Circus (14 page)

As a finale, Kan Dahn paraded around the centre ring, with a heavy wooden pole resting in a yoke on his shoulders. On either side of the yoke sat five circus girls. If Kan Dahn was aware of the presence of their weight he showed no signs of it. Occasionally, he stopped to scratch the back of his left calf with his right instep. Sergius leaned across Kodes and spoke to Angelo, who was watching the spectacle with an air of determined indifference.

‘Big, isn't he, Angelo?'

‘All show muscle. Puffy. I once saw an old man in Athens, seventy-five if he was a day, and not a kilo, I swear, over fifty, carrying a grand piano the length of a street. Friends must have put it on his back – he could never have straightened his legs under the load – and if he didn't keep them straight he would have collapsed.'

Even as he spoke, Kan Dahn started climbing a massive step-ladder in the centre of the ring. The platform on top was about three feet square. Kan Dahn reached this without any apparent difficulty, stepped on to an inset turntable, and by a progressive twisting of his tree-trunk legs set the turntable in circular motion, slowly speeding up until the girls on the outer ends of the pole were no more than coloured kaleidoscopic blurs. Gradually he slowed, came to a stop, descended the ladder, knelt, then bowed his shoulders until the feet of the circus girls touched the sawdust. Sergius leaned across again.

‘Could your old friend in Athens have done that with his piano?' Angelo made no reply. ‘Do you know that they say that he can do that with fourteen girls but the management won't allow him because they say nobody will believe it?' Angelo remained silent.

The performance ended and the rapturous applause, a standing ovation, lasted several minutes. When the audience started filing out, Sergius looked for and located Wrinfield, and by judging
his pace contrived to meet him at the exit gang way. He said: ‘Mr Wrinfield?'

‘Yes. I'm sorry, should I know you?'

‘We haven't met.' Sergius pointed to the picture on the front of the souvenir programme he carried. ‘The likeness, you will agree, is unmistakable. My name is Colonel Sergius.' They shook hands formally. ‘Stupendous, Mr Wrinfield. Impossible. Had anyone told me that such a show existed, I would have called him a liar to his face.' Wrinfield beamed. Beethoven's Ninth left him cold – this was the music that reached his heart. ‘I've been a devotee of the circus ever since I was a young boy,' – Sergius was as fluent a liar as the next man and a great deal more so than most – ‘but never in my life have I seen anything like this.'

Wrinfield beamed some more. ‘You are too kind, Colonel.'

Sergius shook his head sadly. ‘I wish I had the gift with words the way you have with those marvellous performers of yours. But that is not the sole reason for introducing myself. Your next stop, I know, is Crau.' He produced a card. ‘I am the Chief of Police there.' Sergius carried a considerable variety of cards with him. ‘Whatever I can do, I am at your service. Ask and it's done and I shall consider it a privilege. Not that I shall ever be very far from your side. It is my intention to attend every single performance, for I know I shall never see the like again. For the duration of your stay, crime in Crau can reign unchecked.'

‘Again, you are too kind. Colonel Sergius, you shall be my personal – and, I hope – permanent guest at the circus. I would be honoured –' He broke off and looked at the three men, who showed no intention of moving on. ‘They are with you, Colonel?'

‘How thoughtless of me. I'm afraid I quite got carried away.' Sergius performed the introductions while Wrinfield introduced Harper, who had been seated next to him.

Wrinfield went on: ‘As I was about to say, Colonel, I would be honoured if you and your men would join us in my office for a glass of your national drink.' Sergius said that the honour would be entirely theirs. It was all very cordial.

In the office, one glass became two and then three. Nicolas, permission given, clicked his camera constantly, not forgetting to take at least a dozen of a smilingly protesting Maria, who had been seated behind her desk when they had entered.

Wrinfield said: ‘I wonder, Colonel, if you would like to meet some of our performers?'

‘You're a mind-reader, Mr Wrinfield! I must confess that I did have that very thought in mind but I didn't dare presume – I mean, I have sufficiently trespassed on your hospitality – '

‘Maria.' Wrinfield rattled off a list of names. ‘Go to the dressing-rooms and ask them if they would be kind enough to come and visit our distinguished guest.' Wrinfield, in recent weeks, had
fallen victim to a certain mid-European floweriness of speech.

And so they came to see the distinguished guest, Bruno and his brothers, Neubauer, Kan Dahn, Ron Roebuck, Manuelo, Malthius and half a dozen others. Apart from a certain reserve in Angelo's attitude when he greeted Kan Dahn, everything was very pleasant indeed, fulsome congratulations offered and as modestly received. Sergius did not overstay his welcome and left almost immediately after the last handshake, he and Wrinfield exchanging mutual expressions of goodwill and cordial anticipation of their next meeting.

Sergius had a large black limousine waiting outside, with a uniformed police chauffeur and a dark man in dark clothes beside him. After about quarter of a mile, Sergius stopped the car and issued certain instructions to the plain-clothes man, whom he addressed as Alex. Alex nodded and left the car.

Back in his hotel suite, Sergius said to Kodes and Angelo: ‘You had no trouble in matching the voices with the tapes?' Both men shook their heads. ‘Good. Nicolas, how long will it take you to develop those photographs?'

‘To develop? Within the hour, sir. Printing will take considerably longer.'

‘Just print those of Mr Wrinfield, Dr Harper, the girl – Maria, isn't it? – and the leading circus performers.' Nicolas left and Sergius said: ‘You may leave, too, Angelo. I'll call you.'

Kodes said: ‘Is one permitted to ask the object of this exercise?'

‘One is permitted. I was about to tell you, which is why I asked Angelo to leave. A loyal soul, but one does not wish to overburden his mind with complexities.'

Bruno and Maria, for the first time walking arm in arm, made their way along the ill-lit street, talking with apparent animation. Some thirty yards behind them Alex followed with the unobtrusive casualness of one who has had long practice in following people without calling attention to himself. He slowed his pace as the couple ahead turned through a doorway with an incomprehensible neon sign above.

The café was ill-lit and smoke-filled from an evil-smelling brown-coal fire – the outside temperature hovered near the freezing point – but cosy and comfortable enough if one had a gas-mask ready to hand. It was half full. Seated in a wall booth were Manuelo and Kan Dahn, the former with a coffee, Kan Dahn with two litres of beer. Kan Dahn's legendary consumption of beer was excused – by Kan Dahn – on the grounds that he required it to keep his strength up: it certainly never affected his performance. Bruno spoke briefly to them and asked to be excused for not joining them. Kan Dahn smirked and said that that was perfectly all right by them: Bruno led Maria to a corner table. Only a few seconds later
Roebuck sauntered in, acknowledged their presence with a wave of his hand and sat down with his two companions. The three of them talked desultorily, then started, casually at first, then with increasing urgency, to search through their pockets: from where Bruno sat it would appear that a certain degree of acrimony, not to say downright recrimination, had crept into their conversation. Finally Roebuck scowled, made a dismissive gesture, rose and crossed to Bruno's table.

He said sadly: ‘Roebuck, begging for alms. Not one of us bothered to check if the others were carrying money. As it turns out, we don't have a cent. Rather, we do have thousands of cents, but we doubt whether they'll accept dollars here and Kan Dahn appears to be against washing up in the kitchen. Now, if I had comrades in distress – '

Bruno smiled, brought out a wallet, handed some notes to Roebuck, who thanked him and left. Bruno and Maria ordered an omelette apiece.

Alex, shivering in the cold on the pavement, waited until the food had been served, crossed the street and went into a phone booth. He fed in money, dialled a number and said: ‘Alex.'

‘Yes?'

‘I followed the man and the girl to the Black Swan. They're beginning to eat so it looks as if they'll be there for some time yet. They spoke to two other people, at another table, after their arrival, before going to their own place.'

‘You sure you have the right ones?'

‘I have their photographs, Colonel. A third man came in shortly after the man and girl had sat down at their own table. He sat with the other two men for some time then went across to this man Bruno. He seemed to be borrowing money, at least I saw notes changing hands.'

Sergius said: ‘Do you know any of those three men?'

‘No, sir. But one of them I'd recognize if I didn't see him again for twenty years. A giant, the biggest man I've ever seen, bigger even than Angelo.'

‘I won't award myself any prizes for guessing who that is. Come back here. No, wait. Stay out of sight so that no one inside the café can see you. I'll send Vladimir and Josef down to relieve you. I'll give them their instructions. You just have to point those people out to them. A car will be there in a few minutes.'

Inside the café, Maria said: ‘What's wrong, Bruno?'

‘What should be wrong?'

‘You look troubled.'

‘I am troubled. D-day approaches with uncommon haste. Just about a week now. Wouldn't you be troubled if you had to get inside that damned Lubylan?'

‘It's not just that. You've become remote from me. Cool. Distant. I've done something you don't like? Said something wrong?'

‘Don't be silly.'

She put a hand on his arm. ‘Please.'

‘Is this affection? Or something more? Or something else?'

‘Why do you hurt me so?'

‘I don't want to.' His voice lacked the ring of conviction. ‘Have you ever been an actress?'

She took her hand away. There was bafflement in her face, and pain. She said: ‘I can't think what I've done wrong, I can't think what I've said wrong – and you
do
want to hurt me. Suddenly you want to hurt me. Why don't you slap me, then? Right here in public? That way you can hurt both me and my pride. I don't understand you, I just don't understand you.' She pushed back her chair. ‘I can find the way.'

It was Bruno's turn to take her hand. Whether this was affection, appeal or just an attempt to restrain her it was difficult to say. He said: ‘I wish I could.'

‘Could what?'

‘Find the way.' He looked at her, his brow slightly corrugated. ‘You've been how long with the CIA?'

‘Nearly four years.' The bafflement was back in her face.

‘Who appointed you to this particular job?'

‘Dr Harper. Why?'

‘I thought it was a man called Charles.'

‘He appointed me. Dr Harper made the suggestion. He was very insistent that I should be the one who should come along on this trip.'

‘I'll bet he was.'

‘What's that supposed to mean?'

‘Merely congratulations. To Dr Harper. On his impeccable good taste. Who's Charles?'

‘Just Charles.'

‘He's not Charles. He has another name.'

‘Why didn't you ask him?'

‘He wouldn't have told me. I'd hoped you might.'

‘You know that we can't divulge things such as that.'

‘Well, I like that. I'm going to risk my damned life for the CIA and they can't even trust me with a straightforward piece of information like that. I thought that at least by this time I could trust you or you could trust me. It seems I was wrong – on the second count, anyway. You're willing that I should die but you're not even willing to tell me that. Trust and faith and loyalty – those are great things, aren't they? Or used to be. There doesn't seem to be too much of it around nowadays.'

‘His name is Admiral George C. Jamieson.'

Bruno looked at her for a long moment, then his face slowly broke into a wide smile that transformed his whole expression. She snatched her hand away and looked at him furiously. At their table Kan Dahn nudged Roebuck and Manuelo in turn: all three watched the scene with interest.

‘You horrid man! You deceitful, devious, conniving human being – if I can call you that! And you had the audacity to ask me if I had ever been
an actress. I never have been but even if I had I could never hold a candle to you as an actor. Why did you do it? I don't deserve that.'

Roebuck said: ‘She's getting madder by the minute.'

‘How little you know of human nature,' Kan Dahn said. ‘She'll be proposing to him inside thirty seconds.'

Bruno said: ‘I apologize. But I had to.'

‘Had to find out if I would trust you?'

‘It's terribly important to me. Please forgive me.' He took her unresisting hand again and examined its ringless state with care. He said: ‘It looks pretty bare to me.'

‘What does?'

‘You know that we're only supposed to be in love?'

‘Yes.' It was Maria's turn to be silent. ‘Or do you think we should stop supposing?' Her voice was hesitant, unsure.

‘I don't think. I know. Do you love me, Maria?'

The voice was a whisper but the answer immediate. ‘Yes.' She looked at her left hand and smiled. ‘It does look a little bare, doesn't it?'

Kan Dahn leant back against the booth in an expansive fashion. ‘What did your Uncle Kan Dahn tell you? Somebody buy me a drink.'

Bruno said: ‘Sure?'

‘Even the most intelligent man can ask the most stupid questions. Can't you see it?'