The Alien (16 page)

“What d' you expect me to say to that?'' he asked, feebly.

“I expect nothing.'' Boris was very serious. “I never expect anything. But if Ericson is your man—''

“I have not said so.''

“If you pay Ericson my debt I will even tell you what I send to Sweden and how I send it.''

Carfax was tempted but he took hold of himself.

“I'm not in a position to bargain with you, here and now. But I'll arrange an interview for you. In Whitehall. You can give out you've been summoned there for screening again about your permit to stay in this country.''

“Yes. That is possible.'' Boris paused, then went on, reflectively, “I have thought perhaps this is not the country for me to stay. I am stateless, you understand. This makes it difficult.''

“I do understand.''

“Perhaps America would offer a greater opportunity?''

“The U. S., as things stand, would offer a kick in the pants. Don't have any illusions about that. Not with your record.''

“You think so? I have spoken to a kind American, a very rich man. He has Czech ancestry, three generations back.''

He gave a name that made Carfax gasp.

“How in the world did you get in touch with him? Even know he was over here in May.''

“I wrote a letter to America. I remind him that my own family moved to Poland when his moved to the States from the same district in our original homeland. He was very much moved. He wishes to help me.''

“Is this true?''

“He is a sincere man, though very rich.''

“I don't mean that. Is it true about your ancestors, your ancestors and his?''

“I do not tell lies,'' said Boris, stiffly. “I believe this to be true.''

Carfax found himself apologizing.

“I have a letter from this friend,'' Boris went on, after acknowledging the apology with a grave inclination of his head. “I do not have it with me tonight but I will show you if you wish.''

“Do that,'' Carfax said. “As a matter of fact I think we ought to go back to the others now, don't you? But I would like to see you again, very much. I'll get in touch.''

“You know my present address?''

“I do.''

Boris looked at him thoughtfully.

“I suppose it is not difficult. A foreigner is always – conspicuous. Everyone will know it too, I suppose?'' He made a revealing, weary gesture. “There is no point in moving any more in this city.''

“Not really,'' Carfax said. “In fact, to tell you the truth, we'd much rather you'd stay put. My boss gets the jitters if you aren't located for a day or two. We're doing our best to look after you. There'd be hell from the Press if anything went wrong. You're a bit of a favourite with them. They went to town over your spectacular arrival in that snowstorm. Just the sort of thing the British public revels in.''

“I see. But I report to your police every day.''

“You haven't reported any of your changes of address, have you? They could put you in the nick for that.''

“The—?''

“Nick. Gaol. Prison.''

Boris nodded.

“There are rules here after all,'' he said. “Like your parking of cars.''

“Not unlike. But more useful on the whole. I'll give you a ring in a day or two. Mind you bring that American letter with you when you come.''

“Where shall I come?''

“I'll tell you when I ring.''

Boris shook his head.

“This is like a spy story. Melodrama. You give me the date and I come to your office in my lunch hour. After all, I am an alien applying for permanent asylum. I have not withdrawn my application yet. As you said before, there must be formalities.''

“A great many. Very well.'' Carfax pulled out a diary. “Unless you hear to the contrary, make it today week.''

Boris worked out the date, had it confirmed by Carfax and stowed it away in his memory.

“Don't you want to make a note of it?'' the latter said, offering to provide paper and pencil.

“I make no written notes,'' Boris answered. “I will not forget.''

No word came from Carfax during the next few days, nor did Boris expect it. The English were not to be hurried and he was aware, too, that he was being looked after even more assiduously than before, though he was not always able to distinguish between friend and foe among these interested individuals. What he did not expect was in the nature of a bombshell, delivered by Sørensen.

The managing director called him into his room one Friday morning and having seated him and offered him a cigarette, he said, “Sudenic, you have given me every satisfaction in your work. Your work is very good indeed. The firm has profited substantially by it.''

Anticipating a welcome rise in salary Boris thanked him modestly and waited.

“It is so useful,'' Sørensen went on, “that the heads of the firm in Stockholm, on my recommendation, propose to transfer you there very shortly. Next week if you can be ready by then.''

Boris sat very still. A transfer was impossible. At least, a transfer to Stockholm. Back into those enclosed waters, with the tyrant's hand visible on the horizon, prepared to stretch out and snatch him back. The threat was real enough in England, as he now fully knew. But in Sweden, a neutral country, careful not to offend—

Sørensen had been watching for signs of shock, confusion, even fear in the man on the other side of his desk. He saw none, but he guessed the instant rejection of his offer.

“You don't like this idea?'' he asked, quietly.

“I find it – disturbing. I am, you understand, a stateless person.''

“Of course you find it disturbing. You have no wish to go east again, even to a country as free as this one, as liberal, perhaps better organized. Certainly better placed to understand the – methods of our neighbours and therefore to give adequate – protection. And ultimately, of course, nationality.''

Boris smiled.

“Do you think then, that I need protection?''

“My friend,'' said Sørensen, leaning forward, “I know it, I know it well.''

“From whom?''

“Not from me. But from very near you. I cannot say more.''

“You need not,'' Boris answered. Sørensen knew nothing of his private life, unless he also had interested persons watching, which was unlikely. Therefore the meaning of his hint was plain, should have been clear from the day he had gone with Margrethe to the international club party in the tennis pavilion and been interrupted in his arranged contact by Scziliekowicz and the general. Why had he not seen this earlier? It explained a good deal.

“I am grateful,'' he began again, carefully. “I would like to take this offer, but it is impossible.''

“I don't understand you.''

Sørensen was clearly put out.

“What plans can you possibly have? Do you think, with your record, the English will give you permanent political asylum?''

“How much do you know of my record?'' Boris asked. He was genuinely curious. “What you have read in the newspapers, or what you have been told from – other sources?''

Sørensen might have a list of details from a number of sources, but they proved very little about his real knowledge, Boris decided.

“You think we would engage a man without careful investigation of his past as well as his abilities?'' Sørensen blustered on, roused by the apparent reflection on Swedish business methods, competence and care. “That would be strange indeed.”

Boris said nothing. After a long silence the managing director asked, in a calmer voice, “What are these plans you speak of? Are they more than an idea in your own mind?''

“I have English friends,'' Boris answered. “I have also friends of my family in America. My plans include the U.S.''

“So.'' There was another silence. Then in a changed voice, an urgent, anxious tone, Sørensen said, “You have spoken to no one else of this? You should not speak of it to – anyone.''

“Only to my friends,'' said Boris, steadily.

“But do you know who are your friends?''

“I know. But I shall not speak to all of them,'' he added, thinking of Louise.

“Then tell no one more. You understand?''

“Perfectly.''

“I have orders to transfer you next week. But I can give you a little longer if necessary. I am to provide for your passage, to supply you with funds for the journey.''

“You are most generous. But I must refuse the offer.''

“Then what can I say to them?'' Sørensen began to look piteous, to plead. “I shall be recalled myself! I shall lose my position here! All that I have built up for so many years—''

“No,'' said Boris. “It cannot be that I am so important to your firm. I will resign. You can say that I resigned
before
you made the firm's wishes regarding me. And that afterwards I would not withdraw my resignation.''

“And you? How will you live?''

“I will teach again – for a time. Until my plans are settled.''

“When will that be? These things take time.''

“A year – two years.'' Boris smiled. He had already set four weeks as the limit of his stay in England. He had heard nothing from Sørensen to make him wish to change that period.

“Do you imagine you will find this teaching post immediately? What will you live on in the meantime?''

“I live quietly. I have saved a little money.''

“You will receive a full month's wages from me. That would have been due to you for four weeks' work following the notice of your resignation. By the action of my firm the four weeks notice is cancelled. The money is due to you.''

He unlocked a drawer, took out a bundle of five-pound notes and began to count them.

“I propose to add a bonus for excellent work,'' he said. “You will need it, I think, now that
one
of your sources of income will cease.''

Boris thanked him gravely. He knew now that the man wished him well and he was grateful for it. As he was putting away the money Sørensen said, “They will be sorry to lose you in Sweden. You could have been very useful to my – country.''

“To your firm,'' corrected Boris, gently, “I would be happy to be of use. To a country – no. Sweden is not my country. At present I have no country—''

“But in a year or two years – you think you will be an Englishman or an American? You deceive yourself, my friend.''

“I think not,'' Boris answered, firmly.

Sørensen held out his hand.

“You will want to visit your bank, no doubt, as early as possible. I accept that your contract ends today. Finish your letters this morning, clear up your desk and you may have this afternoon off. I shall be pleased if you will lunch with me today – to show there is no ill-will.''

“I should be delighted,'' Boris answered. “But unfortunately I have an appointment for the lunch-hour. I would like to leave here a little early for that, but I will come back this afternoon to clear up my work. I should not like to leave a muddle and there will not be time to do all this morning.''

“Very well.''

Sørensen was not pleased. He was accustomed to give the orders himself. Somehow Sudenic had conducted the whole of this interview and all of the arrangements, except that unauthorized gift of his which he would have to fiddle through the accounts. However, he had derived pleasure and interest from having the man in his office and on the whole it was probably safer to get him out of the firm now. Both for this branch and for the headquarters in Stockholm.

He shook hands with Boris warmly and wished him well. He watched the tall figure leave his room with a definite regret. He himself had a conference elsewhere that afternoon. He pressed the buzzer on his desk and when Margrethe came in, which she did with her accustomed promptitude, he began at once to dictate to her.

Sørensen left the office an hour later than his staff. He was, by now, feeling out of temper with the world. He felt dissatisfied with his surroundings, wished he were at home, in his summer house on the Baltic, with his yacht moored close inshore. There were six weeks more until he could escape there for his annual holiday with his wife and family.

Outside his office window the sun had been shining in a clear blue sky. In the corridor outside his room some rather tired delphiniums, lupins, spanish iris and scabious stood sharply defined by their indirect lighting. With an oath in his own language Sørensen dragged the plug from the wall and doused the light. The flowers stood in darkness, the corridor lost its rich, welcoming look. The managing director strode away.

When she came back from her lunch five minutes later, Margrethe was horrified, suspected a burnt fuse and sent for the electrician. He came, replaced the plug and departed again without saying anything, concluding, not for the first time, that foreigners, even gorgeous female ones, were scatty and there was no point in telling them so.

Boris went first to his bank, which was a branch conveniently near the office, and afterwards to a public call box. He had some difficulty in getting through to Carfax, but at last a familiar voice took over from the series of obtuse girls and men who had handed him about among them. Carfax was surprised, but said Boris could come at once and he would try to make the visit a combined one.

When Boris arrived in that part of Whitehall where Carfax had his office he found three men waiting for him, Carfax himself and two others, both older, both treated by the younger man with respect, but not deference. This quality, Boris suspected, was not a conspicuous part of the man's make-up.

He was asked to account for his wish to see them with so little notice. He described his talk with Sørensen, explaining that he felt unable to take the Swede's offer. The three men took his explanation without comment of any kind, though Carfax wrote a few words on a slip of paper and passed it to the senior of the other two.