THIRTEEN
They had built their headquarters far away from the battlefields, a large clean new building, flying a large clean flag. Stone and concrete, it stood out solid, massive, expensive, indestructible looking, among the low, old, ricketty wooden houses. Apart from the sentries at the main entrance, it seemed to have nothing to do with war. No other guards were visible. Inside there appeared to be no security precautions at all. I recalled the commander’s drunken remark: perhaps these people really were too soft to fight; relying on their technological supremacy, on the gigantic size and wealth of their country, believed they need not dirty their hands with the actual fighting, paid their inferiors to do that.
I was directed to the warden’s suite. The place was air-conditioned. Elevators rose smoothly, silently, swiftly. Thick carpets stretched from wall to wall of the wide corridors. After the squalid discomfort in which I had been living, it was like a luxury hotel. Lights blazed everywhere in spite of the sunshine outside. Windows were hermetically sealed, not made to open. The resulting atmosphere was slightly unreal.
A woman secretary in uniform told me the warden could see no one. He was leaving immediately on a tour of inspection and would be away some days. I said: ‘I must see him before he goes. It’s urgent. I’ve come all this way specially.
I won’t keep him a minute.’ She pursed her lips, shook her head. ‘Absolutely impossible. He has important papers to sign and gave orders that nobody was to disturb him.’ Her well made-up face was adamant, uncomprehending. It annoyed me. ‘To hell with that! I tell you I must see him! It’s a personal matter. Can’t you understand?’ I wanted to shake her to get some human expression into her face. Instead, I made my voice calm. ‘At least tell him I’m here and ask whether he’ll see me.’ I felt in my pockets for some means of identification, then wrote my name on a pad. While I was doing so a colonel came in. The secretary went over and whispered to him. At the end of their confabulation the man said he would give the message himself, took the paper with my name on it and left the room by the same door through which he had just entered. I knew he had no intention of telling the warden about me. Only decisive action on my part would get me a interview. Soon it would be too late.
‘Where does that door lead?’ I asked the secretary, pointing to one at the other end of the room. ‘Oh, that’s strictly private. You can’t go in there. It’s forbidden.’ For the first time she began to lose her superior calm and to look flustered. She had not been trained to deal with a direct approach. I said: ‘Well I’m going in,’ moved towards the door. ‘No!’ She flew to stand in front of it, barring my way. The country she belonged to was so firmly convinced of world power that its nationals could not conceive of real opposition from anyone, even over the smallest issue. I smiled, pushed her aside. She clung on to my clothes, holding me back. There was a brief scuffle. I heard a voice I recognized beyond the closed door. ‘What’s going on there?’ I went in. ‘Oh, it’s you, is it?’ He seemed singular! unsurprised. In the doorway the secretary was talking fast and apologetically. He waved her away. The door shut. I said: ‘I must speak to you.’
We were alone in the rich room. Persian rugs on the parquet floor, period furniture, on the wall a full length portrait of him by a well-known painter. My worn, shabby, unpressed uniform emphasized, by contrast, the elegant grandeur of his, which had gold emblems on cuffs and shoulders, and, on the chest, the ribbons of various orders. He stood up; I had not remembered him as being so tall. The touch of the grand manner he had always had was more marked than when I last saw him. I was not at ease. His presence affected me in the usual way; but, with such obvious differences between us, the idea of contact, however obscure, seemed inappropriate and embarrassing. When he said coldly, ‘It’s no use forcing your way in here. I’m just leaving,’ I felt confused, and could only repeat: ‘I must speak to you first.’ ‘Impossible. I’m late as it is.’ He glanced at his watch, started towards the door. ‘Surely you can wait just a moment!’ In my anxiety, I hurriedly stepped in front of him. I should have known better. His eyes flashed; he was angry; I had thrown away my one chance. I cursed myself for a fool. Perhaps my downcast expression amused him: at all events, his attitude suddenly seemed to change, he half smiled. ‘I can’t hold up the entire war just to talk to you. If there’s something you must say, you’ll have to come with me.’ I was delighted. This was better than anything I had expected. ‘May I? That’s wonderful!’ I thanked him enthusiastically. He burst out laughing.
The road to the airfield was lined with people waiting to catch a glimpse of him as we drove past. They stood six deep at the roadside, watched from gardens, windows, balconies, roofs, trees, hoardings, telegraph poles. Some of them must have waited a long time. I was impressed by the force of his immediate impact on the crowd.
Sitting beside him in the plane, I was conscious of curious glances from its other occupants. It was strange to look down and see the earth, not flat or gently curved, but as a segment of a round ball, the sea light blue, the land yellowish-green. Overhead it was dark blue night. Drinks were brought, I was handed a tinkling glass. ‘Ice! What luxury!’ He glanced my dilapidated uniform, made a grimace. ‘You can’t expect luxury if you insist on being a hero.’ The words were mocking, but the smile had some degree of charm. He might even have been taking a friendly interest. ‘May I ask why you have suddenly become one of our heroic fighters?’ I knew I should have spoken about a job. Instead, for some reason, told him I’d had to do something drastic to cure my depression. ‘Funny sort of cure. More likely to kill you.’ ‘Perhaps that’s what I wanted.’ ‘No, you’re not the suicide type. Anyway, why bother, when we’re all going to be killed next week.’ ‘As soon as that?’ ‘Well, perhaps not literally. But certainly very soon.’ I recognized the trick of blinking his eyes, making the bright blue pupils flash as if they reflected a dazzling blue light. It was the sign that something had not been said. Of course, he had secret information. He always knew everything before anyone else.
An enormous dinner was served. It seemed altogether too lavish, I could not eat half of it. I had got out of the way of eating big meals. Afterwards I tried again to say what I had come to say, but the sentences would not take shape in my head. I found myself thinking of him, and remarked on how little surprise he had shown over my arrival. ‘I was almost expecting you.’ His expression was rather odd. ‘You have a way of turning up just before things happen.’ He seemed to speak quite seriously. ‘You really expect the catastrophe within weeks or days?’ ‘Looks like it.’
Blinds were drawn, shutting out the sky. A film was to be shown. He muttered in my ear: ‘Wait till their attention’s fixed on the screen. Then I’ll show you something more interesting. It’s supposed to be kept secret.’ I waited, curious. We left our seats quietly, went through a door, faced an uncovered window. I was confused about time. It had been night overhead all along, but below it was still daylight. There were no clouds. I saw islands scattered over the sea, a normal aerial view. Then something extraordinary, out of this world: a wall of rainbow ice jutting up from the sea, cutting right across, pushing a ridge of water ahead of it as it moved, as if the flat pale surface of sea was a carpet being rolled up. It was a sinister, fascinating sight, which did not seem intended for human eyes. I stared down at it, seeing other things at the same time. The ice world spreading over our world. Mountainous walls of ice surrounding the girl. Her moonwhite skin, her hair sparkling with diamond prisms under the moon. The moon’s dead eye watching the death of our world.