Cyclops (The Margellos World Republic of Letters) (63 page)

“Why, it’s Don Fernando’s theory. Hasn’t he set it out for you? I don’t believe he hasn’t—he takes you for one of …”

“I know nothing of it.”

“Nothing, you say?” smiled
ATMAN
suspiciously. “Truth to tell, Don Fernando’s thinking is not entirely insane. Many an innocent man would go to the wall, but quite a few of the ‘dangerous’ ones would be eliminated as well. Through … what’s the word for doing something to forestall an evil? Acting … how?”

“Preventively.”

“That’s it—through preventive killing. According to Don Fernando, that was—pre-ven-tively—how Hitler should have been done in, while he was still walking the Earth as a private citizen. As well as the others Don Fernando suspects—they ought to be done in, all of them …”

“Where did you get this all from? Did he tell you?”

“Of course he did … not me, we haven’t met, but someone else. Perhaps an ‘executioner’ who … Because now he’s looking for ‘executioners,’ naturally—he doesn’t want to dirty his hands. And of course he’s looking for them among desperadoes who no longer care whether they live or die—they’ve already sold their body to the Faculty of Medicine.”

Maestro! it dawned on Melkior, Maestro told him all this in his cups. But could it be that Don Fernando had settled on Maestro? … no, Melkior couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

“Very strange, is it not, Mr. Melkior, to sentence a man to death because of his ‘appearance’?”
ATMAN
propped his chin on both palms and trained his terrible and (somehow)
dirty
gaze on Melkior: “I know I’ve been blacklisted on account of the look in my eyes, take a look, Mr. Melkior,” he pointed both his index fingers at his eyes, “only the ‘executioner’ is missing, ha-ha … The man who was subjected to the prop-a-ganda did not take the ‘preventive killing’ theory seriously. He is, well, an irresponsible, crack-brained man. He promised to go through with it, for a joke (he doesn’t care, he’s going to kill himself anyway), only to sit down with the ‘victim’ and have a good laugh at the customer, ha-ha-ha … All right, but it wasn’t merely ‘we had a chuckle—end of story,’ oh no!” finished
ATMAN
in a somehow threatening way, yet laughing still.

“So what else was it? Come on!” Melkior was purposely feigning anger. “What would make you ‘dangerous’ in anyone’s book and why should anyone have you on a blacklist?”

“Why? The expression in my eyes, that’s why! according to the theory,” cried
ATMAN
, too, almost boastfully. “And I do know I’ve been blacklisted! If you want to know, there’s a contract out on me …”

“‘A contract’ out on you,” laughed Melkior nervously, “as if this were Chicago! You seem fond of crime stories—that, or the ‘shot-to-shot’ lush has been feeding you his drivel.”

“What lush, Mr. Melkior?” asked
ATMAN
with a fetching smile. “You know I can’t abide drunks—I’m having this brandy at your suggestion, to ward off a cold, for medicinal purposes really. That’s why I only appreciate you of all of your crowd—for not drinking, for being a serious, sober, and
concerned
man. Quite frankly, I’m disgusted with the whole Give’nTake mob. Did you know,” he suddenly remembered, “that Maestro recently injured Ugo? He smashed glasses on his head—there are cuts all over his face.”

“Did she tend to him again?” asked Melkior with hidden anguish.

“No. She wasn’t there. She’s not to be found
there
anymore.”

“Oh?” went Melkior, his heart fluttering with excitement.

“Yes, didn’t I tell you? You’re next. I want it to happen as soon as possible … so that it can be over with as soon as possible. As you know, I help events come … and pass …”

“So you know I’m next …” Melkior gave a nervous laugh.

“I do. She’s like a gourmet—she must taste every dish. Come on, Mr. Melkior, don’t scowl, I’m sorry but you’re not just any old dish. I wonder why I keep speaking in terms of food. You would indeed be dessert for such a woman—in the intel-lec-tual sense, I mean. You saw it yourself—she’s primitive, a real spiritual orphan, so much so that she even takes pity on me sometimes—and you know my level such as it is. We are
exemplars
, she and I, that’s why we belong together. But I’ll go on waiting … until she comes to realize it, too.”

“What if she never does?”

“Never … that’s impossible,” said
ATMAN
with conviction. “Perhaps later, perhaps quite soon, but one day she will have to. I rather think that will be very soon … because there won’t be any other options left.”

Melkior shuddered at
ATMAN’S
chilling prophecy. The old fear made itself known again: a raven croaking above its small consoling wakefulness. In an instant he dreamed again the deathly dream of his cannibal motif: facing the teeth of Polyphemus the Cyclops, the one-eyed beast. And he wondered, bitterly, where that eternal companion of a thought had been hiding these last few days.

Fear began to shake Melkior (“because there won’t be any other options left”); his mournful gaze did a round of all the walls and objects in the establishment: here, all this will persist and the little old man will be here with that slurring speech of his (he’s beyond “the dwaft,” of course), I shay,
bud
, it’sh …

“Looking around, Mr. Melkior? You’ve spent many the evening here chatting with Kurt. Fond memories.”

“I used to drop by, in passing, to have a bite to eat …”

“Well, even if it were not in passing, what could have been wrong with that? It’s not as if I were reproaching you or anything. You might, for that matter, have become Kurt’s drinking buddy and gone on binges here—well, that would be nobody’s business, am I right?”

“I was not Kurt’s ‘drinking buddy’!” replied Melkior sharply.

“Well, what I’m saying is that, even if you did, what business is it of anybody else’s? You presumably had your own personal reasons, and Kurt had his—(a bit less personal, muttered
ATMAN
with a smile)—well, each of you had your reasons, so what? It was to mutual advantage, that’s your own business.”

“There you go again with your innuendoes!” Melkior was angry; he sensed
ATMAN
trying to embroil him in “something.” “What benefit could I have gained by eating the occasional sausage here?”

“Well … that of having eaten the sausage,” laughed
ATMAN
. “Did you think I meant something else? Kurt’s mother was a good cook, Styrian. Else was an agreeable hostess, Kurt a helpful lad … yes, it was a cozy corner in every way. The garrison sergeants found a really warm spot in here, a home away from home, almost in the bosom of the family. Isn’t this borne out by their very absence now? The warm spot has been undone. The war, the war, Mr. Melkior, cheese home-made, cow’s milk.”

ATMAN
spewed out the word “war” with malicious glee. Melkior watched him with disgust and fear as the man leered brightly in his face.

“So where’s Kurt?” he asked purposely, to mask his fear. “What’s he up to these days?”

“I really couldn’t tell you where he might be … But if you need him for … anything, I’d be glad to …”
ATMAN
was ready to be of service.

“No, what could I possibly need him for?” Why am I getting caught up in this, snapped Melkior to himself. “Merely asking …”

“Merely asking …” smiled
ATMAN
. “Perhaps he’s still here and
up to things
… and perhaps his Fiihrer has summoned him … They’re not like us with our medical boards and weighing machines and starvation cunning—they’re burning with the desire to die for that swastika’d spider of theirs …”

“And you knew Kurt was …
up to things?”
Melkior asked suddenly and was alarmed at his own audacity, why the hell am I getting caught up in this?

“Are you telling me you didn’t?” grinned
ATMAN
threateningly. “You really should have done something about it, Mr. Melkior, I thought about that all the time. You are a serious and almost
responsible
man, you house people clandestinely … (Has
ATMAN
reported it? Where’s the Stranger now? flashed through Melkior’s mind.) If only you’d told your Don Fernando … to put him on that list of his,” joked
ATMAN
, his small eyes having a malicious good time. “I obviously couldn’t have, they wouldn’t have believed a palmist, it’s a dodgy occupation … They could’ve thought I myself was one of … right? Don Fernando put me on his list, did he not? … But you, a man of confidence, an honest John, as they say … but you didn’t—you were all wrapped up in your civilian purity, to the point of hermitage, and purportedly ‘all for mankind, for social justice.’ My dear Mr. Melkior! If you’d only left it at that—but no, you got …”

“Mr. Adam, your provocations …” shuddered Melkior, and instantly he found himself tongue-tied.

“Provocations nothing! In for a penny, in for a pound, Mr. Melkior,”
ATMAN
gathered momentum like someone deciding to act, “you yourself got … well, yes, you did, to some extent … got yourself in deep with Kurt …”

It was as if
ATMAN
had meant to keep the last words to himself but oh dear, they had escaped him, what was done could not be undone. He smilingly watched pallor spreading over Melkior’s face, followed by a flush, by pallor again … he was amused by the color changes. And Melkior knew what was happening on his face … Oh you scoundrel, you blackguard, you rogue! But what was the use? He couldn’t silence
ATMAN’S
craft by such pitiful cursing into his own ear. But neither did he propose to reward him by a “show” of anger, so he gave a laugh meant to speak more eloquently than words.

“All the same, I would …” began
ATMAN
and stopped as if he had changed his mind.

“You would what?” laughed Melkior while feeling a kind of cold horror welling within him. “You got in deep with Kurt”; he felt the wetness of the words on his skin. But now it was
ATMAN’S
turn to speak.

“First of all, I wouldn’t laugh,” he said with genuine severity, “and secondly … listen to the important way I’m saying
secondly
, practically as if I’d invented the sewing machine …”

“All right, you did not invent the sewing machine. What would you do
secondly?”

“Nothing,” laughed
ATMAN
. “Or, if anything, perhaps just say we’d be well advised to … how shall I put it? pay a wee bit closer attention (
wee
, that’s pure baby talk,
wee-wee
). Uncertain is our destiny in what the politicians call this part of the world.”

“So what do you think we ought to do for our destiny? Pay attention to what?”

“A wee-wee bit of attention,”
ATMAN
was amusing himself, “A wee-wee bit of attention to the fact that we all have our own destiny, wee-wee. You may have got away with it for the time being, but Destiny has other wonderful surprises up her sleeve.”

“And you are insured against these surprises?”

“No, I’m not. How could I be? Where’s the insurance? Do
you
know?”
ATMAN
held his face close to Melkior’s. Melkior could smell his unpleasant breath.

Melkior sat back and said derisively: “You’re asking me? You who have such a cozy relationship with Destiny?”

“Have a cozy relationship? Heh, I’d be delighted, if she were pretty.”

“Well, being an expert, you presumably picked the prettiest one for yourself.”

“Now you’re poking fun at my occupation, too, Mr. Melkior,” said
ATMAN
with a kind of sadness. “But you did do something for your destiny … by fasting, like a saint … and with the assistance of this … Kurt fellow,” he was monitoring the impact of his words, squinting derisively at Melkior.

Melkior was now unable to laugh anymore: “What assistance of Kurt’s? With what did Kurt assist me?”

“The pounding of your patriotic heart, ha-ha … What is it you dip the cigarettes in—do you remember, Mr. Melkior? it wasn’t so very long ago.”

“You spoke about that to Kurt?”

“It was I who told him that, not his
Vater
, heh-heh …”

“But I didn’t. I didn’t even ask Kurt about it—he came up with it. … Why did you go through him?”

“I wanted to lend you a hand. You wouldn’t have taken it from me, you don’t trust me.”

“And I trust Kurt, is that it?”

“Well … I rather imagine you do. You do indeed—more, at any rate, than you trust me. He’s on the side with the
upper hand.
Perhaps Kurt could help you still, I mean in ‘crucial’ things—after all, he’s got a kind and noble heart.”

“Well, speak to him, then,” Melkior told him angrily. “Perhaps
you
could help
him.”

“How might I be of help to him, Mr. Melkior?”
ATMAN
feigned shocked surprise. “On the contrary, he might welcome some of your military ex-per-tise … oops, how did ‘tease’ pop up like that?”

“Now look here! …” but Melkior managed to restrain himself, why the hell should I shout? Who does this rascal take me for … or is he just winding me up? “May I impart some of that expertise to you instead?”

“Why, whatever could I possibly use it for, Mr. Melkior?”
ATMAN
went on wondering, “I’m not a warring party.”

“No, but there is a secret, everyone is frightened of it,” whispered Melkior in the strictest of confidence. “I learned about it while I was
out there
… Alligators, a new weapon, they keep one in each town. …”

“Oh, that’s just an animal, an aquatic animal, a crocodile,” laughed
ATMAN
, but with a watchful eye on Melkior.

“An animal, true enough. But what about Hannibal’s elephants? And a crocodile is more awesome than even an elephant; it hides in the tall grass and then suddenly: snap! The fear and terror of any infantry. They were brought in from the Ganges and the Nile.”

“And you’ve seen those crocodiles?”
ATMAN
was going along with the joke.

“No, but I’ve heard them. They howl worse than any beast. They’re kept well hidden—top secret.”

“You don’t say …” said
ATMAN
rather vaguely, while keeping a close eye on Melkior: is he pulling my leg or is there really something in … “And you think that in case of war …”