Bamboo and blood

3

Saturday morning I wasn't hungry, but I didn't think Jeno would take that as an excuse to scrub his operation, so I did everything as directed. The taxi driver scowled, the nice lady in the patisserie popped the croissants into the bag. The note told the driver to take me to Le Pre Byron, the bench closest to the Villa Diodati. A red car, a Peugeot, stopped on the road below. I had just sat back to enjoy the view when a man appeared beside me. At first I didn't recognize him.

"Hand puppets," he said.

"Three-legged dogs." I nodded. "You look different in the light."

"You're supposed to have an extra brioche."

"You want some money back?"

"I hope you remember operational details better than you do pastry orders."

"I owe you. Do we sit here until lunch?"

"You get on a train, a local. Just past Flamatt there is a truck yard, on the left. There will be a blue truck at the far end."

"Jeno said you didn't use blue."

"Cars. We don't use blue cars. Trucks fall under different rules. Is that alright?"

"Fine."

"If the blue truck has a red flag on its antenna, stay on the train until Bern. Not a bright red, sort of dirty. Like dried blood. That means it's a go. The conductress will punch your ticket and give you the last-stage instructions. But remember, she has the final go-ahead, or not."

"And how does she let me know? A cross-eyed look?"

"She'll take your ticket, punch it, and hand it back. Might not be the same one. Look at it. Anything other than today's date, it's a bust. If she doesn't like the way things smell, if she sees someone she doesn't think belongs, she calls it off."

"Then what?"

"You get off at whatever station tickles your fancy and look around. Get some dinner. Then just come back. Nothing lost, and whoever it was that stumbled into our midst will have wasted a day."

"This is the most elaborate, complicated, irritating operation I've ever heard of. I can see twenty points where it could fall apart."

"Oh, yeah? We've been through it twenty times. It works." He stopped. "It works as long as everyone plays his part."

"Why? Why is it so complicated?"

"You want me to simplify? Someone important is coming to meet you. He's coming a long way and going to a lot of trouble. We don't want anyone else to see the meeting. No one. If we could take you to Israel it would be better. Want some sun?"

"Not on your life."

"I told Jeno you wouldn't take that option. It's not such a long flight. All the engines on the plane up to snuff."

"No."

"We could put a sack over your head, give you an injection, put you in a crate, and ship you by air freight."

"Try it, I dare you."

He shrugged.

"What makes you think I want to see a visitor? Who is he, anyway? I don't run after people I haven't been properly introduced to. Someone high up in your organization, I imagine." I didn't wait long for a response, because I didn't suppose there would be one. "Very flattering, that a mystery man would come all this way to meet me. If it's not too late, you should tell him not to bother. We could say I have a prior appointment. That would save him a trip." A blank look. "Or maybe he's already here. A shame, busy man like him, having to come all this way for nothing. The Number Two in your organization? Not the Number One; surely no organization, not even yours, would set up a meeting for your Number One without first checking that the other party was available."

"Are you going to eat both croissants?"