I knocked once. "I'll be back, darling." I figured the last word would rocket the others along the corridor up from their desks, ears against their doors. There was a short, throaty laugh from inside, the sort of laugh a woman of Miss Ban's frame supports easily. When I got back to the liaison man's office, he was gone. So was the heater.
"He's out. Visitors from afar," a man said as he walked past me and into the next room. After a moment, he reappeared. "That one"-he pointed at the liaison man's door-"has a heater." He looked in the room. "He must have taken it, but he has one. It sucks electricity all day long."
"You trying to tell me something?"
"He's not supposed to have it, is he?"
"What makes you think I'm interested?"
"Nothing." The man's face was gaunt. "Nobody is interested in anything anymore. So, good, we'll all freeze to death, everyone but him, if we don't starve first." He looked at me closely, his eyes ablaze with something, not fear exactly. I couldn't tell whether he wanted to take back the words, or be assured that I had heard him.
"You have a family?"
He nodded.
"Then don't talk crazy," I said. "When some people get too cold, they become crazed; the words that come from their mouths become crazy. Remember that."
He put his hand to his forehead, a gesture of despair, and waited. "What next?"
I knew right then, he would not live out the winter. At this point it was a matter of will with a lot of people. His was gone, which saddened me for some reason. I didn't know him, but I didn't want him to give up. "Those with heaters will sit in front of them and curse every time the power goes out. Those of us without heaters won't notice the difference," I said. He didn't reply, but he didn't walk away, so I figured he wanted the company. "You know Miss Ban, upstairs?"
"Only her tread. I don't go up there," he said absently.
"You have your own office?" I pointed at his door.
"No, this one is for a team, but everyone else…"
"They've left."
He shrugged.
"But you stayed."
"They say it's an arduous march; all I do is sit in the dark. I won't get a medal for that."
"I don't suppose you've ever been to Pakistan? Served there? Made a trip?" Might as well start with the biggest shot in the dark and work backward.
"No. What's it to you?"
"Where have you been, then? I'm interested in leading a tour group."
"You ask a lot of questions." At least he could still fight back; maybe it would be enough motivation to stay alive, if he decided to fight.
"A question machine, that's me. I keep asking until I get an answer. Could be the switch is stuck or a connection is loose." Once again he didn't respond, but there was something new, an alertness that had been drained from him only a moment ago. "Where did you serve?" I decided to see how far the conversation would go.
"Middle East. Craziness. Libya. The man's a nut, as far as I can tell."
"You put that in a reporting cable, I suppose. Such forthrightness is much appreciated in this building, I hear."
"Reporting wasn't my job." He smiled, finally, for the first time. "Forthrightness wasn't my area of expertise. My job was making sure the ambassador stayed out of trouble."
"So, did he stay out of trouble?"
"He defected." The words seemed to stick in his throat, and it looked for a moment like I might lose him for good. I nodded for him to go on, and for some reason that seemed to blow up the dam. He didn't need any more encouragement. "The whole embassy was scared to death when the ambassador disappeared. People were angry with me; they said I should have been more alert, more aware, like I was supposed to know what he was thinking every moment, like I was supposed to be able to read his mind." His face took on some color, and so did his voice. "A security team came out in a hurry; they told us to pretend nothing had happened and to go about our business, but no one could think straight. I was convinced they'd shoot me, take me out to the garden in the back and shoot me, but after a lot of questions they said it wasn't my fault. Damned right it wasn't my fault. I'll never know what got into the man."
"That was in Libya?"
He looked at me strangely. "No." He didn't volunteer where, and I wasn't going to ask, not unless I needed to.
"You think they'll send you overseas for another assignment?"
"I don't think they even know I come to the office every day. I read the cables and put them in a file. This file, that file. Like I said, no one cares." The energy was gone again. It made me uneasy to look at him, wondering how long he would last.
PART II
Chapter One
"Give me one good reason. Go ahead, just one. I'm trying to do your country some good, so why am I being held prisoner in this hotel?"
"You're not a prisoner." It was exasperating, having to argue with Jeno. He kept pushing even though he knew I wasn't going to budge. "I already told you, feel free to wander around the lobby. Have you done that yet? Or you can go upstairs to the counter where they sell books. Have you seen volume twenty-two yet? Riveting. You can even play pool, if that is possible to do with gloves on."
"You're a strange man, Inspector."
"Thank you, or isn't that a compliment?"
"Surely you want things to get better for your country?"
"Don't worry, we'll survive."
"Oh, I'm sure you will. But I'm not talking survival. I'm talking progress. I'm talking"-he looked around the lobby-"a little more heat." For once, he kept his eyebrows under tight control. "You know what I mean?"
"I don't have to know what you mean. I'm not anyone you need to have a meaningful conversation with. I'm only here to make sure that you stay out of trouble, or better, that trouble stays away from you. That's possible as long as you do what I say. I suggest you just nap under the covers for the next forty-eight hours. Then I'll wave good-bye as you go through the immigration line at the airport. As far as I'm concerned, that will count as progress, you on an airplane, lifting off and flying away."
"Can we walk around the block?"
"You realize how miserable it is outside?"
"I know the temperature, Inspector. You can chain me to your wrist if you want. I'm not going to run away."
I laughed. "Very dramatic. We don't use chains. Okay, let's walk. You have on long underwear? Or are you still relying on those genes of yours for warmth?"
It was much colder outside than it looked, the dead cold that comes on clear, sunny days. There was no wind, but it was hard to move, the cold like an invisible weight, maybe gravity doubled. After we walked past the stamp store, I could see that he was having second thoughts about being outside.
"You had something to say?"
He was breathing hard, gasping from the way the air entered his lungs and filled them with ice, and I wasn't sure he could hear me. He turned his head slowly. "Why would you think that, Inspector?"
"No one is outside today unless they have to be. We don't have to be, so the logical conclusion, and the one of every person who saw us go through the front door, can only be that you want to talk and-more to the point-not be overheard."
"You'll record what I say?"
"No, I don't care what you say. I told you, I'm only supposed to keep you safe, and that means my main concern is that you don't slip on the sidewalk and break your arm. Watch where you're walking."
"Is there a place we can stop to get something warm?"
"As long as we keep moving, you won't freeze solid. I'll have you back in the hotel in twenty minutes, unless you plan to make a long speech."
"In other circumstances, Inspector, I might have taken my time edging into what I need to say to you. I would have stroked your ego, appealed to your manhood, perhaps. Then I might have looked for some vulnerability, found a way to snap your psychic spine."