I found my tongue. “Put yourself in my position, Zaleshoff. I’ve got everything to lose by doing this and nothing to gain. I…”
“Just a minute, Marlow. Listen to me. I give you my solemn word that in doing this you are not only helping your own country considerably but also millions of other Europeans. The other day you asked me what the devil this had to do with me. That I cannot explain to you for reasons that you, I fancy, may have a shrewd notion about. You must take my word for it that I am on the side of the angels. And by angels I don’t mean British and French statesmen and bankers and industrialists. I mean the people of those countries and of my own, the people who can resist the forces that have beaten the people of Italy and Germany to their knees. That’s all.”
I hesitated. I hesitated miserably. At last: “It’s no use, Zaleshoff,” I muttered, “it just isn’t worth my while to do it.”
“It isn’t worth your while?” he echoed. Then he laughed. “I thought you said you weren’t a big business man, Mister Marlow!”
Towards eleven o’clock I drove slowly along the autostrada away from Milan. I had left Zaleshoff and the girl at a caffe a mile back; but Zaleshoff’s final instructions were still churning round inside my head. “Fight him tooth and nail. Be as angry as you like. But for goodness’ sake don’t forget to give in.”
The April sky was now clouded over. It was warm enough inside the car, but I found myself shivering a little. I found that my foot kept easing gradually off the accelerator. Then I saw ahead two red lights close together.
Although I had been expecting to see them, they made me start. I slowed down and switched on the headlights. It was a large car, well into the side under some bushes overhanging the road from the embankment above. I switched off the headlights, drew up a few yards behind it and waited. Then I saw General Vagas get out and walk back towards me.
12
The manner of the General’s greeting was that of a man ruefully amused at the antics of a rather troublesome child.
“Good evening, Mr. Marlow.”
“Good evening, General. You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, I did. But this”-he waved his hand expressively at our surroundings and broke off-“I hope your taste for the melodramatic is satisfied?”
“I do not like melodrama any more than you do, General,” I retorted. “I was anxious only to be discreet.”
In the reflected light from the lamp on the instrument board I saw his thick lips twist humorously.
“A very desirable anxiety, Mr. Marlow. You must forgive me if I find the result a trifle exaggerated.”
“You wanted to see me?” I repeated.
“Yes.” But he was evidently determined to take his time. “I understand that you secured the Commendatore’s contract.”
“I did. I trust that you were satisfied with my efforts to return the compliment?”
“Quite.” He hesitated. “But it was on that subject that I wanted to speak to you.”
“Yes?”
He peered inside the car.
“Ah, leather seats! I think that my car is a little more comfortable than yours. Supposing we go and sit in it.”
“I find this one quite comfortable.”
He sighed. “I don’t seem to sense that atmosphere of mutual confidence and respect that I am most anxious should surround our relations, Mr. Marlow. However”-he opened the door-“I hope that you will not mind if I get in and sit beside you. The night air in the country is cold and my chest is delicate.” He coughed gently to emphasise the point.
“By all means, get in.”
“Thank you.” He got in, shut the door and sniffed the air. “A cigar, Mr. Marlow, and a very bad one. Really, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of tobacco.”
Inwardly I twitched with annoyance. The smell of the atrocious weed Zaleshoff had smoked on the way back from Como still clung to the upholstery. I muttered an apology.
“I have some English cigarettes, if you would prefer one.”
“I would. Thank you.” He took one, lit it at the match I held out to him and inhaled deeply. He blew the smoke out slowly and gently. I waited in silence.
“Mr. Marlow,” he said suddenly, “something a little unfortunate has happened.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes. Something that, quite frankly, I feel almost ashamed to tell you.”
“Oh?”
His manner became that of a man who had decided on a policy of complete candour. “I will put all my cards on the table, Mr. Marlow. You may remember that when we originally discussed this arrangement at my house, a figure of two thousand lire a month was mentioned.”
“Naturally I remember.”
“Subsequently, I mentioned another figure, three thousand lire a month, which was the figure finally agreed upon.”
I uttered a non-committal “Yes.” I was puzzled. This was nothing like any of the gambits I had anticipated.
He tapped my knee. “What I did not tell you at the time, Mr. Marlow, was this. That it was entirely upon my own responsibility that I increased the figure from two to three thousand lire.”
I said, “I see.” But I didn’t see. I was extremely confused. I began to wonder if Zaleshoff had perhaps made a mistake or taken too much for granted in supposing that Vagas’ object in seeking this meeting was blackmail. After a pause, he went on.
“You will understand my feelings in the matter, Mr. Marlow. I was anxious to secure your collaboration. It seemed to me that, in acting as I did, I was representing my country’s interests to the best of my ability.” There was the reproachful tone of the upright man unjustly accused in his voice as he continued. “Judge then of my chagrin, Mr. Marlow, I might almost say of my disgust”-he lingered over the word-“when I was advised several days ago that my principals in Belgrade could not agree to the arrangement I had made.”
“Yes, of course.” Now, I thought that I understood. Zaleshoff had been wrong. This was nothing more nor less than an attempt to go back on a bargain.
He sighed heavily. “I don’t think I need tell you, Mr. Marlow, that I was annoyed. I got into touch immediately with Belgrade and protested vigorously. I put it to them as an affair of honour. But to no purpose. They were adamant.” He became confidential. “Between ourselves, Mr. Marlow, I have very little patience with these permanent officials who sit in Government offices. They are invariably intransigent, narrow in outlook and absurdly parsimonious. I am only a simple soldier, a simple soldier anxious to do his duty as he sees it, but I can assure you, Mr. Marlow, that there are times when I feel my loyalty sorely tried.”
His voice was vibrant with insincerity. The air of manly protest was vitiated somewhat by the wafts of Chypre liberated from his person by the emphatic movements of his arms. He seemed to be expecting me to make some comment, but I waited in grim silence.
“Mr. Marlow,” he continued heavily, “I have been instructed by my principals in Belgrade to make certain proposals to you. Needless to say, I disagree entirely with the spirit of them. But you will realise that I have to obey orders. The proposals concern the arrangement whereby you are employed as an agent of the Yugo-Slav Government.”
I jumped. The phrase was a new one. “Employed as an agent of the Yugo-Slav Government.” Substitute “German” for “Yugo-Slav” and you had the situation in a nutshell. I didn’t like the sound of it a bit. And from his silence, I gathered that he was allowing the phrase to sink in.
“I suppose,” I said coldly, “that you wish me to agree to accepting a revision of the terms of our arrangement on the basis of the figure originally mentioned.” I shrugged. “Well, if you wish to go back on the bargain, there is, I suppose, nothing I can do about it. But I must say that I cannot see how you can expect me under the circumstances to feel this mutual confidence on which you place so much emphasis. That, General, is all I have to say. If you wish me to do so, I will return three thousand lire out of the five thousand you gave me. Or I can regard it as payment in advance.”