Philip Kerr - The Other Side of Silence

“Pay him, whoever it is. You’re rich enough.”

“This one is a professional.”

“So go to the police.”

Maugham smiled thinly. “We both know that isn’t possible. Blackmailers work on the same principle as the Mafia. They prey upon a vulnerable minority of people who can’t go to the police. Their power is our silence.”

“What I meant was, why tell me?”

“Because you used to be a policeman, and because I want your help.”

“I don’t see how I can be of assistance, Mr. Maugham. I’m a concierge. My detective days are long gone. I have a hard job seeing off the merry widows at the hotel, let alone a professional blackmailer. Besides, I’m a little slow on the uptake these days. I’m still trying to work out how you know I used to be a detective.”

“You were ten years with the Berlin police. You told us yourself.”

“Yes, but it was someone else who told you I’d been the house bull at the Adlon Hotel.” I nodded. “But who? Wait, it was Hennig, wasn’t it? Harold Heinz Hennig. I saw him arguing with your nephew in front of La Voile d’Or a couple of weeks ago. So that’s his racket.”

“Never heard of him.”

“I forgot. He’s not calling himself that anymore, is he? He’s checked into the Grand under the name Harold Heinz Hebel. It was he who told you about me, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right. Hebel. He told my nephew about you. It was his idea that I should try to employ you, Walter.”

“His idea?”

“He said he knew you from the war and that you were reliable. And honest. As far as it goes.”

“That was nice of him. Not that he would know how to spell ‘reliable’ and ‘honest.’ The man is a criminal.”

“I know.”

“Well then, why take his recommendation? Why not hire a local man? A Frenchman.”

“It’s simple. You see, Walter, it’s Harold Heinz Hebel who’s blackmailing me.”

“Now I really am confused.”

“The fact is, Hebel’s asking rather a lot of money for a compromising photograph of me and some other people. He wants me to feel that I can make a deal with him in complete confidence. He said you’d be the kind of man to make sure he kept his side of the bargain. And that you’re not the type of man who would get nervous handling a large sum of money.”

“Now I’ve heard everything. Blackmailers recommending detectives. Or ex-detectives. It sounds an awful lot like a salmon recommending a good poacher.”

“It makes perfect sense when you think about it. A good deal isn’t a good deal if either party feels he’s been cheated. Hebel wants me to feel confident that I’m getting value for my money.”

“I can’t help you, Mr. Maugham. I like you. I liked my dinner. I feel sorry for you. But I’m just not able to help you.”

“He said you’d say that. Hebel.”

“He did, huh?”

“He said that I should let him know if you didn’t want to help and then he could probably persuade you himself.”

“Did he say how?”

Maugham smiled. “Oh my, yes. You’re an interesting man, Walter. Or should I say Herr Gunther? Yes, you’ve had an interesting life. A career in the SS and the SD. Working for Dr. Goebbels, among others. You must tell me all about that sometime. It sounds quite fascinating. He said to tell you that if the French Surete were to find out that you’re living down here under a false identity, you’d lose your job and you’d be deported back to Berlin, immediately, where the Americans would almost certainly hang you. For what reason, he didn’t say. But I must admit it does sound serious.”

“Fuck you,” I said, and stood up. “Fuck you and your queer friend and your queer nephew.”

“Actually I think we’ll all be f-fucked unless we can work something out, Herr Gunther. Sit down. And let’s talk about this s-s-sensibly.” He nodded. “You know I’m right. So just calm down and think about what you’re saying.”

“Like I said before, Hebel is a false name, too. He could be deported.” I sat down and lit a cigarette. I smoked it, too, but mostly I wanted to jam it in the old man’s bloodshot eyeball.

“Perhaps. But he’s willing to take the risk. The question is, are you willing to take the same risk, Herr Gunther? You’ve got a good job. With the prospect of making a little extra money from me. Shall we say a five percent handling fee? Why screw that just to bring him down?”

“Believe me, if you knew the man like I do, you’d know the answer to that question.”

“Oh, I can believe it. The man is a snake. But, please, it doesn’t have to be like this, Herr Gunther. All you have to do is agree to be my agent in this matter and all of this unpleasantness will go away. We can be friends. Don’t you agree?”

“Is this him who’s blackmailing me now, or you, Mr. Maugham?”

“Come now. I’m merely repeating what Hebel told me.”

“Really? It strikes me that you’ve been on the end of blackmail often enough to know exactly how to apply a bit of pressure yourself.”

“Maybe I do. For which you have my apologies, sir. But I’m a desperate man. You can take that to the casino and buy chips with it.”

“Maybe you are desperate. But you can’t trust this guy. Just because I’m the middleman doesn’t change anything. Jesus, for all you know I’m part of the same scam. You don’t know the first thing about me. How can you be sure that I’m not going to buy the photograph and then blackmail you myself? You can’t. That’s the thing about blackmail. It’s a dirty business. Everyone’s your friend right up until the moment they turn around and screw you.”

“You make a good point. But I have no choice but to take the risk.”

“Can I be blunt?”

“Be my guest.”

“Everyone in the world knows you’re queer. What of it? Does it affect anything? You’ve got your invitation to the royal wedding in Monaco. Has it crossed your mind that what you do in your bedroom really doesn’t matter to people anymore?”

“That’s true in France, perhaps. And Italy, certainly. But it matters a lot back in England. Homosexuality is a crime in my country and I should hate to be prevented from ever going back. Besides, there’s rather more to the photograph than just my being queer.”

I sat there smoking sullenly for several seconds.

“Ten percent. If I’m going to play agent I want a proper agent’s commission. Ten percent.”

“All right. Ten percent it is.”

“So tell me about the photograph.”

Before the war I worked for the British secret service,” said Somerset Maugham. “Mostly I was based in Geneva. But some of the time I was stationed in what was then Petrograd. I shan’t bore you with the details of my mission but I had a largish team of British agents under my control. Frankly, it’s always been a business that attracted homosexuals, because queers are used to living their lives in secret-at least in England, where to be homosexual can still draw a sentence of up to two years in prison. Being silent about who and what you are is second nature to English queers. Things haven’t improved a lot since the days of Oscar Wilde. That’s why so many queers like Isherwood and Auden went to Berlin in the twenties. Because it was a poof’s paradise. And a good reason why I live here. Anyway, that’s all by the by. I still have a lot of friends in SIS. Many of them, including Sir John Sinclair, the current head of MI6, were my agents. Besides, it’s not the kind of business you ever really retire from.”

I nodded grimly. “Don’t I know it? I’ve been trying to retire from the detective business for years now, but it keeps dogging me.”

“Yes. I am sorry about that.”