Michael Pearce - A Dead Man In Trieste

Maddalena nodded.

‘I have been thinking about that, too. Over and over. But, I am sorry, I cannot think of any name. I don’t think he ever told me.’

‘Maddalena, the thought occurs to me — you said he talked to students, did he talk to some more than others? Are there any he might have talked to about this reception?’

‘He certainly talked about it at least once. I heard him. They had invited him to come to something or other and he said, no, he couldn’t. He had to go to this reception. He would very much have preferred to go with them, he said, but that kind of thing was unfortunately part of his job. “Go and drink?” they said. “Part of the job?” “Someone’s got to do it,” he said. They all laughed. “Maybe I’ll become a consul,” one of them said. “You’ve got to be born beautiful,” he said. He was like that. He could get on with people very well, fit himself into the way they talked and behaved. So, yes, he did mention it. But — ’

‘Would you ask around among your student friends? You see, from what you say, I think it just possible that they might know the person who wanted Lomax to take him to the reception. It could even be a student.’

Maddalena looked doubtful.

‘Well, I don’t really think they’re the sort who would want to — ’

‘That depends on what they wanted to go for. Suppose they wanted to go for the same reason as you went to the Piazza Giuseppina and messed up that statue? To play a prank? And suppose Lomax found out? That might have been the reason why he didn’t want to take them. And if he was a student he would have had to be taken. He wouldn’t have been able to get there any other way.’

‘Well, it is a thought,’ said Maddalena.

‘Just a thought, perhaps. But worth trying. If you wouldn’t mind.’

‘I would be glad to,’ said Maddalena, pleased.

And then I would have an excuse for seeing you again, thought Seymour. But that thought, too, he suppressed.

He returned to the Consulate. Koskash was working away earnestly. What on earth did he find to work on? Seymour was not aware of much mail coming in. Paperwork to do with the ships, Seymour supposed.

Or the seamen.

He found an excuse, later, to send Koskash out of the office for a moment and, while he was away, glanced at the papers on his desk. They were, as he had suspected, seamen’s papers. There were two sets. He didn’t really have time to scrutinize them and wouldn’t really have known what to look for if he had. They seemed normal enough. Two ordinary British seamen.

But British seamen. He made up his mind to watch out for them when they came to collect the papers.

But then the thought struck him that perhaps he wouldn’t be here when they came for them. Suppose they came, as the other one had, late in the evening?

And then he realized. Koskash was staying on this evening, working late. He made up his mind not to go to the lecture after all.

At around eight he went out, telling Koskash that he was going for a meal. Instead, he walked round the block. The trilby hat fell in behind him. Seymour wasn’t having any of that. He could do without that this evening. It was easy, with his experience, to shake the man off.

He returned to the Consulate and took up a position in a doorway across the street.

It was getting dark but this evening was still heavy with heat. The breeze, which had been such a feature of earlier evenings, bringing to the streets even up here in the city the smell of sea mixed with the smell of flowers, was absent and there was nothing to stir the air. Around the Consulate the streets were deserted.

The moments went by. It was hot in the doorway. He felt himself sweating and put up his hand to wipe his sweat from running into his eyes.

He heard footsteps. Two men were coming up the street. They went to the side door of the Consulate and knocked quietly. The door was opened by Koskash and the two went in.

Seymour stepped out of his doorway and walked across the street towards the Consulate.

And then, suddenly, there was the piercing blast of a police whistle, very close. It was answered by another, and then another, converging on the door.

The door opened and two men rushed out. They didn’t try to run away, however, but stood there, smiling.

The street was suddenly full of policemen. Seymour pushed past them. The door of the Consulate was open and through it Seymour could see Koskash, sitting at his desk, his face buried in his hands.

Koskash was taken away by the police; and the next morning Seymour went to the police station to find out what had become of him. He went first to Kornbluth. Kornbluth looked uncomfortable and said: ‘It is nothing to do with me,’ After a moment he added: ‘You will have to see Schneider.’ And Seymour realized that this was one which involved the other sort of police. ‘There are two sorts of police in Trieste,’ Alfredo had said: the ordinary ones, the municipal police, and the special sort that you didn’t have in England.

‘Yes, we are holding him,’ said Schneider.

‘On what charges?’

‘He has not been charged yet,’ said Schneider, ‘but they will include committing acts which are against the interests of the State. These are serious charges. And there are others.’

‘May I see him?’

‘Later.’

‘I shall, of course, be sending a report to London.’

‘And we shall, of course, be lodging a formal protest about the Consulate’s behaviour.’

This, thought Seymour, was looking increasingly like something the Foreign Office was going to have to sort out and not him. In fact, he would need to tread very delicately. If he didn’t watch out he would be drawn far beyond any of the roles he was supposed to be filling, whether of King’s Messenger or of policeman.

‘What would be the nature of your protest?’ he asked.

‘Allowing diplomatic premises to be used for improper purposes.’

‘I am not sure it was allowed. Whatever Koskash was doing, he was doing on his own.’

‘Of course you would say that.’

Seymour was silent: because, of course, if what Koskash had said was true, it had been allowed: by Lomax.

‘I am just a Messenger,’ he said, ‘and it would not be proper for me to anticipate what my government’s response will be.’

‘Quite so,’ said Schneider.

‘I am merely making enquiries so that I can report more accurately what has happened.’

‘Of course.’

‘Actually, I am not quite sure what did happen. Perhaps you can inform me.’

‘First,’ said Schneider, ‘there is something that you must explain: your own presence there.’

Seymour hesitated, then decided that nothing was to be lost by telling the truth: up to a point.

‘I suspected that something might be occurring that was in need of explanation.’

Schneider nodded.

‘We, too. We have been watching the Consulate for some time. There was a suspicion that Consulate staff had been assisting people of interest to us to leave the country illegally. Through the provision of false papers. I arranged for two of my men to present themselves to the Consulate — ’

‘One moment; not to the Consulate but to a person in the Consulate, who was acting without the Consul’s authority.’

‘So you say. Yes. However — ’

‘And when they presented themselves. .?’

‘Papers were issued to them. On that basis I ordered Mr Koskash’s arrest.’

‘What does he say?’

‘Nothing yet. We questioned him last night and we shall continue the questioning this morning.’

‘Are you in a position to tell me the identity of the people for whom the papers were being made out? In general terms, that is. Their nationality, for instance,’