Entwined

Chapter 7

After Ruda Kellerman had identified her ex-husband at the morgue, Inspector Heinz returned to his run-down station in the slum area of East Berlin. He and Rieckert proceeded laboriously to type out all the information about the people they had interviewed.

Kellerman's immigration papers had not been found at Customs. All Torsen knew to date was that he had arrived from Paris, booked into the hotel, eaten a hamburger, and got himself murdered. Nobody seemed to have seen him, or seen anyone else enter his room, or leave it! Everyone who had known him from the circus felt his death was deserved. His ex-wife had not seen him since he had left prison, and was unable to describe the tattoo sliced from his left arm.

Rieckert put his typed report on Torsen's desk, and since it was almost one-thirty went to collect his raincoat.

Torsen watched him. "You know, a few nights we may have to work overtime on this..."

"I have a date tonight! You coming out for a sandwich?"

"No, but you can have a toasted cheese-and-tomato sent over for me, just one on rye bread — tell her I'll pay tomorrow."

Rieckert shrugged and walked out. Torsen completed his own reports, adding that the janitor from Kellerman's hotel should be questioned again. His stomach rumbled. He'd eaten nothing since breakfast, and he hoped Rieckert wouldn't forget his sandwich. He put the kettle on to make himself instant coffee and, waiting for the water to boil, he turned in his reports to the empty Polizei Direktor's office, and filed a second copy for the Leitender Polizei Direktor, who was away on holiday.

The coffee jar was virtually empty. He found some sugar, but no milk. He sighed, even thought about joining Rieckert when his cheese on rye was delivered, wrapped in a rather grubby paper napkin, but at least it was what he had ordered. He kept an eye on the delivery boy who hovered by the missing persons photographs, and not until he had left did Torsen return to his desk.

He chewed thoughtfully as he read the autopsy report. The heaviness of the blows indicated that more than likely they had been inflicted by a man — to have crushed Kellerman's skull took considerable force. Whoever killed Kellerman had also ground his false teeth into the carpet. A heel imprint, retained in the pile of the carpet, was still being tested at the lab. The print was of a steel-capped boot heel, again probably a man's because of the size. Samples of mud and sawdust found at the scene of the crime were also still being tested.

Torsen made a few notes:

Torsen wondered why Ruda still used Kellerman's name and not Grimaldi's. Then he remembered something that had been nagging at the back of his brain. He scrambled for his notepad and scrawled a memo to himself. "Check unsolved dossier — the wizard."

When Torsen's father had been detective inspector they had often discussed unsolved cases together. It had begun as a sort of test between the old policeman and his eager son, but the two men had eventually grown to enjoy discussing what they thought had happened, and why the case remained unsolved. One case they had nicknamed "The Wizard," because the murdered man had been an old cabaret performer. He too had been found brutally stabbed.

The Wizard — he could not even recall the man's real name — had been found in the Kreuzberg sector; he had been dead for many months, his decomposed body buried under the floorboards... and his left arm had been mutilated. It was suspected the mutilation had taken place because the discovery of a tattoo would have assisted police inquiries, might even have helped them identify him. They would have required a lot of assistance if his body had not been wrapped in a wizard's cloak. They had been able to trace him, but his killer had never been found.

It was, Torsen surmised, just a coincidence, but he could hear his father's voice, see that forefinger wagging in the air. "Never believe in a coincidence when you are investigating a murder, there are no coincidences."

Torsen picked up his notepad again.

Torsen checked his watch, then demolished the rest of his lunch, carefully wiping the crumbs from his desk with the napkin. He sipped his coffee, draining the cup, and then, unlike anyone else at the station, returned it to the kitchen, rinsed it out, leaving it on the draining board. He had a quick wash and brush-up in the cloakroom before he went back to his office. He sifted through the work requiring immediate attention, and then checked his watch again. He had taken exactly one hour, no more, no less.

Rieckert was back late by a good fifteen minutes. Torsen could hear him laughing in the corridor. He snatched open the door.

"You're supposed to take one hour!"

Rieckert waved a new jar of coffee as an excuse, asking if Torsen would like a cup. "No, thank you. Now get in here!"

Torsen left his door open and began to gather up all his half-completed vehicle theft reports, at the same time shouting again for Rieckert to join him.

"I was just going to get some milk!"

"These are more important. Get them sorted, I want the lot filed and checked."

"But I'm off at five-thirty."

"You can leave when these are completed and not before. I have to go out later myself, so the faster we get through them, the..."

"Where are you going?" Rieckert interrupted sullenly.

"Kellerman's hotel. I am, in case you are unaware of the fact, heading a homicide investigation. I have to have further discussions with the manager and get hold of the register, find out whether the janitor saw anyone else leaving the hotel around the time of the murder. Perhaps I should have a look at the alleyway, the distance the janitor had been from the man he saw, if that is permissible with you!"

Torsen began furiously jotting down notes in his thick pad.

Ruda had got soaked to the bone standing outside the Grand Hotel, yet nonetheless went to see Mamon before changing. As she turned to head toward her trailer, she saw Mike, and froze. He was still wearing Tommy Kellerman's black leather trilby. She swore at herself, at her stupidity for not remembering to dump it along with the rest of Kellerman's belongings. She watched Mike heading toward the meat trailer, but she couldn't do anything about it. She had to get ready to rehearse the act; she was behind schedule. When she reached the trailer Grimaldi was already there, with an open bottle of brandy.

"Why don't you stay sober, at least until I've worked the act."

"I just need something to warm me up, all right? I'm freezing. I looked all over the place for you — why didn't you wait for me? You just upped and walked out. Where the hell have you been?"

Ignoring his question, Ruda pulled on her old boots, and suggested nastily that all he had to do was try to retrieve the old plinths, then she slammed the door of the trailer. Grimaldi cursed her as she passed the window. Ruda didn't even turn her head, but gave him the finger. So much for thanking him for going with her to the morgue; he didn't know where the hell he was with her. "And you never have, you old goat!" he muttered to himself.

He really had not intended to get loaded, but he had just one more, then another, and then Tina tapped on the door.

She wore a raincoat over tights and a glittering bodysuit, and carried a feathered headdress.

"I hear you and the bitch went to see Kellerman this afternoon."

Grimaldi nodded, offered her a drink which she refused. Tina surveyed the broken crockery, the smashed pictures, and half smiled when she said, "Did you talk to her about us, then?"

"Yes, and it's settled... well, up to a point."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"We discussed it, she's not going to be easy."

"But you knew that. Did you show her what we worked out?"

"I reworked bits of it, I can't just give her an ultimatum. She's worked her butt off for the act. It'll take a while to sort out."

"Take a while, take a while! You've been fobbing me off with that line for weeks. I'm pregnant, Luis, how long do you think I can get myself bounced around in my condition? You promised, promised you'd talk to her about it, about us."

He drained the glass. "And I just told you we talked about it... she's got a lot on her mind!"

"And I haven't?... I am pregnant!"

He sighed, opening his arms, but she wouldn't come near him.

"I want you to get it written down, on paper, I want her out of this trailer, I'm not rooming with the girls any longer."

He hung his head, his big hands clasped together. "After the opening, you and I can sort out the living accommodation."

"There's nothing to sort out — we agreed. You give her half, that's fair, it's your act, half those animals are yours, this is your trailer. Just see how far she can go without you and your name."

"She doesn't use my name — now shut up."

Tina hit the wall with the flat of her hand. "She just uses you, and I can't bear to see it, everyone laughing at you behind your back — and what are you drinking for? What are you getting pissed for at this hour?"

She was giving him a thudding headache. "I am not getting pissed, I am just having a drop to warm me up — I've been standing around a freezing morgue for half the fucking day, I've been wanderin' around lookin' for her, gettin' soaked to the bloody bone. She's been actin' like a bear with a sore arse. I dunno. Everybody is naggin' me, drivin' me nuts. So don't you start, just shut up! I dunno where she goes half the time, I dunno what she's doing..."

Tina sat down and began to pluck at the feathered headdress.

"Was it him, then?"

Grimaldi nodded. "Yeah, it was him."

"She must be sick in the head, how could she have married that grotesque, malformed creature?"

"Because he had a big dick!"

Grimaldi grinned, and she flung her headdress at him, but she smiled. "So have you..."

She went to him then, and sat on his knee. "I want us to be married, and with me behind you, you could take over the act."

He smiled ruefully. "You think so?"

"I know so. You were the best, everyone tells me, they all say at your peak you were the best in the world!"

"Ah yes — at my peak... that was quite a while ago, sweetheart, I've peaked and come up for air a few times, and I've plummeted. Maybe I'm too old."

Her heavy breasts were pushed up by her costume and he bent forward to kiss them. She was so young, too young to have ever seen him perform; he had been at his peak before she was even born.

"I want to have the baby, and then you can begin to train me, teach me what to do, I want to be in the ring, I want my face in the center of that poster."

He laughed a low rumble. "I bet you do... but it takes a long time."

"I'm young, I have time to learn."

He eased her off his knee and filled a glass. "She learned so fast, Tina... I have never seen anyone adapt to working with cats like Ruda."

Tina pouted. "Well, that was because she had the best to teach her, that's why I want you."

He smiled; sometimes she was so blatantly obvious it touched him. He leaned his back against one wall, staring at the posters. "See that one from Monte Carlo? That was her first solo performance. Then there's Italy, and France..."

Tina put her hands over her ears. "I don't want to hear about her, all I want is to know if you are ditching her, getting a divorce."

"Ditching her?"

"Well, separating, whatever you want to call it!"

The trailer door banged and Mike, wearing Kellerman's hat, popped his head round the door. "We're almost set up, sir, if you want to come over, we're ready to go in about fifteen minutes."

"Thanks, Mike! I'll be there."

Mike gave Tina a good once-over, and she glared at him as he closed the door. Grimaldi was checking some of the broken pictures. One was of Ruda with Mamon, she was sitting astride him as if he were a pony — she was laughing. "You know, she hardly ever laughed when we first met, was always so serious."

Tina swung one foot. "Oh please, no past glories, I get bored with all your past glories. All I am concerned with is the present, and the promises you make and don't keep."

Grimaldi replaced the broken frame, and hung the picture up without the glass. "I'll talk to her some more after rehearsal."

Tina clasped him in a hug from behind. "Will we keep him?" She pointed to a picture of Mamon.

Grimaldi shook his head. "No... she will never part with him."

She clung tighter. "I'm sorry I forgot, I'm sorry..."

He wanted to shrug her away, wanted her out of his way, but he stood there, her soft body curled around him, her pink young lips kissing his back, rubbing her nose across his jacket.

"You'd better go, I've got to get ready. We're trying out some new plinths — the cats could get tetchy!"

She slung her coat around her shoulders and picked up her headdress. "Okay, I'll be by later, can we have dinner?"

"Sure."

She stared at his back, waiting for him to turn, but he didn't. She sighed, opening the trailer door. "Be about nine, Luis?"

"Yes, nine's fine... see you then."

"I'll talk to her with you if you like!"

"No... no that won't be necessary, I'll work it out."

He sighed with relief when the door closed, and then bowed his head. "You stupid bastard, what the hell are you getting into!" he asked himself.

Another glass and the bottle was half empty. He stared at the wall of photographs. Tina was such a child, he was old enough to be her father, he laughed to himself, her grandfather even. He lit a cigar knowing he should be going across to the arena, but he couldn't move. The more he drank the more each photograph recalled his past. He glanced at Ruda riding Mamon, as if he were drawn back to that single memory more than the others. He leaned over and took it down, ran his fingers across her face, and then smashed the frame against the side of the table. "I've got to get to the arena," he kept on telling himself — but he couldn't move. It was as if the brandy were reopening the scar down the length of his body, opening it stitch by stitch until he felt on fire.

It had been late afternoon, in the winter quarters in Florida. He had watched her working the act, saw she was making extraordinary strides, knew he should have been in the ring with her. He saw her lifting the hoop, training Mamon to leap through it; the fire was lit on top, and Mamon jumped like the Angel she called him. Next, he watched her edging the padding for the flames further and further around the hoop, each time Mamon leapt through. Now the entire hoop was alight. Mamon hesitated, and then he jumped straight through it. She hugged Mamon as if he were a puppy dog!.. and the hands standing around watching applauded and cheered. Mamon began a slow lope around the arena, and then on a command he moved closer and closer.

Luis had watched, genuine interest mingled with envy, as she held on to the massive creature's mane of thick black fur, and then sat astride him. One of the boys had taken the photograph, not Luis, but it was as clear a picture in his mind as it was in the frame. The way she had tossed back her head and laughed that deep, wonderful, full-bellied laugh; he had never been able to make her laugh like that, had never witnessed her so free, so exhilarated, and he was consumed with jealousy.

Mamon was Ruda's baby, Ruda's aggressive, terrifying love. She worshiped him, and Luis knew she was too close to him, that no trainer should get so involved with an animal. The danger was that the animal could become too possessive of her, that when she was working with the other cats, and she fondled one, or gave it a treat, the cat could become jealous and in his jealous rage he would attack.

Ruda and Grimaldi had argued about her training of Mamon. He had insisted she must refrain from treating him as if he were a pet. "He is a killer, a perfect killing machine — if you forget what he is, then you put yourself in danger."

She had smirked at him, insinuated that he was jealous because he was too afraid even to get into the ring with Mamon — he was jealous of the way she was handling him. He had turned to her angrily. "Wrong, Ruda. What I'm trying to do is to make you see. You treat Mamon differently — all the other cats you're working as I taught you, but with that bastard you constantly give in to him. What you refuse to see is that he is dominating you, and lemme tell you, the first, the very first moment he sees he has you, he will attack. You must not treat Mamon differently, because he will think he is stronger than you."

Ruda had stood in sullen silence before she had answered. "Mamon is different, I understand him, and he understands me."

Luis had shaken his head in disbelief. "You are being naive, childish and foolish. He is not human, he is an animal!"

She had walked out, giving him one of her snarls, twisting her face. "Maybe I am one, too..."

But Ruda knew Luis was right, and she made an effort not to be so familiar, not to spend so much time with Mamon. Still, he was the one she could train faster than the others.

They had introduced two more lionesses, and allowed Mamon to mate with both of them. Ruda watched him being released into the compound, she looked at his powerful body as he loped around the two lionesses, courted and showed himself off. The three disappeared into the huts, and she had sat outside all night, waiting. Luis had told her she should stay away from him the following morning, he would be all male, all animal — wild.

Mamon had sauntered out as the sun rose, his head low, his massive paws holding a steady rhythm. His eyes caught the sun like amber lamps and Ruda stood up, her hands on the netting. Mamon got up on his hind legs and roared, and she could feel his hot breath on her face. "You perform well, my love? You screw the arses off them, did you? Who's a beautiful boy!"

He brushed past her against the netting, and then loped off to drink at the trough, turning with water dripping from his mouth to see if she was still watching.

Both lionesses were pregnant, and Ruda watched over them until the births. Two female Bengals were pregnant, and one Siberian; she had her time cut out watching over the cubs, and began to see less and less of Mamon. He became distant, defiant, more and more uncontrollable. Luis blamed Ruda, but she refused any assistance. Working in the ring with sixteen tigers, two lionesses and two lions, she was still confident she could control her Angel.

Luis had been right behind her the first time she had taken over the main part of the act. Twice Luis broke up squabbles between two Bengals, but Ruda seemed to have the act under good control, until Sasha misjudged a leap and fell. She reared up as Jonah, a massive Bengal, tried to attack her, and Sasha fought back and somehow caught her right paw in the top of the meshing. Her claw held firm, and she hung, paws off the ground — open and vulnerable — as the tigers, only too ready for a scrap, moved in for a hoped-for kill.

Luis shouted for pliers to be brought — and fast — and helped Ruda force the rest of the cats back into their positions on the plinths.

The lions remained seated, with Mamon at the top of the pyramid, seeming to survey the situation. Luis kept up his commands as Ruda obeyed him. The clippers were brought and with Ruda moving in front of Luis to cover for him, he unclipped the wire caught in Sasha's claw. She was away fast, unharmed, lashing out a warning to the others not to come near her.

"Keep them in position, Ruda... Hold the positions, Ruda!"

She faced the cats, sweating, her whole body on fire with adrenaline. Sasha shook her head, became very vocal but moved back into position. The danger was over, and Luis at Ruda's side put his arm around her; he was smiling.

"Okay... you did okay...!"

That was the moment Mamon chose to make his attack. He sprang down from the twenty-foot-high plinth, his body seeming hardly to touch the ground as he sprang again. Both front paws caught Luis in the chest, he was thrown back against the railings, but he was up on his feet again fast. Mamon's right front paw ripped through Luis's shirt, cutting open his chest, before he dragged Luis forward. Luis's face was close to the massive jaws, and Ruda, clinging to Mamon's mane, screamed commands. She lashed out with the whip, and Mamon turned his attention to her, stalked her, but she commanded him to move off. Turning on her heels to keep the rest of the cats in her eyesight, she screamed out: "RED A-Gmamon... RED!"

Luis's hands clutched the open wound of his chest as he backed toward the trap gate. He managed to stay on his feet, still ordering Ruda to get the cats in line ready to be herded out, before he collapsed half in and half out of the trap gate. Mamon went for him again, Luis's own blood dripping down his jaws as, snarling, Mamon shook him like a rag doll, his teeth cutting through Luis's leather belt, ripping open his belly, trying to drag him like a piece of meat further into the arena. The boys got him out just in time.

When Ruda got the cats back down the traps to their cages, Luis was already aboard the ambulance and on his way to the emergency room. She arrived at the hospital shortly after he was brought out of the operating room. His wound had taken one hundred and eighty-four stitches: He had been ripped from his throat to his groin. He remained in intensive care for eight days, as the wound festered and he suffered blood poisoning.

Ruda was at his bedside when he regained consciousness. His voice was barely audible as he told her to shoot Mamon... that he had warned her that cat would do something like this. She had wept, promised she would get rid of him, had even lied to him at other visiting times, saying that Mamon was gone, that the most important thing was for Luis to get well.

Grimaldi had recovered slowly, very slowly; the wound constantly reopened and he suffered from persistent infections — caused by rancid meat caught between Mamon's claws. Luis's weight plummeted, he caught hepatitis, and then pneumonia put him back on the critical list. The hospital bills took every penny he had. Ruda worked as hard as she could, but nothing covered the costs of the feeding and winter quarters. Ruda began to sell off the cubs — sell anything she could lay her hands on; some of the cats were the prize of the Grimaldi act, but she had no choice. The bills kept on coming in, even though many of Grimaldi's friends rallied around and helped.

Grimaldi's chief assistant went to visit him in the hospital, and announced that he was quitting. It was a severe blow; they had been together for thirty years. It was not the fact that his wages had not been paid, that he could understand. What he could not deal with — and refused even to clean out his cage — was Mamon. Ruda, he told Luis, had never made any attempt to get rid of him — when buyers came, he was towed to the back of the quarters.

As sick as he was, Luis had ranted and raged at her: Why had she lied to him? Lost him a man he had worked with for all those years! Ruda had listened with eyes lowered so he couldn't see her expression, and then had said it was not Mamon's fault; he had been vicious because he had an abscess on his tooth, and since it had been removed he was as gentle as a lamb!

Grimaldi languished in the hospital as the bills mounted. Ruda came less often, claiming she was too busy trying to keep a roof over their heads. She did succeed in retaining nine of the cats — and Mamon, of course.

On his release from the hospital, she had driven Grimaldi back to the quarters. He was determined to see the cats, and with the aid of a cane he had walked from cage to cage.

"Where is he?... Where is he?"

She had stepped back, warning him, "Don't you touch him. I mean it, Luis, don't touch him."

He had pushed her aside, determined to find him, and she had stood guard over the cage, arms outstretched. "Please don't Luis... please, I have never asked you for anything in my life, but don't touch him."

Mamon was lying like a king, yawning, as Luis stared at him. Grimaldi turned away and limped to their trailer. Ruda called out that she would show him just what a sweetheart Mamon was, told him to watch from the trailer window. He got the shotgun then, could have shot him, but instead he had watched her, been afraid for her, loved her, and watched... until the fear crept up along the jagged scar, a fear that had crippled him since that time. He had never been in the ring since, and Mamon had proved him wrong. He had never mauled or attacked Ruda, but she had never forgotten Luis's words. She used everything he had ever taught her, and went beyond it, working out her own methods and her own commands. Even if Luis could make it back into the ring now, she would have to teach him a new act, the complete new set of commands she now used.

As for Mamon, he was both an obsession and a constant test of Ruda's capabilities. The controller and the controlled; theirs was a strange battle of wills that thrilled her beyond anything she could have imagined. Mamon was the lover she could never take, and they had achieved the perfect union, one of total respect. But she knew if she broke their bond, if she weakened, gave him an opening, he would attack her. She liked that.

Luis stared in the mirror at his bloodshot eyes, began to clean his teeth, angry at himself for drinking so much. He heard the trailer door bang, and he sighed, hoping it wasn't Tina again.

"Yeah! What is it?"

Mike's voice called out, and intuitively Grimaldi knew something was wrong, he ran out of the small bathroom. The boy was panting, waving his hat around. "You'd better come over to the arena, she's having a really tough time. It's those new plinths."

Grimaldi ran with Mike across to the big tent, Mike gasping out that it couldn't have come at a worse time, the big boss was in, up in the gallery looking over the rehearsals.

Hans Schmidt, wearing a fur-lined camel coat, sat back in his seat, his pudgy hands resting on a silver-topped cane. Below him, way below, he could see the main ring, the cages erected and the caged tunnel. The spotlights were on, and Ruda's figure seemed tiny as she turned, calling out to the cats.

Mr. Kelm eased into the vacant seat next to Hans Schmidt. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"This Kellerman business, has it been cleared up?"

"I don't know, sir, the Polizei were here, I told you. I gave them every assistance possible, but I heard they asked Mrs. Grimaldi to identify him this afternoon!"

Schmidt nodded his jowled head, his eyes focused on the ring. "Very disturbing, bad publicity... very bad!"

"Yes, I know, but I'm sure it'll all be cleared up."

"It better be. This is the costliest show to date. What do you think of the Kellerman woman?"

"She's stunning, I've seen parts of her act in Italy and Austria, she is very special."

"Doesn't look so hot now..."

Kelm peered down, and then told Schmidt about the new plinths, that the animals were playing up, they always did with new props. Schmidt stood up. "Jesus God, is that part of the act?" Kelm looked down to see the cats milling around Ruda, he nodded his head and then waited as she did the jump, spinning on the tigers' backs. Schmidt applauded. "I have never seen anything like it... she must be insane!"

Kelm nodded again, his glasses glinting in the darkness. "She takes great risks."

Ruda felt her muscles straining as she lifted one plinth on top of the other; the sweat was streaming off her, her hands in their leather gloves were clammy. She backed the tigers up... gave the command for them to keep on the move, and then tried for the third time to get them seated in the simple pyramid... they went up to the plinths, hesitated, and turned away.

"Goddamn you... HUP RED ED ED ED ED!! DDDDDDDDD! ROJA!" She knew if Roja obeyed her the rest would follow, but he was playing up badly. She was exhausted. Grimaldi moved slowly to the rails, asked if she was okay, and she backed toward him.

"The owners are up in the main viewing box, it's been mayhem... but I think I'm winning. Can you give me the long whip?"

Luis passed it through the bars. She took it from him without looking and began again, her voice ringing around the arena.

"RED-RED-BLUE SASHA BLOOOOOOOOOOOOot... good girl, good girl, ROJA UP... YUP YUP Red!!!.. thatta good boy... good boy..."

Luis kept watch as she got them at last onto the plinths, leaving one vacant ladder to the top.

Ruda gave the signal, the tigers remained on their plinths as she gave a mock bow, looked to the right, to the left. The gates opened... in came one male lion, and a beat after she heard the click again and knew the second one was hurtling down the tunnel.

The two lions came to her, one to her right side, one to her left, and she herded and cajoled them onto the lower seats. They were unsure, backed off... but they were not as uneasy as the tigers.

She gave the signal, and Mamon, spotlighted in the long tunnel, came out at a lope. Ruda pretended she did not know he was there. Mamon was trained to come up behind her, to nudge her with his nose, and then in mock surprise she would jump — onto his back! She had a semicircle to go before she gave him the second section command. The act centered on Mamon's refusing to do as he was told; it was always a great deal of fun, the audience roaring their approval as Mamon played around.

Mamon refused, once, twice... Ruda called out to him but he swung his head low. Again she gave him the command: "UP... ma'angel up Mamon..."

Mamon refused the jump. He began to prowl around the back of the tigers. They got edgy, started hissing, and then two of them began to fight. Ruda called out "DOWN," herding them out, leaving Mamon to her right. They behaved well, moving back down the tunnel, but Mamon refused to leave.

Luis waited, watching, swearing to himself about the plinths, but it was too late now. Ruda gave the signal for Mike to lock on, to get the cats herded back into their cages. She was going to have to work Mamon with the new plinths, cajoling and talking to him, all the while trying to get him on the lower plinth. He refused, sniffing, unsure, smelling, circling, giving a low-bellied growl.

"Come on, baby... up up... YUP RED RED RED RED!"

Mamon lay down, ignoring her, staring at her. She stood with her hands on her hips. They eyed each other, and Ruda waited.

High up at the back of the main circle, Tina sat eating a bag of potato chips, watching as Ruda sat on one of the plinths, patting it with her hand, softly encouraging Mamon to come to her. He refused. Ruda checked the time, knew she was running over, and suddenly stood up. "Angel... ANGEL UP, come on — UP!"

Mamon slowly got to his feet, walked very, very slowly to the new plinth, sniffed it, walked around it, and just as slowly eased himself up and sat.

Ruda looked at him, "You bastard, now stop playing around... UYUP BLOOOOOOOO."

He shook his head, and then just as slowly mounted the blue plinth. He sat. Ruda encouraged him, flattered and cajoled him until he had sat on each plinth, sniffed it — twice he pissed over them. He was in no hurry, his whole motion was slow, leisurely, constantly looking to Ruda as if to say: "I'll do it. But in my time."

Ruda gave him the command for his huge jump down; he hesitated and then reared up and sprang forward, heading straight for Ruda. Tina dropped her bag of chips as she stood up, terrified.

Ruda shouted at Mamon, pointing the whip. "Get back... back!.."

Mamon paid no attention. Ruda spoke sharply to him — and suddenly he turned. Grimaldi gasped as the massive animal churned up the sawdust. Now he was not playing, now he was the star attraction. In wonderfully coordinated jumps he sprang from plinth to plinth, showing off, until he reached the highest point. Then he lifted up his front paws and struck out at the air.

By the time Mamon was moving back down the tunnel, Ruda had unhooked the latch to let herself out of the arena.

She slumped into a seat, taking the proferred handkerchief from her husband to wipe her face. He sat next to her and she could smell the brandy.

"That was tough going!"

"You said it, Luis. I am going to need double rehearsal time before we open, you could see! They're all over the place, they hate those bloody plinths. I hate them!"

"It was your idea to get new ones, I warned you but you wouldn't listen."

"I said get them the same fucking colors. These are too bright!"

They argued and Tina looked on. Her vision of herself taking over the act had paled considerably. She watched as Grimaldi and the boys began to dismantle the arena cages, then she went over to the horses and got ready for their practice. Grimaldi hadn't even looked in her direction.

Ruda was still in a foul mood, and exhausted, when she walked into the freezer trailer. She began chopping up the meat for the cats'

feed. By the time Mike appeared, still wearing the hat, she had all the trays ready.

"The arena cages are stacked, we got two extra hours tomorrow."

"That's marvelous, this'll be a nightmare. You saw them, they were all acting up."

Mike shrugged, giving a funny cockeyed smile. "But you handled them. Word is that Schmidt was impressed! You want me to take the feed through?"

Ruda shook her head. "No, I'll do it, just double-check that their straw is clean, their cages ready."

"Okay, will you need me later tonight? I reckon if I get their night feed set out — me and a few of the lads want to go around to the clubs."

"I hope not in that hat. Where did you get it?"

"Oh, I found it, it was in here."

Ruda smiled. "Well, just leave it, will you? It's one of Luis's I kept here so he wouldn't wear it, it's disgusting."

Mike tossed Kellerman's hat aside. "Sorry, it was just that it was pissing down earlier... Oh, about this guy Kellerman."

Ruda froze, staring at the blood-red meat.

"Somebody said he was a dwarf, used to work the circus, is that right?"

Ruda nodded.

Mike flushed slightly. "He was found in East Berlin, one of the lads told me he had been murdered."

Ruda lifted the trays. "Yes, he was, we had to go and identify him today. You ever meet him?"

Mike shrugged, shaking his head. "Nope... I don't know anything about him, just that I know he used to be your husband."

"Yes he was, a long time ago."

Mike watched her carry the trays down between the trailers, stacking them onto a trolley. She returned for the next batch and said sharply: "You going to stand watching me work or are you going to earn your pay?"

"Oh, sorry."

Mike began to place more feed trays out, and Ruda worked alongside him, until suddenly she banged down an empty tray. "Mike, if you've got something to say, why don't you come out with it?"

He flushed pink, unable to tell her what was bothering him. He was sure he had seen Kellerman the day he died, but he said nothing. She continued heaving out the hunks of meat. "Maybe you can feed Sasha and the two buggers with her."

"Okay," he said, already carrying out the second batch of feed. Ruda picked up Kellerman's hat and put it into her bag, then continued heaping the meat into the trays. Mike was still watching her and she banged down a tray.

"Okay, I married Tommy Kellerman — I needed a marriage certificate for a visa for the United States. Tommy offered it, I accepted, I went to the United States. End of marriage — or is that fertile imagination of yours working overtime?"

He laughed, and then paused at the open door.

"More kids arriving for the tour of the cages! Look at the little gawking creeps."

Ruda walked with Mike to the loaded trolley. Stacking the last of the big trays, she chatted nonchalantly. "There was one of those kids hanging around the cages the other afternoon, did you see me talking to him? Only came up to my waist, trying to put his hand into Mamon's cage. I had to give him a ticking off. Did you see him?"

Mike grinned. "I remember, yeah. It was a kid then, was it? I wondered, you know..." He went on with his business and called to her that he would return as soon as he parked the trays. Ruda returned to the freezer. Mike was now sorted out, he hadn't known it was Kellerman with her, and now that she had the little bastard's hat, she was safe.

Ruda stared at her hands, her red-stained fingers, the blood trickling down almost to her elbows. She was thinking of Tommy, seeing his crushed, distorted face on the morgue table, and she whispered: "I'm sorry I broke our pact, Tommy, but you just wouldn't stop."

It was as if he were calling out to her from the cold marble slab in the morgue, calling to her the way he used to when she teased him, but hearing his voice in her mind, hearing it now, made her feel a terrible guilt, like a burning heat it swamped her.

"Don't turn the light out, Ruda, please leave the light on!"