The Winner Stands Alone (30 page)

Savoy immediately does as he is told. He has just received a mes- sage on his mobile
phone. Europol needs more time to track down the laboratories, at least three days.

Let me have that in writing, will you? I dont want to be held re- sponsible if something
else goes wrong here.

He chuckles quietly. He asks them to send a copy to the foreign agent as well, since he
himself is no longer interested in the matter. He drives as fast as he can to the Hotel
Martinez, leaves his car at the entrance, blocking other peoples vehicles. When the porter
complains, he shows him his policemans ID, throws him the keys so that he can park the car
somewhere else, and runs into the hotel.

He goes up to a private room on the first floor, where a police officer is waiting, along
with the duty manager and a waiter.

How much longer are we going to have to stay here? asks the duty manager. Savoy ignores
her and turns to the waiter.

Are you sure that the murdered woman, whose picture appeared on the news, is the same
woman who was sitting on the terrace this afternoon?

Yes, sir, pretty much. She looks younger in the photo with her hair dyed, but Im used to
remembering guests faces, just in case one of them tries to leave without paying.

And are you sure she was with the male guest who reserved the table earlier?

Absolutely. A good-looking man of about forty, with graying hair.

Savoys heart almost leaps out of his mouth. He turns to the man- ager and the policeman.

Lets go straight up to his room. Do you have a search warrant? asks the manager. Savoys nerves snap: No I havent! And Im
not filling in any more forms! Do you know whats wrong with this country, madame? Were all too obedi- ent! In fact, that isnt a
problem peculiar to us, it applies to the whole world! Wouldnt you obey if they wanted to
send your son off to war? Wouldnt your son obey? Of course! Well, since you are an
obedient citizen, either take me to that room or Ill have you arrested for aiding and
abetting!

The woman seems genuinely frightened. With the other policeman, they make their way over
to the lift, which is coming down, stopping at every floor, unaware that a human life may
depend on the speed with which those waiting for it can act.

They decide to take the stairs instead. The manager complains because shes wearing high
heels, but Savoy simply tells her to take off her shoes and go up the stairs barefoot.
They race up the marble stairs, gripping the bronze banister so as not to fall and passing
various elegant waiting areas on the way. The people there wonder who this barefoot woman
is, and what a uniformed policeman is doing in the hotel, running up the stairs like that.
Has something bad happened? If so, why dont they take the elevator? Standards at the
Festival are definitely dropping, they say to themselves; hotels arent as selective about
their guests as they once were; and the police treat the place as if they were raiding a
brothel. As soon as they can, they will complain to the manager, who, unbeknownst to them,
is the same barefoot woman theyve just seen bounding up the stairs.

Savoy and the duty manager finally reach the door of the suite where the murderer is
staying. A member of the security squad has already sent someone up to find out whats
going on. He recognizes the manager and asks if he can help.

Savoy asks him to speak more quietly, but yes, he can help. Is he armed? The guard says
that he is.

Then youd better stay here.

They are talking in whispers. The manager is instructed to knock on the door, while the
three menSavoy, the policeman, and the se-

curity guardstand to one side, backs to the wall. Savoy takes his gun out of his holster.
The other policeman does the same. The manager knocks several times, but gets no answer.

He must have gone out.

Savoy asks her to use the master key. She explains that she doesnt have it with her, and
even if she did, she would only open that door with the authorization of the managing
director.

Savoy responds politely this time:

No matter. Ill go downstairs and wait in the surveillance room with the security staff.
Hell be back sooner or later, and Id like to be the first to question him.

We have a photocopy of his passport and his credit card number downstairs. Why are you so
interested in him?

Oh, no matter.

Half an hours drive from Cannes, in another country where they speak the same language,
use the same currency, and have no border controls, but where they have a completely
different political system from Franceits ruled by a prince, as in the olden daysa man is
sit- ting in front of a computer. Fifteen minutes ago, he received an e-mail informing him
that a famous actor had been murdered.

Morris studies the photo of the victim. He hasnt been to the cinema for ages and so has no
idea who he is. However, he must be someone important because there are reports of his
death on one of the news portals.

Morris may be retired, but things like this used to be the equivalent of a chess game to
him, a game in which he rarely allowed his opponent to win. It wasnt his career that was
at risk now, it was his self-esteem.

There are certain rules he always liked to follow when he worked for Scotland Yard, one of
which was to come up with as many flawed hypotheses as he could. This freed up your mind
because you werent necessarily expecting to get it right. At the tedious meetings with
work evaluation committees, he used to enjoy provoking the people present: Everything you
know comes from experience accumulated over long years of work. However, those old
solutions are only of use when ap- plied to old problems. If you want to be creative, try
to forget that you have all that experience.

The older members of such committees would pretend they were taking notes, the younger
ones would stare at him in horror, and the meeting would continue as if he had said
nothing. But he knew that the message had been received loud and clear, and soon
afterward, his superiorswithout giving him any of the credit, of coursewould start
demanding more new ideas.

He prints out the files sent by the police in Cannes. He normally tries to avoid using
paper because he doesnt want to be accused of being a serial killer of forests, but
sometimes its necessary.

He starts studying the modus operandi, that is, the way the crimes were committed. Time of
day (morning, afternoon, and night), weap- ons (hands, poison, stiletto knife), type of
victim (men and women of different ages), closeness to victim (two involved direct
physical con- tact, two involved no contact at all), the reaction of victims to their
aggressor (none in all cases).

When he feels that hes faced by a dead end, the best thing is to let his thoughts wander
for a while, while his unconscious mind goes to work. He opens a new screen on the
computer, showing the New York Stock Exchange. Since he has no money invested in shares,
it couldnt be more boring, but thats how it works: his years of experience ana- lyze all
the information he has received so far, and his intuition comes up with new, creative
responses. Twenty minutes later, he goes back to the files, and his head is once again
empty.

The process has worked. The murders do have things in common.

The murderer is an educated man. He must have spent days and weeks in a library, studying
the best way to carry out his mission. He knows how to handle poisons and obviously hadnt
touched the hydro- gen cyanide himself. He knows enough about anatomy to be able to stick
a knife in at exactly the right place without meeting a bone, and to kill someone with his
bare hands. He knows about curare and its lethal power. He may have read about serial
killings, and would be aware that some kind of signature always leads the police to the
attacker, and so he had committed his murders in a completely random manner, with no fixed
modus operandi at all.

But thats impossible. The unconscious mind of the murderer is bound to leave some signature, which Morris has not yet managed to decipher.

Theres something more important still: he obviously has money, enough to follow a course
in Sambo, in order to be absolutely sure which points on the body he needs to press in
order to paralyze his victim. He also has contacts: he didnt buy those poisons from the
corner pharmacist, not even from the local criminal underworld. They are highly
sophisticated biological weapons, which require great care in their handling and
application. He must have got other people to acquire them for him.

Finally, he works very quickly, which leads Morris to conclude that the murderer wont be
staying long. Perhaps a week, possibly a few days more.

Where does all this take him?

The reason he cant reach a conclusion now is because hes got used to the rules of the
game. He has lost the innocence he always demanded of his subordinates. Thats what the
world does to people; gradually, over the years, we become mediocre beings, concerned not
to be seen as weird or overenthusiastic. Old age is considered a stigma, not a sign of
wisdom. People assume that no one over fifty can keep up with the speed of change nowadays.

True, he cant run as fast as he could and needs reading glasses, but his mind is as sharp
as ever, or so at least he wants to believe.

What about this crime though? If hes as intelligent as he thinks, why cant he solve
something that seems so easy?

He cant get any further at the moment. Hell have to wait until the next victim appears.

A couple pass by. They smile and congratulate him on his luck at having two such lovely
ladies by his side!

Igor thanks them, for hes genuinely in need of distraction. Soon the long-awaited meeting
will take place, and although hes accustomed to all kinds of pressure, he reminds himself
of the patrols he had to go on near Kabul and how before any very dangerous mission, he
and his col- leagues would drink and talk about women and sport, chatting away as if they
werent in Afghanistan, but were back in their hometowns, sitting round a table with family
and friends. It was a way of quelling their nerves and recovering their true identities,
and thus feeling better prepared for the challenges they would face the next day.

Like any good soldier, he knows that battles have more do with aims and objectives than
with the actual fighting. Like any good strategist he did, after all, build up his company
from nothing to become one of the most respected in Russiahe knows that ones objective
should always remain the same, even if the motive behind it may change over time. That is
what has happened today: he arrived in Cannes for one reason, but only when he began to
act did he understand the true mo- tives behind what he was doing. He has been blind all
these years, but now he can see the light; the revelation has finally come.

And precisely because of this, he needs to keep going. The deci- sions he made required
courage, a degree of detachment, and, at times, even a little madness, not the kind of madness that destroys, but the sort that carries a
person beyond his own limits. Hes always been the same and has won precisely because he
knew how to use that controlled madness whenever he had to make a decision. His friends
would move with astonishing speed from saying, Its too risky to I always knew you were
doing the right thing. He was capable of surprising people, of coming up with fresh ideas,
and, above all, of taking any necessary risks.

Here in Cannes, thoughperhaps because hes in an unfamiliar place and still befuddled by
lack of sleephe has taken quite unnec- essary risks, risks that might have forced him to
abort his plan earlier than expected. Had that happened, he would never have reached his
present clear-eyed position, one that cast an entirely different light on the woman he
thought of as his beloved and whom he believed merited both sacrifice and martyrdom. He
remembers the moment when he went up to the policeman to confess. That was when the change
began. It was then that the spirit of the girl with the dark eyebrows began to protect him
and to explain that he was doing the right things but for the wrong reasons. Accumulating
love brings luck, accumulating hatred brings disaster. Anyone who stands outside the Door
of Problems and fails to recognize it may well end up leaving it open and allowing trag-
edies to enter.

He had accepted the young girls love. He had been an instrument of God, sent to rescue her
from a dark future; now she was helping him to carry on.

He is aware, too, that, regardless of the many precautions he may have taken, he could not
possibly have thought of everything, and his mission might yet be interrupted before he
reaches the end. There is no reason, however, for regret or fear; he has done what he
could, behaved impeccably, and, if God does not wish him to complete his task, then he
must accept his decisions.

Relax, he tells himself. Talk to the young women by your side. Let your muscles rest a
little before the final strike, that way, theyll be more prepared. Gabrielathe young woman
who was alone at the bar when he arrivedseems very excited, and whenever the waiter comes by with more drinks, she
hands him her glass, even if its still half full, and picks up a fresh one.

I love it when its really icy! she says.

Her happiness infects him a little too. Apparently, shes just signed a contract to appear
in a film, although she knows neither the title of the film nor what role shell be
playing, but she will, in her words, be the leading lady. The director is known for his
ability to choose good actors and good scripts, and the leading actor, whom Igor knows and
admires, certainly merits respect. When she mentions the name of the producer, he merely
nods knowledgably, as if to say, Yes, of course, I know who he is, aware that shell
interpret the nod as meaning: Ive no idea who he is, but I dont want to appear ignorant.
She babbles on about rooms full of gifts, the red carpet, her meeting on the yacht, the
rigorous selection process she went through, future projects . . .

At this very moment, there are thousands of young women in Cannes and millions around the
world who would like to be here to- night, talking to you and being able to tell these
stories. My prayers have been answered and all my efforts rewarded.

The other young woman seems more discreet, but sadder too, per- haps because of her age
and lack of experience. Igor had been there when she walked down the corridor and had
heard the photographers calling out her name and clamoring to ask her questions afterward.
Apparently, though, the other people at the party had no idea who she was; she had been so
in demand at the start, and then, just as suddenly, had been dropped.

It was probably the talkative young woman who had decided to come over to him and ask him
what he was doing there. At first, hed felt rather constrained, but he knew that if they
hadnt approached him, other solitary people would have done so, to avoid the impression
that they were lost and alone and with no friends at the party. Thats why he welcomed
their conversation or, rather, their company, even though his mind was elsewhere. He told
them his name was Gunther and explained that he was a German industrialist specializing in
heavy machinery (a subject guaranteed to interest no one) and had been in- vited there by
friends. He would be leaving tomorrow (which he hoped would be true, but God moves in
mysterious ways).

When the actress learned that he didnt work in the film industry and wouldnt be staying
long at the Festival, she almost moved away; however, the other girl stopped her, saying
that its always good to meet new people. And so there they are: he waiting for the friend
who showed no signs of arriving, the actress waiting for her vanished as- sistant, and the
quiet girl waiting for absolutely nothing, just a little peace.

Suddenly, the actress notices some
fluff on his dinner jacket, and before he can stop her, she reaches out to brush it away.
She says:

Oh, do you smoke cigars?

Thats a relief, she thinks the object in his inside jacket pocket is a cigar.

Yes, but only after supper.

If you like, I could invite you both to a party on a yacht tonight. But first I need to
find my assistant.

The other girl suggests that maybe shes being a little precipitate. She has only been
signed up for one film and has a long way to go before she can surround herself with
friends (or with an entourage, that word universally used to describe the parasites who
hover around celebrities). She should respect the rules and go to the party alone.

The actress thanks her for this advice. Then a waiter passes, and she again places her
half-full glass of champagne on the tray and takes another one.

I think you should stop drinking so much so quickly, says Igor/ Gunther, delicately taking
the glass from her and pouring the contents over the balustrade. She makes a despairing
gesture, then accepts that hes right, realizing that he has her best interests at heart.

Im just so excited, she says. I need to calm down a little. Do you think I could smoke one
of your cigars?

Im afraid I only have one. Besides, its been scientifically proven that nicotine is a
stimulant, not a tranquilizer.

A cigar. Well, they are similar in shape, but thats all the two objects have in common. In
his inside jacket pocket he has a suppressor, or as its more commonly known, a silencer.
Its about four inches long and, once attached to the barrel of the Beretta he has in his
trouser pocket, it can work miracles, by changing
bang!
into puf.

This is because when a gun is fired a few simple laws of physics come into effect. The
speed of the bullet is slightly diminished as its forced past a series of rubber baffles;
meanwhile, the gases produced by the firing of the gun fill the hollow chamber around the
cylinder, cool rapidly, and suppress the noise of the gunpowder exploding. A silencer is
useless for long-range shooting because it affects the trajectory of the bullet, but its
ideal for firing at point-blank range.

Igor is beginning to grow
impatient.CouldEwaandherhus- band have canceled their invitation? Or could it beand for a
fraction of a second his head swimsthat he had slipped the envelope under the door to the
suite in which they were staying?

No, thats not possible; that would be such a stroke of bad luck. He thinks of the families
of those who have died. If his sole objective was still to win back the woman who left him
for a man who did not deserve her, all his work would have been in vain.

His composure begins to crack. Could that be why Ewa hasnt at- tempted to contact him,
despite all the messages hes sent her? He has twice rung their mutual friend, only to be
told there was no news.

His doubt is beginning to become a certainty. Yes, the couple were both dead. That would
explain the sudden departure of the actresss assistant and why no one was bothering with
the nineteen-year-old model who was supposed to appear at the great couturiers side.

Was God punishing him for having loved a woman he did not de- serve and had loved too
much? His ex-wife had used his hands to stran- gle a young woman who had her whole life
ahead of her, who might have gone on to discover a cure for cancer or a way of making
humanity realize that it was destroying the planet. Ewa may have known nothing about the murder,
but she it was who had made him use those poisons. He had been sure that he would only
have to destroy one world and that the message would reach its intended recipient. He had
taken that whole small arsenal with him knowing it was all just a game, certain that on
the first night, she would go to the bar for a glass of champagne before joining the
party, sense his presence there, and realize that she had been forgiven for all the evil
and destruction she had unleashed around her. He knows that, according to scientific
research, people who have spent a lot of time together can sense their partners presence
in a place, even if they dont know exactly where they are.

That didnt happen. Ewas indifference last nightor perhaps her guilt at what she had done
to himhad prevented her from noticing the man trying to hide behind a pillar, but who had
left on the table various Russian economics journals, which should have been a large
enough clue for anyone who was constantly looking for what she had lost. When youre in
love you imagine that youll see the love of your life everywherein the street, at a party,
or in the theaterbut Ewa had perhaps exchanged love for a life of glamour.

Hes beginning to feel calmer now. Ewa was the most powerful poison on earth, and if she
had been killed by hydrogen cyanide, that was nothing. She deserved far worse.

The two young women continue talking; Igor moves away from them; he cannot allow himself
to be overwhelmed by the fear that he might have destroyed his own work. He needs
solitude, calm, the abil- ity to react swiftly to this sudden change in direction.

He goes over to another group of people, who are animatedly dis- cussing various methods
of giving up smoking. This was one of the favorite topics in that particular world:
showing your friends that you had the necessary willpower to defeat the foe. To take his
mind off other things, he lights a cigarette, knowing full well that this is a pro-
vocative act.

Its very bad for your health, you know, says a skeletally thin woman dripping with
diamonds and holding an orange juice in one hand.

Just being alive is bad for the health, he replies. It always ends in death sooner or
later.

The men laugh. The women eye this newcomer with interest. How- ever, just at that moment,
in the corridorabout twenty yards away from where hes standingthe photographers start
shouting:

Hamid! Hamid!

Even from a distance, and with his view blocked by the people strolling about in the
garden, he can see the couturier and his com- panion, the same woman who, in other parts
of the world, had walked into rooms with him, the same woman who used to hold his arm in
that same affectionate, delicate, elegant way.

Even before he has time to utter a sigh of relief, something else at- tracts his attention
and makes him look away: a man has just entered from the other side of the garden without
being stopped by any of the security guards. The man glances this way and that, as if
searching for someone, but that someone is clearly not a friend lost in the throng.

Without saying goodbye to the group hes with, Igor goes back to the two young women, who
are still standing by the balustrade, talk- ing. He takes the actresss hand in his and
makes a silent prayer to the girl with the dark eyebrows. He asks forgiveness for having
doubted, but we human beings are still so impure, incapable of understanding the blessings
so generously bestowed on us.

Youre moving a bit fast, arent you? says the actress, making no attempt to move away.

Yes, I am, but given what youve been telling me, everything in your life is moving fast
today.

She laughs. The sad girl laughs too. The policeman passes by with- out noticing him. Hes
been told to look out for men in their forties with slightly graying hair, but for men on
their own.