Ice - Anna Kavan [56]
THIRTEEN
They had built their headquarters far away from the battlefields, a large clean new building, flying a large clean flag. Stone and concrete, it stood out solid, massive, expensive, indestructible looking, among the low, old, ricketty wooden houses. Apart from the sentries at the main entrance, it seemed to have nothing to do with war. No other guards were visible. Inside there appeared to be no security precautions at all. I recalled the commander's drunken remark: perhaps these people really were too soft to fight; relying on their technological supremacy, on the gigantic size and wealth of their country, believed they need not dirty their hands with the actual fighting, paid their inferiors to do that.
I was directed to the warden's suite. The place was air-conditioned. Elevators rose smoothly, silently, swiftly. Thick carpets stretched from wall to wall of the wide corridors. After the squalid discomfort in which I had been living, it was like a luxury hotel. Lights blazed everywhere in spite of the sunshine outside. Windows were hermetically sealed, not made to open. The resulting atmosphere was slightly unreal.
A woman secretary in uniform told me the warden could see no one. He was leaving immediately on a tour of inspection and would be away some days. I said: 'I must see him before he goes. It's urgent. I've come all this way specially.
I won't keep him a minute.' She pursed her lips, shook her head. 'Absolutely impossible. He has important papers to sign and gave orders that nobody was to disturb him.' Her well made-up face was adamant, uncomprehending. It annoyed me. 'To hell with that! I tell you I must see him! It's a personal matter. Can't you understand?' I wanted to shake her to get some human expression into her face. Instead, I made my voice calm. 'At least tell him I'm here and ask whether he'll see me.' I felt in my pockets for some means of identification, then wrote my name on a pad. While I was doing so a colonel came in. The secretary went over and whispered to him. At the end of their confabulation the man said he would give the message himself, took the paper with my name on it and left the room by the same door through which he had just entered. I knew he had no intention of telling the warden about me. Only decisive action on my part would get me a interview. Soon it would be too late.
'Where does that door lead?' I asked the secretary, pointing to one at the other end of the room. 'Oh, that's strictly private. You can't go in there. It's forbidden.' For the first time she began to lose her superior calm and to look flustered. She had not been trained to deal with a direct approach. I said: 'Well I'm going in,' moved towards the door. 'No!' She flew to stand in front of it, barring my way. The country she belonged to was so firmly convinced of world power that its nationals could not conceive of real opposition from anyone, even over the smallest issue. I smiled, pushed her aside. She clung on to my clothes, holding me back. There was a brief scuffle. I heard a voice I recognized beyond the closed door. 'What's going on there?' I went in. 'Oh, it's you, is it?' He seemed singular! unsurprised. In the doorway the secretary was talking fast and apologetically. He waved her away. The door shut. I said: 'I must speak to you.'
We were alone in the rich room. Persian rugs on the parquet floor, period furniture, on the wall a full length portrait of him by a well-known painter. My worn, shabby, unpressed uniform emphasized, by contrast, the elegant grandeur of his, which had gold emblems on cuffs and shoulders, and, on the chest, the ribbons of various orders. He stood up; I had not remembered him as being so