Night Train to Memphis - Elizabeth Peters [160]
One encounter stands out in my mind.
Following Schmidt’s advice, I had refused to be questioned except at the Embassy and in his company. John was there that day too. Everyone understood why we stuck together – or at least they thought they understood. Clichés, good old clichés – we had suffered together and survived together, and so on ad nauseam.
I had been expecting this particular meeting and had braced myself for it, so when Burckhardt rose to greet me I didn’t slug him or spit in his face or even throw anything at him.
‘You son of a bitch,’ I said, slapping his outstretched hand aside. ‘How you have the gall to face me after screwing up the way you did – ’
John and Schmidt descended on me murmuring soothing comments, and forced me into a chair. ‘No, I will not be quiet,’ I shouted. ‘I’m just getting started. God damn you, Burckhardt, if that’s your name, which I doubt, you and your security measures and your smug superiority and your total indifference to ordinary human decency almost got me killed. And furthermore . . .’
I hadn’t planned it that way, but my explosion turned out to be the smartest move I could have made. By the time I finished telling him what I thought of him he was too nervous to think straight.
‘We know now,’ he said, when I gave him a chance to talk, ‘that the individual referred to in the message was the man you had encountered in Sweden.’
‘Max,’ I snapped. ‘That was the name I knew him by. And no, I didn’t recognize him. He kept out of my way and he didn’t look at all the way I remembered him. The others – Hans and Rudi – weren’t on the boat.’
Burckhardt fumbled through his notes. ‘Dakin and Gurk – ’
‘Who? Speak up, Burckhardt, I’m bloody sick and tired of stupid questions.’
‘Uh. You knew them as Sweet and Bright.’
‘Oh, right. I’d never seen them before. I thought they were two of your people.’ I added, in case he’d missed the point, ‘You and your goddamm obsession with security! It’s no wonder the poor effed-up world is in the state it’s in, with people like you behind the scenes manipulating policy.’
‘Now, Vicky,’ Schmidt began.
‘Shut up, Schmidt. And you too, Burckhardt. I’ve answered the same questions fifty times and I’m not going to answer any more. And you can tell Karl Feder that when I get my hands on him – ’
‘Yes, yes,’ Burckhardt said quickly. ‘Would you like – uh – perhaps a glass of water?’
‘I am not hysterical,’ I shouted. ‘I am . . . I am leaving! Yes, leaving! Now.’
‘I think no more questions?’ said Tom the diplomat, trying to sound firm and professional.
I rounded on him. ‘Yes, and what about you? You’re supposed to be looking out for my rights.’
‘I am, I am,’ Tom said quickly. ‘Herr – uh – Burckhardt, I don’t believe it would be a good idea to continue. Not at the present time.’
‘Not at any time!’ I informed him. I was beginning to enjoy myself. ‘I am leaving. But before I do, I want to ask Burckhardt a question for a change. Just out of idle curiosity, who was the incompetent jerk who was supposed to be protecting me?’
‘It was not her fault,’ Burckhardt muttered. ‘She obeyed orders. She was told not to – ’
‘She?’
‘Would you like to speak with her? She asked for a chance to express her congratulations and apologies personally, but I did not think that advisable.’
‘You wouldn’t.’ I wanted to get the hell out of there, but curiosity got the better of me. ‘Where is she?’
In the next room, of course. That’s where these people live, in the next room – peeking through keyholes and eavesdropping on private conversations.
I didn’t recognize her at first. I didn’t recognize her the second time I looked either. Close-cropped sandy hair, a tailored suit . . . Not until she flashed that wide toothy grin did enlightenment dawn.
‘Suzi?’
She didn’t come any closer. ‘I wanted to express my regrets personally, Dr Bliss. I failed you, and I feel very bad about that. None of us had