Brian Garfield - Checkpoint Charlie

There was a log, strategically placed, and I sat down on one end of it. “I’m not bugged.”

“Nor am I. Shall we go through the wretched tedium of searching each other?”

“We’re both a bit long in the tooth for that kind of nonsense.”

“I agree.”

We trusted each other to that extent mainly because we were such fossils. We antedated the computer boys with their electronic gadgetry; we were the last of the tool-making men: we’d had to polish our wits rather than our mathematical aptitudes. In our decrepitude we still preferred to walk without the crutches of microphones and long lenses and calculator-cyphers. To do so would have been a confession of weakness.

He said, “You seem heavier than you were.”

“Maybe. I rarely weigh myself.”

“Don’t they have physical requirements in Myerson’s section?”

“For everybody but me.” I said it with a measure of pride and he picked it up; his warm eyes laughed at me.

Then he said, “I too. You know I have a serious heart condition.”

“Yes, I know that.”

“I’d have been astonished if you didn’t. It is a secret only from some of my own superiors.” He laughed again, silently, and settled on the log next to me, prodding the earth with his cane.

I studied the toes of his polished cordovan shoes. “This is a bit dicey, Mikhail. You may have guessed why I’ve been posted here.”

“May I assume the Company wishes me out of the Finn’s hair?”

“You may.”

“Well then.” He smiled gently.

I said, “You’ve got a villa on the Black Sea, I hear.”

“For my retirement.”

“Nice place?”

“One of the largest of them. Magnificent view. Every room is wired with quadriphonic speakers for my collection of concert recordings. It’s quite an imposing place. It belonged to a Romanov.”

“It’s a wonder to me how your bourgeois conceits haven’t got you in trouble with your superiors in the classless state.”

“A man is rewarded for his worth, I suppose.”

“You should have been born to an aristocracy.”

“I was. My father was a duke.”

“Oh yes. I’d forgotten.” I hadn’t forgotten, of course; I was simply endeavoring to prime the pump.”

On the far side of the lake a rowboat appeared from an inlet and proceeded slowly right to left, a young couple laughing. I heard the faint slap of the oars. I said, “I hope you’ll be able to enjoy the villa.”

“Why shouldn’t I, Charlie?”

“You might die in harness.”

He chuckled avuncularly.

I said, “It would be a waste of all those quadriphonic speakers.”

“I’ve often thought it would,” he agreed with grave humor.

“I don’t have a villa,” I said.

“No. I suppose you don’t.”

“I’ve got nothing squirreled away. I spend everything I earn. I have four-star tastes. If they retired me right now I’d be out in the street with a tin cup.”

“What, no pension?”

“Sure. Enough to live on if you can survive in a mobile home in Florida.”

“Of course that wouldn’t do.” He squinted at me suspiciously. “Are you asking me for money? Are you proposing to sell out?”

“I guess not.”

“I’m relieved. I would accept your defection, of course, but I wouldn’t enjoy it. I prefer to see my judgments vindicated — I’ve always respected you. It would be an awful blow if you were to disappoint me. In any case,” and he smiled beautifully, “I wouldn’t have believed it for a moment.”

“The trouble with Charlie Dark,” I said, “I have champagne tastes and a beer income. I’m way past retirement age. I can’t fend them off forever. I’m older than you are, you know—”

“Only by a year or two.”

“— and they’re eager to put me out to pasture. I’m an eyesore. My presence embarrasses them. They think we all should look like Robert Redford.”

“How boring that would be.”

I said, “This time they’re offering me an inducement. A whopping bonus if I pull this last job off.”

“Am I to be your last job?”

“Charlie’s last case. A fitting climax to a brilliant career.” He laughed. “How much am I worth, then?”

“If I told you it would only inflate your conceit even more. Let’s just say I’ll be able to put up at Brown’s and the Ritz for the rest of my life if I take a notion to.”

“I don’t believe very much of this, Charlie.”

“That’s too bad. I was hoping you would. It would have made this easier for both of us.” I took the pistol out of my pocket.

Yaskov regarded it without fear. One side of his lip bent upward and his eyebrow lifted. Across the lake the young couple in the rowboat had disappeared past a forested tongue of land; we were alone in the world.

I said, “It’s only a twenty-five caliber and I don’t know much about these things but at this range it hardly matters. With your heart condition your system won’t withstand the shock.”

“It’s a tiresome bluff, Charlie.”

“That’s the problem, don’t you see? I don’t want to shoot you. But you’re not going to leave me any choice. I can’t think of any way short of shooting you to convince you that I’m not bluffing.”

He poked at the pine needles with his cane. I gave him a look. “Can you think of any?”

“Not offhand.” He gestured toward my pistol with the head of the Malacca. “You’d better go ahead.”

“We’ve got plenty of time. Maybe if we put our heads together we can think of an alternative.”

“I doubt it. You’re quite right, Charlie — I don’t believe you’ll do it. I believe it’s an empty threat.”

I studied the pistol, an unfamiliar object in my hand. “At least I know where the safety catch is. I think of this thing as a nuclear arsenal — a deterrent force. If you ever actually have to use it, it’s too late.”

“Yes, quite.”

“But that doesn’t make it impotent. The nukes are real, you know. This thing’s loaded.”

“I’m sure it is. But a loaded gun is no danger to anyone until there’s a finger willing to pull the trigger.”

I said, “It’s a fascinating dilemma. I guess it comes down to a comparison of relative values. Which is more important to you — your life or your self-respect? Which is more important to me — the conceit of never resorting to violence or the promise of luxury for the rest of my life?”

“It’s no good, Charlie. You’ll have to kill me. There’s no alternative at all. Look here, suppose I agreed to leave Finland and never return. Would that satisfy you?”

“Yes.”

He said, “It would be easy for me to agree to that. Here: I promise you I’ll leave Finland tomorrow and never return. How’s that?”

“Fine. We can go now.” I smiled but didn’t stir.

“You see it’s no good. I have only to break my word. My people would begin the hunt for you immediately. And it would be you, not I, who would end with a bullet in him.”

“Ah, but if you kill me then they’ll send the whole Langley Agency after you and they won’t sleep until they’ve nailed you. They’ve got their pride too. No, Mikhail, you can’t do it that way.”

“Not to be terribly rude, old boy, but I really doubt they’d care that much. They’re trying to get rid of you anyway. I might be doing them a favor.” He spread his hands to the sides, the cane against one palm. “Charlie, it’s no good, that’s all. You’ve never killed a man in cold blood. In fact you’ve never killed a man at all, have you?”

“No. But obviously I’m not a pacifist or I’d be in some other line of work. I believe in protecting oneself and one’s interests.”

The rowboat reappeared, heading home. I put the gun away in my pocket to hide its telltale gleam from the young lovers but I kept my hand on it and kept the muzzle pointed in Mikahil’s direction. I said, “Your running dogs aren’t good enough to sniff me out. You know that. While they were looking for me I’d be looking for you. Sooner or later I’d reach you. You know as well as I do that there’s no way on earth to prevent a determined adversary from killing a man.”