Eric Ambler - Siege at the Villa Lipp

‘Do you know what for, Minister?’

‘Indeed I do. You asked for other examples of his instability. I can given you a perfect one. It’s another of his role-switching ploys. Do you remember the long lecture he says he gave to that mythical Mr Williamson? Remember, Professor? The one about the perils of international fraud and the terrible fate that awaited those who didn’t obey the laws?’

‘I remember.’

‘Professor, that was a lecture I gave him. ’

He paused, shrugged slightly and then gazed into my eyes with the peculiar look of engaging frankness that I have learned to associate with guilt sure of its defences and completely at its ease.

‘My job,’ he went on, ‘was investigation and I could see the overall picture. Some corners of it were pretty murky, believe me. What provoked the lecture was a kind of multinational thimble-rigging scheme he had going. This was a chain of twenty different corporations, all having what looked like serious assets — mining properties, real estate, palm-nut plantations — and all making paper profits. That chain was just the debris left from his asset-stripping deals. So, he’s given the mess a coat of paint. Why? Well, it seems he’s acquired this little ex-British insurance company registered in ex-British Singapore and still operating under the old British free-for-all rules. That means minimal regulation by American standards. Most of its business is done in Malaysia and the Islands and it has a cosy Chinese name that means ‘faithful tiger’. So guess who ends up owning all those paper corporations. Yes, the faithful tiger, only now he’s called Fidelity Lion and does his investigating through nominees. The only mistake Firman made there was to let that mangy lion write annuity business in Australia. He’ll never go back there again. They don’t like insurance grifters, especially when they can’t pin anything on them.’

‘No country likes them. But you spoke of a terrible death and a catastrophic disaster, Minister. Was that what you meant? The collapse of a fraudulent insurance scheme?’

‘Oh no. His Chinese directors nearly had him in trouble, but he moved fast enough to get out from under that. It was the business of his son that hit him so hard.’

‘He mentioned a child by his second marriage.’

‘That was a daughter. The son was by his first wife. Brilliant boy, handsome, great charmer. Snapped up by one of the Ivy League colleges. Firman doted. Terribly proud of him. Actually used to carry a photograph of the lad in his wallet.’

‘What happened?’

‘He died suddenly. All very unfortunate it was.’

‘Drugs? Alcohol? A car crash?’

‘Nothing as simple. The boy committed suicide, hanged himself. It destroyed Firman completely for a while. I’ve never seen a crack-up like it. Almost total withdrawal. He’d just sit.’

‘Was there any explanation?’

‘Of the suicide? The college had one. Overwork, examination pressures, unjustified fears of not meeting the high expectations of others. Most of these places must have a form letter they send out. But Firman thought that he’d been the only one at fault. When he spoke at all then it was always to say the same thing. ‘I seem to have made a habit of failing the people who love me.’ No arguing with him. I for one would never be surprised if Firman decided to kill himself. There’s a suicidal streak somewhere there.’

He stood up. It was time for me to leave. I asked if I could have copies of some of his speeches. A Personal Assistant was instructed to take me to the Office of Information.

I asked for tapes.

Later that day two envelopes were delivered to the rest-house. In one there was a number of Mr Tuakana’s speeches translated into English. A covering note from the Information Officer explained that there were no taped recordings of the speeches available in a language I would understand.

The second envelope contained the promised invitations to a reception by Chief Tebuke later in the week.

I had nothing more to do on Placid. There was a plane leaving the following day. With my wife’s agreement, I answered the invitation with an apologetic letter explaining that we were expected back in Suva and much regretted our inability to attend the reception.

Firman’s Mr Williamson cannot, in my opinion, be described as able.

He is not even a good liar.

Melanie finished reading the Commentary in a state of high excitement.

‘If you still have those company accounts,’ she said, ‘this is a wonderful gift that Krom has sent you.’

Bedtime on the Island had usually been nine-thirty; but that night, with Melanie smoking to keep the insects at bay, we sat up later.

‘It’s not only a gift,’ I said, ‘it’s a gift horse with a mouth I’m looking into. Oh yes, I have those company accounts all right. I had them all microfilmed in Hong Kong at the time. Mat’s accounts were very good, but not to anyone who’d been trained to read figures by Carlo. The only thing I could never discover was the name of the suckers using his nominees. Now, we have the name — Fidelity Lion. No wonder the Australians were treading on Mat’s tail.’

Doubts assailed her. ‘It’s several years ago now. What about statutes of limitations?’

‘With our knowledge we could get him in trouble any time we wanted, and he’ll know it.’

‘The uncrowned king of Placid?’

‘ Especially the uncrowned King of Placid. He’s totally vulnerable. There’d be no more topsoil for a man suspected of fraud. No more anything else. All we do is what Professor Krom did in Brussels. We leave copies of all the evidence in sealed envelopes to be opened in case of either of our sudden deaths, particularly if my sudden death looked like a suicide. Then, we just tell Mat. Perfect!’

‘If it’s perfect, why aren’t you happier?’

‘Because along with the gift, there comes a disturbing message. Krom has finally confirmed beyond doubt the truth of something that I have resolutely denied. He is telling me again that I have been Number One all the time. The Number One anarchist!’

‘Why should that disturb you?’

‘It’s a lie.’

‘You’ve had too much to drink, Paul.’

‘Very likely. They say there’s no taste in vodka. There is in this vodka. There’s a taste of scorched paint.’

She filled her own glass again. ‘Bid you really say it?’

‘What?’

‘That thing about always failing the people who loved you.’

‘I may have said something to that effect. I was wallowing in self-pity at the time. Even so, Mat’s version sounds a bit mawkish to me.’

When Melanie thinks hard, her lower jaw droops a little, giving her a hangdog look. She had it now.

‘Failing people who loved me is something I have never done,’ she said after a while.

‘Good for you.’

‘Not good at all.’ Her mouth resumed its normal shape. ‘ I have always been the one who loved.’

‘Oh.’

She disposed of the subject firmly. ‘Food, that’s the important thing.’ She emptied her glass again and banged it down on the table. ‘I must tell you, Paul, that I shall think a lot tonight about food. About the good food I’m going to have away from here.’

‘Yes. Yes, so shall I..’

I did.

I thought of good food, cold days and decent glasses of wine.