I was feeling relieved, but I was also feeling slightly disappointed. Zaleshoff had obviously placed far too much faith in his own deductions. The fact that Vagas had adopted one set of tactics as far as Ferning had been concerned was no guarantee that he would adopt the same tactics with me. Perhaps, I flattered myself, he had judged me to be a little too strong-minded. Well, in any case, the sooner this interview was over and I could get to bed, the better. But I was to receive an unpleasant shock.
The General coughed. “I am afraid, Mr. Marlow,” he said gently, “that the situation is not quite as simple as that. Inflexible they may be, but I can assure you that my principals are not in the habit of going back on a bargain, a financial arrangement, even though they cannot altogether agree to the terms of it. No, their proposals are of a different nature.”
“I don’t see…”
“One moment, Mr. Marlow!” The same peremptory, military quality that I had remarked before had crept into his voice again. “As a salaried agent of my Government, you are naturally bound, as I am, to take and obey instructions. The proposal is that, as you are receiving a salary in excess of that specified for the work you are doing, you should regularise the position by carrying out certain additional duties.”
“That was not part of the bargain,” I snapped.
“A bargain is a bargain, Mr. Marlow, only as long as it is useful to both parties to it.”
This was German Real Politik with a vengeance.
“What do you mean by additional duties?” I demanded.
“Your business,” he said coldly, “takes you into a number of important Italian heavy engineering works. You are required to incorporate in your future reports not only details of Spartacus activities but also details of the activities of the factories you visit. It will not be difficult. You have probably a retentive memory and you are a trained engineer. We wish to know principally what is being made and its destination. Any other particulars that your intelligence tells you are relevant will also be welcomed. Information you can pick up in conversation with works managers and technicians will be particularly valuable. You should have no difficulty in fulfilling our requirements. That is all.”
For a moment I said nothing. I felt that I had nothing to say. I stared ahead. Two cars roared down the autostrada towards and past us. The sound of their engines died away. I wondered if their occupants had noticed us. But what was there to notice about two men sitting smoking in a car drawn up by the side of the road? Nothing. I felt that there ought to be something, some external evidence of the fantastic nature of what was being said within. When at last I spoke it was to utter one of the feeblest remarks of which I have ever been guilty.
“But that,” I said, “would make me a spy.”
His reply was delivered in tones of infinite contempt.
“My dear Mr. Marlow,” he said deliberately, “you already are a spy.” He paused. Then: “I shall expect your first report within the next two weeks.”
He made as if to get out of the car. Suddenly, I came to my senses. My anger was very nearly genuine.
“Are you mad, General?”
With his hand on the door latch, he looked round. “I would remind you that you are addressing a superior, Mr. Marlow!”
“Superior be damned!” I snarled. “As you were good enough to remind me just now, signor Vagas, a bargain is a bargain only as long as it is useful to both parties to it. Excellent! What I am going to do, signor Vagas, is to go straight back to my hotel now, put your five thousand lire in an envelope and post it back to you to-night. As for your precious report, you can ask Mussolini for it. You’re just as likely to get it from him as you are from me. And you can tell your principals that they have my permission to take running jumps at themselves.”
“I’m afraid you’re being a little foolish, Mr. Marlow.” His voice was as dangerous a sound as I have heard. It very nearly reduced me to silence, but not quite.
“Foolish?” I repeated ironically. “Listen to me. If you’re not out of this car in thirty seconds, you’ll go out on your neck.”
He adjusted his monocle carefully. “I think I ought to tell you, Mr. Marlow, that I have a revolver in my pocket which I shall not hesitate to use if necessary.” I did my best to look slightly cowed. It was not difficult. When he went on his tone was conciliatory. “Now listen to me for a moment, Mr. Marlow. I can, to a certain extent, appreciate your annoyance, but I can assure you that I am only carrying out my instructions.”
I contrived to let this fiction appear to mollify me somewhat.
“That may be. I cannot believe that you would for one moment imagine that I might agree to this-this preposterous suggestion.”
“It is not a suggestion,” he returned quietly; “it is an order.” And then, as I opened my mouth to speak: “Please listen to me before you say any more. You seem to think that the maintenance of friendly relations between us is no longer of personal interest to you. Allow me to correct that impression.”
“If you think that a few dirty lire…”
He held up his hand. “Please! What I was about to say had nothing to do with your salary. But it is of interest to you to preserve this association. For one very good reason. My principals in Belgrade have intimated that they might see fit, should you prove obstinate in this matter, to send a letter to Mr. Pelcher in England with photostat copies of your enclosures to me of three weeks ago. I cannot help thinking that that would prove a little embarrassing for you.”
I drew a deep breath. “So that’s it! Blackmail, eh!”
“Not at all,” he returned easily, “merely a reminder of the mutual confidence that must exist between business associates. There is no question of our asking anything more from you than you are able to give us without trouble or risk to yourself. In return, we keep our part of the bargain by paying you three thousand lire a month. It is all quite simple and reasonable.”
I was silent for a moment. When at last I spoke it was with the obvious intention of salving what was left of my dignity.
“Very well,” I said, “I see that I have no choice but to agree. But let me tell you this, General. If I did not believe that you were acting on instructions you had no part in, not even a revolver would prevent me expressing myself very forcibly.”
He smiled; not, I thought, without a hint of triumph.
“My dear fellow, we are all of us at the mercy of blockheads. We can only accept the inevitable with the best possible grace. There are no bad feelings between us, I hope.”
“Oh no. No bad feelings.”
“Then let us shake hands on it.”
We shook hands. He opened the door and got out.
“My wife asked me to give you her kind regards, Mr. Marlow.”
“Please thank her.”
“By all means. I shall look forward to your report within the next fifteen days. You understand, I think, what is required.”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Then, a rivederci.”
“Good night.”
He went, leaving a faint odour of Chypre behind him. I watched him turn his car round and drive off in the direction of Milan. After a while, I followed him slowly. I ought, I know, to be feeling pleased with myself. But I was not: for, such are the frailties of human logic, I felt that, had my report to Vagas been genuine and had I had no ulterior motives whatever, my behaviour that evening would have been precisely the same.
Some ten minutes later I pulled up outside the caffe at which I had left Zaleshoff and Tamara.
The table before which they were sitting was littered with empty coffee cups. He watched me steadily as I walked towards them and sat down in the vacant chair. Then:
“O.K.?”
“O.K.,” I said, “but I think I’d like a brandy with my coffee. It’s been a tiring day.”
The two plain-clothes men, looking tired and very cold, were sitting in the caffe opposite the Parigi when at last I got back. They had the self-contained air of men who have been quarrelling.