Philip Kerr - The Other Side of Silence

“I’m pleased to hear it. We like to discourage visitors.”

“That’s just one of the secrets I want you to keep for as long as I try to stay working at the Grand Hotel.”

“It seems to me that your secrets are inextricably bound up with mine.” He sighed. “And I can hardly talk about Harold Hebel without talking about the photograph, and the tape, and the British secret service, can I? The leisure moments of an ill-spent life have made me every bit as vulnerable as you are. But is this course of action wise, my friend? Given what I’ve been told you are. Sir John said he thought there might be some men who would come looking for you. More spies. Guests at the hotel who might turn out to be assassins. He told Robin he thought you and Hennig would probably make yourselves scarce as quickly as possible. I must say, this shrimp pool we call Cap Ferrat has never been so exciting.”

“Perhaps they will come. Perhaps they’ll shoot me. I don’t know. People have tried to kill me before and I didn’t cooperate. I’m still here. Or at least some of me is. But I’m tired of running. This particular Flying Dutchman needs to put into port and make substantial repairs. None of what your friends in MI6 said about me was true anyway-well, perhaps some of it was-so, maybe the Stasi will leave me alone. But down here on the Cap, I’ll leave you alone and perhaps you can do me the same courtesy. On the subject of each other we will be silent.”

Maugham nodded. “I understand. After this rather unwelcome period of tumult in your life you wish to subside, gently into cheerful peace. With a real future as opposed to an imaginary one. Am I correct?”

I nodded. “Something like that, I suppose. I can’t be more particular than that right now.”

“That’s not unusual. And I can certainly be silent regarding you, Herr Wolf. Yes, let us return to using your nom de plume. But I can’t guarantee that my nephew Robin can do the same. He is what is descriptively called a blabbermouth.”

“But I do think you can control him. Especially since his whole financial future is largely dependent on you.”

“Yes. That’s true.” The old man smiled his inscrutable smile. At least I think that’s what it was. There were too many creases and wrinkles on his face to be sure. He gave a great throaty chuckle.

“All right. It’s a deal.”

I got up and walked to the door of his elegant bedroom, helping myself to a cigarette from the box on the sideboard. It was made of amber and rather hateful.

“I like you, Herr Wolf,” he said. “For what it’s worth, I would dislike it very much if some m-men did come from East Germany to try to kill you. But I think you’re a very dangerous man to know. In fact, I’m sure of it. So, please, be kind to an old man, and don’t ever come here again. I don’t think my nerves could stand it. Besides, you’re a terrible bridge player.”

I didn’t stay for breakfast, after all. I went quickly down the staircase of the Villa Mauresque and out to my car, ignoring Ernest and his offer of the silver coffeepot. The clipped lawns and carefully tended hedges of pink and white oleanders contrasted sharply with the wreckage that was inside me, almost as though the gardens had been carefully designed as a poignant reminder of what a hollow man I was and how empty I felt. Brilliant blue dragonflies hovered over the surface of the swimming pool like flying sapphires. The scent of orange and lemon blossom might have originated in an extra heavenly part of paradise itself. Everything in the garden looked and felt precious. Everything except me. I didn’t belong there. But that was all right. In my eyes the absolute perfection of the Villa Mauresque was imperfect. I could never have belonged somewhere like that, among men without women. They were risky creatures, women, but that’s what life was for-to take risks. I got into the car. It didn’t start the first time, or the second, but on the third attempt the engine wheezed into life like old lungs and I steered slowly down the gravel drive. In the rearview mirror I caught sight of Somerset Maugham watching my departure from the wrought-iron balcony in front of his bedroom. He would die soon. He knew that. He looked dead already. His thoughts were always on death now. But whether he would die before me remained to be seen.

I went to the Grand Hotel, put on my morning coat, straightened my tie and my cuffs, adopted a smile, took up my station behind the desk, and waited.