The Care of Time (24 page)

The General threw me a cool look. ‘Sure you’re not making that up, Bob? Sounds a bit literary.’

‘If you mean a bit fancy, I agree. But peace and tranquillity were Zander’s own words for what he wants. He’s not a simple soldier, Patrick, any more than you are.’

Schelm smiled. ‘Bob’s a little short-fused. I did warn you, Patrick.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s really time we went down to dinner, but if nobody minds I’m going to have another drink.’

However, when he reached the drinks table he just looked down at it. ‘Why,’ he asked us, ‘did The Ruler have to cheat? We sold the Saudis a complete biological and chemical warfare defence system. The UAE could have one for the asking. The Ruler could have one all to himself. What is it he wants that he believes he can get from us only by secret unilateral dealing and dangling bait like Abra Bay?’

‘I met some weird ones down there,’ said the General, ‘but this chap sounds very far gone indeed. Obviously, he must know that there are some things we’re
never
going to give him, no matter how many Abra Bays he has to offer. Have you considered the possibility, Dieter, that what he wants may be something that he’s just read or dreamed about or seen in a film about goings-on in outer space?’

Schelm slammed ice into his glass. ‘Something that doesn’t really exist, Patrick? I wouldn’t mind that at all. If he wanted an expensive toy we could make it or fake it for him. But I don’t think The Ruler goes in much for toys.’

‘What about the silver mine?’

‘That’s no toy, Patrick. You’ve said as much yourself. No, I’m afraid there are only two basic things that The Ruler wants – a long life for himself and instant death for his enemies. What Bob’s been telling us shows that we haven’t
taken this madman seriously enough. He doesn’t care who he has to kill in order to get what he wants. And I’m sure of one thing. You may say that there are some things that we’re
never
going to give him. I agree. But for Abra Bay, it’s in the death department that we’re going to be asked to go shopping with him.’

I was driven back to the Gasthaus by the driver who had brought me. On the return journey he didn’t utter a single word. That suited me. I had much to think about and to remember, but, this time, no aide-mémoire to help me keep track of it. Schelm on security had begun to sound remarkably like Simone Chihani Zander.

From the time we had gone down to dinner, the only moment of light relief – at least, for me – had come with the coffee. The General had been talking about the way he intended to handle the meeting with The Ruler. He would try to say as little as possible and encourage the other side to be as talkative as possible. He had checked on The Ruler’s command of English and been advised that it was grammatical and spoken with a good accent, but limited – ‘has a Mayfair vocab’. The Ruler and Zander would undoubtedly use Arabic between themselves. The General would pretend not to understand and hope that the pretence would be believed.

‘Now, about you, Bob,’ he went on. ‘How well do you speak it?’

‘All I know is what you need in an Iraqi prison.’

‘How much is that?’

I thought for a second or two and then gave him a sample.

His jaw dropped slightly and he glanced furtively around the restaurant to see if anyone had turned a head. No one had, it seemed. He looked at Schelm. ‘Did you understand that, Dieter?’

‘Not a word.’

The General lowered his voice. ‘What he said was this, more or less. “The only way you’ll empty your bucket before we say you can, spy, is to drink all the piss and eat the shit
yourself.” Or words to that effect. I’m not much good with their slang.’

‘Seems pretty clear,’ said Schelm.

‘I can give you more of the idiomatic stuff if you like,’ I said helpfully. ‘ “Stand with your heels against the wall, son of filth, and remain still until you’re told to move. If you fall down or begin to shake too much, we’ll have to think of something else for you to do with your legs.” ’

‘Thank you, Bob. I think we have the message. Your accent’s very odd I must say, even for Iraq. I don’t think you’ll understand more than a word here and there when The Ruler and Zander are talking. If you do understand something, just don’t react to it. All right?’

‘Sure, Patrick. I don’t think that problem’s going to arise, though, do you? I don’t think I’m going to be allowed into that meeting any more than Jean-Pierre is. The last thing The Ruler’s going to want is extra witnesses.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Aren’t you forgetting your own scenario? There can be as many witnesses to this meeting as the place will hold. The Ruler’s story’s going to be that Zander set it up to oblige his Nato friends and paymasters without any advance permission from him on the pretext that it was to be a simple television interview. We may know that story isn’t true, but why should we announce the fact? Even if The Ruler managed to cheat us, make us look idiots, there’d be nothing for us in denouncing him. Besides, who would believe us? Zander’s the only one who could really spill the beans and he’s not going to be around much longer. He’ll either be dead, or elsewhere. The latter I’m inclined to hope. He may not be a simple soldier, but he has guts.’

‘Will you offer to take him with you?’

‘Yes, if he looks as if he might accept the offer. If he asks for a ride we’ll certainly give him one back to Germany with us. What happened after that would be up to Dieter’s office of course. But he probably won’t want to
leave without his own people here and risk reprisals against them. His original plan called for maintaining the Ortofilm television unit cover.’

‘That could already be blown.’

I hadn’t known how right I was.

When we were within sight of the Gasthaus I told the driver to stop and that I would walk the rest of the way. He nodded and switched off the lights as he pulled in to the side of the road. I said, ‘Danke’ as I got out. He raised a hand in silent acknowledgement. As I walked away he did a slow U-turn before switching on the lights again. He could not have made my return more unobtrusive.

I had noticed earlier that there were two entrances to the Gasthaus. If you already had your room key you could go in through the car park entrance and straight up the stairs, avoiding the lobby. So that is what I did. The sight of a Mercedes with an ORF press permit on the windshield parked alongside the Ortofilm vehicles was good for a few moments of self-congratulation.

They ended at the head of the stairs. The Gasthaus was one of those hotels with alcoves in its corridors. Each was furnished with ladder-back chairs and a small table with a potted plant on it. As I reached the first alcove and turned towards my room, a shock-headed young man in a silver-buttoned blue blazer and grey slacks rose from one of the chairs.

‘Mr Halliday,’ he said, ‘my name is Christian Rainer. I am from ORF current affairs Vienna. I would like a few words with you, please.’

‘I was on my way to bed, Herr Rainer.’

He nodded as if he had known that I would think of nothing better to say. ‘Yes. However, I still think you should spare time for a little talk. It could be to both our advantages.’

‘If it’s about the interview I’m booked to do tomorrow, I doubt if there’s anything useful I can tell you. You’ve spoken to Monsieur Vielle?’

‘And to Madame Chihani. I would suggest that we went
down to the wine bar to talk, but it is closed now. May I suggest instead my room?’

‘If you have something to say that won’t keep, Herr Rainer, why don’t we just sit here for a couple of minutes?’

‘Very well.’ He sat down again. ‘But I am afraid that what I have to say is likely to take more than two minutes.’

I sat down facing him. The chairs were as uncomfortable as they looked. ‘You could try editing it,’ I said.

His clear brown eyes examining me across the potted geranium informed me that he was a top producer not an errand boy and that he wasn’t taking cheap cracks from freelance reporters, no matter how venerable they might believe themselves to be. ‘Have you worked with this Ortofilm unit before?’ he asked brusquely.

‘No.’

‘We have. They worked on two short assignments for us in Belgium. We had bad experiences both times and will not use them again. Nothing to do with the technical quality of the work. The crew is good. It was their management. The English word is “tricksy” I believe.’

I nodded. Vielle, too, had found the Ortofilm management tricksy. ‘So, you’re not using them now. Someone else is. What’s the problem, Herr Rainer? Has Vielle started being tricksy?’

‘No, Mr Halliday. Monsieur Vielle is just incompetent. Are you aware that he doesn’t even know whether he will be shooting on film or on video tape tomorrow? He does not know whether, if he is asked to shoot film in the mine itself, he has enough lamps to light the job. Finally, he says that you will be directing the interview as well as conducting it. One may do a sidewalk interview that way perhaps, but in a situation such as this, where the subject is a difficult and controversial foreign personage, the interviewer, even the most experienced one, needs help. You can consult with the director about
how
the interview should best be shot and what should be covered for technical purposes, but one cannot just leave it to the camera and sound men. However
good they are, it is not fair to them. They have their own jobs to do.’

Every word he said was true but it was time to stop the flow. ‘You’re quite right, Herr Rainer,’ I said. ‘Monsieur Vielle is an accountant, not a production man. But that’s not the worst of it. You said that the Ortofilm crew was good. Well, I found out just three days ago that the good Ortofilm crew you spoke of is at present in Mexico, of all places. What we have here is an Ortofilm B team. I wasn’t prepared to accept that and I told the people who are paying me that I wasn’t. For contractual reasons, apparently, they can’t fire Ortofilm. Besides, Ortofilm’s researcher, Madame Chihani, is extremely good and has done most of the preparatory work. What I have insisted on, though, is another unit, with a director, to shoot the interview.’

‘ORF would be glad to help there,’ he said quickly. ‘You can use one of our units. There would be no problem.’

‘There would be a considerable problem, Herr Rainer. Your unit wouldn’t be allowed near The Ruler. Nothing I could say would alter that. The most likely effect would be that The Ruler would ban me too and cancel the interview.’

‘ “The Ruler”, Mr Halliday? Is that what you call him?’

‘The idea amuses you? He
is
a ruler so why not call him one?’

‘Do you know what kind of a man this is?’

‘The idea of interviewing the man is to give television viewers a chance of seeing the man for themselves. Whether they also see what kind of man he is depends on several things. How shrewdly he handles himself I don’t know. He’s made a habit of avoiding publicity.’

‘For good reason. Where are you getting your competent unit from?’

‘Holland. Viser-Damrak of Eindhoven. The director is a man named Dick Kluvers.’

‘I know him. Very good. But he and his unit are in Yugoslavia, making a documentary. This I know for a fact.’

‘It was a fact, Herr Rainer. They finished shooting down
there a few days ago. They’re in Trieste tonight. They arrive here tomorrow at midday. The film you get will be technically competent. You need have no fears on that score. I take it that Vielle has asked you to handle the processing? And you’ve agreed? Fine. Then, if you’ll have a car standing by here from, say, four o’clock tomorrow afternoon, Kluvers will see that you get it as soon as it’s all in the can. We’ll want a first look at the answer print of course.’

‘You can see it in Graz.’

‘Splendid. I’ll leave you and Kluvers to get it all together.’ I started to go, but he reached over and put a hand on my arm.

‘Surely you are going to tell me something of the questions you will be asking him, Mr Halliday?’

That really deserved a brush-off. I tried, though, to stay reasonably cool. ‘Herr Rainer, how do I know what questions I’ll be asking him? I don’t do interviews by reading questions off a clip-board. I brief myself as well as I can on the subject. I talk to him for a bit before there’s any filming. Usually a pattern for the interview begins to take shape. In effect, I try to get the subject to interview himself. I do as little talking as possible and ask a minimum of questions.’

If he had noticed that I had suddenly begun to steal lines from one of the highest-paid interviewers in the business, he gave no sign of having done so. He merely nodded. ‘You said, I think, that you found Madame Chihani a very helpful researcher. I, too, found her very receptive and quick to take a point.’

‘I’m glad of that. But I’m sure you’re too experienced to believe, Herr Rainer, that a squabble between The Ruler and an Austrian government department over a building permit for a clinic is going to hold the interest of an American audience for very long. They’d sooner know where he stands on defence ties with the west. I don’t want you to feel disappointed with what you see.’

He took his hand off my arm and we both stood up. He said: ‘I haven’t asked who it is who’s employing you to do this
interview, and I won’t. If the real object of it is a public relations exercise for the benefit of this Ruler of yours and a big corporation like Syncom-Sentinel is footing the bill, then you will certainly be wise to let him interview himself. If you are hoping to produce something of more social value as well as news interest, you will have to ask him at least one question awkward enough to loosen his tongue.’

‘You have a suggestion of course.’

‘Of course. It goes like this. Here in Austria, Mr Ruler, you are building a clinic for the treatment of respiratory diseases. Am I right? Good. And do you know that some people here are saying that it is not really a clinic at all, but a huge private fall-out shelter? And that there are others, even less kind, who say that what you are building is not merely a fall-out shelter, but a
fortress
designed solely for your exclusive personal use during World War Three? How would you answer such accusations, Mr Ruler?’