Curtain of Fear (17 page)

Yet, within five minutes of Kmoch having spoken to a subservient under-manager, that was precisely the situation in which Nicholas found himself. Kmoch had accompanied them up to the second floor, then rid them of his unwelcome presence; their bags had been brought up, and the porter had left them facing one another in a large double bedroom adjoining which there was a spacious bathroom.

With a sudden return of the levity he had felt early that morning he smiled at her and said, “Now all we need is the champagne.”

She pointed to the telephone beside the bed. “If you feel like a bottle, you have only to ring down and they'll send one up.”

“No,” he shook his head. “It was just a silly thought about the sort of thing that used to go on up in these rooms in the old days. We have no time to waste on drinking. I've got you
the break you asked for. Now I want the truth about you, and to hear your plans for getting …”

In one swift step she closed with him, flung her right arm round his neck and pressed the palm of her left hand over his mouth. Her voice came in a frightened whisper:

“For God's sake be careful! Don't you realise that all these rooms are wired. As we're new arrivals someone in the basement will have been put on to listen in to every word we say.”

Tearing his face away, he muttered angrily, “Oh, cut it out! You're suffering from persecution mania, and have got spies on the brain.”

With an imploring look she seized his arm, pulled him to the bedside, picked up the telephone from its cradle and turning it over showed him its underside. In it there was a round hole covered with a mesh of fine wires. Setting it down again she drew him away to the far end of the room, then put her lips to his ear.

“That's the mike. I daren't interfere with it or they'll smell a rat. Having got us this last chance, don't act like a fool and throw it away. You did your stuff splendidly in front of Frček. Now both of us have to play a part. I'm supposed to be your mistress; so you must call me ‘darling' or Fedora. Make love to me, or pretend we're having a row and beat me if you like. But whatever we say out loud must be on lines that will sound normal to our unseen audience.”

Everything that had happened to Nicholas since his arrival in Prague had seemed so like a cheap melodrama that he could still hardly bring himself to believe that he was really living in it; yet that little wire mesh arrangement under the telephone cradle had certainly looked like a microphone.

“All right,” he whispered. “But I've got a girl of my own at home, and I'm not going to be unfaithful.”

“I didn't ask you to,” she countered. “And they wouldn't expect us to play those sort of games at this hour of the morning.”

He hesitated. “I … I've never taken a young woman away for the weekend, so I'm at a bit of a loss all round. Give me a
lead by saying the sort of thing you said to Bilto when he took you to Marlow.”

She gave a low laugh. “He didn't; and I've never been to Marlow.”

“What on earth led you to say you had, then?”

“People like Vaněk expect their women agents to sleep with the informers they are nursing, as part of the drill. It was the first place that came into my head, and saying I was your mistress was the most certain way of convincing him that you were Bilto.”

“Blast you! What in hell's name impelled you to make him believe that?”

He had raised his voice slightly. With an angry “Shush” she murmured quickly, “We have been whispering long enough. They will regard our silence as unnatural.” Then she stepped away from him and added loudly, “Shall I unpack for you, darling?”

He took the cue. “Thanks. I wish you would. I had to leave in such a hurry that I hardly remember what I put in my bag. I hope I didn't forget my shaving things.”

She undid the suit-case that Konečný had packed for him, and took out some of the contents. “No, here they are. And thank goodness you brought a cake of soap.”

“Why?” he asked in mild surprise.

“Because it is rationed here, and the allowance is sufficient only to enable people to wash themselves once a day and bath once a week.” Under her breath she went on. “To wish to do so more frequently is to proclaim oneself a decadent bourgeois.”

With a rather crooked smile he said loudly, “And that is how it should be, Fedora. Fats are important in our economy. To waste them in unnecessary washing is sabotage.”

She gave him a smile of commendation. “Of course; and it is a pity that we did not bring more while we were about it. We could then have saved our ration and at the same time helped a little in depleting the stocks of the capitalist-warmongering English.”

Stepping over to her side he took a quick look at the things she was unpacking. They were a miscellaneous lot, but adequate
enough to have prevented the British Customs from wondering why he was travelling without any personal belongings. Most of them were of poor quality, but he had never been used to expensive clothes or gear, so that did not worry him; and in any case he hoped that it would not be necessary for him to make use of any of them except the toilet articles. Picking up an imitation silk dressing-gown, he threw it across the end of the bed, and remarked:

“This is a nice room they've given us, isn't it?”

“Yes,” she replied. “But I don't think I shall be altogether happy here. To live in such luxury is apt to make one forget the lot of the less fortunate, and all our thoughts should be given to them.”

“How right you are, Fedora!” he exclaimed with genuine feeling; but he saw from her expression that she was only playing her part and speaking hypocritically, as she went on, “It is not right that just because you have a fine brain you should be pampered and have servants to wait on you. I would much prefer to share the lot of the workers and live in a tenement.”

For the first time he began to wonder if a world in which everyone lived in tenements would be a very happy one. After all, no one but a fool lived in a tenement if he could afford something better; yet it was against his creed that any privileged class should be left to enjoy benefits denied to the masses. With obvious sincerity he put his own point of view to her:

“There is nothing anti-social in wishing to live in comfort. It is not our object to bring everyone down to the lowest common level, but to raise the standard of life of all to that enjoyed by the old middle classes.”

“What wonderful thoughts you have, Bilto! I wish I had a brain like yours,” she said in a honeyed voice; then added in a sarcastic whisper, “You are so clever it should be easy for you to think of a way of providing everyone in the world with a thousand a year.”

He knew that she had hit upon the snag which had rendered impracticable the successful application of the doctrines of Karl Marx by every workers' government that had so far adopted
them, even in a modified form. When the riches of the rich were taken from them the people individually became no wealthier, and the national income began to shrink because there was a limit beyond which the workers could not be taxed without making them worse off than they were before. He was honest enough to admit to himself that actually that was what had happened in Russia, and that poverty there was now almost universal; but he still pinned his faith in the Communist statements that it was due to, and would continue only during, the period of transition.

Again and again he had told himself that complete nationalisation in every country, and the pooling of assets on a world-wide plan, was the only possible basis for assuring a fair share for all. Yet this was not the first time that he had caught himself wondering a little dubiously what that share would be. His creed demanded that black, brown and yellow men should share equally with whites. Could the world's resources ever provide each family with goods and services equivalent to an income of even five-hundred a year? Given governing bodies of unimpeachable integrity and brilliant planning at the top, with the whole world population educated up to a Utopian standard of unselfishness, devotion to duty and pride in achievement, it might be possible. But that was to ask perfection of mankind, which was another thing that Karl Marx had failed to provide a receipt for achieving.

“Dreaming great dreams, my love?” the honeyed voice enquired; then came the whisper: “Or can it be that people like you find it easier to destroy than to build up, and that you haven't really got any of the answers?”

He had been silent for almost a minute and looked up to see her making a rude face at him, as she went on aloud, “Our journey must have tired my great man. Why don't you lie down and rest for a while? Perhaps you would like me to massage your head?”

“Not now, Fedora darling; but bless you for the thought,” he replied with equal sweetness. Then he picked up the toilet things, “I think I'll go and shave.”

The bedroom had evidently been done up since the war, and its furniture was of the vulgar skin-thin-walnut-on-deal-with-fussy-embellishments type, that has flooded cheap furniture stores all over Europe for a generation. But the bathroom had been left untouched and was a true relic of the Habsburg régime. Nicholas had never seen such a large one before. Its chequered floor, consisting of slabs of black and white marble, was large enough to have held a ping-pong table and four players. In one corner there was a huge bath encased in solid mahogany, with a step up to it, and a yard-wide oval basin with a marble surround was fixed below a mirror that ran nearly up to the ceiling. The only incongruous note was two small towels on airers designed to hold old-fashioned bath-sheets.”

He had got only as far as lathering his face when Fedora came in. He saw that she had slipped on a different dress and tidied her hair. Walking over to the bath, she turned the taps full on.

“Why are you doing that?” he asked.

“First because there will be a mike in here, too, and the sound of rushing water is one way to defeat it. Secondly because I thought that as we have been given a private bathroom owing to the fact that you are one of the ‘privileged few' here, you might like to have a bath.”

Nicholas gave her a suspicious glance. “You're not suggesting that Frček really meant that, are you? I thought his remarks in the worse of taste and most embarrassing for you; but obviously he was only joking when he implied that a sort of private harem is kept for Party leaders.”

Her mouth hardened. “You wouldn't find it much of a joke if you were a pretty girl, or the attractive young wife of a man who is not a member of the Party. They don't keep a harem, as such; but one of them has only to fancy a face or figure that he happens to notice in the street and order its owner to be pulled in. Then it's ‘into bed you get, my girl, and like it; or your family will be sent to a labour camp'.”

“Nonsense!” he retorted angrily. “I don't believe a word of it. You are the worst type of reactionary, and simply doing all
you can to put a smear on the Czech People's Government.”

“All right. I am a reactionary. And you, it seems, are a Com. I knew you must be pretty far Left from your friendship with that Sinznick couple, but I thought …”

“You're wrong!” he interrupted. “I'm not a Communist.”

“No!” her voice was vibrant with scorn. “Since you insist on splitting straws, you're something worse. You are one of those clever-dick Professors who couldn't earn an honest living running a cigarette shop, but think they know how to run the world. You're a typical example of the criminally irresponsible professional teacher, who spends his life cramming young people's heads with impracticable ideas that make them discontented. The really evil men only climb on the band-wagon when the damage is done. It is crazy idealists like you who are the fundamental cause of countless happy homes being plundered, and the best elements in whole nations being treated like criminals or done to death.”

He made a gesture of exasperation. “Oh, cut it out. If you feel like that go and try to blow up the Kremlin, or something. And why in God's name did you get me here? That's what I want to know.”

“I should have thought you would have guessed by now.” She gave an unpleasant laugh. “But why I am remaining with you is quite another question. There doesn't seem any logical answer to that, so I must be a bit crazy myself. After all, why should I bother about a mind-poisoner like you, when it would be easier for me to get away on my own?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to retort, ‘Then for God's sake go to it.' But it flashed upon him that if she took him at his word he would find himself in a really ghastly mess. If he went back to Frček and told him the truth, he would be regarded as a liar and a criminal who had got cold feet. If he waited where he was until the time came for him to attend the reception he would be found out and hauled off to prison, and should he attempt to go to earth on his own his arrest within a few hours was certain, as he had no papers he could show and no Czech money.

Suppressing the anger he felt at her insults, he said, “Listen,
Fedora. It's clear that politically we are poles apart but at the moment that has no bearing on our situation. Against my own better judgment and at your most earnest request, I burnt my boats with Frček this morning. As I understood it, your whole object in persuading me to do that was to have us brought here, because you believed that you could fix a get-away for us both within the next hour or so, and then with a little luck have us smuggled out of Prague on a plane leaving later to-day. What you do or where you go once we are safe, I don't give a damn. But till then, I think it's up to you to do the best for me that you can.”

She nodded. “Yes. You're quite right. I always meant to, and how we got into that stupid argument I don't quite know. I came in to tell you what I am about to do. I dared not start anything while Kmoch was still likely to be hanging about, but now we've been up here for ten minutes or more he should be safely out of the way; so I am going downstairs. You heard what he said about identity cards. The Government lodges its most important foreign visitors here, and it is to keep a check on all their comings and goings that the entrances are watched; but that applies to us too, so I can't go out as I had hoped to do and make contact with my friends. But there are several members of the Legion on the staff here, and I feel certain they will devise some way of smuggling us out past the watch-dogs. It may take me some time to arrange it, though, so don't get any silly idea that I've left you in the lurch. Have a nice bath while you've got the chance; but don't use both those skimpy towels as I mean to have one too, if there's still time when I get back.”