Richard Stark - The Mourner

Parker pointed at it. “What’s in there?”

“I checked it,” Handy said. “Just clothes and a flask.”

“And a toothbrush,” Menlo added. His face was still dirty, and when he smiled he looked like the fat boy in a silent movie comedy. “I am most proud of my teeth.”

“Let’s go.”

They went out the back way and down the block to their car. Parker got behind the wheel, and Handy and Menlo sat in back. “Where do we go from here?” Handy asked.

“Back to the hotel.”

“What if they come looking there again?”

Parker shook his head. “The only ones who looked were Menlo’s people. And Menlo doesn’t have people any more. Do you, Menlo?”

Menlo smiled again, with mock wistfulness, and spread dirty hands. “Only you,” he replied. “My two newly found friends.”

Parker started the car. When they crossed the intersection, the Continental was still waiting out front — the lights on, the motor running, the chauffeur deeply immersed in the Star.

Bett Harrow stretched lazily and got up off the bed. “It’s about time you came home. Three-thirty in the morning. Who are these nice people? And what happened to that man’s face?”

Parker said, “Get the hell out of here.”

“Daddy sent me for a progress report, sweetie. All that money spent and not one word from you. He got nervous. Fifty thousand dollars is fifty thousand dollars.”

“An axiom, my dear,” said Menlo, smiling and advancing, his hand extended. “You have stated what is possibly the ultimate truth. I am Auguste Menlo, yours to command.” She gave him her hand, smiling, and he bent low over it, kissing it.

“Sit down, fat man, and shut your face,” Parker said. “Bett, tell your father I’ll see him when I’m done. Now get out of here.”

Menlo shrugged prettily, smiling his quixotic smile. He had a way of moving as though he were making fun of his weight. “I must obey,” he said to Bett. “Your friend has just saved my life. The least I owe him is obedience.”

He sat down on the chair with the broken arm, crossed his ankles, and discovered the damage. “I had expected better from American hotels,” he said, frowning.

Bett strolled casually toward the door, detouring slightly to cross close to Parker. “I know you must have important things to discuss,” she said. “We can talk later.” She moistened her lips, and her eyes gleamed. “My room is just down the hall. Five-twelve. It was the closest I could get to you, Parker. Don’t take too long. You never know what I might do if you upset me.” She went on out.

Menlo kissed his fingertips in appreciation, and made a small salute toward the closed door. “A beautiful creature,” he said. “A magnificent woman.”

Parker lit a cigarette and pulled a chair over close to Menlo. “That isn’t what we’ll talk about.”

“No, of course. I quite understand.”

“That’s good.”

“Might I have a cigarette?”

Handy came over and gave him one, and a light to go with it. Menlo made a production out of how much he liked the cigarette, blowing smoke at the ceiling. “Ah! One of the few things for which America will be remembered. If you have ever smoked European cigarettes, you must know what I mean.”

Handy was still standing next to Menlo. He leaned down now, and said, “Listen to me, friend. My partner’s a very impatient man. Besides, he’s sore about her being here. You keep horsing around, he’ll take it out on you.”

“I am most sorry.” Menlo sat forward at once, uncrossing his ankles, sitting at attention, an expression of concern on his face. “It is my way, Mr.—”

“Parker.”

“Parker. Yes. It is only my way, Mr. Parker. I mean no offense by it, I assure you. I will come most directly to the point.”

“That’s good,” Parker said.

Menlo smiled. “Yes, that’s good. And the point, Mr. Parker, is: Why did you save my life?” He looked brightly from Parker to Handy, and back again. “Eh? Isn’t that interesting? Why did you save my life?”

Handy said, “Go a little faster, huh? Quit repeating yourself.”

“Yes, of course. But the question, you see, the question has many aspects. It is prismatic. With such a question, one can see around corners. With such a question, one can receive many other answers. For example — I am trying to hurry, I most honestly am — for instance, when I became aware of you, Mr. Castle — Mr. Castle?”

Handy shrugged. “It’ll do.”

“Of course. When I became aware of you, I said to myself, is this coincidence? Could you possibly be interested in the same goal toward which I was directing myself? Thus I had you summoned for questioning, and thus the additional events which have transpired. But now you and Mr. Parker have saved my life, and all at once the answer is clear. Your goal is not the same as mine. Or at least it was not, until tonight. Did you save my life for humanitarian reasons? Hardly. There could be only one other reason. To keep me alive until such time as you would know what I already know. Which means that for all your threatening statements and glowering expressions, you cannot risk having me dead.”

“Nobody said anything about having you dead,” Parker said.

“I must explain,” said Menlo. He smiled again, pleased with himself. “Becuase of my occupation these past fifteen years, I have been equipped for instant selfannihilation. One of my teeth is false; it contains a capsule. Should I bite down hard in a certain way — a rather awkward way, to avoid doing so unintentionally — I would break that capsule. Should that happen, my breath would smell pleasingly of almonds, and I would very soon be dead. That is what Spannick was talking to me about tonight, in the cellar, while I was digging my own grave. He was suggesting to me that I save the state the price of a bullet. But where there is life, as your proverb so succinctly puts it, there is hope. In this case, well-founded hope.” He smiled some more. His teeth gleamed.

“If we try to hurry you,” Parker said, “you’ll kill yourself. Is that it?”

“If you try to hurry me in too physical and violent a fashion, yes. I have an extremely low pain threshold. The price of high intelligence and self-indulgence. Ah, this is really a most excellent cigarette.” Menlo leaned back again in the chair, and recrossed his ankles. “I will now tell you the facts. In my own way. And at my own rate of speed. If you find yourself becoming too impatient, Mr. Parker, you might perhaps spend your time instead with that charming lady who was earlier here. Your associate could rapidly and succinctly tell you the highlights later.”

Parker shook his head, got to his feet, and went over to lie down on the bed. The world was full of people who never did anything but talk. “Any time you feel like it,” he said.

“You are most gracious.” Menlo took a deep breath, thought for a second to organize his thoughts, and began talking. “Our mutual target, Lepas Kapor, has for the past eight years been one of our most important liaison agents with our espionage network in this country. As an aide at the embassy of such a small and insignificant nation as Klastrava, he was far less likely to come under the scrutiny and suspicion of American counterintelligence. His duties have been twofold. First, he transmits information from the network to the Soviet Union. Second, he furnishes funds to pay for the network’s continued existence, to cover the cost of bribes and payoffs and so on. Just recently, we discovered that Kapor has systematically been cheating us ever since getting this assignment. His method is simplicity itself. Say a particular document cost one thousand dollars to obtain. In his report he would state that it cost fifteen hundred dollars, and the overage he would merely transfer to his own pockets. How much he has accrued for himself in this way we can only guess, but the estimate is that he has stolen more than ten thousand dollars a year for eight years. Perhaps in all, one hundred thousand dollars.”