A Dead Man in Trieste (11 page)

Almost deliberately, almost, as it were, in defiance of Trilby, Seymour sat down with the artists. He sat next to Maddalena. As soon as he did so he realized how much he had been missing her. Her strong physical presence seemed suddenly to make him complete again. He almost put out his hand and touched her but that would have been too obvious, give away too much, not least to the others. He could sense, though, that she felt the same. She hurried towards him eagerly. After a moment she put her hand on his hand.

There was activity in the piazza this morning. A procession was coming across towards them. It seemed to be an official one of some sort. First came the
lamparetti
, fiercely mustachioed and in Tyrolean hats. Then came the band, blowing and banging and in military step. Then came an open carriage containing two splendid figures, epauletted, braided and plumed. The Governor at least? But no. Behind the carriage was another one, in which sat a solitary figure even more heavily drenched in gilt and plumed in even brighter plumes.

And now they saw that a red carpet had been laid between the tables. The first carriage went past the end of the carpet and stopped. The two splendid figures descended and went to the end of the carpet to receive the second carriage. They opened its doors and the even more splendid figure stepped down on to the carpet, where, behind the first two splendid figures, a little group of men were waiting nervously to receive it. They, too, wore uniforms, equally gorgeous, but to the trained eye, they were as nothing.

For these were merely the officials of the Assicurazioni Generale, whose offices occupied the Palazzo Stratti above the Caffé degli Specchi, which the Governor was visiting that day to unveil a plaque. After much bowing and scraping and saluting they led him into the building. The band arranged itself on the steps of the entrance and began to play a military march. When it ended there was a polite ripple of applause from the people at the Caffé’s tables.

’What’s all this?’ asked Maddalena.

’I think I read about it somewhere,’ said Luigi. ‘Isn’t he unveiling a plaque?’

’Who to?’

’The Archduchess, I think.’

’What has
she
got to do with it?’

’Perhaps she has got shares in the Assicurazioni?’ offered Lorenzo.

’I have got shares in the Assicurazioni,’ said Alfredo, ‘and no one is putting up a plaque to me!’

’You have got shares in the Assicurazioni, Alfredo?’ said Maddalena, astonished.

’Yes. Two. My aunt left me them when she died.’

’Capitalist!’

The
lamparetti
had spread out along the edges of the carpet. One of them was just beside the artists. Maddalena looked up at him.

’What all this about a plaque?’ she said.

’It’s to commemorate the Assicurazioni’s having been here for fifty years. Fifty years of service to Trieste!’

’Fifty years of ripping people off!’

’I’m sorry you see it that way.’

’What about the Archduchess?’

’The Archduchess?’

’I thought she was somehow involved.’

’Not as far as I know. It’s just the Assicurazioni.’

’Anyway, I don’t think the Governor should be doing this.’

’Oh? Why not?’

’He’s only going there because it’s big. He never goes to people like Simonetti, does he?’

’Simonetti?’

’The tobacconist at the corner. I’ll bet he’s been there for fifty years.’

’Well, hell –’

’Or Niccolo.’

’Niccolo?’

’The ice-cream seller. He looks very old.’

’Well, you can’t go and see everybody!’

’You know why he’s going to the Assicurazioni? It’s because it’s big. And because it backs the Austrians.’

’Young lady, I don’t like your tone.’

’Shut up, Maddalena,’ said Lorenzo nervously.

’If it backed irredentism, would he be going there?’

’Young woman, are you looking for trouble?’

Luigi intervened hastily.

’No, she’s not,’ he said. ‘How could you think such a thing? She’s looking for a waiter to bring us another drink, that’s all. Aren’t you, Maddalena?’

’Of course!’ said Maddalena sweetly, and waved her arm vigorously.

A waiter, who had heard the whole exchange, came up, beaming.

’Something for the irredentists?’ he said. ‘What will you have?’

They were all at it, thought Seymour, all baiting the Austrians.

There was a little silence.

Then Lorenzo said to Luigi:

’Actually, it’s not the Assicurazioni that I mind, it’s the music.’

’Terrible, isn’t it?’

’Do you think they select them on the basis of their tin ears?’

’No, I think they’re probably all right when they start. It’s just the training that they’re given.

’When they go into the army, you mean?’

’Yes. It makes them sort of deaf.’

’Well, I think you need to be if you’re working for the government in Trieste.’

’Listen –’ began the policeman.

’Yes, officer?’ said Luigi innocently.

’I don’t like that kind of talk.’

’Oh, but we’re only talking about music. I’d be interested to hear your views. What’s your opinion of Lehar?’

’Or Verdi?’ said Lorenzo.

’Or Rossini,’ said Alfredo swiftly. ‘Personally, I think . . .’ And he moved the conversation deftly, and unequivocally, on to musical grounds.

* * *

Koskash was sitting on a bed. He jumped up when he saw Seymour, put his heels together and bowed formally.

’I wish to apologize,’ he said. ‘I know I have not behaved correctly. I am very sorry.’

Seymour asked how he had been treated.

’I am well, thank you,’ said Koskash.

There were no signs of ill-usage.

Seymour went to the spy-hole and checked. There was no one listening outside. They were playing fair. Or perhaps they weren’t bothered. He went back to Koskash.

’Koskash,’ he said, ‘I shall come regularly. You understand?’

Koskash nodded.

’I think I do,’ he said. ‘And thank you.’

’There are people outside who are concerned for you. Your wife.’ Koskash looked troubled and seemed about to say something but then didn’t. ‘And others.’ Koskash nodded. ‘These others are, I think, worried about what you might say.’

’They need not be,’ said Koskash. ‘I shall say nothing.’

’That may not be a good idea. And it may be unnecessary. They know quite a lot already. The men who came to you were policemen, planted to trap you. You could tell them some things. It might make it easier for you. This is just advice, meant to help you.’

Koskash nodded.

’Thank you,’ he said. ‘I understand.’

’You need not tell them everything, of course. That is up to you. But I would be grateful if you could tell
me
something.’

’If I can help,’ said Koskash, ‘I would wish to. I owe it.’

’It is about Machnich. And about Lomax. I gather that they got on well?’

Koskash nodded.

’Surprisingly well. For two men so different. I think it began when they met over the cinema business. They hit it off and then they began to meet socially. Not all the time but quite often. Usually it was at the Stella Polare but sometimes Machnich came here.’ Koskash caught himself. ‘That is, to the Consulate. I would take in coffee and they would be chatting away like old friends. But then something happened, I don’t know what, and Machnich didn’t come any more. Instead he sent Rakic. You know Rakic? Well, he is very different and I don’t think Signor Lomax liked him. But perhaps that was why Machnich sent him – to show Signor Lomax that they weren’t friends any more.’

’There must have been some reason for sending him. Other than that, I mean. Some business reason or work reason.’

’If there was, I do not know it. But suddenly Rakic was here all the time, every day. And Signor Lomax grew more and more unhappy.’

Seymour heard footsteps in the corridor outside coming towards the cell. He stood up.

’Thank you, Koskash,’ he said. ‘That was most helpful.’

Koskash accompanied him to the door. Just before it opened, he said:

’Tell my wife that I am well. And that – that she mustn’t do anything. I am afraid that she may blame herself and go to the police. Tell her not to. Tell her it will be easier for me if I know that she is outside. That I can bear it. And that she is not to do anything foolish. She must think of herself, only of herself, and not of me.’

Maddalena called in at the Consulate that evening. Seymour had invited her out to dinner and they had arranged that she should pick him up. She came into the inner room, Lomax’s room, and glanced at the pictures.

’He was never really sure about them,’ she said. ‘Sometimes he liked them, and said that they were bold and refreshing and new. And sometimes he said that they showed everything falling apart and that that was bad, the world wasn’t like that. It wasn’t
that
bad.’

She went up to one of the pictures.

’But the wheel
is
coming off,’ she said. ‘And that means the car is going to crash, doesn’t it? He was right about that.’

She sat down in one of the chairs.

’You have come here to find out about Lomax, haven’t you? I don’t believe you are a Messenger at all. I think you may be a policeman.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t care if you are. Not if you’re here to find out what happened to Lomax.’

Seymour said nothing.

’I have done what you asked,’ she said. ‘I have talked to the students. I asked them if any of them had tried to go to the reception at the Casa Revoltella, had asked Lomax to take them. But they said not. And they said that they wouldn’t have caused trouble at the reception, not just at the moment, anyway, because the Governor would be there and he had it in enough for students as it was, what with all this Bosnian business.’

’You know that Lomax was helping Serbian students to get out of Trieste? Or at any rate going along with it.’

Maddalena nodded.

’That is what the students say. They think that may have been why the Austrians killed him.’

’The
Austrians
killed him?’ said Seymour incredulously.

’That is what they say. But then students always say such wild things.’

As they were going out, she looked at the pictures again.

’He spoke about these the last time I saw him. It was just before he died. He said that sometimes artists saw things that other people didn’t. About the world, I mean.’

’People always think that the wheels are coming off the world.’

’I know. And Lomax said that diplomats were worse than anybody at thinking that. That they always thought they were sitting on a powder-bag which was about to explode. But that sometimes they were right.’

Chapter Eleven

In one of the streets leading to the Piazza Grande there were some large poster hoardings. Usually they displayed advertisements for local shops or even for the cinema. Whatever they were displaying today was unusually arresting, for a large knot of people was gathered in front of them.

Seymour, taller than most Triestians, was able to see over the heads. He read:

Futurist Evening. The Politeama on Saturday.

Underneath, it said:

Art Breaks into the Future! Art IS the Future!

Beneath that were two separate posters, alongside each other. One said:

The Future is Here! At the Politeama on Saturday. Embrace it!
Scribbled beneath
that
were the words:

And your Girl Friend!

And then another, different, scribble:

But not too closely! Otherwise you’ll have to pay for the
infant
.

The poster next to it showed a caricature reproduction of the Mona Lisa. The corners of her mouth were exaggerated into a depressed droop.
Art is Tired!
read the caption. Underneath, the scribble, which Seymour now saw as part of the poster, said:

No, it’s not! All she needs is a Man!

Another artist had added a bristly moustache to the face and then:

She IS a Man!

Just along the street was another poster which at first seemed to consist of the single word, written huge:

SMASH

But, then, down the edge, much smaller, one saw a column of other words:

Galleries

Museums

Libraries

Police Stations

The Assicurazioni Generale
and then, right at the end:

The Hapsburgs

Get rid of the Old
, ran a caption around the bottom,
Let in
the New
.
Let Art let in the Future!

A man detached himself from the group of viewers.

‘Children!’ he said, with a sneer.

It was Rakic.

‘What rubbish!’ he said, seeing Seymour and half-recognizing him. ‘To think people are being invited to an evening of that!’

Now he did recognize Seymour.

‘The King’s Messenger? Yes?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you carry messages, you said. Yes?’

‘Yes. For the Foreign Office in London. To consulates and embassies.’

‘And back again?’

‘Sometimes, yes.’

Rakic smiled.

‘And what message will you be carrying back to London from Trieste? Not about this, I hope,’ he said, gesturing towards the posters.

‘No. I don’t think so. Only messages of diplomatic significance.’

‘And this is not,’ said Rakic, somehow with satisfaction. ‘It is childish rubbish. And yet people will be going to their Evening! Important people. The Governor!’ He shook his head in wonderment.

‘These are just advertisements,’ said Seymour, moved, for some reason, to speak up on behalf of Marinetti. ‘There may be more to the Evening than this.’

Rakic seemed struck.

‘More to the Evening? Well, perhaps you are right. We must hope so. For the sake of the people who are going. The important people.’ He shrugged. ‘Well, it is no concern of mine. So long as the money for the hall has been paid.’

Seymour had not heard from Kornbluth for two or three days, despite his promise to keep him informed. Two or three days were perhaps not much. All the same . . .

He made up his mind to see Kornbluth and later in the morning called in on him at the police station. Kornbluth was back to his most stolid and looked up at Seymour with none of his usual affability.

’I was wondering how you were getting on,’ said Seymour.

Kornbluth, almost reluctantly, gestured to him to sit down.

’Badly,’ he said. ‘There have been no further developments.’

’You have found no one who saw Lomax after he had left the cinema that night?’

’We have asked,’ said Kornbluth, ‘but no one seems to have seen him.’

’Have you been asking about the right time?’ said Seymour.

’The right time?’

’Not when the performance ended. Later.’

’Later?’

’He went back into the cinema. To see Machnich. He would have left later than we thought.’

’Did he, now?’

Kornbluth sat there thinking.

’How do you know?’ he asked.

’Someone told me. And I have spoken to Machnich.’

Kornbluth thought some more.

’You will check?’ Seymour pressed him. ‘For the new time?’

’Yes.’

Seymour sensed reluctance, however.

’Is anything wrong? Something gone wrong with the investigation? Have I done something?’

’No, no,’ said Kornbluth hurriedly. ‘All is as it should be.’ He paused. ‘It is just that – well, we have been told to hold back a little on the investigation.’

’Hold back? Who by?’

’I am afraid I cannot say,’ said Kornbluth unhappily.

’Schneider? But, Christ –’

’Listen,’ said Kornbluth. ‘I am sorry. It is not as I would have it. But sometimes it is necessary to hold back on one thing so that you can progress on another.’

’But he
has
progressed on another! He got Koskash. He’s closed that escape route down. You mean to say there’s something
else
? Somebody
else
to do with Lomax?’

Kornbluth put up a hand.

’I say nothing,’ he said. ‘I know nothing. That is because I
would
know nothing. Schneider doesn’t tell me what he’s doing. All I know is that he’s asked me to hold back.’

’But do you have to? I mean, if you’ve got an investigation going –’

’If Schneider asks,’ said Kornbluth, ‘I have to. Look, I don’t like it. Those bastards over there get up my nose. I’m an ordinary policeman, right? And I like to get on with my ordinary work in an ordinary way. And I don’t like those bastards coming in over my head and ordering me around. But I’ve got to put up with it, see? Schneider’s a bloody General and I’m a bloody Inspector, and what his lot says, goes, and what my lot says, doesn’t. So there you have it. If I could do something about it, I would. If I could put one across him, I would. But I can’t. I’ll do what I can for you. I’ll check possible witnesses at the new time. But don’t expect too much, that’s all. Schneider’s got his heel on me, the same as he has on everyone else.’

* * *

Seymour walked away simmering. He wondered, as he walked, and as his ‘shadow’ fell in behind him, whether he should write a letter of protest to the people back in the Foreign Office and savoured, for a moment, a few juicy phrases that he could put in. But then a note of caution crept in. This was probably happening to diplomats all the time. Governments were probably always saying something or doing something to them and they just had to swallow it. They couldn’t answer back and it wouldn’t be much good writing complaining letters to London. He could just imagine that supercilious bastard back in London getting a letter from him. ‘Always knew he wasn’t up to it,’ he could hear him saying. ‘From the East End. Not a diplomat, of course.’

But there was another reason why perhaps it would be best not to write. At least, not yet. Schneider evidently thought there was something else he had to find out. Something else, probably about Lomax, something more than just involvement in the escape route. It would be better if Seymour could discover what that was before writing any complaining letters. Because Schneider might, just might, be in the right.

He turned up an alleyway and heard Trilby’s footsteps echoing behind him. That was another thing he felt like complaining about. It was almost like cheek. Of course, Schneider didn’t know, not for sure, that he was a policeman, but even if he had been a diplomat . . .

A consul like Lomax. Had Lomax been followed, too? Because if he had . . .

Seymour turned on his heel, throwing Trilby into confusion, and walked back the way he had come. A few moments later he was being shown into Schneider’s office.

Schneider looked up, smiling politely.

’Still here, then?’

’Still here,’ said Seymour, ‘and still hoping to find out what happened to Lomax.’

’You’d better ask Kornbluth –’

’Not much point in doing that,’ said Seymour, ‘is it?’

The smile faded.

’What is it that you are meaning?’ said Schneider.

’Not much point in doing that when you’re the one I should be approaching.’

’Mr Kornbluth is the officer –’ began Schneider, and then stopped.

’You are the one who is holding all the loose ends,’ said Seymour. ‘I want to know about the pattern.’

Schneider said nothing for a moment, then sighed.

’You know about the pattern. Or as much about it as I do. I told you. I suspect his involvement with the Serbs. I suspect there was more to it than just helping students to escape. If I am right, it is you that should be doing the explaining.’

’Lomax was killed,’ said Seymour, ‘and I want to know who killed him.’

’So do I,’ said Schneider. ‘Of course. And if you ask Mr Kornbluth –’

’You know more than Kornbluth. You knew more right from the start. Because you were having him followed. You knew, for instance, but did not tell Kornbluth, that after leaving the Piazza Grande and the artists he went to the Edison cinema. You knew that after the performance, after saying goodbye to James Juice he went back in. You would have worked out that he went to see Machnich.’

’Well?’

’Well? You tell me.’

Schneider looked at him for a moment.

’What do you want to know?’ he said quietly.

’What I want to know is what happened when he came out. The second time. Your man was there. What did he see?’

Schneider thought, then sighed again.

’Nothing,’ he said.

’Nothing?’

’He did not come out.’

’But then –’

’Unless he came out by some other door. We have, of course, spoken to Machnich. He swears that after their conversation, Lomax left. There are two cleaners there who support that. One never believes entirely but I think they were speaking the truth.’

’He left, but your man did not see him?’

Schneider nodded.

’That is what Machnich says must have happened. Unfortunately, he could be right. My men are not what they ought to be.’

’You shadow me, too,’ said Seymour.

’That is for your own protection.’

Seymour hoped that if that was so, and he very much doubted it, then whoever was shadowing him would show rather more efficiency than the man who had been shadowing Lomax.

Mrs Koskash was waiting for him at the Consulate.

’You have been to see him?’

’Yes. He is well. As well as can be expected. They have not touched him yet.’

’Keep going,’ said Mrs Koskash. ‘Go to see him every day.’

’He asked me to pass a message to you. It was that you shouldn’t do anything – anything precipitate. Like turning yourself in. He said that it would be easier for him if he knew that you were outside.’

’The fool!’ said Mrs Koskash. The hard shell cracked, however. ‘The fool!’ she said again, softly.

Augstein came in with two cups of coffee.

’Thank you for sending him,’ said Seymour, when he had gone.

’It was the least we could do. Koskash was particularly anxious that the work of the Consulate should not suffer. More than it had to.’

’Augstein is a Serb, isn’t he?’

She looked at him quickly.

’Does that worry you?’

’It didn’t worry Lomax’s predecessors.’

’He is a good, conscientious man.’

’It didn’t worry Lomax’s predecessors; but I wonder if it ought to worry me.’

’Because of what we did for the students, you mean? He had nothing to do with that. It happened after his time.’ ’When did it start?’

’Two years ago. After the Austrians annexed Bosnia. There was protest and the Austrians cracked down. Mostly it was the young, students. Suddenly there were a lot of them trying to flee from the police. We felt we had to do something.’

’We?’

’The Serbs here. But I never intended it to become what it did. I thought I would do it once or twice only. And Koskash was happy with that. But when it grew, he was less happy. And I was less happy, not because it was dangerous, but because it wasn’t fair, to him. But Mach-nich kept sending us more people. They all went to him because he is the Big Man, here, the big Serbian man, at any rate. And I think – I think he revelled in it. He thought of himself as the Saviour of his people. Machnich looks after his own, you know!

’But I think we would have stopped, anyway. It came to a head when he started sending us people who were not Serbs, not even students! I remember, he sent us two Herzegovinians. Herzegovinians! Look, I said, they’re not Serbs. They’re not even students. They’re a pair of roughs, they look criminals to me. Just this once, he said. A special favour! I don’t like the look of them, I said. Who knows what they might have done? They haven’t done anything, he said. They’re students, staying in the student hostel. But I wouldn’t do it. I said, no, that’s enough. And that man of his became very hot under the collar, but I stuck to it. No, I said, we’ve done enough. But then, of course, Machnich sent us some more. Proper students this time, so, well . . . It was a mistake. I should have stopped. For Koskash’s sake.’

’When was this?’ asked Seymour. ‘When was it that the two Herzegovinians came along?’

’I can place it exactly. It was after Machnich started sending Rakic. There was a period when he seemed to be coming all the time. Koskash noticed it because Lomax became increasingly angry. But still he kept coming. Koskash thought he was badgering Lomax over something. Well, it was after that. Something happened, and then Rakic didn’t want to see Lomax any more. But suddenly he wanted to see Koskash. It was about those Herzegovinians. Machnich came too and they were both very angry when he refused.’

Herzegovinians now, thought Seymour, after she had gone. Where the hell was Herzegovina? It must be another of those Balkan countries. And how exactly was Herzegovina aligned in all these disputes that seemed to occur in that part of the world? And did it matter? Not to anyone outside the Balkans and not, hitherto, to him. But maybe he should look into it when he got home. Do a bit of reading. It was shocking to be so ignorant. Especially when his own people, his mother, at least, came from that area.