The Only Problem (9 page)

‘Somebody
is financing the FLE,’ said the inspector.

‘But I
am not financing it.’

‘Why do
you live in that shack?’

‘It
doesn’t matter to me where I work. I’ve told you. All I want is peace of mind.
I’m studious.’

‘Scholarly,’
said the inspector dreamily.

‘No,
studious. I can afford to study and speculate without achieving results.’

The
inspector raised his shoulders and exchanged a glance with the sandy-haired
policeman. Then he said, ‘Studious, scholarly … Why did you buy the
château?’

‘It was
convenient for me to do so. Mine Jansen thought it desirable for her to have a
home for herself and the baby.’

‘It isn’t
your child.’

It was
Harvey’s turn to shrug. ‘It’s my wife’s child. It makes no difference to me who
the father is.’

‘The
resemblance between your wife and her sister might be very convenient,’ said
the inspector.

‘I find
them quite distinct. The resemblance is superficial. What do you mean — “convenient”?’
Harvey, not quite knowing what the man was getting at, assumed he was implying
that an exchange of lovers would be easy for him, the two sisters being, as it
were, interchangeable. ‘They are very different,’ said Harvey.

‘It
would be convenient,’ said the inspector, ‘for two women who resemble each
other to be involved in the same criminal organisation. I am just
hypothesising, you understand. A question of one being able to provide an alibi
for the other; it’s not unknown …’

‘My
papers are in order,’ Harvey said now, for no reason that was apparent, even to
himself.

The
inspector was very polite. ‘You maintain your wife financially, of course.’

‘I’ve
given her no money since I left her. But if I had, that wouldn’t signify that I
was financing a terrorist organisation.’

‘Then
you know that your wife is an active member of the FLE, and consequently have
refused to supply money.

‘I
never knew of the existence of the FLE until now. I don’t at all know that my
wife is a member of the group.

‘And
you give your wife no money,’ the policeman said.

‘No
money.

‘You
knew that she was arrested in Trieste.’

‘I didn’t
know until the other day. Nobody told me.

‘Nobody
told you,’ stated the inspector.

‘That’s
right. Nobody told me. I’m studious, you see. I have arranged for people not to
bother me, and they don’t; rather to excess. I think someone should have told
me. Not that it would have made any difference.’

‘Your
wife knows where you live?’

‘Yes.’

‘You
have written to her?’

‘No. I
left her two years ago. Eventually she found out where I lived.’

‘How
did she find out?’

‘I
suppose she got it out of someone. She’s an intelligent woman. I doubt very
much she’s mixed up with a terrorist group.

‘You
must have had some reason to abandon her. Why are you so eager to protect her?’

‘Look,
I just want to be fair, to answer your questions.’

‘We
know she’s an activist in the FLE.’

‘Well,
what exactly have they done?’

‘Armed
robbery and insurrection in various places. Of recent weeks they’ve been
operating in the Vosges. Where are their headquarters?’

‘Not in
my house. And if my wife is involved in these incidents —which I don’t admit
she is — isn’t it possible she has been kidnapped and forced to join this FLE?
It’s happened before. The Hearst case in the United States …

‘Do you
have reason to believe she has been kidnapped?’

‘I don’t
know. I have no idea. Has anyone been killed, injured, by this group?’

‘Injured?
But they are armed. They’ve collected a good deal of money, wounded twelve, damaged
many millions of francs’ worth of property. They are dangerous. Three men and a
girl. The girl is your wife. Who are the others?’

‘How
should I know? I’ve never heard of the —’Nobody told you.

‘Correct.’

‘It’s
time for lunch,’ said the inspector, looking at his watch; and, as he got up,
he said, ‘Can you explain why Nathan Fox disappeared from the château last
night?’

‘Nathan
Fox. Disappeared?’

‘Nobody
told you.

‘No. I
left my cottage at nine this morning.’

‘Where
is Nathan Fox?’ said the inspector, still standing.

‘I have
no idea. He’s free to come and go … I don’t really know.’

‘Well,
think it over.’ The inspector left the room.

Harvey’s cottage was in
darkness when he drove back at four in the morning. He was tempted to go in and
see what had happened to his papers, his work; had they been careful or had they
turned everything upside down? Later, he found everything more or less intact
with hardly a sign of a search; he had suspected that at least half the time he
was kept for questioning had been for the purpose of giving the police leisure
to continue their search at the cottage and the château; much good it had done
them.

He didn’t
stop at the cottage that early morning, but drove up to the château. A police
car was parked at a bend in the drive. Harvey tooted twice, softly and quickly,
as he passed it. Friendly gesture. The light was on in the porch. He let
himself in. Ruth came out of the living room in her dressing gown; she had been
sleeping on a sofa, waiting for him. ‘They brought us back at half-past six,’
she said. She came to hug him, to kiss him. ‘Are you all right?’ they both said
at the same time. Clara was sleeping in her carry-cot.

The
first thing that struck him was the colour in the room. There was nothing new,
but after the grey and neutral offices, hour after hour, at the police
headquarters, the blue of Ruth’s dressing gown, the flower-patterned yellow
sofa, green foliage arranged in a vase, the bright red tartan rug folded over
Clara’s cot, made a special impact on his senses. He smiled, almost laughed.

‘Do you
want to go to bed? Aren’t you tired?’ Ruth said.

‘No. I’m
wide awake.’

‘Me,
too.’

They
poured whiskies and sodas. ‘I simply told them the truth,’ Ruth said. She
decided she couldn’t face her whisky and took orange juice.

‘Me,
too. What else could one say?’

‘Oh, I
know you told them everything,’ Ruth said, ‘I could guess by the questions.

Harvey
quoted, ‘“The police won’t shoot if there’s a baby in the house.”‘

‘Yes,
why did you bring that up?’ said Ruth. ‘Was it necessary? They’re suspicious
enough —’

‘I didn’t
suggest it to them.’

‘Well,
neither did I,’ said Ruth. ‘The inspector asked me if it was true you’d made
that remark. I said I believed so. Edward told me, of course —’They’re quite
clever,’ Harvey said. ‘How did they treat you?’

‘Very
polite. They were patient about my
au pair
French.’

‘How
many?’

‘Two
plain-clothes men and a glamorous policewoman. Did you see the policewoman?’
said Ruth.

‘I saw
one, from the window, playing with Clara.’

‘They
were very decent about Clara.’

Harvey’s
interrogators had been three, one after the other, then starting in the late
afternoon with the first again.

Ruth
and Harvey described and identified their respective policemen, and in a
euphoric way compared a great many of their experiences of the day, questions
and answers. Finally Ruth said, ‘Do you really think Effie’s in it?’

‘Up to
the neck,’ said Harvey.

‘Can
you blame them for suspecting us?’

‘No. I
think, in fact, that Effie has chosen this district specifically to embarrass
me.

‘So do I.’

He sat
on the sofa beside her, relaxed, with his arm round her. She said, ‘You know, I’m
more afraid of Effie than the police.’

‘Did
you tell them that?’

‘No.’

‘Did
they come and look round the château while you were at the headquarters?’

‘I don’t
think so, because when they brought me back they asked if they might have a
look round. I said, of course. They went all over, attics, cellars, and both
towers. Actually, I was quite relieved that they didn’t find anything, or
rather anyone. It would be easy to hide in this house, you know.’

‘Did
you tell them you were relieved?’

‘No.’

‘Now
tell me about Nathan.’

‘It’s a
long story,’ said Ruth. ‘He’s in love with Effie. He’d do anything she asked
him.’ Her voice had changed to a mumble.

Harvey
said, ‘But when did you know —’ Then he stopped. ‘My God,’ he said, ‘I’m becoming
another interrogator. I expect you’ve had enough.’

‘Quite
enough.’

It was
he who had the idea to go and make breakfast, which he brought in on a tray. ‘I
had a lousy pizza for supper,’ he said.

She
said, ‘Nathan must have left last night. He didn’t sleep here. He wasn’t here
when I came up from the cottage this morning. His bed wasn’t slept in.’

‘Did
Anne-Marie see him?’ Anne-Marie was a local woman who had been coming daily to
help in the house for the past two weeks.

‘No, he
wasn’t here when she arrived at eight. He’d taken nothing special that I could
see. But he had a phone call yesterday. He said it was from London. I was
annoyed at the time, because I’d told him not to give anyone your number.’

The
telephone at the château operated through an exchange for long distance. ‘One
could easily find out if it came from London,’ Harvey said.

‘The
police say there was no call from London,’ Ruth said.

‘Then
it might have been a national call. He could have been in touch with Effie.’

‘Exactly,’
she said.

‘How
much did you tell them about Nathan?’

‘Everything
I know.’

‘Quite
right.’

‘And
another thing,’ Ruth said, ‘I told them —’

‘Let’s
forget it and go to bed.’

Clara
woke up just then. They shoved a piece of toast into her hand, which seemed to
please her mightily.

It was nine-fifteen when
the telephone rang. This time it was from London. At the same time the doorbell
rang. Harvey had been dreaming that his interrogator was one of those electric
typewriters where the typeface can be changed by easy manipulation; the voice
of the interrogator changed like the type, and in fact was one and the same,
now roman, now élite, now italics. In the end, bells on the typewriter rang to
wake him up to the phone and the doorbell.

He
looked out of the window while Ruth went to answer the phone. Reporters, at
least eight, some with cameras, some with open umbrellas or raincoats over
their heads to shield them from the pouring rain. Up the drive came a
television van. Behind him, through the door of the room, Ruth called to him, ‘Harvey,
it’s urgent for you, from London.’

‘Get
dressed,’ Harvey said. ‘Don’t open the door. Those are reporters out there.
Keep them in the rain for a while, at least.’

Clara
began to wail. The doorbell pealed on. From round the side of the château
someone was banging at another door.

On the
phone was Stewart Cowper from London.

‘What’s
going on there?’ said Stewart.

Harvey
thought he meant the noise.

‘There’s
been a bit of trouble. Reporters are at the doors of the house and the baby’s
crying.’

‘There
are headlines in all the English papers. Are you coming back to England?’

‘Not at
the moment,’ Harvey said. ‘I don’t know about Ruth and the child; but we haven’t
discussed it. What are the headlines?’

‘Headlines
and paras, Harvey. Hold on, I’ll read you a bit:

Millionaire’s
religious sect possibly involved in French terrorist activities. Wife of
English actor involved …

And here’s another:

Playboy Harvey Gotham,
35, with his arsenal of money from Gotham’s Canadian Salmon, whose uncles made
a fortune in the years before and during the second world war, has been
questioned by the
gendarmes d’enquêtes
of the Vosges, France, in
connection with hold-ups and bombings of supermarkets and post offices in that
area. It is believed that his wife, Mrs Effie Gotham, 25, is a leading member
of FLE, an extreme leftist terrorist movement. Mr Gotham, who has recently
acquired a base in that area, denies having in any way financed the group or
having been in touch with his estranged wife. He claims to be occupied with
religious studies. Among his circle are his sister-in-law, Ruth, 28, sister of
the suspected terrorist, and Nathan Fox, 25, who disappeared from the Gotham
château on the eve of the latest armed robbery at Epinal, capital of the Vosges.