The Comedians

'I don't want to go back. Old man, you don't know what it was like in Imphal. I used to make friends sometimes - I could introduce them to girls, and then they'd go away and never come back. Or they'd come back once or twice for a yarn. There was a man called Charters who could smell water …'

He broke off abruptly, remembering. 'Another lie,' I said, as though I myself were a man of scrupulous rectitude.

'Not exactly a lie,' he said. 'You see, when he told me that, it was like someone calling me by my real name.'

'Which

wasn't

Jones?'

'Jones was on my birth certificate,' he said. 'I've seen it there myself,'

and brushed the question aside. 'When he told me that, I knew I could do the same with a bit of practice. I knew I had it in me. I made my clerk hide glasses of water in the office and then I'd wait till I had a big thirst and sniff. It didn't work very often, but then tap-water is not the same.' He added, 'I think I'll ease my feet a bit,' and I could tell from his movements that he was pulling off his gumboots.

'How did you come to be in Shillong?' I asked.

'I was born in Assam. My father planted tea - or so my mother said.'

'You had to take it on trust?'

'Well, he went home before I was born.'

'Your mother was Indian?'

'Half-Indian, old man,' he said as though he attributed importance to fractions. It was like meeting an unknown brother - Jones and Brown, the names were almost interchangeable, and so was our status. For all we knew we were both bastards, although of course there might have been a ceremony

- my mother had always given me that impression. We had both been thrown into the water to sink or swim, and swim we had - we had swum from very far apart to come together in a cemetery in Haiti. 'I like you, Jones,' I said. 'If you don't want that half a sandwich, I could do with it.'

'Of course, old man.' He fingered in his kitbag and felt for my hand in the dark.

'Tell me more, Jones,' I said.

'I came to Europe,' he said, 'after the war. I got into a lot of scrapes. Somehow I couldn't find what I was intended to do. You know, there had been times in Imphal when I almost wished the Japs would reach us. The authorities would have armed even the camp-followers then, like me and the clerks in N.A.A.F.I. and the cooks. After all I had a uniform. A lot of unprofessionals do well in war, don't they? I've learnt a lot, listening, studying maps, watching … You can feel a vocation, can't you, even if you can't practise it? And there I was, checking transport and travel-vouchers for third-class entertainers - Mr Coward was one of the exceptions, and I had to keep an eye on the girls. I called them girls. Old troupers more like. My office smelt like a stage dressing-room.'

'The grease-paint drowned the smell of water?' I said.

'You are right. It wasn't a fair test. I only wanted my chance,' he added, and I wondered whether perhaps in all his devious life he had been engaged on a secret and hopeless love-affair with virtue, watching virtue from a distance, hoping to be noticed, perhaps, like a child doing wrong in order to attract the attention of virtue.

'And now you have the chance,' I said.

'Thanks to you, old man.'

'I thought that what you wanted most was a golf-club …'

'That's true. It was my second dream. You have to have two, don't you? In case the first goes wrong.'

'Yes. I suppose so.' Making money had been my dream also. Had there been another? I had no wish to search so far back.

'You'd better try to sleep a while,' I said. 'It won't be safe to sleep in daylight.'

And sleep he did, almost at once, curled up like an embryo below the tomb. That was one quality he shared with Napoleon, and I wondered whether perhaps there might be others. Once he opened his eyes and remarked that this was 'a good place' and then slept again. I could see nothing good in it, but in the end I slept as well.

After a couple of hours something woke me. I imagined for a moment it was the noise of a car, but I thought it unlikely that a car would be out on the road so early, and the wreck of a dream stayed with me and accounted for the noise - I had been driving my car across a river on a bed of boulders. I lay still and listened with my eyes watching the grey early sky. I could see the shapes of the tombs standing around. Soon the sun would be up. It was time to get back to the car. When I was sure of the silence I nudged Jones awake.

'You'd better not sleep again now,' I said.

'I'll walk a little way with you.'

'Oh no, you won't. For my sake. You must keep away from the road until it's dark. The peasants will be going to market soon. They'll report any white man they see.'

'Then they'll report you.'

'I have my alibi. A smashed car on the road to Aux Cayes. You'll have to keep company with the cat till dark. Then go to the hut and wait for Philipot.'

Jones insisted on shaking hands. In the reasonable light of day the affection which I had felt for him was leaking rapidly away. I thought again of Martha, and as though he were half aware of my thoughts, he said, 'Give my love to Martha when you see her. Luis and Angel too, of course.'

'And

Midge?'

'It was good,' he said, 'it was like being in a family.'

I walked down a long street of graves towards the road. I was not born for the maquis - I took no precautions. I thought: Martha had no reason to lie, or had she? Opposite the wall of the cemetery stood a jeep, but the sight of it for a moment didn't change the current of my thoughts. Then I stopped and stood waiting. It was too dark yet to see who was at the wheel, but I knew very well what was going to happen next.

The voice of Concasseur whispered, 'Stay just there. Quite still. Don't move.' He got out of the jeep, followed by the fat chauffeur with the gold teeth. Even in the half light he wore the black spectacles which were his only uniform. A tommy-gun of ancient make was pointed at my chest. 'Where is Major Jones?' Concasseur whispered.

'Jones?' I said as loudly as I dared. 'How would I know? My car broke down. I have a pass to Aux Cayes. As you know.'

'Speak quietly. I am taking you and Major Jones back to Port-auPrince. Alive, I hope. The President would prefer that. I have to make my peace with the President.'

'You're being absurd. You must have seen my car by the road. I was on the way …'

'Oh yes, I saw it. I was expecting to see it.' The tommy-gun twisted in his hands and pointed away somewhere to my left. There was no advantage to me in that - the chauffeur had his gun covering me too. 'Come forward,'

Concasseur said. I made a step forward, and he said, 'Not you. Major Jones.'

I turned and saw Jones was standing there behind me. He held what was left of the whisky in his hand.

I said, 'You bloody fool. Why didn't you stay put?'

'I'm sorry. I thought perhaps you might need the whisky waiting.'

'Get into the jeep,' Concasseur said to me. I obeyed. He went up to Jones and struck him in the face. 'You cheat,' he said.

'There was enough in it for both of us,' Jones said, and Concasseur hit him again. The chauffeur stood and watched. There was enough light to see the wink of his gold teeth as he grinned.

'Get in beside your friend,' Concasseur said. While the chauffeur held us covered, he turned and began to walk towards the jeep. A noise, if it is loud and close enough, almost escapes the hearing: I felt a vibration in my ear-drums rather than heard the explosion. I saw Concasseur knocked backwards as though struck by an invisible fist: the chauffeur pitched upon his face: a scrap of the cemetery-wall leapt in the air and dropped, a long time afterwards, with a small ping in the road. Philipot came out of the hut and Joseph limped after him. They carried tommy-guns of the same ancient make. Concasseur's black glasses lay in the road. Philipot ground them to pieces under his heel and the body showed no resentment. Philipot said, 'I left the driver for Joseph.'

Joseph was bending down over the driver and working on his teeth.