Оливер Блик - Protocol for a Kidnapping

“I’ve noticed,” I said.

Stepinac walked over to the writing desk, picked up a sheet of paper, looked at it, put it down, and then tapped his lower lip thoughtfully. The man with the gun yawned and looked at his watch. The man in the chair by the bath caught the yawn and repeated it. Stepinac turned back toward me and I could see that he had another question.

“Do you take pride in this profession of yours, Mr. St. Ives?”

“Pride?”

“Yes, pride. Do you ever sense a feeling of accomplishment after one of your successful negotiations, a feeling of craftsmanship perhaps?”

“Pride’s too weighty a word,” I said. “Satisfaction’s better, I suppose, but there’s no feeling of creative accomplishment, if that’s what you mean.”

“Nothing like that felt by the artisan, or the lawyer, or the artist, or the doctor?”

“Or the cop?”

“Yes,” he said, not smiling, “even the cop.”

“I perform what should be an unneeded service,” I said. “That rules out pride, right there.”

“An unneeded service,” Stepinac said thoughtfully, and then, catching the scent of a discussion, added, “If you wish to carry that to a philosophical extreme, a doctor, a lawyer, even a policeman performs the same thing.”

“No,” I said. “Doctors and lawyers and policemen would be unnecessary only if we lived in a moral and physical Utopia. That’s still a few years off. A go-between is called in when the victim and the representatives of the system, usually the police, agree that the system’s broken down and that they must operate outside of its framework for a while. So a go-between is hired and the rules are suspended while he does his job. Afterwards, the rules are reinstated and the system again tries to catch and punish whoever violated its rules. So I work only outside the system and only when its rules have been suspended. You don’t find much recognition in that territory, and pride or sense of accomplishment is usually dependent upon recognition of some sort.”

Stepinac tapped his lower lip again. “Then why do you do it if it offers none of the usual rewards? Not for financial gain, surely. You can make as much at some less bizarre occupation.”

“Money’s only part of it,” I said. “I’m lazy and this way I don’t have to work too hard or too often. I can usually choose or reject my employer, depending upon whether his problem interests me. There’s no competition and that’s good for a man who has no ambition. And then it might be that I like other persons’ troubles better than my own.”

“Interesting,” Stepinac said, picked up the sheet of paper from the writing table again, glanced at it, and put it down. “I was hoping that I might bribe you, Mr. St. Ives,” he said. “I seem to have failed.”

“It could be that you didn’t try hard enough.”

He smiled boyishly. “Somehow I don’t think so, which is to your credit, of course. Now I must employ another method to delay the exchange.”

“What?”

“I can’t tell you. However, what I’m about to say is not a threat, dire or otherwise.”

“All right.”

“And I’ll apologize in advance for its melodramatic note.”

“Fine.”

“It’s only this, Mr. St. Ives. Before the week is over you will wish you had taken the bribe. Good night.”

Arrie was up and pacing the floor when I got back to my room.

“Who was it?” she said.

“Nobody you know.”

“What did they want?”

“They want me to delay the exchange.”

“Why?”

“They didn’t say.”

“Jesus, what did they say?”

“That you work for the CIA.”

“Oh.”

“Let’s go back to bed,” I said.

“They know,” she said. “Huh.”

I unbuttoned my shirt. “Didn’t you expect them to?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “What did you say?”

“When they told me?”

“Yes.”

“I told them I didn’t mind — that you probably needed the job.”

The call from the kidnappers came through at 11:05 that morning and the one who did the talking sounded Italian and spoke English with an American accent, but since World War II most of them speak it that way.

“We can’t talk over this phone,” he said.

“I agree.”

“At eleven thirty a note’s gonna be delivered to you at the hotel. Be at the hotel desk to get it in person. It’ll tell you what to do. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay,” he said and hung up.

At eleven thirty I was strolling up and down before the hotel desk trying to pick out the plainclothesmen in the Metropol lobby. There were two possibles and three probables. A taxi driver came in and handed an envelope over to the desk clerk who glanced at it, nodded at me, and smiled when I thanked him for it. The taxi driver looked surprised when he was led off by two men, one of whom I’d scored as a possible, the other as a probable.

I went back up to my room to read the note. It was hand lettered — printed would be better — with a ballpoint pen and it said: “Be at public phone at NE corner Strosmajerova and Risanska near central train station at one sharp! Don’t be followed!! Burn this!!!”

All right!!! I thought and spent a few moments trying to memorize the street names before I gave up, located them on a city map, and marked the location with a big, black X. I used the toilet to dispose of the note.

I called Henry Knight and he sounded sleepy when he answered the phone. “How was your night on the town?” I said.

“Wicked,” he said. “Wisdom is a bottomless pit and this morning I’m dying and nobody cares.”

“Have some breakfast. They called.”

“When?”

“A few minutes ago. I have to go out.”

“You want some company?”

“Not yet. Maybe later this afternoon.”

“I’ll have recovered.”

“Tell Wisdom to stick around, too.”

“Anything else?”

“No,” I said and hung up.

When I’d come out of the shower that morning Arrie was dressed and drinking a cup of coffee. “I think you should know,” she said, “that I don’t consider last night to be just part of my job.”

“I don’t care about your job,” I said, kissed her, and poured a cup of coffee. “I really don’t. I told you that.”

“I’ve started to like you, Phil,” she said. “I mean honestly.”

“If we like each other, we’re off to a head start.”

“You’re not pissed off?” Her swearing had become an unconscious habit and the words that she once may have used for shock value were now just part of her vocabulary. I didn’t mind; the language is going to hell anyway.

“Not in the least,” I said and rumpled her hair which looked much the same when I was done. She gave it a couple of quick strokes with a comb, but it was like combing a blond mop.

“Well,” she said, “they must not think you’re too terribly important. Or something.”

“Why?”

“Not if they put me on to you.”

“What is it that you’re really supposed to do, take notes or arrive in the nick of time?”

She shrugged. “I just give them a daily report on whom you see and what you say. That’s all.” She lifted her face to be kissed again and what started as a breakfast peck turned into something more interesting. “You’re sexy in the morning,” she said. “I like that.”

“Which still leaves the afternoon to be explored.”

“I have to go,” she said, slipping into her long suede coat.

“Who’s your relief?” I said, grinning at her. “Something tall and brunette with a throaty voice and wicked eyes?”

She made a face at me. “If there is one, they haven’t told me. But that wouldn’t be unusual. I’m sort of junior junior.”