The Miernik Dossier

26. REPORT BY BROCHARD (EXCERPT).

Finally, for its value as entertainment, I include the following note on a conversation between Nigel Collins and Ilona Bentley that I overheard on the evening of 6 June in the Restaurant Plat d’Argent. It contains some useful information about the Pole, Tadeusz Miernik, and other personalities in whom you have expressed an interest.

In the Plat d’Argent are a number of booths with very high backs. I was seated in one of these with a young woman at about 8:30 when I heard, issuing from the adjoining booth, the unmistakable voice of Collins. He was speaking in what he imagined to be an undertone to a female who I at once realized must be Bentley. These two make no secret of the fact that they are lovers.

“Of course you can’t come along,” Collins was saying. “How could you think we’d take you? There’ll be no room in the car if both Christopher and Miernik come. Besides, you’d likely end up in a harem.”

Bentley giggled. “I think I’d rather like that,” she said.

“Yes, I suppose you would. Being had by some diseased old Arab who pumps himself full of aphrodisiacs sounds like one of your sexual fantasies. You can do it without my cooperation.”

“I haven’t noticed that you’ve been so awfully cooperative lately, dear Nigel.”

“Perhaps I need an aphrodisiac.”

“I know someone who doesn’t.”

“Really? How pleasant for you.”

“You don’t want to know who?”

“Really, Ilona, you don’t expect me to rise to that old bait again? You can do as you like.”

“All right, we won’t discuss the shambles of my love life. Normal people, my dear Nigel, often sleep with the opposite sex at least once a week. Sometimes more often. Does that astonish you?”

“It astonishes me that you should want to go to the Sudan with me if I leave you so frustrated,” Collins said.

“We will not be alone. I can creep from tent to tent under the desert stars until my horrible appetites are satisfied.”

“Yes, you could do that, couldn’t you?”

“Nigel, I don’t want to do that-really I don’t. I thought it would be rather nice to be with you, away from Geneva, for a time. I’ve always wanted to see the Nile and the desert. Why can’t I come?”

“Because Kalash hasn’t asked you to come-and won’t.”

“Of course he will, if you tell him you want me. After all, Kalash is my friend too.”

“Kalash? Your friend? My dear, the thought that a woman might be a friend is impossible to Kalash. He regards you as conveniences. He’s an Arab and a prince besides. All you or any female can be to him is a warm place into which he can have a discharge.”

“How poetic you make it sound. He is awfully good-looking, you know.”

“Yes, and Kalash knows it too. He won’t have you in his Cadillac. He doesn’t need you down there-half the girls of Central Africa are available to him. He has only to pick them off a baobab tree.”

This sort of squabbling, a good deal better-natured than it seems when written down, went on for some time. It would appear that Collins, Prince Kalash el Khatar, Paul Christopher, and Miernik are planning a trip by automobile to the Sudan. The ostensible purpose is to deliver a Cadillac to Khatar’s father.

However, it appears to me that another purpose is to remove Miernik from Switzerland while his Polish passport is still in force. Collins suggests that Khatar will be able to obtain a Sudanese travel document for Miernik once he is in that country, where the Khatar family has great influence. The date of departure, according to what Collins told Bentley, will be approximately 15 June, but perhaps sooner.

Bentley continued to press Collins to arrange for her to come along. “If you ask Kalash, he will say yes.

“I’m not going to ask him.”

“Then maybe I’ll find a way to ask him. Would you prefer that?”

Collins by this time was wholly exasperated. “What are you going to do, Ilona, when your bottom wears out? How will you live?”

Then Bentley said something so extraordinary to Collins that I can only believe it was part of the wounding game they seem to enjoy playing with one another. She told him, in her clear voice, that she had been sleeping with Miernik. She described Miernik’s body, covered with hair and giving off a strong odor, and in the most minute detail listed the sexual uses to which she had put it.

Collins rose from the table, threw down some money, and left the restaurant. After he had gone, Bentley had a ladylike chat with the waiter. She explained that her friend had suddenly become ill. Sympathy from the waiter.

“Have you any wild strawberries?” Bentley asked. She ate a large portion, with whipped cream, and drank a cup of coffee. Then she paid with Collins’ money and walked to the door. She turned and lifted her hand to me. “Bon soir, Léon!” she cried, with a reckless smile. She must have known I had heard everything. She really is extraordinarily beautiful.