Games of the Hangman (36 page)

"I accept
your offer of the apartment," said Fitzduane.
 
"I find it hard to resist a good wine
cellar."
 
His tone was mollifying
and friendly.
 
"Tell me," he
added, almost as an afterthought, "
is
the phone
tapped and the place bugged?"

Fitzduane's
tone and manner had lulled the lawyer.
 
Von Graffenlaub was disconcerted and visibly embarrassed.
 
Momentarily he was speechless.

"Yes,"
he said finally.

"
Specially
for me?" said Fitzduane, "or are bugs
part of the décor — sort of companions to the house plants?"

"They
were installed to record you.
 
I gave the
order before my investigations into your background were completed.
 
I did not know with whom I was dealing."

"People
in the electronics business call it a learning curve," said
Fitzduane.
 
"Tell me, who normally
uses this place?"

"I have
had this apartment for many years.
 
I use
it from time to time when I want to be alone, or to work on something
particularly confidential."

"I
see," said Fitzduane, "sort of an adult tree house."

"The
recording devices will be removed immediately," said von Graffenlaub
.
He went to the liquor cabinet and poured two glasses of
whiskey.
 
He gave one to Fitzduane.
 
Fitzduane tasted it.
 
It was Irish, a twelve-year-old Jameson.

He thought he
might shoot the potted plant in the hall.

14

Fitzduane had
decided he would take a break from female von Graffenlaubs for a while.
 
Vreni would answer the phone but then not
speak except to say things like "Take care, Irishman," which he did
not find either helpful or reassuring; Marta, the eldest, was away in Lenk for
a fortnight's skiing; and Erika, on the basis of precedent, was going to give
him an erection just as she did poor young Andreas.
 
He didn't mind having the erection; it was
what it might lead to that posed the problem.
 
And that brought him back to Andreas.

Andreas wasn't
straightforward either.
 
Lieutenant
Andreas von Graffenlaub was on active duty in the army camp at Sand, training a
new batch of recruits.
 
He could not
leave his duties, but if Fitzduane didn't mind coming over, they could talk
between maneuvers.
 
A few minutes and a
phone call from Beat von Graffenlaub later, and it had all been arranged.
 
If Fitzduane could present himself at the
General Guisan Kaserne at the ungodly hour of 0700 precisely, the army would
provide transportation to Sand.
 
He could
get to the Kaserne on the number 9 tram.

*
         
*
         
*
         
*
         
*

It took them
well over an hour to locate Andreas.
 
After checking a series of combat groups waging their own little wars,
they found him standing on top of an overgrown concrete bunker awaiting an
attack by his platoon.
 
He wore the
forage dress cap of an officer with his camouflage fatigues, and there was a
heavy service automatic in a holster at his waist.
 
Hands on hips, his bearing confident to the
point of cockiness, he looked down at Fitzduane.

"So, Herr
Fitzduane," he said, "how do you like Swiss Army life?"
 
He smiled politely and held out his hand to
help Fitzduane up.
 
The corporal saluted
and receded into the trees.

"These
are all new recruits," said Andreas, indicating the forest surrounding
them.
 
Not a figure was to be seen,
although there were occasional noises as recruits, laden down with automatic
rifles and blank-firing rocket-launchers, crawled into firing position.
 
"Only a few weeks ago they were
university students or wine makers or mechanics or waiters.
 
Now they are beginning to be soldiers, but
there is still a long way to go.
 
Don't
judge the Swiss Army by what you see here today."
 
Andreas smiled again.
 
He had great charm and none of the tension
and insecurity of Vreni.

Privately
Fitzduane was impressed by what he was seeing at Sand.
 
He knew from his own experience just how
difficult it was to turn civilians into soldiers.
 
In this case there was an air of seasoned
professionalism about most of the officer corps he had run into so far, and the
training programs seemed to be comprehensive and imaginative.
 
Still, recruits in their earlier stages were
seldom a pretty sight.
 
Andreas winced
when a dead branch broke nearby with a loud crack followed by a highly audible
expletive.

"I'm
sorry about your brother," said Fitzduane.
 
He found a seat on the trunk of a fallen tree.
 
Andreas remained standing, his eyes scanning
the surrounding forest, notebook now ready to record the performance of his
men.

"You ask
the questions," said Andreas, "and I'll tell you what I can."

*
         
*
         
*
         
*
         
*

In contrast
with Vreni, who knew more but would not tell
,
Andreas,
having already heard about Fitzduane's involvement from his father, was helpful
and forthcoming.
 
Unfortunately he did
not appear to know much, or if he did, Fitzduane was not asking the right
questions.
 
The Irishman was tempted to
be discouraged, but then odd facts and details began to emerge as Andreas
relaxed and devoted at least part of his mind to Fitzduane's mission.

Andreas looked
at the symbol of the "A" circled with flowers.
 
"The inner symbol I know of
course," he said.
 
"In a plain
circle you see it in every city of this country.
 
It's the badge of the protest movement, of
the youth movement, of the small minority of idiots who don't know when
thy are
well off."
 
He looked at the photocopy in Fitzduane's hands.
 
"What are the flowers?" he
asked.
 
"This is from a tattoo?"

Fitzduane
nodded.
 
"That photocopy is a
blowup."

"The
detail is not bad for such a small mark as you have indicated," said
Andreas.
 
"It is drawn well by a
skilled hand.
 
The flowers look like
geraniums, but it is hard to be sure."
 
He looked up at Fitzduane.
 
"
Les Fleurs du Mal
," he said, "
The Flowers of Evil
.
 
You know Baudelaire?"

"In
translation for the most part," said Fitzduane.
 
"Let me see if I remember
any."
 
He paused and then recited:

"Folly and error, sin and avarice

Work on our bodies, occupy our thoughts,

And we ourselves sustain our sweet regrets

As mendicants nourish their
worms and lice."

Andreas
laughed.
 
"Very good," he said,
"but it sounds better in French."

"Why did
you mention
The Flowers of Evil
?"
said Fitzduane.
 
"Does the symbol
remind you of some organization of that name?"

"Nothing
so precise," said Andreas.
 
"It
was merely an association of ideas, and I happen to like Baudelaire.
 
The name seems apt considering what you have
told me."

"Exceedingly
apt," said Fitzduane.
 
"Tell
me, can you remember where you first ran across Baudelaire?
 
Somehow, knowing the kind of stuff he wrote,
I doubt that it was at primary school."

Andreas
laughed but nonetheless looked mildly uncomfortable.
 
Fitzduane could see that he was
blushing.
 
"My stepmother," he
said, "Erika."

Andreas had no
further chance to speak.
 
The woods
around them echoed to massed automatic-rifle fire, various objects cascaded
through the air and landed on top of the bunker, and numerous camouflaged
figures erupted into the clearing and assailed the position.
 
It occurred to Fitzduane that he had almost
certainly been killed, as had Andreas.

*
         
*
         
*
         
*
         
*

The section
leaders formed a semicircle around Andreas, and in clear, measured tones he
told them what they had done right and what they had done wrong.
 
There were questions from two of the
corporals.
 
Andreas answered in the same
measured manner.
 
Salutes were exchanged,
and the platoon formed up in two long files.
 
Laden with their weapons and equipment, the men headed back to the camp
and lunch.
 
Andreas and Fitzduane walked
behind and talked.

"Do you
have any recollection of an incident in Lenk?" asked Fitzduane.
 
"Something involving Vreni and, I
suspect, Rudi?"

"Vreni
told you about this?"

"Yes.
 
She told me that there had been an incident,
but she wouldn't say what.
 
She seemed
highly disturbed about whatever it was, and she mentioned a man named Oskar
Schupbach, but it was not clear in what connection except that he was a great
family friend.
 
I think whatever it was
may be important."

They walked
along in silence for a few paces.
 
The
track led through pinewoods, the trees being mature and well separated.
 
The air smelled good.
 
The recruits were looking forward to lunch,
and there were bursts of laughter.
 
A
Jeep roared down the center of the track between the two files.

"I don't
know a lot about what happened in Lenk," said Andreas.
 
"It was a sexual experience of some
sort, I believe.
 
I don't know the
details.
 
Rudi, Vreni, and Erika went up
to the chalet as usual for a few weeks of skiing.
 
I was busy studying, so I didn't go.
 
Father was supposed to join them on the
weekends, but he had to go away for several weeks on business."

"So they
were there on their own?"

"I
suppose," said Andreas.
 
"I
just don't know.
 
I heard very little of
what happened.
 
All I can recall is that
both Rudi and Vreni were tense and strained when they came back and somehow
changed.
 
They were more secretive and
retreated increasingly into their own little world.
 
I asked Erika if anything had happened, and
she just laughed.
 
She said it snowed too
much, and she was sick of reading novels, playing cards, and being cooped up
inside."

"And that
was all?"

"No,"
said Andreas.
 
"Rudi came into my
room a few days later.
 
He said he wanted
to ask me something.
 
He beat around the
bush for quite a while, and then he started asking me about homosexuality.
 
He asked me had I ever had a homosexual
experience and did having one mean he wouldn't still want to sleep with
girls.
 
I wasn't much help to him, I fear.
 
He wouldn't say why he was asking, and he
seemed confused; he was a little high anyway."

"On
what?" asked
Fitzduane.

"Oh,
grass or something
like
that," said Andreas.
 
"It was hard to know with Rudi.
 
He liked to mix it around."

"And what
had Vreni to do with all this?
 
I got the
strongest impression that she, too, was involved in whatever it was."

"You may
be right," said Andreas.
 
"She
would certainly know.
 
Those two were as
thick as thieves, but she didn't say anything.
 
I'll tell you,
though,
there are a couple of
people in Lenk you could talk to.
 
You
know about Oskar anyway."

"Yes."

"Okay,"
said Andreas.
 
"Well, there's him,
and there is also a close friend of the twins who lives there.
 
He's about their age.
 
He's an apprentice cheesemaker, a guy called
Felix Krane, a nice fellow, I've always thought."

"Is he
gay?"

"Yes, he
is," said Andreas, "but I don't know; somehow it doesn't seem to
fit.
 
If it was Felix, I don't see why
all the fuss."

"A first
sexual anything can be pretty disorienting, and it can certainly change
relationships."

"Yes, it
can," said Andreas.
 
He was blushing
again, or it may have been the flush of exertion from the long walk.
 
They entered the camp.
 
They had noodles, meat sauce, and beets for
lunch in the officers' mess.
 
They didn't
have to eat out of mess tins, but the taste was the same; somehow with army
food it always was.