to the door, and peeked in.
Major Erms was sitting at a small desk under a bright lamp, guiding a pencil over a blank sheet of paper with the utmost care. He was copying out the plans of the Building. I moved closer, unable to believe my eyes. The floor creaked. Erms whirled around and saw me. He was startled at first, but quickly broke into a friendly grin.
“I didn’t want to be rude,” he said, getting up, “and work right in front of you … which is why…”
He tossed his sketch on the desk with an exaggerated lack of concern. It skidded across the highly polished wood and almost fell to the floor. Erms handed me the original papers.
“No, you keep them,” I mumbled, confused by the whole incident.
“And what would I do with them? No, they have to be submitted to the Registry. You’re going there anyway to file a formal report on the loss of your instructions. I’d gladly take care of the matter for you, except that unfortunately this has to be done in person.”
We returned to his office and sat down, facing each other across the desk.
“Then—the originals of my instructions? I have to wait until after the disciplinary action?” But before he could reply, I added, surprised that I was actually asking this:
“Why did you copy those plans?”
“Copy?” Major Erms shook his head. “You’re imagining things. I was only checking their authenticity. There are so many fakes in circulation, you know.”
I wanted to shout, “That’s not true! I saw it! You were making a copy!” But all I could say was:
“They’re fakes?”
“Well, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but…” He leaned over with a conspiratorial air. “Everything’s authentic except for the second and third levels … but keep that under your hat.”
“Of course!” I said, and was about to leave when I remembered the meal tickets. He rummaged around for them, looked in his pockets and under his papers, cursing his forgetfulness, tossing out all sorts of personal odds and ends on the desk. Among them was a small, spotted stone.
I waited and watched him carefully. Was he telling the truth? I had seen with my own eyes how he copied the plans. What did it mean? Why would he do something like that?
Could it be that the head of the Department of Instructions was also working for… Really, what nonsense! This was not normal, healthy suspicion. Could I be on the brink of a nervous breakdown? My actions in the Admiral’s office, for example, all that melodrama… Here was an old man who needed a nap at the end of a long and difficult day, who had a few blemishes common to old age, who collected animal cards—and I had to conjure up some diabolical plot out of all this! How absurd! Still, Major Erms did copy those plans, plans which had nothing to do with his Department—he said so himself—and which he was not even allowed to hold for me… Why didn’t he at least close the door? Did he take me for a harmless idiot? That I doubted. Then why expose himself like that, unless…
Unless he considered me an ally, said a strange voice in my head. Suddenly, there was a shout: Major Erms had found my meal tickets, they were in his wallet.
“Here,” he said, giving them to me. “Now go to 1116, that’s the Registry, give them your papers and make your report. I’ll phone ahead and let them know you’re coming. But please, go straight there, don’t get lost on the way!” He smiled and walked me to the door. I went meekly, my head filled with a hundred bewildering thoughts, and was already walking down the hall when he stuck his head out the door and yelled:
“Drop in later!”
I continued on my way. If he took me for an ally … then he had no fears I would expose him. I wasn’t that familiar with the machinery of intelligence, but I did know that agents assigned to different territories usually couldn’t identify one another. This was to minimize the possibility that some serious
slip-up might uncover the whole operation, blow the entire network. On the basis of all the evidence against me, Major Erms could easily have taken me for one of his … though, on the other hand, he would be in no hurry to reveal himself to me. One thing didn’t fit. If Major Erms was really working for the enemy, that is, if he was an infiltrator, a plant in the Department of Instructions, and if he really took me for someone working on his side, then surely he would warn me, let me know the score, not deliberately try to confuse me…
Just a minute! Was there ever such a thing as solidarity among agents? Everyone was out for himself, everyone had his own assignment. Major Erms would sacrifice me without a moment’s hesitation, whether I was an ally or not, if that would strengthen his own position or in any way promote the success of whatever mission he had himself.
Yes, clearly he would. Then what could I do? Where could I turn? I’d left my book and papers in his office: that would be pretext enough. I hurried back, trying my best to assume an appropriately absentminded look. I went in without knocking.
Never in a hundred years would I have thought to catch him doing this!
Sitting back in his chair, legs propped up on the desk, and beating time on the coffee cup with his spoon, he was singing! Oh, he must have been thoroughly pleased with himself! Those plans he copied—what a windfall! He broke off when he saw me, not a bit embarrassed, and laughed.
“You caught me red-handed! Fooling around on the job! A man does what he can not to turn into a rubber stamp. Your book, right? Over there. You know, I admire you—even waiting around in reception rooms, you improve your mind. And don’t forget the papers.” I nodded and was about to leave, when a thought hit me.
“Sir?”
It was the first time I had called him “sir.” He frowned.
“Yes?”
“This whole conversation … it was in code, wasn’t it?”
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