Malcolm Bradbury - Doctor Criminale

‘Monza tipped him off what?’ asked Ildiko. ‘I mean, told him that I was here,’ I said, ‘That’s the only reason I can think of for him to come flying all this way.’ ‘You really think you are so important,’ said Ildiko, laughing, ‘He said he came because it was very proper he should be here. After all, Criminale was the guest of honour and he had written the great book on Criminale.’ ‘Except we know he didn’t write the great book on Criminale,’ I said, ‘And that’s strange too. Why turn up and say he had written the book, right in front of the man who actually had written it?’ ‘So who do you think wrote it?’ asked Ildiko. ‘Criminale wrote it himself,’ I said, ‘Then he got it out to Vienna, and it was published under Codicil’s name.’ ‘Who told you all this?’ asked Ildiko. ‘I thought you knew,’ I said, ‘Sandor Hollo. He took the book to Vienna.’ Ildiko began to laugh. ‘Hollo Sandor?’ she asked, ‘You don’t believe that one, I hope. He never told the truth in his life. I know him very well.’ ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I rather thought so. But if Criminale didn’t write it, then who did?’ ‘Professor Codicil,’ said Ildiko. ‘How do you know?’ I asked. ‘He told me last night,’ she said, ‘He tried to make a contract with me to get it published in Hungary. How could he do that if it was written by Criminale?’ ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘He said the book was a great achievement, and it had made him sweat for many years.’ ‘I still think that was the central heating,’ I said, ‘But it’s true he’d hardly come and say he’d written it in the presence of the real author. Unless he knew Criminale had gone already.’

Ildiko put down her coffee cup carefully and then stared hard at me. ‘Criminale has gone already?’ she asked. ‘Yes, he took off again last night, right in the middle of the concert at Bellavecchia.’ ‘And where is he?’ asked Ildiko. ‘I’ve no idea,’ I said, ‘But probably holed up in some hotel across the lake having a wonderful time with Miss Belli.’ ‘He is with Belli?’ asked Ildiko, looking very distressed, ‘Then we must find him.’ ‘I know,’ I said, ‘The problem is how. He seems to have disappeared in a big way this time. Even Monza is worried.’ ‘This is very bad,’ said Ildiko, ‘How did it happen?’ ‘One minute he was sitting there a few rows in front of me, listening to The Three Seasons,’ I said, ‘The next the two of them had gone completely.’ ‘And you went there?’ she asked, ‘You went to the concert without me?’ ‘Of course I went without you,’ I said, ‘I intended to go with you, but you weren’t there. You were off stripping the shelves bare in Cano.’

There was an expression of jealousy on Ildiko’s face. ‘And of course you went with someone else?’ she said, ‘Miss Uccello?’ ‘No, I didn’t go with Miss Uccello,’ I said, ‘Actually I went with Cosima Bruckner.’ ‘Who?’ she asked. ‘The lady from the European Community, beef section,’ I said, ‘Except now she tells me she’s not from the beef section at all.’ ‘The one in the black trousers?’ asked Ildiko. ‘That’s the one,’ I said. ‘Oh, and do you like them?’ asked Ildiko bitterly, ‘If you had told me you liked them all that much, I could have bought some.’ ‘I don’t like them,’ I said, ‘And no need to be jealous.’ ‘I like to be jealous,’ said Ildiko. ‘Look, Cosima Bruckner is a very strange lady,’ I said, ‘I don’t know what she’s up to here, but I know one thing, she’s been to the opera once too often.’ ‘So, you are not in love with her?’ ‘Definitely not,’ I said. ‘Well, I think she cares for you very much,’ said Ildiko. ‘I doubt it,’ I said, ‘What makes you think so?’ ‘Because she is over there on the terrace, looking for you,’ said Ildiko, ‘In the black trousers.’ I turned to look; there, standing at the further end of the hotel terrace, gazing out spiritually over the lake, was Cosima Bruckner.

Cosima noticed my glance and inclined her head just slightly, indicating that I should join her. ‘Excuse me,’ I said to Ildiko, The black trousers are calling.’ ‘Pig!’ said Ildiko as I walked across the terrace. Cosima neither turned to look at me nor took her gaze away from the lake as I came to her side. ‘Do not attract any attention,’ she said, ‘You know your quarry has fled?’ ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘He has definitely debunked,’ said Cosima, ‘He has been absent from the congress all day. I thought you would like to be informed.’ ‘I knew that,’ I said. ‘And do you also know where he is?’ she asked. ‘Probably in some hotel across the lake with Miss Belli,’ I said. ‘No,’ said Cosima Bruckner, ‘He crossed the Swiss border early this morning.’ ‘He crossed the border?’ ‘It is only ten or so kilometres from here, I told you,’ said Cosima, ‘Our people watch it very carefully, of course. The time was logged very precisely. Six thirty-five to be exact.’ I stared at her in amazement. ‘Your people?’ I asked. ‘Naturally,’ said Cosima. ‘You mean it’s Criminale you’ve been watching?’ ‘Not only Criminale,’ said Cosima, ‘But we think he is a part of it.’ ‘A part of what?’ I asked. ‘Of course I cannot tell you,’ said Cosima.

‘Tell me,’ I asked, ‘do you read spy novels at all? Someone said they’d gone right out of fashion since the end of the Cold War.’ ‘I do not have rime for books,’ said Cosima, ‘And do not think international problems have now ended. Many are just beginning. Now here. Do not look at it now.’ After a careful glance round, Cosima had slipped a piece of paper into my shirt pocket. ‘What’s this?’ I asked. ‘His address in Switzerland,’ said Cosima. ‘And what do I do?’ I asked, ‘Read it in the toilet and then eat it?’ ‘It will not be necessary,’ said Cosima, ‘He is staying in Lausanne at a well-known hotel. When you track him down, please to keep me informed. If anyone questions you, I ask you not to implicate me under any circumstances.’ ‘Keep you informed about what?’ I asked. ‘His companions, his movements, his intentions.’ ‘I don’t see why I should,’ I said, ‘You can’t get me ejaculated from Barolo now. I’ve been ejaculated already.’ ‘I hope you do not think I was the one who was ejaculating you,’ said Cosima Bruckner, ‘You were far too valuable to us for that. But I hope you are idealist enough to care for the future of our common Europe.’

‘I say prayers for Jacques Delors every night before I go to bed,’ I said, ‘But if you really think a world-famous philosopher of Criminale’s distinction spends his time smuggling sides of beef across the Swiss border . . .’ ‘I do not,’ said Cosima, ‘There are enough cows in Switzerland already. These are financial matters. I see you have found out very little after all.’ ‘I think you could say so,’ I said. ‘But I ask you again what I asked last night. Have you see anything at all suspicious while you were at Barolo?’ I suddenly had one useful thought. ‘There is one thing,’ I said, ‘I think you should keep a very close eye on a man called Codicil who has just arrived.’ ‘A new arrival, very interesting,’ she said, ‘You think he is a part of it?’ ‘I’m sure he’s a part of it,’ I said, ‘He’s posing as a professor of philosophy from Vienna.’ ‘My friend, you have been very valuable,’ said Cosima gravely, ‘I will watch him while you watch Criminale. And then we will keep each other informed.’ ‘We must all do our bit for Europe,’ I said. ‘Exactly,’ said Cosima, ‘Now I must go back to the villa. Remember, this meeting has not taken place. Call me tomorrow night. And do not follow me when I leave. Just go back to your companion in a natural way.’