The Winner Stands Alone (32 page)

Mr. Hussein, Im just about to bring over the actress whos going to be appearing in your
film. I had to leave her for a moment because I got a phone message, but . . .

Later. At the moment, Im waiting to meet Jasmine Tiger.

The strange creature leaves. The actress whos going to be appear- ing in his film! Poor
girl: signed up and dismissed all in one day.

Ewa is holding a champagne glass in one hand and her mobile phone and an extinguished
cigarette in the other. The industrialist takes a gold lighter out of his pocket and
offers to light her cigarette.

No, thank you, its all right, I can do it myself, she says. Im de- liberately keeping both
hands occupied in an attempt to smoke less.

She would like to say: Im holding my mobile so as to protect this idiot, who refuses to
believe me and who has never shown the slightest interest in my life or what Ive been
through. If I get another message, Ill make a scene and hell be forced to leave and take
me with him, whether he wants to or not. Even if he tells me off afterward, at least I can
console myself with the thought that I saved his life. I know who the killer is. I can
feel the presence of Absolute Evil very near.

A receptionist starts asking the guests to go into the main dining area. Hamid Hussein is
prepared to accept his fate without complaint. The photo can wait until tomorrow when he
goes up the steps with her. Just then, one of his assistants appears.

Jasmine Tiger isnt here. She must have left.

Never mind. Perhaps they forgot to tell her that we were supposed to meet.

He looks very calm, like someone accustomed to dealing with such situations. Inside,
though, his blood is boiling. Shes left the party? Who does she think she is?

Its so easy to die.
The human body may well be one of the most efficient mechanisms in creation, but all it
takes is a small metal projectile to enter and cut through it at a certain speed, and thats that. Death,
according to the dictionary, is the end of a life (although life also needs to be properly
defined), the permanent paralysis of the bodys vital functions, like brain activity,
breathing, blood flow to and from the heart. Only two things resist this permanent
paralysisthe hair and the nails, which continue to grow for a few days or weeks. The definition changes
when it comes to religions: for some, death means moving to a higher state, while others
believe that it is merely a temporary condition and that the soul inhabiting the body will
return later on, either to pay for its sins or to enjoy in the next life the blessings denied it during the previous incarnation. The young woman is standing very still by his
side. Either the champagne has taken full effect or its effects have passed, and she now realizes that she
knows no one, that this could be both her first and last invitation to such a party, and
that dreams sometimes turn into night- mares. When he moved away for a moment with the
other sadder girl, he noticed a few men approach the actress, but it seems she felt uncom-
fortable with all of them. When she saw him reappear, she asked him to stay with her for
the rest of the party. She also asked if he had transport because she has no money and it
doesnt look as if her companion will be coming back.

Yes, of course, Ill be glad to take you home.

This wasnt in his plans, but having spotted the policeman observ- ing the guests, he knows
its best to look as if hes with someone, that hes just another of the important, anonymous
people there, proud to have a pretty, much younger woman with him, one who so perfectly
fits the norm in that particular place.

Dont you think we should go in?

Yes, but I know how these things work. Its best to wait until ev- eryone else is seated.
Several of the tables will have places reserved at them for certain people, and we dont
want to find ourselves in the embarrassing position of sitting down where we shouldnt.

He notices that, for a moment, the girl looks slightly disappointed that he doesnt have
one of those reserved places.

The waiters are collecting the empty glasses scattered around the garden. The models have stepped down from their ridiculous pedestals where their gyrations
have persuaded the male guests at the party that life can still be interesting and
reminded the female guests that they really must get some more liposuction, Botox,
silicone, or plastic sur- gery.

Please, lets go in. I need to eat. Ill get sick if I dont.

She takes his arm and they walk toward the room on the upper floor. It would seem that his
last message to Ewa has been received and discarded, but then he knows now what to expect
from a woman as corrupt as his ex-wife. The angel with the dark eyebrows contin- ues by
his side; she was the one who had made him turn round at the right moment and notice the
plainclothes policeman, when, in theory, he should have been concentrating on the arrival
of the famous coutu- rier.

All right, well go in.

They walk up the steps and into the dining room. As they do so, he asks her politely to
let go of his arm, in case any friends there should misinterpret the situation.

Are you married, then? No, divorced.

Yes, Ewa is thinking, she
had been right, her intuition was correct, the problems they have encountered so far this
evening are as nothing compared with what she has just seen. Since Igor can have no
professional reason for being at a film festival, his presence there can have only one
possible motive.

Igor! Hamid says.

The man, accompanied by a much younger woman, looks straight at him. Ewas heart starts
pounding. She says to Hamid:

What are you doing?

Hamid has already got up from the table. He has no idea what hes doing. Hes walking toward
Absolute Limitless Evil, capable of any- thing. Hamid assumes that Igor is just another
adult and that he can confront him with either physical force or logical argument. What he doesnt know is that
Absolute Evil has the heart of a child and takes no responsibility for its actions and is
convinced that its right. And when it doesnt get what it wants, its not afraid to use all
possible means to satisfy its desires. Now she understands how it was that the Angel
changed so quickly into a Devil: because he has always nursed vengeance and rancor in his
heart, even though he claimed to have grown up and overcome all his traumas; because hes
unbeatable when it comes to succeeding in life, thus confirming his belief in his own om-
nipotence; because he doesnt know how to give up, having survived the worst possible
torments through which he walked without so much as a backward glance, all the while
repeating to himself: One day, Ill be back, and then youll see what Im capable of.

Apparently, hes found someone more interesting to talk to than us, says a former Miss
Europe, who is also sitting at the top table, along with another two celebrities and the
host of the party.

Ewa tries to conceal her unease, but she doesnt know what to do. The host seems almost
amused and is waiting for some explanation.

Im sorry. Hes an old friend of mine.

Hamid goes over to Igor, who looks suddenly uncertain. The girl with him says loudly:

Hello, Mr. Hussein. Im your new actress!

People at the other tables turn round to see whats happening. The host smiles. Its always
good to have something unusual happen at a party; it will give his guests plenty to talk
about. Hamid is now stand- ing in front of the man; the host realizes that all is not well
and says to Ewa:

I think youd better retrieve Hamid, or, if you like, we can get another chair for your
friend. His companion will, Im afraid, have to sit elsewhere.

The guests have turned their attention back to their food and their conversations about
yachts, private planes, and the stock market. Only the host keeps a watchful eye on whats
going on.

Go and talk to them, he says. Ewa, however, isnt there. Her thoughts are thousands of miles away in a restaurant in
Irkutsk, near Lake Baikal. The scene was dif- ferent then, with Igor leading another man
outside. Making an enor- mous effort, she gets to her feet and joins the two men.

Go back to the table, says Hamid quietly. Were going outside to talk.

That is the most stupid thing he could possibly do. She grabs his arm and, smiling,
pretends to be happy to be meeting someone she hasnt seen in a long time. With great
aplomb, she says:

But suppers only just beginning!

She doesnt add my love; she doesnt want to open the doors of hell.

Shes right. Wed be better off talking here.

Did Igor say that? Perhaps shes been imagining things and it isnt at all as she thought?
Has the child finally grown into a responsible adult? Has the Devil been forgiven for his
arrogance and returned to the Kingdom of Heaven?

She so wants to be wrong, but the two men are still staring at each other. Hamid can see
something deeply perverse behind those blue eyes and, for a moment, a shudder runs through
him. The young woman is holding out her hand.

Pleased to meet you. My names Gabriela . . . He doesnt return her greeting. The other mans
eyes are shining. Theres a table over in the corner. Why dont we all go and sit down there, says Ewa. A table in the corner? Is his wife going to leave her place of honor at the top table and sit at a table in a corner? Ewa has already linked arms with both men
and is leading them toward the only free table, near the door through which the waiters
come and go. The actress follows behind. Hamid detaches himself for a moment and goes back
to his host to apologize.

Ive just met a childhood friend. He has to leave tomorrow, and I wouldnt want to miss this
chance to talk a little. Please, dont wait for us, I cant say how long well be.

No one will steal your places, says the host, smiling, knowing full well that the two
chairs will remain empty.

I thought he was your wifes childhood friend, says the former Miss Europe waspishly.

Hamid, however, is already walking back to the worst table in the room, reserved for the
celebrities assistants, who, despite all precau- tions, often manage to slip in where
theyre not supposed to be.

Hamids a good man, thinks the host, as he watches the coutu- rier walk away, head held
high. But the night hasnt got off to a very happy start for him.

They all sit down at
the corner table. Gabriela understands that this is her one chance, yet another of those
many one chances that have happened today. She says how pleased she was to receive the
invitation and that shell do all she can not to disappoint.

I trust you, she says. I even signed the contract without reading it.

The other three people dont say a word; they just look at each other. Is something wrong?
Can it be the effect of the champagne? Best to keep talking.

Im particularly happy because, contrary to what people usually say, the selection process
was very fair. There were no special requests, no favors. I did the test this morning, and
they didnt even let me finish reading the text they gave me. They just asked me to go to a
yacht to talk to the director. That sets an excellent example, Mr. Hussein, I mean,
treating people with dignity and honesty when it comes to choosing who youre going to be
working with. People think that in the world of cinema the only thing that really counts
is . . .

She was about to say sleeping with the producer, but the producer is sitting next to his
wife.

. . . is what a person looks like.

The waiter brings the entrŽes and launches into his usual mono- logue: Tonights entrŽes are artichoke hearts in a Dijon mustard sauce, drizzled with a little
olive oil, flavored with fines herbes and served with slivers of Pyrenean goats cheese . .
.

Only the young woman smiles and listens to what hes saying. He realizes that he isnt
welcome and leaves.

It looks delicious! she says. Then she glances round at the others, none of whom has made
a move to pick up knife or fork. Something is very wrong here.

Look, you obviously need to talk. Perhaps I should sit somewhere else.

Yes, says Hamid. No, stay here, says the woman. What should she do now? Do you like your
companion? the woman asks. Ive only just met Gunther. Gunther. Hamid and Ewa look at the
impassive Igor sitting beside her. And what does Gunther do? Arent you friends of his? Yes, and we know what he does.
But we dont know how much you know about his life. Gabriela turns to Igor. Why doesnt he help her? A waiter arrives
to ask what wine they would like to drink. White or red? Saved by a stranger! Red for
everyone, says Hamid. You still havent told us what Gunther does? She hasnt been saved. He
works with heavy machinery, I think. We hardly know each other really. The only thing we have in common is that we were both waiting for friends
who never turned up.

A good answer, thinks Gabriela. Perhaps that woman is having a secret affair with her new
partner or else an affair that her husband has just found out aboutthat would explain the
tension in the air.

His name is Igor, announces the woman. He owns one of the biggest mobile phone companies in Russia. Thats far more important than selling heavy
machinery.

If this is true, why did he lie? She decides to say nothing.

I was hoping to meet you here, Igor, the woman says, addressing Gunther now.

I came looking for you, but Ive changed my mind now, comes the blunt reply.

Gabriela suddenly gives her paper-stuffed handbag a squeeze and adopts a surprised
expression.

Oh, my phones ringing. I think my friend must have arrived, so Id better go and find him.
Im so sorry, but hes come a long way just to be with me, and since he doesnt know anyone
else here, I feel kind of responsible for him.

She gets up. Etiquette dictates that one shouldnt shake hands with someone when he or she
is eating, although the others havent even touched the food. The wineglasses, however, are
already empty. And the man who, up until two minutes ago, was called Gunther has just
ordered a whole bottle.