"That's not a brioche. I know the difference."
M. Beret laughed. "Good for you, Inspector. Those talks, the ones that make your eyes glaze over, are almost wrapped up, I hear. Whatever you came to do, you'll have to hurry because it seems that so far, you've gotten nothing done." He pointed a finger at me. "If the talks end, then what? What is your final report going to look like? All those miles, all that travel money, all for nothing? Perhaps I could help. Should we conspire? Eh?"
I stirred my coffee, three times. "Is your service so short of things to do that the chief has time to follow me around personally? Nothing more important?"
"Three times, unusual, must be when you are agitated. Or wet." He took out a notebook and wrote something down. "It's not that I'm meticulous in all things, Inspector. But I want to take you apart like a Swiss watch, lay out all the pieces and examine them. Tick tock tick tock. What makes your machinery work? Things are grim at home these days, I take it. Tick tock tick tock. Pretty soon these talks you're in will end, and you'll be ordered back to your fatherland. Tick tock tick tock. What then?"
I took off my watch and dropped it in the coffee. "I'm sure I'll think of something," I said and walked out. The gesture made me feel good for a couple of minutes, but then I wished I had drunk the coffee. It had started to snow.
4
I spent the rest of the day in my room, trying to warm up. When I called the mission to find out whether we were on schedule for the afternoon session, they told me the "instructions" hadn't arrived yet and everything was postponed until tomorrow. I could almost hear M. Beret's listeners scratching notes on a pad: "Instructions late." The delayed arrival of nonexistent diplomatic traffic suited me. About three o'clock the maid knocked at the door, but I told her to go away. I kept the curtains shut, though it didn't much matter, there wasn't any sun anyway. Shortly before dusk the snow stopped. It drizzled for a few minutes, but then the clouds decided to call it a day and drifted off toward France. When night fell, I put on my shoes and went down the stairs to the tiny lobby. The girl behind the desk looked up. "Are you sick?"
"No. I need another bar of soap. The little one you gave me has dissolved."
"You were in your room all afternoon. Maybe you feel sick."
"No, I feel fine."
"Because if you are sick, we might have to get a doctor. I hope you don't have one of those Asian flu bugs."
"Thank you for your concern."
"Because if you do have one of those Asian bugs, we'll have to clean everything in your room, and for that we'll have to pay the maid extra. She's Romanian, and she knows the law. It could be quite a bother." I left before she could spin out the rest of the complaint.
This time my brother was waiting for me in the darkness. "There's a bench down the way, where the street bends. We can sit and talk, probably for about five minutes before the Swiss show up. That will be long enough if you don't interrupt me."
"Good, let's get it over with. Maybe we won't have to see each other again."
It was a quiet street, but then again, they were all quiet. The bench sat by itself in a small park, about thirty meters from the nearest house. The paving stones were uneven in places, but mostly the place was tidy and well kept; but then, so was almost everything in Geneva.
The night mist was just settling through the trees when I heard a car stop; the engine wheezed before it died. My brother appeared and sat down, frowning. "We don't have five minutes after all. We have two minutes. Check your watch."
"I'm listening."
"You have been sent here by people who no longer enjoy the confidence of the Center. Your mission is terminated."
"I'm still listening."
"Don't think you can ignore me on this. The talks will be broken off by the end of this week. You should return home before that. Am I clear?"
"As always."
A car door creaked. It was hard to tell how far away it was.
"My advice is that you leave immediately. Take a train tomorrow to Berlin. The embassy there will have further instructions for your return. If the Swiss ask any questions, tell them one of your relatives died."
"Of what?"
He paused and then stood up. "Don't forget what I said. You're not bamboo. You'll bleed."
"If I don't starve first, you mean."
"No, first you'll bleed. Someone is out here in this city to make sure of that. I don't know who, exactly. I can only guess why." As footsteps came up the hill, my brother crossed the street and disappeared.
5
M. Beret looked disappointed when he came close enough for me to see his face. "A pity, I wanted a picture of the two of you together." He pointed a small flashlight down the street and clicked it on and off once. "Family portraits are always precious when we get older, don't you think, Inspector?"
"I'm sorry, but I don't feel like chatting. I'm soaked to the skin from this damp air. It's the second time today I've been soaked, and there isn't a lot of heat in my hotel room. Not much soap, either. Do you know they gave me one little bar and want it to last the entire week? I thought the West was supposed to be overflowing with creature comforts."
M. Beret's laughter bounced across the paving stones. A light went on in the closest house; someone opened the window and shouted. M. Beret stood up and shouted back.
"That sounded rude," I said.
"The old man told me to be quiet or he would call the police."
"What did you say?"
"I told him I was the police." M. Beret reached in his pocket and pulled out a roll. "Hungry?"
"Yes, actually. I haven't eaten all day. But then why tell you that? You already know."
"Annoying, isn't it, Inspector? I should think you'd be used to it, where you come from."
"Hunger?"
"No, being watched."
"Believe me, we'd never approach anything like what you're doing. Much too much trouble. Eats up manpower. Not really necessary, anyway. No one could actually get lost for very long where I come from, at least, that's how it used to be."
"Now?"
"Changing circumstances, you might say. New winds blowing."
"True enough, following someone is a lot of work. Easier just to bring them in, I suppose." He was thoughtful. Then he remembered the roll in his hand; he tore it in half. "Don't ever let it be said we Swiss are not hospitable, soap notwithstanding. I don't want you to have a bad impression of my country, Inspector. I just don't want you ever to come back." He took a small bite. "I could order you out, but that would cause a diplomatic incident. Besides, then I'd be forced to order the whole pack out. We'd have to rent a bus or something." He reached into another pocket and pulled out my watch. He thumped the face once, held it up to his ear, and then handed it to me. "You forgot this. It's waterproof, but it isn't Swiss. It's counterfeit."
"Surprise," I said.
"Why don't you go across the border into France? Or Italy? Then we could deny you reentry."
"I don't think I want to do that."
"No, I didn't suppose you would. Incidentally, your mission is looking for you." He watched me put the half of the roll in my pocket. "Saving that for later?"
"Since when does the mission use you to pass phone messages?"
"If they don't start paying their phone bill, they'll have to use semaphores." He unzipped a small bag he was carrying over his shoulder and took out a book. "I bought something for you. It's in English, I hope you don't mind."
I took the book and read the title aloud. "The Great Depression."