Bamboo and blood

4

The idea of meeting the daughter of a Turk who worked for Israeli intelligence was not mine. I resisted up to a point, but I do not believe in taking hopeless stands. Dilara wanted to do it; she insinuated herself against me in ways that rapidly made my opposition untenable. I'd been to her father's cafe almost every day, and every time she served me tea and little sweets and long ravishing looks that made my heart pound on my rib cage with a fierce insistence. Thursday afternoon, during the lunch break at the talks, I hurried over to the cafe. Her father was away. She came outside and walked with me to my hotel.

"I'm not going up to your room," she said. "If my father caught me in your room, he'd slice you to ribbons. He doesn't trust you."

"Me? What have I done to deserve such suspicion?"

"Nothing. You're Korean, that's all, and he has bad memories of your country. You remind him of the war. He's been very strange since you showed up."

"The war was a long time ago."

"My father says time is merde." She smiled faintly. "Whatever that means. I try not to listen to everything he says. He doesn't like me speaking to men, by the way."

"What if I just nod my head?"

"Be serious. You aren't going to be here forever."

Such a pretty girl, such an ominous line of thought. It was unnerving. "I suppose not," I said.

"What I mean is, you won't be in Geneva forever. People show up and then fly away. It happens all the time. We need to take advantage of the time we have."

I thought so, too, though the image of my body cut to ribbons was something of a brake.

"Let's meet tonight at the Crazy Swan. It's a club. My father won't know anything about it. He doesn't even know where it is. The music is loud and the dance floor is so packed, you can barely move. Some people dance naked once in a while. It will be fun."

It wasn't exactly what I had in mind. Still, I made sure to smile.

"What? Don't you want to be with me? My father's away until tomorrow afternoon. That means tonight is free. Carpe diem, Inspector, don't you think?"

I didn't know what to think. I didn't know how to dance. "Yes," I said, "it will be fun."

I barely got back to the meeting room on time. The other side invited us to dinner that night. The idea of sitting and discussing where socks go instead of writhing with young bodies-some of them not wearing socks, if Dilara was to be trusted-did not appeal to me. Fortunately, fate stepped in. During a break, the delegation leader took me aside. "You slipped," he said. "You spoke English to one of them. They think they can sink their teeth into you. It probably isn't a good idea for you to be at the dinner tonight. What do you think?"

What did I think? He wanted to know what I thought? I thought the image of them as wolves pulling me down and gnawing on my throat was overdrawn. "I really think I should go to the dinner. It's important that I be there. In fact, it's critical that I be there. But if you advise against it, I have to consider that seriously." I paused long enough for serious consideration. "Please pass my regrets, won't you?"

That night, when I reached the club, there was a line at the door. "Good evening, monsieur," the doorman said. "Do you have a ticket?" He asked in French, and when I didn't respond, he repeated the question in English.

"Ticket? I'm meeting someone here." Dilara hadn't mentioned anything about a ticket. "Maybe she's inside. I'll just go in and look."

"No, pal, I don't think so." Given how big his hands were, they were surprisingly gentle on my neck. "We'll just wait over here, and maybe your friend will come out looking for you, eh?"

Jeno emerged from the club. "What are you doing here?" He looked over his shoulder into the noise and the lights beyond the door. "You're not here with Dilara, I hope. Ahmet will cut you to ribbons if he finds out. That isn't a bread knife he carries around. It's his Turkish army knife, the one he carried in the war. The last boyfriend she had was Lebanese. He disappeared."

The doorman chimed in. "He said he was waiting for a friend. Are you his friend, boss?"

Jeno shook his head. "He's not waiting for anyone. He's leaving. If he shows up again, Rudi, kick his tush down the street." Rudi nodded and stepped back inside the door.

"You give the orders around here?" I rubbed my neck where Rudi had given me a final squeeze. "You act like you own the place."

"I do. That's why Ahmet lets his sweet flower of a daughter keep coming here. We keep an eye on her."

"He knows she comes here?" Dilara had been very definite that it was a secret she kept from her father.

"Ahmet knows everything his daughter does, everyone she sees, everyone who thinks lascivious thoughts when they watch her walk away."

"I was only going to dance with her." I suppressed any thoughts Ahmet might pick up on the airwaves.

"What would you know about nightclub dancing, Inspector?"

"How hard can it be?"

"Forget about her. She'll only get you in trouble. Besides, the music in there is so loud, it could make your knees ache. Come on, we'll go get a drink someplace quiet, where we can actually hold a conversation. We need to talk."

A car pulled around the corner. The driver climbed out, and Jeno slid in behind the wheel. "Hop in, Inspector, we may have to put on a little speed to lose M. Beret's hordes." Before I had closed the door, the car jumped ahead. "Put on the seat belt, I don't want to get cited for ignoring safety regulations." We were already going 60 kph in a narrow street that seemed to be taking us rapidly out of the city. Jeno still hadn't turned on the headlamps. "Hang on for a few more minutes." He looked quickly in the rearview mirror and laughed. "Damn, they're good." The road curved sharply and the car accelerated. I thought for a moment we had left the ground. "Relax, Inspector. Enjoy the side." Jeno took both hands off the steering wheel. "You see? The road is straight from here for the next five kilometers, and M. Beret's friends are stuck behind a garbage truck. I'm taking you to a nice place near Chamonix. You have your papers, I hope."

"No."

"Well, that's a problem. But we'll deal with it."