A Long Silence (29 page)

‘Ah. You've got it all worked out, have you?'

‘I've had time to think if that's what you mean. If I'm caught I'm caught.'

‘And what will you do then?' mildly.

‘I don't rat on my pals if that's what you're suggesting,' reddened and trembling. ‘I'd clam up, and get a lawyer, and just see what they could prove. You always claimed they couldn't prove anything,' sullenly, ‘but how have they come to know, tell me that? They must have got hold of something, some piece of evidence or they wouldn't be so certain. If there's something points to me, then it points to you too. If the police pick me up, then they'll pick you up too, and I'd like to think then that you wouldn't be trying to shuffle it off on me, that's all. You always expect me to trust you, but the way you're acting makes me wonder, that's all, just how far I can trust you.'

‘Very neat,' said Saint, sitting down again calmly, ‘but since I do not hear the police hammering at the door although they've had plenty of time to do so you will forgive me if I suggest your imagination is, as usual, overheated. But just to get it all settled and cut and dried, so that we can both be easy in our minds – let's assume your hypothesis. Very well, the police arrive, and they utter the usual bullshit about there being a supposition that we are both concerned in some absurd conspiracy. And being their ignorant selves, assume further that they can think of nothing but the usual stale trick that's already been played on you – with as far as I can see results exceeding all expectation. So that I'm invited to sit down opposite the desk of some pompous little fuzz-head
and told portentously that you have admitted everything. What do I do then?'

‘If you're even a tenth of what you claim to be,' said Richard quietly, ‘you'd just shrug it off.'

‘Very good; I'm glad you give me credit for a few brains. So then they go to you, and say – it's the obvious move – that I've named you. And then?'

‘I'd treat it as a lie, naturally.'

‘Ah. But give them credit for a few brains too. They can be quite cunning. Suppose they fabricate some piece of evidence – that they claimed, for instance, that they'd identified some object – the gun, say. As I told you at the time, it's safely out of harm's way. But if they gave you some piece of information that you thought could only have come from me, being only known to me – and of course yourself. You see, Dicky, I think ahead. I take my precautions. What then?'

‘I'd say prove it.'

‘And suppose,' maliciously, ‘that they did.'

‘You're getting ready to sell me out, aren't you?'

‘That, Dicky, is exactly what I suspected you would think. As you see, your nerves are not strong enough for this exercise in the imagination. I quite see that this must be painful to your new-bought self-esteem. You had quite a rapid little climb, didn't you? You were on the street without a penny, and I found you, and gave you a nice cushy job, and you went to parties, and played about with Daisy, and thought yourself quite a boy, and then – when it comes to a pinch – you show yourself a weak sister. Twice now – twice you've compromised me. Third time, as they say, pays for all. And I – still following our little hypothesis – find myself, for the third time, in a position which could compromise me. You don't seriously suppose that I can allow that?'

‘You are a proper bastard, aren't you? I never asked for that job – you forced it on me. I thought that trick with the watch dodgy, and you've never given me a real reason to suppose it was anything else. You wanted to show – it's your own words – that killing someone was just another business deal. You had all those statistics about road deaths, and earth
quakes, and Vietnam, and that corny old gag about pressing the button and killing the Chinaman. And I was the sucker. All right, if you push your famous hypothesis that far, and if everything you say came about, then no, I wouldn't just take ten years in prison or whatever like something out the Mafia or – no, I wouldn't lie down for you. You put me on the hook, I'd fucking well see you were on it too.'

Saint, beaming as though given a birthday present, leaned a little forward, sipped at his drink, looked with pleasure at his fingernails and took his time, sadistically, about answering.

‘And there, Dicky, is the point of our little intellectual exercise. There is where I wished to bring you. Surgery – I once told you it was important, and I gave you every proof. That was a physiological example. There exists also – and now is the time for lesson number two – a psychic surgery. The patient, in this instance, is you. Let us hope that you suffer no excessive shock, and that we effect a quick cure.'

Richard looked at the smiling face with glazed eyes. This fellow's bonkers, he thought. He's out of his goddam mind. There are we don't know how many people who know he killed a man, whatever I did. But he sits there gassing about shock.

‘You see, Richard, the police would have much difficulty in accepting that I should have had any hand in such a thing. I am a respected, well-regarded, highly scrupulous businessman. Part owner of an antique business which, you should know by now, is spotlessly virtuous. Owner of a bit of house-property, including this building. And there's a sex-shop on the ground floor, dear dear, the old ladies would tut but there's nothing – nothing – reprehensible about that: on the contrary, we're in the forefront of liberal beliefs. I have, let me put it, an initial right to the incredulity of a court. Now let's descend from the general to the particular – I employ you. Nice, well-spoken, respectable young man, of good antecedents. I employ you – justifiably – in a position of some confidence. One day you have a moment's slip from grace, and you pick up an expensive watch which is – due entirely to my innocent carelessness – hanging about. Now I can't blame you for that:
we agree to say no more about it. But it is a tiny slip from grace, let's say, and goes perhaps to show that you aren't entirely reliable. In fact, as I now learn, you go in an oddly roundabout way to a virtually retired police officer, and you spin him a tale. To cover yourself, no doubt, and to satisfy your conscience. But it so happens that he begins to take an undue interest in your activities, and since some of these activities – playing about with dancing girls and the like – might be thought by the more strait-minded a little out of line, you are a little embarrassed. You have access to my flat – dear dear, that was perhaps unwise of me. I have – with the benefit of hindsight – noticed some unbalanced behaviour. What you have subsequently done is I fear unknown to me.'

‘Is it?' jeeringly. ‘Including, I suppose, driving a car in the streets of The Hague?'

Saint was now powered as though by an electric charge. The voltage, an observer might have thought, was now at its height.

‘Ah, yes. Now that you remind me. It had never occurred to me to make such a link. Or else, be sure, I would have been scrupulous in communicating a certain sense of unease to the authorities. Now that I think of it, you did borrow my car around that time.'

Dick looked at him quite quietly.

‘You really think you'll get away with that?'

‘My dear boy. Commissaire van der Valk did not even know I existed. I did not even know he existed. But if we need an item of evidence, I might be able to produce one. What, for example, about the gun?'

‘There's no print on it,' said Dick tensely. ‘I saw you myself. You cleaned it and oiled it and wiped it off – I saw you with my own eyes.' Saint sniggered.

‘Rather a suspicious circumstance, I feel inclined to believe, myself. The police, you see, have a rather rigid way of thinking. Everybody has read the little detective stories. Even a kitchenmaid knows now that one must wipe off prints. I fear, Dicky, that a gun with no prints is a rather more suspicious circumstance than one with any amount. You see, since the
gun is mine, and I would not deny the fact, one would ordinarily expect to find prints of my hands upon it. Since, of course, the gun lies about in this flat, where you have been making yourself so conspicuously at home in my absence, the absence of your busy little fingers might appear dubious. They are, after all, on everything else.'

‘And why am I supposed to have killed this man?'

‘Well now,' smilingly, ‘how can I tell that? It's a question for the shrink, conceivably. It might be thought that having wormed yourself into a very pleasant situation, you were prepared to go to somewhat paranoid lengths to protect it. And over and above all, my boy, there's one over-riding factor. Nobody would care very much why you did such a particularly unbalanced thing. The fact is that you did it. Eh?'

Dick stared at him. Jumped up on his feet. Tried to say something, but the words strangled in his throat.

‘You … you …'

‘Precisely. Now you're going to go running out in a great rage. Very good for you to go and have a quiet stroll. Think it over. Ask yourself whether it really would be so good an idea as you think to try and involve me in your fantasies. One tiny point before you go … since you go storming out of here in a great state, I will naturally have the locks changed – a simple affair of self-preservation. Since you feel a magnified sense of grievance, do recall, won't you, that this provides an added incentive for you to be thinking up malicious tales and rumours. Even to go accusing me of things. Even to start imagining they were true. The disgruntled employee syndrome, with the paranoid features already noticed.' Saint's warm, happy chuckle of enjoyment. ‘My poor lad, it would be like jumping head-first down the well – an approved form of suicide in medieval times.'

‘No, Dicky,' in his friendliest tones, ‘be advised by someone of more experience than yourself. Take a nice, long, quiet walk – it's a fine evening. Don't dramatize the situation. If this woman, or any of these other absurd comedians, makes a further appearance you may be well advised to let me handle them. And Richard … avoid the adolescent temptation to
melodrama. You might be attracted by some emotionally satisfying scheme like jumping down the well and leaving a cunning little note behind – just recall that cutting off your nose in order to spite your face is not going to improve your features. Put your jacket on. Have a pleasant stroll. Remind yourself that you are a young man of promise. That you have your foot upon a ladder leading to fortune. That you only have to keep your nerve. Oh, and by the way, Dick – should you find any of these zealous seekers after retribution hanging about, since they seem to be dogging your path – you'll remember what I told you, won't you. No more little fits of hysterics – the one is reparable, and you can safely leave me to deal with it. But a few more unguarded outpourings of your sensitive nature, and one might not be able to guarantee quite so optimistic a prognosis. Bear it in mind.'

Dick was sitting with quiet docility, the strained wild look gone from his face. He looked soothed and reassured.

‘Well, you've got me in a basket, haven't you?'

‘True, but that's not the way to look at it. A basket can be a very comfortable conveyance. You've done well, Dick, you've got promise. Accept the idea of a setback here and there; accept that there is a price to pay for all success. Instead of getting tangled in these childish guilt-feelings, turn your energies towards advancement. And learn patience, Dick. Take a leaf out of old Louis's book.'

‘Huh?' The boy was surprised.

‘Yes, yes,' nodding gently. ‘I'm not going to give away any little family secrets, and you needn't waste time in speculation. He's an old man now. Looked up to. Admired. Respected. Has a very pleasant existence. Could have had a great deal more, but had no ambition. Patience. Objectivity. The ability to accept small constraints. And you're a very young man. You can go a great deal further. There, I've given you a few themes for meditation. Buzz off now, Dick, like a good boy: I want to be left in peace.'

The boy got up and walked to the door, turned with his hand on the knob and said, ‘But if these people come hanging round the shop …?' Saint was giving an example now of
patience. He looked up from the
New York Times
, which seemed again to be getting his full attention, and said calmly, ‘I'll be spending a few days in the shop, Dicky. Don't worry about anything at all. You know that you can rely upon me. You understand that it won't be in my interest to get myself lumbered with these well-meaning persons who have imaginary grievances. I'll get that tidied up. You can relax completely. And in a little while – you've been working very hard and it is natural that you should be feeling the results of overstrain a little – you can start making plans for a really delightful holiday. There – I've given you a few serious subjects for thought. There's a more pleasant one for your mind to occupy itself. Off you go now.'

And with perfect docility, the boy opened the door and closed it softly behind him. Saint listened till he heard the thump of the street door below, smiled, put down the paper and began carefully to mix himself another drink.

*

There is something comic, almost ludicrous, about the idea of those two human beings walking on a fine spring evening around the pavements of Amsterdam, working on the same problem, unaware of one another. They both tacked to and fro undecidedly, something like two chess players on a problem. Now and then one would pick up a queen, or a knight, and move it thoughtfully to a new square, ponder for a moment, shake their head and put it back. If so, then so, and if not so then also so. Difficult. But they were not playing against one another, and there was plenty of time. It was only eight-thirty. All night ahead of them. And though both had had a long day, and had suffered a nervous crisis, both had reserves of nervous energy, and were not yet wearied out. They came, several times, quite close to one another at street crossings without ever actually meeting. Even if they had met they might not have noticed; both saw very little of what was going on around them. As for Mr Saint, uppermost in both minds, he was working in very much the same way. He had been going to go out, and phoned to cancel the appointment. He made
himself comfortable instead with a tin of jellied duck, for like a prudent man, he always had something in the refrigerator. Afterwards he made himself a cup of coffee with his little Vesuvius machine, and glanced over the street from the darkened window of his bedroom before drawing the curtains and going back to the brightly-shimmering comfortable living-room, gay with sprays of flowers and the reflections from the many mirrors, where he stirred his coffee thoughtfully and began to walk softly up and down, preoccupied with the pattern of his carpet and moving chess pieces here and there across it, his hands in his pockets according to his habit, fingering and turning pieces of small change between his supple fingers.