Malcolm Bradbury - Doctor Criminale

‘Frankly I thought he was a little crazy,’ I said. ‘Oh, no, he is alive and well and living in the Berlaymont,’ said Cosima, ‘You know, in a few months they will pull the building down. Why, because it does not meet the asbestos regulations invented by the people who like to work inside it.’ ‘Franz would admire that,’ I admitted. Then in fifty offices are fifty officials working to design the perfect Euro-pig.’ That too,’ I agreed. ‘Also now we have a Europe completely filled with paper crops and paper animals,’ said Cosima, ‘Paper olives which never grow, but still the farmers make a fortune. Paper cows nobody sees, but they walk across borders and double their value in one minute. Paper pigs climb in trucks in Ireland and arrive in Romania with an export refund. And think of a system where people spend all day in meetings making budgets and subsidies, then come out at night to restaurants like this and plan how to defraud them. Perhaps now you understand better what my job is.’

‘Yes,’ I said, as the best champagne was replaced by a very fine Sauvignon, ‘Your job is to sit at night in very expensive restaurants like this, working out how your colleagues fix things so they can sit at night in very expensive restaurants like this.’ That is it exactly,’ said Cosima, with an unexpected hint of a giggle, ‘You see, where there is a great budget, usually there is also a great fraud. So maybe there are some riffraff here, after all.’ ‘But that doesn’t explain why you came to Barolo, what you were doing in Lausanne,’ I said. ‘We had our suspicions,’ said Cosima. ‘Or why you were checking up on me,’ I said. ‘We checked on you of course because we thought you were a part of it.’ ‘A part of what?’ I asked. ‘Please,’ said Cosima. ‘Never mind,’ I said, ‘Let’s start again. What made you think I was a part of whatever it was you thought I was a part of?’ ‘Of course,’ said Cosima, ‘Because you were travelling with the Hungarian agent.’

‘I do wish you wouldn’t keep calling Ildiko the Hungarian agent,’ I said, nervously, ‘She’s just a charming little publisher from Budapest who has an unfortunate taste for luxury goods.’ ‘You think so?’ asked Cosima, ‘I thought you knew her very well.’ ‘I did too, but I’d have to admit in the end it was hard to know Ildiko very well,’ I said, ‘She has a, well, Hungarian mentality.’ ‘So you didn’t know her quite so well?’ asked I Cosima. ‘Not really,’ I said. ‘And yet when you left Lausanne so suddenly, we found you had stayed in that brothel hotel with this Hungarian agent.’ ‘We didn’t have the same room,’ I said. ‘And then we discovered that she was the one who drew the Criminale money from the Bruger Zugerbank,’ said Cosima, looking at me. ‘You have been busy,’ I said, drinking my Sauvignon uncomfortably.

‘So you didn’t know this?’ asked Cosima. ‘I just thought she’d gone out for another day’s heavy shopping,’ I said. ‘And you did not see her again after?’ ‘I never saw her again after that,’ I said truthfully. ‘And you do not know what happened?’ ‘No,’ I said, as innocently as I was able, ‘Do you?’ ‘Yes, your friend had quite a busy day in Lausanne,’ said Cosima, ‘The Bruger Zugerbank was not the only bank she liked to visit. There was also the Crédit Suisse, the Banque Cantonal, the Crédit Vaudois, the Zürcher Volkshandlung, the Hamburger Kommerzfinanzgesellschaft, the Bedouin Trust of Abu Dhabi, the Yamahoto Bank of Japan and the Helsinki Pankii.’ I stopped drinking and stared in surprise at Bruckner. ‘A lot of banks,’ I said, ‘And Criminale had accounts in all of them?’ ‘All of them,’ said Cosima Bruckner. ‘He must have sold a hell of a lot of books,’ I said. ‘If you really think that is where the money came from,’ said Cosima.

‘So Ildiko went round the whole lot and stripped the cupboard bare?’ I asked. ‘All of them,’ said Cosima. ‘She must have got away with a hell of a lot of money,’ I said. ‘I think so,’ said Cosima, ‘This surprises you?’ ‘Of course,’ I said, ‘Really I knew nothing about it. And it’s not at all like her. She really is a very nice person.’ ‘Very charming, I am sure,’ said Cosima, ‘And you know what happened next, after she did this?’ ‘They didn’t catch her?’ I asked, nervously. ‘No,’ said Cosima. ‘She went off and cleared out the stores of Lausanne?’ I suggested. ‘No, there was no more time for shopping that day,’ said Cosima, ‘Early that evening your friend left the country by the Austrian frontier and was driven full-speed back to Hungary.’ ‘You’re sure?’ I asked. ‘Of course, this was observed,’ said Cosima, ‘Her time of departure was logged precisely. Unfortunately none of these countries detained her, and all of them are just now outside EC jurisdiction.’ ‘Ah, so she got away,’ I said. I must have shown too much relief, because Cosima Bruckner looked at me sharply.

‘As for you,’ she said, ‘you left the next day. The twelve o’clock flight from Geneva to London.’ ‘I see, that was logged precisely too, was it?’ ‘Criminale left for India the same evening, and is now in California,’ said Cosima. ‘Really?’ I said, ‘Well, the TV programme was cancelled, so . . .’ ‘Before you left Geneva you too visited a bank, I think,’ said Cosima. ‘Did I?’ I asked, ‘I can’t remember.’ ‘You like to be reminded?’ said Cosima, dipping down into a handbag and coming out with a photograph. There was no doubt about who the young man was, walking there with his luggage out of the Credit Mauvais. ‘I must have gone to change money,’ I said. ‘You like to see some more?’ asked Cosima, handing me photos, ‘One on the lake steamer, talking to Criminale.’ ‘Why not?’ I asked. ‘Notice the false name, see the badge, Dr Ignatieff,’ said Cosima, ‘One in the basement of Chillon castle, discussing your plans with the Hungarian agent.’ ‘Ah,’ I said, ‘Hans de Graef from Ghent. He was one of yours.’ ‘As I told you in Lausanne, names are not necessary,’ said Cosima.

A fine terrine, doubtless made from the best wild game the Forest of Soignes could offer, came before us, but I could hardly touch it. ‘So you do think I’m a part of it,’ I said. ‘A part of what?’ asked Cosima. ‘How do I know?’ I said, ‘I thought you were going to tell me. I just went there to make a film about Bazlo Criminale.’ ‘Yet you met some strange people,’ said Cosima, ‘We thought perhaps you could help us find the real accomplice.’ ‘What real accomplice?’ ‘I think I told you she was driven at speed from the coun­try,’ said Cosima, ‘A young man was waiting her in the Boulevard Edward Gibbon, and she got into his red BMW. Maybe if you look at these photographs you can identify him.’ Cosima looked in her bag again. ‘Don’t bother,’ I said, as a great many things fell suddenly into place, ‘His name’s Sandor Hollo, Hollo Sandor. He’s a Hungarian fixer.’

‘Yes, I think so,’ said Cosima, ‘And so you do know him?’ ‘Yes, I know him,’ I said, ‘He used to be a philosopher. I met him in Budapest. In fact he probably fixed me up. He fixed up my meeting with Ildiko. He probably fixed her entire trip too. Barolo, Lausanne, the whole thing.’ ‘Perhaps he is a member of the state security,’ said Cosima. ‘No, I don’t think so. I think he’s right in the forefront of the free market. You ought to give him a subsidy. He’s a juppie, he makes deals.’ ‘So you say you were his dupe?’ asked Cosima. ‘You know, one of the wonderful things about talking to you is I hear words I haven’t heard for years,’ I said, ‘But you’re right. His dupe was exactly what I was.’ ‘And you know this man very well?’ ‘I had lunch with him once,’ I said, ‘That was when he introduced me to Ildiko.’ ‘I am sorry, but I think this girl was perhaps not such a good friend for you,’ said Cosima. ‘She was,’ I said, ‘A very good friend. But maybe I wasn’t the only very good friend she had.’ ‘Criminale also?’ asked Cosima. ‘Exactly,’ I said, ‘So why would she join up with Hollo and steal his royalties?’