‘I wouldn’t say that. I understand him better and I’d like to understand him even more before I cut his head off.’
13
Far away from the Four Quarters, in the great, green, greasy jungles of Brazil, a storm of measureless power is approaching its height. Winds blow, rain lashes, there is lightning and thunder enough to crack open the world – and then it moves into decline by a fraction of a fraction of an infinitesimal not even a puff of air strong enough to blow a single speck of dust off a slippery slope. The great storm is beginning to disperse.
Redeemer General Gil, now with the honorary title of Defender of the Holy Glee, came into Pope Bosco’s war room and bowed slightly less humbly than was owed.
‘Anything?’
There was no doubt, despite the fact that they were supposed to be going about the business of bringing the world to an end, that this enquiry referred to Thomas Cale.
‘As I told Your Holiness yesterday, the last news was that he was in Leeds and probably suffering the effects of dysentery – ill at any rate. He’s left now but I’m not able as yet to say where.’
‘Have you put more people on it?’
‘As I said I would –’ he paused, ‘yesterday.’
‘Good people?’
‘The best.’ This was true enough as far as it went, which was not very far, given that the good people he had out looking for Cale were the Two Trevors. Gil had decided that the end of the world, a project in which he deeply believed, would take place a good deal sooner if it were preceded by Cale announcing it to God personally. Bosco’s obsessive belief that the death of the world could not come unless Cale administered it was a delusion in Gil’s estimation – a blasphemy he was careful to conceal. Cale was never the incarnation of God’s anger, he was just a delinquent boy. Once he was confirmed as dead Bosco would just have to get on with it.
‘I want to know immediately you hear anything.’
‘Of course, Your Holiness.’
It was a dismissal but Gil did not move. Throughout the conversation Bosco had not taken his eyes from the great map of the Axis powers laid out on one of the four massive tables in the room.
‘You aren’t worried he’ll give away your plan to attack the Axis through Arnhemland?’
‘Away from here, Cale is merely a thorn in his own side. He could shout it out in the middle of Kirkgate on market day and no one would listen – least of all Ikard or that buffoon Zog. Was there something else?’
‘Yes, Your Holiness. The end of the world. There are problems.’
Bosco laughed, delighted at this.
‘Did you expect to bring about the apocalypse without them?’
‘There are unanticipated problems.’ gil was finding it harder these days not to be irritated by his pontiff.
‘Yes?’
‘Moving the populations out of the territories we’ve annexed is diverting more supplies and materials than we can easily provide. There are too many people to move to the west and not enough food or transport to do the job without robbing the exact same stocks from our militants. We must slow down one or the other.’
‘I’ll think about it. What else?’
‘Brzca came to see me.’ Brzca was a man with a talent, a genius if you will, in the matter of killing in numbers. He was in charge of the practical problem of transporting captured people into the west and beginning the process of bringing an end to God’s greatest mistake. ‘He’s having problems with his executioners.’
‘He has complete freedom of access to any suitable person in the militant. I made it clear he has priority.’
‘I’ve done everything you asked,’ said an increasingly irritated Gil.
‘Then what’s the problem?’
‘Too many executioners are becoming sick – in the head, I mean.’
‘He knows the importance of this, why didn’t he say something before now?’
‘Mostly they only began their duties three months ago. It turns out that killing two thousand people a week begins to take a toll after a few months. Nearly half of his people are unable to continue. It’s not so hard to understand. I know it’s necessary but I wouldn’t want to do it. But there it is.’
Bosco said nothing for a while and then walked to the window. Finally, after some time, he turned back to Gil.
‘You know I am proud of them, my poor labourers. When I think of what we are obliged to do it makes me sick with dread. To endure what they must endure and remain a decent person – well, it’s clear what spiritual strength it requires. Is he still here?’
‘Yes.’
‘Send him to me. Together we will discover a way to help our people find the spiritual courage to continue.’
‘Your Holiness.’ Gil started to withdraw. Bosco called out after him.
‘I know Brzca of old: tell him not to kill those who’ve failed. We must make an allowance for human weakness.’
14
‘Name?’
Vague Henri looked at his interrogator with an expression of helpful bewilderment.
‘I’m sorry, they didn’t tell me your name.’
‘Not my name. Your name.’
A pause – for just as long as he thought he could get away with.
‘Yes.’
‘What?’
‘Yes, I see.’
‘So, what is it?’
Despite the difficulty of his situation, Vague Henri was enjoying appearing to be dim while really being a cheeky little sod, a dangerous line he had perfected over many years of tormenting Redeemers and the reason for the name Cale had given him five years ago. Now no one knew him as anything else.
‘Dominic Savio.’
‘Well, Mr Savio. You’ve committed a serious offence.’
‘What does offence mean?’
‘It means a crime.’
‘What does committed mean?’
‘It means “done”. It means you’ve done a crime.’
‘I’m a good boy.’
You’re also an idiot, thought the interrogator. He sat back. ‘I’m sure you are. But it’s a crime to cross the border without papers and it’s another crime to enter the country at any point unless that point is an official border crossing.’
‘I don’t have any papers.’
‘I know you don’t have any papers, that’s why you’re here.’
‘Where can I get the papers?’
‘Not the point. It’s a crime to try to come into the country without papers.’
‘I didn’t know about the papers.’
‘Ignorance of the law is no excuse.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because then everyone would say they didn’t know about the law. They could say they didn’t know murder was against the law. Would you let someone go who’d committed murder if he said he didn’t know killing people was against the law?’
‘Soldiers kill people, that’s not against the law.’
‘That’s not murder.’
‘You said “killing people”.’
‘I meant murder.’
‘I understand.’
The interrogator was not sure how he had let the questioning of the boy slip in such a way. Once again he attempted to get control of the situation.
‘Why did you try to enter the country at an illegal place?’
‘I didn’t know it was illegal.’
‘All right. Why were you trying to get into the country?’
‘The Redeemers were trying to murder us. Sorry, to kill us.’
‘What do you mean?’
Vague Henri looked at him wide-eyed with alarm at the question.
‘I mean make us not live.’
‘I know what kill means. Why did you say murder and then change it to kill?’
‘You told me soldiers can’t do murder.’