Richard House - The Kills

They walk through the gates, kept lawns lousy with dogs spill out from the museum. ‘It’s probably easier if I describe everything. I think that’s easier. If I show you his papers you’ll think less of him. You’ll find out anyway. You’ll need to consider what you want do with this. With what I’m going to tell you.’ They come to an avenue, trees on either side with mast-like trunks. They agree it’s surprising in such a crowded city to have such a vast and private park.

‘It was all invented. Almost all. Most of what he told you. He was never close to finding Sutler. Not in Turkey, and not in Malta. The truth is he didn’t want to return to Iraq. So when Sutler came up it was his opportunity to leave. I don’t think he knew that at the time. The longer he spent chasing Sutler the less he wanted to return to Iraq. He just wanted to come home. That’s all he wanted.’ She pauses, waits for a troupe of motley dogs to pass in front of them. Abandoned by their owners, these dogs become wild, she says. They run about the park and nobody stops them.

‘At some point he realized that no one was interested in finding Sutler. Not really. They wanted Sutler to disappear, especially HOSCO. They wanted the whole thing to die down. So he started booking hotels under Paul Geezler’s name, as if he was Sutler, as if he had a point to make. I think that’s all it was. Making enough noise to keep up interest, to keep the story alive, and as long as the story was alive he wouldn’t have to return to Iraq.’

Their pace slows to a standstill halfway down the avenue. At one end a gate, at the other a stone statue of Hercules: the paved road runs straight in a soft descent.

‘He knew it wouldn’t last. When he heard Sutler was in Malta he followed him there. Then he invented a route from Sicily across the southern mainland. After Laura’s surgery she joined him as soon as she was able. She didn’t have much to do with it, she would have, but he spent all of his time creating a false trail. He said you have to invent the whole story, but only give out small pieces to make it credible. I think he enjoyed this. He had Sutler stay in Puglia for a while, so he hired a car, drove down, worked everything out — where he’d stay, what he might do from day to day. I think he sometimes pretended to be him — to leave evidence.’

Through a break in the trees Gibson can see another avenue, and beyond that an open field. Sarah clears her throat. She asks if Gibson has followed her so far. ‘In the last three weeks there have been changes. Laura wanted him to return to England with her. He thought someone was following him. He was convinced. He thought it was Paul Geezler, or that he was somehow behind it. Laura didn’t believe him. But there was an occasion when they went to the museum and they both felt that they were being followed. There’s one exhibit for which you need a separate ticket. They bought tickets but didn’t go inside. You could see people going in from the stairwell. So they waited. There was one man. He went into the exhibition but came out, so it was obvious that he wasn’t interested. The thing is, Laura is certain that she’s seen him before. There’s a café on via Toledo close by the hotel. I don’t know the name.’

Gibson asks if she can describe the man.

‘Laura took a photograph. I have it on my phone if you want it. I sent it to the police, I can send it to you.’

* * *

When they return to the hotel, Gibson accompanies Sarah to the room. She asks him to wait and holds the door as she enters so that he can’t see inside the room. He hears voices, a small conversation, and when Sarah returns she slips out, and offers Gibson a selection of papers. ‘Here,’ she says. ‘Here you go. Laura will email you the photo.’ She closes the door and walks down the corridor with him to the lift. The carpet absorbs their footfalls. Sarah sees Gibson to the lobby. ‘She doesn’t want to see you again. I can’t imagine any situation in which you would need to be in contact.’

Gibson can’t think of a response. Instead he nods, as if this is deserved.

The walk back to the centre is downhill and he walks with the sun in his face. By the time he reaches the historic centre his back and knees ache and he is ready to sit down. This information, Parson’s deception, his suspicions about Geezler, Laura’s instruction to stay away, are too large to take in. He stops at a café on via Mezzocannone but finds nowhere to sit, the small room overtaken by students from the Orientale. Out of sorts he leans against the counter, surrounded by the buzz of Italian. It was a job, a simple job. If Parson disliked Iraq so much why wasn’t this discussed? He knows the answer even as he asks the question. He would have fired him, or otherwise obliged him, because no one else would do the work.

4.5

Henning prepares to cook steaks out on the patio. A master with the grill he sets the fire, heaps the charcoal and waits for it to burn red and the flames to die down. He walks about the living room a little lost himself, the tongs in his hand, and clicks them together in time to the music he’s playing — soft American rock. All of this time together Rike and Isa have not played any music, and the apartment feels different. Not only because of Henning and because there is something undeniably Henning about his presence, but because he has brought with him dominant habits which make noise, break concentration, demand attention. Henning is a pacer, a cogitator. He’ll circle the living room, absorbed, for any length of time, appearing to chew over one thought, and then without doubting that someone will pay attention he’ll ask a question or make a statement.

‘You know Udo? You know what he said today? He said, and this is after an entire day with us, an entire department, waiting on the result of a piece of work he was supposed to do, that it didn’t matter if he did or didn’t do it.’ Henning looks to Isa. Isa looks to Henning, she lowers the magazine she’s almost reading. His expression is mock disbelief.

‘Tell me. What was this thing he didn’t do?’

‘He said it didn’t matter. When, in fact, this is key to everything we have been working on.’

‘Is this about Sutler?’

‘I’m being deliberately non-specific.’

‘Which one? One? Two? Or three?’

‘I remain unspecific on this subject.’

‘But the general area?’

‘The general area would be about security.’

‘Then it has to be number three. And did it matter, this thing he didn’t do?’

‘You’re missing the point.’ Henning clacks the tongs. ‘As it happens. It didn’t matter.’

‘So he was right? I don’t see the problem. So I take it he’s here?’

‘Last night.’

‘You were here last night?’

‘They flew him in yesterday, before midnight.’

‘So you were here at yesterday. You would have been here. You would have come with him.’ Isa purses her mouth, threatening a shift in mood.

‘We have three units watching this man. Can you imagine the cost? Do you know what he calls him? Udo. Did I tell you what he calls this mystery man?’ Henning steers the conversation to safer ground.

‘Mr Crispy?’

‘No, that’s our name. Kraiz came up with that.’

Isa closes the magazine, folds it over her knee. ‘I’m not going to guess.’

‘You’re not interested.’

‘No, tell me.’

‘But you aren’t listening.’

‘My magazine is closed. I’m listening.’