Алистер Маклин - Floodgate

‘I know what lies behind the warpaint so it doesn’t matter to me.’ He paused. ‘Maybe I don’t know anything about women but I always know when they’re telling fibs.’

‘I’m telling fibs?’

‘Of course you are.’

‘Well, yes, I am. Can’t we have coffee at Julie’s place. It’s only another five minutes.’

‘Sure. Time I have. I know you’re very fond of Julie. But are you also worried about her?’

‘I think she’s worried about me. Even though she knew you would be there she didn’t like the idea of my going back to that place.’

‘You didn’t answer my question. You’re not, perhaps – well, just a little bit worried about her?’ She remained silent.

‘The Annecy brothers. Would you believe, I’ve never even seen either of them? I regard them as a fairly distant menace.’

‘The menace I’m thinking of is a great deal nearer to home. Well, not menace. Problem, rather.’

‘This is something new on me. A bagatelle, whatever it is. Give me the name of this person or problem and I’ll attend to it.’

‘Indeed, Lieutenant.’ Something in the tone of her voice caught van Effen’s attention and he gave her a long speculative look. ‘And how do you attend to this bagatelle, when the bagatelle in question is yourself?’

‘Ah. Me again. I don’t suppose there’s any point in repeating the old complaining question?’

‘Which is what?’

‘What the hell am I supposed to have done this time?’

‘By your standards, I suppose, absolutely nothing.’

‘I detect a certain sarcasm? Or is it irony? I’ve noticed an increasing use of it. Not becoming, Annemarie. You should do something about it. Well, what have I done?’

‘Reduced a lovely girl to tears. Not once, but three times. And when I say lovely, I don’t just mean beautiful. I mean the nicest, kindest, warmest person I’ve ever met. Three times. But it’s as I said. By your standards, a bagatelle.’

‘Julie?’

‘Julie! Who else would I mean? Or do you have a whole collection of ladies that you go around reducing to tears?’

‘What’s she crying about?’

‘What’s she – I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe you’re cruel, indifferent. But don’t you care that she’s upset?’

‘Of course I care. I’d care more if I knew why she was upset.’

‘I wonder. You’ll think it funny. For one thing, you left last night without a good-night hug and kiss. You’ve never done that before, she says.’

‘Funny? It’s ludicrous. My men getting hospitalized, a gang of lunatics threatening to inundate our country, another gang of lunatics wanting to hire me to blow up the palace or whatever, nations toppling and I’m supposed to be worried about smooches? A bagatelle? Soon fix that.’

‘Of course you will. A double ration of affectionate farewells. Georgie, Porgy, pudding and pie, kissed the girls and made them cry.’

‘Shakespeare?’

‘English nursery rhyme.’ Her voice was very curt indeed. ‘Perhaps a bagatelle. What does matter is that she says she hurt two people she loves because she was meddlesome. I suppose she means you and me. Said she thought she was helping but that she was too clever or too stupid for her own good.’

‘That’s her problem. A little bit of self-analysis never did anyone any harm.’

‘Self-analysis! You told her she was interfering and too smart for her own good. Anybody’s good.’

‘Julie told you that?’

‘Of course she didn’t. She’s too loyal – misplaced loyalty, perhaps. Julie would never have said that – she’s too unselfish to think about herself. But it sounds exactly like you.’

‘I’ll say I’m sorry. Very, very sorry.’

‘And, of course, you’ll tell her that I told you to.’

‘No. I must say it’s a sad thing to be held in such low esteem by two ladies you love.’

‘The Lieutenant is pleased to be flippant,’ she said coldly.

‘Flippancy? Never. You don’t believe me?’

‘No, I don’t believe you.’

‘I care very much about you. But as a matter of principle and in the interests of discipline, a barrier must remain between the officer class and rankers.’

‘Oh, shut up!’ The tone was one of pure exasperation.

‘The principle doesn’t seem to be standing up very well,’ van Effen said gloomily. ‘And the barrier’s flat. So much for discipline.’

Annemarie gave no indication that she had heard a word he’d said.

Julie, polite but reserved, had gone to make coffee, Annemarie had headed for the bath and van Effen spoke to the guard, a man called Thyssen, who assured him that all was quiet and that the man he had relieved had had a similarly uneventful night. Julie entered the living-room just as he did: she was still quiet and unsmiling.

‘Julie?’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘For what?’

‘I’ve hurt my Julie.’

‘You? Hurt? How?’

‘That’s right. Make it easy for me. I know you’ve been upset, most likely still are. Annemarie told me.’

‘Did she tell you why?’

‘No. But it didn’t take my analytical mind, the one you’re always denigrating, very long to figure it out. In retrospect, I could have been more tactful. But things on my mind, lots of things. Apart from those things, you’re upset, Annemarie is upset because you’re upset, and I’m upset because the two of you are upset. I’ve got to go out and see some desperate criminals and I can’t afford to be upset. I have to be careful, crafty, cunning, calculating, watchful and ruthless and I can’t be any of those things if I’m upset, and I’ll only be upset if you insist on remaining upset. So you’ll have me on your conscience for the rest of your life if something happens to me, such as being shot in the head, thrown off a high building or drowned in a canal. Are you still upset?’

She came close to him; linked her hands behind his neck and put her head on his shoulder. ‘Of course I am. Not because of last night, but because of what you’ve just said. You’re the only brother I have and I suppose I have to love someone.’ She tightened her grip. ‘One of those days the gallant Lieutenant is going to go out into what the gallant Lieutenant calls the dreadful night and the gallant Lieutenant is not going to come back.’

‘This is the morning, Julie.’

‘Please. You know what I mean. I feel fey, Peter. I feel something dreadful is going to happen today.’ She tightened her grip even more. ‘I do so wish you weren’t going out. I’d do anything in the world to stop you. You know that this is not the first time – that I’ve felt this way, I mean – it’s been three or four times, and I’ve been right every time. Change your appointment, Peter, please, darling. I know, I just know how I won’t feel this way tomorrow.’

‘I’ll come back, Julie. I love you, you love me, I know you’d be terribly sad if I didn’t come back, so I’ll have to come back, won’t I?’

‘Please, Peter. Please!’

‘Julie, Julie.’ He smoothed her hair. ‘You lot certainly do wonders for my morale.’

‘What do you mean “you lot”?’

‘Annemarie’s been at it too. Feeling fey, I mean. Prophesying death, doom and disaster. You can imagine how this cheers me up no end. Tell you what. A compromise. I promise you I won’t be lured astray by any bad men or go anywhere with them from the Hunter’s Horn. I’ll listen to what they say then make my plans accordingly. Basically, I think that I’ll arrange to meet them again at a time and place of my own choosing, this being after I’ve learnt what their plans are for me – or their evil intentions. So, a deal. If you promise me one of your cordon bleu lunches – finest French wines, of course – for one o’clock, I’ll promise I’ll be here at one.’