by Janice Law
“I am immensely reassured. Yet, monsieur, I am what passes in the Zone for an honest man. By which I mean that, if a man works usefully for me, I do not betray him and I do not seek to harm him when his usefulness has ended.”
Even in my altered state, I felt a chill at that echo of Richard’s parting comment: your usefulness to us is at an end. I had imagined that was just a figure of speech, just Richard’s usual desire for a flourish. Maybe not.
“Not everyone in authority around here can say the same,” he continued. “Indeed, they dare not.”
I took a breath, but my voice still sounded hoarse as I struggled to recalibrate all my assumptions. “I had thought the Soviets to blame. They tried to grab Goldfarber in London.”
“The late Herr Goldfarber was a big fish, a tunny, eh? Worth their effort. You, monsieur, are one of the minnows. They must eventually have realized that.”
“Would they had realized it sooner,” I said, my mind racing. “You know, they wanted to pass me off to Moscow as a top spy from London.”
“There are mediocrities in every profession,” he said and shrugged. “But do you understand what I have told you? I cannot be more specific.”
“Yes. Although I am taken aback, Commissioner, I believe you. But what possible motive?”
“I am not privy to the activities of your legation—or its various auxiliaries. Money and power are always good bets, though.”
“I lean toward money,” I said after a moment. “There were two paintings sold very profitably in London. One is still presumably in Europe. The other was left in the protectorate.”
“Paintings by the famous Picasso?”
“Let us say, paintings ‘after the famous Picasso.’”
He lifted his shoulders. “And someone took this last picture and wants to sell it safely?”
“Something like that. Or else sheer meanness.”
“Ah, monsieur, never underestimate that.”
“I misjudged you, Commissioner. I must thank you.”
“Well, monsieur, I believe only in necessary meanness. I owed you for your efforts with Herr Goldfarber.” He rolled down the window and waved to his driver. He said nothing more until he wished me bon voyage at the ferry ramp.
I went on board, full of troubling speculations about Richard and Harry. I remembered Richard’s false bonhomie and his chilly voice, and Harry’s careless arrangements for my safety and his outright lies. I remembered the parties and the gaiety, but also Richard’s avid greed for art. Yes, I believed the commissioner. I was not safe here, where Richard was an important figure. And London?
London, I thought would be all right; the rules were different there, I hoped, and our situations would be different. There, I was an up-and-coming painter and Richard was a provincial secret agent away in far-off Tangier. Besides, I was only a threat to him here, where he aspired to be a leading light in Tangierino society. Yes, I was a London man and London was the ticket for me, first and last.
With that in mind, I let my attention stray to a picturesque ferryman, as young and muscular as a Greek bronze. I watched him unfastening the hawser and thought about what pigments would best capture the planes of his naked back. I did not look toward the shore again until we were pulling away from the dock, and the turbulent, dirty city was once again a beautiful white illusion, gleaming against the dark edge of the continent. For a moment, I thought I saw David standing on the crowded dock, and my heart in my mouth, I stood up and waved.
But it was not him at all, just a trick of the light, just his ghost, who I fear will haunt me now wherever I go.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this book or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Janice Law
Cover design by Mauricio Díaz
ISBN 978-1-4976-4147-1
Published in 2014 by MysteriousPress.com/Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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