Грэм Грин - The Comedians

'What do you hope for, Doctor Magiot?'

'Perhaps a palace revolution. (Papa Doc never stirs outside, you can only reach him in the palace.) And then, before Fat Gracia settles in his place, a purge by the people.'

'No hope from the rebels?'

'Poor souls, they don't know how to fight. They go waving their rifles, if they've got them, at a fortified post. They may be heroes, but they have to learn to live and not to die. Do you think Philipot knows the first thing about guerrilla fighting? And your poor lame Joseph? They need someone of experience and then perhaps in a year or two … we are as brave as the Cubans, but the terrain is very cruel. We have destroyed our forests. You have to live in caves and sleep on stones. And there's the question of water …'

Like a comment on his pessimism the deluge fell. We couldn't even hear ourselves speak. The lights of the town were blotted out. I went into the bar and brought out two glasses of rum and set them between the doctor and myself. I had to guide his hand to his glass. We sat in silence till the worst of the storm was over.

'You're an odd man,' Doctor Magiot said at last.

'Why odd?'

'You listen to me as though I were an old man speaking of a distant past. You seem so indifferent — and yet you live here.'

'I was born in Monaco,' I said. 'That is almost the same as being a citizen of nowhere.'

'If your mother had lived to see these days she would not have been so indifferent; she might well be up in the mountains now.'

'Uselessly?'

'Oh yes, uselessly, of course.'

'With her lover?'

'He certainly would never have let her go alone.'

'Perhaps I take after my father.'

'Who was he?'

'I've no idea. Like my country of birth he has no face.'

The rain diminished: I could hear the separate sound of the drops now on the trees, on the bushes, on the hard cement of the bathing-pool. I said, 'I take things as they come. That's what most of the world does, surely? One has to live.'

'What do you want out of life, Brown? I know how your mother would have answered.'

'How?'

'She would have laughed at me for not knowing the answer. Fun. But "fun" for her included almost everything. Even death.'

Doctor Magiot got up and stood at the edge of the verandah. 'I thought I heard something. Imagination. The nights make us all nervy. I really loved your mother, Brown.'

'And her lover — what did you make of him?'

'He made her happy. What do you want, Brown?'

'I want to run this hotel — I want to see it as it used to be. Before Papa Doc came. Joseph busy behind the bar, girls in the bathing-pool, cars coming up the drive, all the stupid noises of enjoyment. Ice in glasses, laughter in the bushes, and of course, oh yes, the rustle of dollar-notes.'

'And then?'

'Oh, I suppose a body to love. As my mother had.'

'And after that?'

'God knows. Isn't that enough for what's left of a lifetime? I'm nearly sixty now.'

'Your mother was a Catholic.'

'Not much of one.'

'I retain a faith, even if it's only the truth of certain economic laws, but you've lost yours.'

'Have I? Perhaps I never had one. Anyway it's a limitation to believe, isn't it?'

We sat in silence for a while with empty glasses. Then Doctor Magiot said, 'I had a message from Philipot. He's in the mountains behind Aux Cayes, but he plans to move north. He has a dozen men with him, including Joseph. I hope the others aren't cripples. Two lame men are enough. He wants to join with the guerrillas near the Dominican border — there are said to be thirty men there.'

'What an army! Forty-two men.'

'Castro had twelve.'

'But you can't tell me that Philipot is a Castro.'

'He thinks he can establish a base near the frontier for training … Papa Doc has chased the peasants away for a depth of ten kilometres, so there is a possibility of secrecy, if not of recruits … He needs Jones.'

'Why Jones?'

'He has a great belief in Jones.'

'He would do much better to find himself a Bren.'

'Training is more important than weapons at the start. You can always take weapons from the dead, but first you have to learn how to kill.'

'How do you know all this, Doctor Magiot?'

'At times they have to trust even one of us.'

'One of you?'

'A Communist.'

'It's a wonder you survive.'

'If there were no Communists — most of our names are on the C.I.A. list — Papa Doc would cease to be a bulwark of the free world. There may be another reason too. I'm a good doctor. The day might arrive … he's not immune …'

'If only you could convert your stethoscope into something fatal.'

'Yes, I've thought of that. But he will probably outlive me.'

'French medicine is fond of suppositories and piqыres?'

'They would be tested first by someone of no importance.'

'And you really think that Jones … He's only good to make a woman laugh.'

'He had the right experience in Burma. The Japanese were cleverer than the Tontons Macoute.'

'Oh yes, he boasts about that time. I hear he holds them spellbound in the embassy. He sings for his supper.'

'He can't want to spend his whole life in the embassy.'

'He doesn't want to die on the doorstep either.'

'There are always means of evasion.'

'He'd never risk it.'

'He was risking a lot when he tried to swindle Papa Doc. Don't underrate him. Just because he boasts a lot … And you can trap a man who boasts. You can call his bluff.'

'Oh, don't mistake me, Doctor Magiot. I want him out of the embassy every bit as much as Philipot can.'

'And yet you put him there.'

'I didn't realize.'

'What?'

'Oh, that's quite a different matter. I'd do anything …'

Somebody was walking up the drive. The footsteps squealed on the wet leaves and the scraps of old coconut-shells. We both sat silent, waiting … In Port-au-Prince nobody walked at night. I wondered whether Doctor Magiot carried a gun. But it wasn't in his character. Somebody halted at the edge of the trees where the drive turned. A voice called, 'Mr Brown.'

'Yes?'

'Have you no light?'

'Who is it?'

'Petit Pierre.'

I was suddenly aware that Doctor Magiot was no longer with me. It was extraordinary how silently the big man could move when he chose.

'I'll fetch one,' I called. 'I am alone.'

I felt my way back into the bar. I knew where I would find a torch. When I turned it on. I saw that the door into the kitchen-quarters was open. I came back with a lamp and Petit Pierre climbed the steps. It was weeks since I had seen those sharp ambiguous features. His jacket was sopping wet and he hung it on the back of a chair. I helped him to a glass of rum and awaited an explanation — it was unusual to see him after sundown.

'My car broke down,' he said, 'I waited till the worst rain was over. The lights are late tonight in coming on.'

I said mechanically — it was part of the small talk of Port-au-Prince, 'Did they search you at the block?'

'Not in this rain,' he said. 'There are no road-blocks when it rains. You can't expect a militiaman to work in a storm.'

'It's a long time since I've seen you, Petit Pierre.'

'I've been very busy.'

'Surely there's not much for your gossip-column?'

He giggled in the dark. 'There's always something. Mr Brown, today is a great day in the history of Petit Pierre.'

'Don't tell me you've got married?'

'No, no, no. Guess again.'

'You've inherited a fortune?'

'A fortune in Port-au-Prince? Oh no. Mr Brown, today I have installed a Hi-Fi-Stereo.'

'Congratulations. Does it work?'

'I haven't bought any discs yet, so I cannot tell. I have ordered discs from Hamit of Juliette Greco, Franзoise Hardy, Johnny Halliday …'

'I've heard that Hamit isn't with us any more.'