Wu Ming - 54

‘Neither you nor anyone else, luckily. Ok, you see, despite our Italian origins, he and I are rather like those two characters, Vladimir and Estragon, who wait and wait for someone who never comes.’

‘I was told about your eccentric ways, Monsieur Mariani.’

‘And were you informed of the cost of our loans?’ the other man replied.

‘You make it sound like a sinister kind of prostitution, Monsieur Azzoni.’

‘And isn’t it?’

‘They assured me that you weren’t short of idealistic motives.’

‘You see, Monsieur Verne, what my friend Lucien here was trying to say is that you have kept us waiting too long, and our hopes of a world of equals have, how would one put it, rather subsided. Hope is always the last to die, that is true, but in the meantime we also have to live. And it is better to live well. So, at the point at which we are now, it is easier to act for money than for passion. That provides better guarantees for you, too, among other things. A mercenary cannot be disappointed because he has no illusions. You will never be able to disappoint us, Stalin’s already thought of that. What my friend and I do we will do for money alone. We thought it best to be clear about that.’

‘Well said, Jean.’

‘Thank you, Lucien.’

The man chuckled and threw another handful of grain to the ducks.

‘You are right to clear the field of misunderstandings, Monsieur Azzoni. You will be paid on time.’

Mariani handed him a little piece of paper.

‘This Geneva bank account, please.’

‘Certainly. How do you plan to proceed?’

Mariani gestured elaborately to let his friend pick up the conversation.

‘The Emperor is already ours. We chatted him up at the casino, and he was easier than a dockland whore, if you’ll forgive the expression. The Emperor plays big-time. The Emperor loses big-time, very big. Given that the money isn’t his. Fees from American taxpayers rolling on to the green table. He has a court of prostitutes that he puts on the CIA expense account under the heading ‘Imperial Cinematographic Troupe’. Then, let me think: two dwarfs, a pack of dogs that piss and shit all over the place, four bodyguards who look like Sumo wrestlers, three cooks, a food taster, two drivers, a butler, a wardrobe assistant, a tailor. am I forgetting anyone, Lucien?’

‘The masseuse and the masked man.’

‘That’s right. And now us too.’

The man brushed grains from his raincoat. ‘And could you say he likes you?’

‘Like us? He dotes on us. We are his favourite humorists. He won’t leave us alone for a moment. He even maintains that Lucien brings him good luck at chemin de fer .’

‘And Jean at roulette.’

‘And what does the Emperor think about the Geneva conference?’

‘The Emperor wakes up at two o’clock in the afternoon, eats his breakfast, has someone read him the newspaper headlines, has a bath, has sex between three and five, takes the dogs to piss, comes back at half-past six, has a game of chess with one of the whores, has dinner at half-past eight, shows up at the casino at ten on the dot and stays there until dawn. When would he have time to think about the conference?’

‘Have you noticed anything strange happening around him? Have the Americans tried to get close to him?’

‘Not for the time being. They just pour his money into a Berne bank account.’

‘Any information could be very precious.’

Azzoni rubbed his thumb and index finger. ‘You pay, we inform. The first piece of news is that the Emperor is about to leave Evian.’

The man gave an involuntary jerk of the head. ‘He wasn’t expected to leave town before the end of the conference.’

‘We know. But Bao is dying to go and enrich the casinos of the Côte d’Azur. He leaves in a few days, and we’re going with him.’

‘How did you plan to stay in touch with me?’

Mariani butted in. ‘What do you think of homing pigeons, Monsieur Verne? I’ve always been fascinated by the way they find their bearings. I’ve always wondered whether they can only find their way home, or whether they can go in the other direction as well.’

Azzoni silenced him with a gesture. ‘We will communicate our movements by phone, with the code that you used to contact us. Although beforehand, we will check the payments into our current account, obviously.’

‘Obviously,’ repeated the man.

Mariani did a half-military salute, bringing his hand to his straw hat. ‘Agents Vladimir and Estragon, ready and waiting.’

The man smiled, it would not be easy to write a report on these two.

General Serov would disapprove.

He got to his feet, brushed down his raincoat and rolled up his bag.

‘It’s a shame you no longer believe in history, gentlemen. Because you are fighting for the right side. If you were aware of it, you would do it better, and it would fill you with pride.’

Azzoni took his straw hat and put it over his heart. ‘Did you hear that, Lucien, I want you to write this on my tombstone: “Here lies a fool who fought on the right side and never knew it”.’

His friend did the same thing and, with a contrite air, almost weeping, said, ‘Poor Jean, while waiting for Godot he made a pile of money and never knew why. He died sad and broken, without a cause to fight for. And nonetheless they will bury him in the Kremlin.’

The man didn’t know whether to laugh or tell them to go to hell.

‘Goodbye, gentlemen. Enjoy your day.’

The two men waved their hats in unison.

Mariani spoke in an affected voice. ‘Pass on our greetings to the Central Committee, and tell all the comrades there’s one author they really must read, his name is Karl Marx, remember that!’

The man did not turn around.

General Serov would disapprove.

Chapter 15

KGB archive, report no. 22227 Classified: level 1 Decryption code: 43 From: resident 04, ‘Jules Verne’, Geneva, Switzerland Date: 22.5.54 Object: information recruitment

I communicate that information recruitment concerning Operation Indochina has taken place according to orders received.

There are two subjects at issue.

Jean Azzoni , born in Lyons on 14.2.1920 to a French mother and Italian father, higher education, bachelor, declared profession: actor.

Of communist family, he has always declared himself to be such, but has never been a member of the French Communist Party or any other left-wing organisation. On more than one occasion he has shown his disapproval of the policies of the Soviet Union. Studied for three years at the Academy of Dramatic Art in Paris (1937–40). When the Nazi invasion took place he escaped to the south and lived by his wits, until he joined the partisan formations. Between 1942 and 1944 he was involved in several undercover spying operations on behalf of the Resistance. Has demonstrated the same qualities working as an actor in a popular Parisian theatre between 1947 and 1953. His flaunted opposition towards the French colonial occupation of Indochina is sincere and tested. He declares himself to be an admirer of Ho Chi Minh, and equates the Foreign Legion with Hitler’s SS. In 1952 he was approached by French resident no. 03, and showed an interest in working for us. He skilfully exploited the infatuation of a young admirer employed by the French Ministry of the Interior to acquire information and pass it on to our resident in exchange for an agreed fee. He currently lives off smuggling and fraud at the expense of wealthy businessmen and Parisian entrepreneurs.

*

Lucien Mariani , born in Nantes on 22.5.1921 to Italian parents, bachelor, declared profession: actor.

Of libertine tendencies, he professes himself to be a ‘communist and libertarian’. He spent eighteen months in a reform school for theft (1937–38). In 1940 he joined the French army. When the Maginot Line was broken, he deserted and went into hiding. Under the Nazi occupation he survived for a few months by stealing from blackmarket traders. Subsequently he moved to the South and joined the Resistance, among the ranks of the ‘maquis’, where he met J.A. Together they carried out some sabotage operations against the German army, showing great inspiration and cunning. A reasonably good expert on explosives, known for his loose tongue and eccentric manners, between 1948 and 1952 he scraped a living by performing as a character actor in a Parisian bar of ill repute frequented by intellectuals and decadent artists. His irreverent imitation of Marshal de Gaulle was reported to the police. From 1952 he has been associated with J.A. in the same semi-illegal activities. L.M. also entertains a profound hatred for French policy in Indochina.