Willem Hermans - The Darkroom of Damocles

Wülfing went up to him and patted him on the shoulder.

‘Buck up, Labare! Ha, ha! The Americans aren’t in quite the hurry to get here you thought, but maybe they’ll get going one of these days, in which case your prospects will be on the up. You had a run of bad luck, that’s all, because I must say your set-up was pretty sophisticated. Good work, Labare! I have observed your activities with admiration. And I should know. Guess what I did before the war? I wrote scripts for gangster films. Seriously! All my own invention — entire colonies of gangsters, in minute detail! Not one of my scenarios ever made it to the screen. If only I’d met you earlier. We would have made a far superior team than is possible now under the present, rather grimmer circumstances.’

He laughed at the ceiling and his right hand came up cupped like a lily, level with his head.

‘Melgers, the whole thing’s blown up,’ said Labare. ‘Everybody’s been caught. Suyling, Robbie, Marianne, the lot! Don’t be fooled, they know everything. If those bastards insist on hearing the whole story from you all over again, just go ahead and confess. They know everything already.’

Wülfing made a waving motion and the policeman who had brought Labare in opened the door.

‘Goodbye, Melgers!’ Labare cried. ‘Take care! Maybe we’ll meet again one day. Long live the Netherlands!’

He was interrupted by a kick to his backside from the policeman, but in the corridor, when the door was already closed behind him, he shouted ‘Long live the Netherlands’ twice more, and very quickly for someone whose speech was normally so slow.

Wülfing seated himself at his desk again.

‘A good man and a good patriot. You heard what he said, Osewoudt, didn’t you? There is no reason for you to keep your mouth shut any longer. Go on, tell me. How did you escape from that hospital?’

‘I climbed out of the window.’

‘Climbed out of the window? On the second floor? Pull the other one.’

‘I jumped. I used to do judo, I know how to land properly after jumping.’

‘Used to do judo, eh? I’ll say you did. Breithaupt is still in the sick bay with a dislocated shoulder. Quite right. True confession. A judo buff. Got that, Gustaf?’

Wülfing looked at the German behind the typewriter, who was picking his nose. He extracted a gobbet, inspected it, then popped it in his mouth, muttering: ‘Judo buff.’ But he didn’t touch the keys.

‘Then what?’ Wülfing went on. ‘Then you were out in the street, I take it? In your hospital smock! Nobody noticed, I suppose, the guard we posted out there having conveniently absconded to have a drink, eh? Was that what you were going to say? You needn’t bother! We know everything! Uncle Kees! Name rings a bell does it? Ever heard of Uncle Cor? Cor was driving the car that took you to Leiden. Did you think we didn’t know? Let’s hear what those two Resistance heroes have to say for themselves, shall we?’

He picked up the phone, pressed a button and said:

‘ Bringen Sie Ome Kees und Cor .’

After a pause he said: ‘ Was? Na also …’ and replaced the receiver.

‘Uncle Kees and Cor are unavailable at the moment. But we have no time to wait for them, Osewoudt. We aren’t running a variety show here, after all. There’s no need for me to confront you with them all, Osewoudt, but you know I already know everything. Let’s see — that shooting in Haarlem, in 1940. How many shots did you fire?’

‘Not one.’

‘You’re a fool. We know, down to the second, at what time you fired, and also how many times. Right. Next question. What were you doing at Labare’s?’

‘I was developing films. I didn’t know what was on them. I didn’t know what they were for.’

‘Ah, so you didn’t know. But we do know.’

The door opened and the same policeman now pushed Suyling into the room.

Suyling looked distinctly the worse for wear. His face was unmarked, but his hair was matted and he limped.

‘Well now, Suyling! Tell me, who’s the man sitting over there?’

Suyling stared at Osewoudt, first with astonishment and then with loathing.

‘Oh, now I understand! He’s been telling tales! That’s Melgers! But his name isn’t really Melgers. He’s the man whose picture was in the papers. I don’t remember his name, but he’s the one who was in the papers.’

Wülfing went up to Suyling, stopping about one metre short. He clenched his right fist, then beat it against the palm of his left hand.

‘Quiet! Stop moaning! A prisoner who refuses to tell the truth — I can deal with that. But don’t give me cock and bull stories. Do you understand me, Suyling? You, not knowing the name of the man in the papers? It won’t wash. I bet you know more than all the others put together.’

‘I know nothing!’

‘You know everything! I’m too much of a psychologist to be taken in by you, and you’re not enough of one to come up with a lie that doesn’t have exactly the opposite effect of what you intend.’

He took one step back and then two steps forward, standing so close to Suyling as to seem minded to spit in his face.

‘Who’s Uncle Kees? Who’s Cor? What was the car’s registration number?’

‘I don’t know anyone called Uncle Kees!’

‘But you’ve heard of him!’

‘No!’

‘I know you’re lying! Did Uncle Kees get Osewoudt out of that hospital or did he not?’

‘Say yes, Suyling!’ Osewoudt blurted. ‘You can see they already know.’

‘I’m saying no.’

‘What good is it to you to deny things they know about?’

‘What good is it to them to keep asking things they know about already? I won’t be humiliated.’

Wülfing turned round, clicked his heels and went back to his desk.

‘Well, well. Herr Suyling does not wish to be humiliated. Very good. Unterscharführer! Lock him up in the dark and make sure he doesn’t overeat.’

Suyling was dragged out of the room before he could say any more. There was a lot of shouting in the corridor. There was also the sound of stumbling, or maybe it wasn’t stumbling as much as kicking and punching.

Wülfing sat himself down on the desktop so heavily that it creaked.

‘Well Osewoudt, what have you got to say for yourself? You can see I’m not stringing you along. All your friends have been rounded up. Would you like us to bring old Robbie in again? Well?’

‘I hardly know him.’

‘You hardly know him? And you were living in the same house!’

‘No. I wasn’t living there. I just happened to be there that evening.’

‘You were still there at half past midnight! Nobody’s allowed on the streets after eleven. And you were found in that house at half past midnight.’

‘It was too …’

‘Of course! You left it too late to go home! That’s what it was! And so you decided to stay the night. Alone, I trust! Right?’

‘It’s none of your business!’

‘None of my business? How can you say that? You make a rapid exit from the hospital just to spend the night in a place like Labare’s? Now why would you want to do such a thing?’

He stood up, and walked solemnly around the desk.

‘To sleep with a Jewess, Osewoudt! That’s why! Am I right?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘That’ll be the day. But I have proof.’

‘It’s nobody’s business who I sleep with. It’s got nothing to do with politics.’

‘Ah, you mean to say it has nothing to do with politics if you go to bed with a Jewess in possession of a forged identity card?’

‘I know who you mean. But I’d never met that young lady before, and she wasn’t Jewish either.’

‘Are you telling me you didn’t know she was Jewish?’