‘On the Bible, Max, absurd! But in the end he stays with her. He divorced. He married her. Men love being loved like this, a woman who would not hesitate to reduce you to a state of administrative nonexistence in Austria fully deserves to earn her marriage, an utterly harmonious marriage, a blast of jealous rage, the originals of diplomas and bearer bonds, that’s not a matter of small importance, they married.
‘Later the woman divorced the man, she discovered he had a weak character. She said I’d married my bad self. I refer to dear Elisabeth, Max, sweet, fair-haired Elisabeth Stirnweiss.
‘Let’s stay friends, Max, with the life I lead I need to talk without what I say turning into love or loathing.’
At Grindisheim, in the hotel, people have started taking their leave of each other, they came to say goodbye to Max, still sitting with Lilstein, at one point he loses his temper:
‘Look here, I’m not Kappler’s widow!’
People said farewell looking somewhat abashed and he laughed. One man came up and Max stopped laughing, the man had only one arm, a German, he said to Max:
‘I met Herrr Kappler not long ago, we talked about her.’
Max asked Lilstein to excuse him, he went off to one side with the man, Lilstein remained sitting at their table, after a moment Max came back, Max didn’t explain but he forced Lilstein to listen to his account of Stalin’s death, the Party leaders waited a very long time indeed before they called in the doctors, a big drinking session, five of them, correct me if I start talking nonsense, young Lilstein, anyway Stalin, Beria, Malenkov, Bulganin, Khrushchev, the night of the first and second of March 1953, around four or five in the morning the guests leave. Stalin goes off to bed, by noon not a peep, the domestic staff start to worry but a ban on entering the boss’s room without being summoned, that evening, around eleven, someone at last goes in, no one knows exactly who, people vacillate between an old cleaning woman, Matrena Butussova, and Captain Lozgachev, his job is to bring the mail from the Kremlin, he or she discovers Stalin lying on the floor, conscious but unable to speak, that same evening Stalin got one hundred per cent of the votes cast in the eight constituencies of the local soviets where he had been a candidate, at three in the morning, 3 March, the little gang of Khrushchev, Beria, Malenkov and co. returns, they learn that Stalin has urinated in his trousers, they decide not to go in, a matter of propriety, says Khrushchev.
Max paused, looked over Lilstein’s shoulder, de Vèze was coming towards them, Max got to his feet, Lilstein did the same, de Vèze said hello to Max.
‘Ambassador, let me introduce you to Monsieur Lilstein, Monsieur Lilstein first met Hans forty years ago, Hans was very fond of him, he used to say Michael Lilstein would be the salt of the earth if he didn’t make too many mistakes.’
‘I’ve made lots,’ says Lilstein, ‘my respects, Ambassador, I am most grateful to you for not avoiding me, although many people assume I am a trafficker in living souls.’
‘My dear Monsieur Lilstein, I don’t give a damn, as long as it lets me get up the noses of the informers and low-life who forced de Gaulle out, and I am very, very pleased to meet you.’
De Vèze has frozen, Max has looked in the direction de Vèze is looking, he has recognised Philippe Morel, the historian, he has just been elected to the Collège de France, unusual for one so young, he’s in his forties but it’s still very young for the Collège, Max knows why de Vèze has frozen, Morel is coming over, he is alone, surprising that Morel should come over, or maybe he intends to cause an incident, the cuckolded husband who slaps his rival across the face at a funeral, the rival is the Ambassador, a very French scandal, this is going to look bad, de Vèze isn’t the sort who’ll let himself be slapped across the face without reacting, he’s perfectly capable of forestalling Morel, a punch, no, he can’t, he’ll have to wait for the slap, so he can block it? Is Morel worth all the fuss? Max could step forward, that’s it, I’m stepping forward, on with the tomfoolery, Professor! This is a surprise! you know Hans was telling me all about you just recently, no, Morel has executed a quarter turn to his left, he walks off towards the terrace, from a distance Max sees him shaking hands with Poirgade.
Among the watchers gathered around Colonel Sebald and the head of the Federal Office for the Protection of the Constitution, some had reached the end of their tether, others hadn’t, no point getting all worked up, if we haven’t got the green light now, we’ll lift the suspect when he travels back, before he crosses the frontier, on the road, that’ll make less of a splash than if we do it at the funeral, we’ve got thirty agents around him, the Minister only has to give us the nod and we’ll be on him, I’m sure he won’t try to get away, with people like that they’re often relieved when it’s all over, if the Minister gives the green light we’ll be on him within three seconds.’
‘Big Loaf calling,’ said the radio, ‘Blanchot stuck in a bunch, it’s getting difficult, he’s with the French Ambassador and an American journalist.’
It was at that moment that the cat was set among the pigeons. When it was announced that the suspect had left with the French Ambassador at Berne.
Walker blanched. Radio again:
‘The French Ambassador has driven off with our client in a DS.’
It was de Vèze who suggested it. He was with Lilstein, Max and the correspondent of the Washington News, Linus Mosberger. Mosberger is a top-notch interviewer, he tries to get de Vèze to talk, departure of de Gaulle, Pompidou’s speech in Rome, before the referendum, saying he was ready to undertake great tasks if the opportunity presented itself, that is if de Gaulle lost the elections. Getting an old Gaullist to talk, persuading him to say what he thinks of Pompidou, checking what he says, Pompidou has betrayed his own side, he is assumed to have betrayed his own side because his wife had been insulted.
‘Is there any truth in what they say, Ambassador? that Pompidou dropped the Gaullists because certain Gaullists had slandered his wife?’
De Vèze reckons the American is very direct.
‘I’m sure, Monsieur Mosberger, that certain services of the American government could tell you far more about it than I can.’
And suddenly de Vèze:
‘Goffard, I’ll give you a lift.’
Mosberger and Lilstein took their leave.
It was Max who got into the DS with de Vèze.
The CIA man, Walker, asked wasn’t there anything they could do while they were on the road? He had a quiet voice:
‘We could blow a tyre with a rifle with telescopic sights, I’ll take the shot myself if you don’t want to, or we could stage an accident along their route, they stop, get out, take a look, and we can hold Goffard as a witness.’
Everyone started coming out with theories better suited to the pages of crime thrillers, Walker is now in charge of operations, an incident on the road taken by the French Ambassador, he’s returning to Berne, the best spot would be around Winzig, an hour’s drive away, that would allow enough time to set it all up, they’ve decided to go for it, mad rush to get away before de Vèze, maybe ten vehicles, Walker in one of them, Winzig here we come!