A Noble Profession - Page 36

The questions and answers succeeded one another at sufficiently long intervals for her to have time to grasp the general meaning and also appreciate the various fine distinctions. The more humble Arvers’ tone became, the more impatient and sarcastic was Gleicher’s. As a matter of fact, the word “agreement” had filled him with cold fury and he was only pretending not to understand so as to force Arvers to confess his ignominy out loud, well aware what such a confession would cost him even in the absence of witnesses. The same sort of urge had led him to make not the slightest effort to conceal his maliciousness. He refused to allow Arvers the meager satisfaction that even the mildest reassurance on that score would have brought him.

“What roll do you mean?” he repeated, after a heavy silence on Arvers’ part.

“But . . . surely you know . .

“Surely I know what? I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, I assure you.”

He was deliberately taunting. Arvers clenched his fists, fully aware of the man’s insidiousness. Rage made his voice sound less obsequious as he replied:

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“I’m referring to the record, the ribbon—I don’t know the exact term for it.”

“Oh, you mean”—the tone of polite remonstrance was more insulting than the worst abuse—“you mean the tape? You must talk properly, Herr Arvers. Now I understand. You mean the tape that brings back such unpleasant memories of the Lachaume farm?”

Claire gave a start. Her emotion was so intense that she almost dropped her pen. Arvers continued, in his previous wheedling tone:

“You promised you would let me have it.”

“That fascinating document in which you more than gratify the wishes of those Gestapo swine? One might almost say you even went beyond their demands, Herr Arvers. That’s the one you mean, isn’t it? You know, I never get tired of listening to that tape and I think I have detected some extremely interesting details that had escaped me before and that perhaps you may not have noticed yourself. Yes, toward the end there's a sort of moaning sound in the background that could not have come from you. I just wondered whether it might be the voice of your colleague—that colleague of yours who, unlike you, gave only a few inarticulate screams. That’s the tape you mean, isn’t it?”

Claire forced herself to write this down without giving further thought to it. If she had allowed herself a moment’s pause to think about the meaning of these words, she would have been incapable of continuing.

“That's the one,” Arvers said in an almost inaudible voice. “You promised . . .”

Gleicher interrupted him in biting tones:

“Well then, if I promised, that ought to satisfy you, I should think.”

He had noticed a strange gleam in the eyes of his assistant, Otto. He suddenly felt ashamed of his own behavior and wanted to put an end to this conversation as quickly as possible.

“A German officer never breaks his word. I’ll keep my promise if you toe the line. You can be quite sure I won’t forget to bring this document with me to the rendezvous, Herr Arvers. So if anything should happen to me, your chief would find it on me. . . . See you the day after tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Arvers replied in a strangled voice.

Gleicher subsided into a moody silence, well aware that Otto was gazing at him with curiosity.

“Schwein!” he finally muttered.

The abuse was obviously intended for Arvers, but he did not feel especially pleased with himself, either. He was shocked to realize that he sometimes took a sly pleasure in tormenting his victim, although his task did not always justify such an attitude. He began to wonder if his new profession wasn't developing a certain sadistic trait in his character.

He shrugged his shoulders, trying to think of some other subject to dispel his feeling of uneasiness. Of course he would let him have the tape, since this was what he had promised. But how could that abject creature also be so stupid? Weren’t they taught in the enemy schools that nothing was easier to copy than a document of that sort? A mere child would have suspected that there were already several copies safely filed away. This led him to consider his own duplicity again; then he pulled himself together and dismissed these unwelcome thoughts from his mind.

“You heard, didn’t you, Otto? It’s for the day after tomorrow, in the evening. We’ve barely got time to make all the necessary arrangements.”

“Don't you think, Herr Doktor, that your security de- mands a few extra precautions?”

“Not at all. We shall go there by ourselves. We must inspire this envoy from London with confidence, which should be easy if we play our cards properly. This is a matter of brains, not brawn—a question of psychology, as I've told you before, Otto. We’ve nothing to fear

from this fellow, Arvers. He’s much too cowardly to do us any harm, and we have him too firmly in our clutches.”

“I was thinking more of his chief. I find it hard to believe he doesn’t suspect anything.”

“He does suspect something. I’m sure, but our plans have been well thought out and organized through various other channels as well. The story should sound plausible. What it boils down to is a battle of wits. And besides, don’t imagine that the man we’re going to meet the day after tomorrow is the head of the Intelligence Service. After all, they’re not complete beginners, and will have sent a mere envoy. But I’m aiming much higher than that. That’s why we have to gain this man’s confidence, and we have enough original documents to show him to achieve this. It’s big game we’re after, Otto.”

Gleicher always saw far ahead and had a knack of appearing to see even farther. His contempt for the Gestapo, which aimed only at easy and immediate results, prompted him to take a completely different line. Moreover, after a confidential meeting with the head officer of the A bwehr, he had succeeded in arranging for a considerable effort to be made by various other branches so that his offer to open negotiations might ap- pear quite genuine. He held a number of trumps in his hand and had made up his mind to bring off a master stroke. There was a hint of condescension in his voice as he gave Otto his final instructions.

“Be sure you get completely into the character you’re playing, Otto. You’re the Number One, remember, a senior Abwehr officer who has the ear of the Admiral. I shall remain in the background; I’m merely an intermediary who’s out for what he can get. As far as Arvers is concerned, it doesn’t matter at all; but in the presence of his chief we’ve got to stick to our respective roles. Any change would make him suspicious.”

Tags: Pierre Boulle Thriller
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