Ismail Kadare - The Concert

Gjergj’s mouth went dry.

“But even if the letter’s right about Ana,” she continued, “do you think what it refers to is so shameful and immoral that it reiects on me…?”

“What are you saying, Silva?” he broke in. “I didn’t mean that at all! I just showed you a letter. A horrible anonymous letter.”

She told him she herself had questioned Ana about Skënder Bermema, but the answer had been so evasive she hadn’t raised the subject again. That was the only time Ana hadn’t confided in her. But it hadn’t changed Suva’s opinion about her sister in the least, she insisted. And Gjergj had replied that it wouldn’t change his either.

One evening later on — at the theatre, during the interval — Silva had introduced him to Skënder Bermema…She was with Ana …After that the two men had come across one another on several occasions. But it wasn’t until after Ana’s funeral that they had their first coffee together …It was strange, Silva had said. Her sister, with her great beauty, seemed to have been sent on earth to stir men up one against the other. But strangely enough she had had the opposite effect. As if in accordance with some mysterious pact, those who’d desired her had always avoided anything that might embitter their relations.

Gjergj tried to linger on these reminiscences, but it wasn’t long before they were swept away and replaced by the sinister affair of Lin Biao. Gjergj groaned, clutched his brow, and longed for the journey to end.

As soon as he’d landed in Tirana he would meet Skënder Bermema and unload this agitation on to him. Transferring it to someone else was the only way to get rid of it.

But for the moment he had to cope with it alone.

His nervous tension seemed to have given him a temperature, which was made worse by the sound of the engines…One of the marshal’s accomplices had suggested shooting the plane down with missiles…God, it’s started up again! he whispered. But there was no resisting it. So…One of the marshal’s accomplices, as yet unidentified, had suggested shooting the plane down. To do away with the evidence, the Chinese spokesmen had said. But that didn’t make sense! What evidence did the accomplice mean, the one who had remained on the ground? Whether the marshal managed to escape or got shot down, his plot would be exposed. And in either case the conspirators would be unmasked. The marshal’s supporters would be arrested one after the other, and those interrogating them would only have to tug on one thread for the whole skein to unravel. No one could save anyone else. So the idea of shooting the plane down, and for the reason alleged, was nonsensical if attributed to one of the marshal’s accomplices.

But it would all — including the phrase “destroy the evidence” — make perfect sense if it had been suggested by others, and for a completely different purpose. While the fateful plane was still in the sky, the secret telephone network used by those following the escape must have echoed and re-echoed with the words: “We must shoot it down — otherwise how are we going to destroy the evidence?” Getting rid of the evidence — a perfectly natural preoccupation after such a murder. In this case, “evidence” meant details of the trap: the summoning of the marshal to Peking, the sabotaging of the plane, not to mention the disposing of the witnesses. During those feverish hours the phrase “destroy the evidence” must have been used over and over again: and something had to be done to explain such a compromising expression. So they attributed it to a conspirator who had been unmasked. Then it was all right. All those who had heard it occurring again and again during the incident could stop worrying: it had indeed been uttered, but by a traitor.

But in fact, as everyone knew, the suggestion was rejected, Mao wouldn’t agree to having the plane shot down. Why? The answer went without saying: he didn’t share the anxiety of the others, for the simple reason that he knew something they didn’t know. Then another question arose: what did the others know? And what didn’t they know? Were those who suggested shooting the plane down so ill-informed as to think such a solution was possible? Didn’t they know that the plane of the marshal supposedly invited to Peking was doomed never to land? You’d have to be very naive to believe they were ignorant. No, they were all perfectly well-informed: after all, it was they who’d prepared the trap in all its details — the take-off, the re-routing towards the Mongolian frontier, the bomb placed on board or the sabotage of the landing gear, designed to cause a fire. They knew all this. But still they suggested shooting the plane down.

Every so often Gjergj was consoled by the thought that he wasn’t the first person to rack his brains over this affair. Hundreds of people must have followed that flight. To make the theory of attempted escape more plausible, all the airports in China had been put on alert. But just as on the plane itself those who were leaving or thought they were leaving all had different notions about what was really happening, so too did those who were still on the ground. Most of them — officers in charge of military airfields or rocket launchers, pilots ready for take-off, radar experts and so on — had been informed about the marshal’s attempt to escape. But one thing they couldn’t make out: why had there been no order from Peking to pursue his plane or even shoot it down? Even when the plane appeared on the radar screen the order didn’t come. The pilots had difficulty holding themselves back — they longed to fall on their prey and tear it to pieces, and were afraid other pilots from another base might be given the chance instead. But soon, through some channel or another, the explanation came: Chairman Mao hadn’t allowed the plane to be shot down. Apparently he’d said: “Let him go if he wants to!” This information filled some people with admiration (the great Mao dealt with a traitor as calmly as he might have brushed off a fly), and others with amazement (this was no joking matter, and the marshal, far from being a fly, knew all the state secrets…).

But a much smaller circle was in possession of quite a different set of facts: the summons to Peking, the attempted escape to Mongolia, and above all — yes, above all — the setting fire to the plane by means of a bomb or the sabotaging of the landing gear. They’d also had wind of the possibility that the marshal might be executed in the air. “If anything unforeseen happens, kill him on the plane!”

As soon as they heard the plane had taken off they heaved a sigh of relief. Thank goodness the whole business would soon be over now. That’s what they thought at first. But soon, as the flight continued, they began to be assailed by doubts: wouldn’t it be more efficient to bring the plane down with rockets? What if the time-bomb didn’t go off, or the pilot managed to land the plane safely despite the sabotaged landing gear? (Hadn’t there been many such cases?) How could they bear to let their prey slip through their fingers?

They probably went and told Mao about their anxiety. One of them added: “Even if Lin Biao were already dealt with — should the witnesses be allowed to survive?”

Mao heard them out patiently, but showed no sign of going back on his decision. Finally he answered curtly: “As I said before, let him go. If he’s lucky enough get away in spite of the bomb and the sabotage, it means fate has decreed that he should live!”

They exchanged glances. This was his new style. They weren’t used to it yet. It must be due to his spells down in the cave — they joked about these sometimes.

But their anxiety only increased. Mao had assured them the plane had been doubly sabotaged, by the planting of the bomb and the damaging of the landing gear, but they couldn’t suppress their doubts. It wasn’t that easy to sabotage a plane Lin Biao was travelling in!