A Legionnaire on His Own

Later, in Tina's apartment , I just sat there for a while thinking about this grey man with the thick glasses. But as much as I tried my brain cells, it was pretty hopeless to figure out who he was. A gangster boss? A boss's emissary? The emissary of an emissary?

No, I thought. Things got bigger. Provided he really meant what he said about half a million francs. But he seemed serious. I felt involuntarily to my chest where I wore the damn envelope with the five thousand mice. My thoughts were moving in a circle. And in the center of this damn circle was half a million. Here not some medium-heavy drug lord wanted to eliminate the competition. So the grey probably came from a completely different milieu. I had suspected it from the beginning.

Instinctive, so to speak. The gray one had something very correct.

Something civil servantlike, so to speak. And maybe he was. An official. An intelligence man who needed someone to get the hot potatoes out of his fire.

And why me? The question pounded in my skull at least five hundred times. Why me and not a top professional? The grey had to have aspects in his bill that I didn't know.

I felt the envelope again.

Five thousand bucks doesn't bind you to anything, I thought. So take it and use it. You've been thinking. That does your part of the job. I thought I did.

I would have wished it had been that simple, but of course I knew it was not. It all depended on who I was dealing with.

Perhaps they would also send me an angel of death if my answer was finally negative. Nobody could rule that out. And the other thing was the five hundred thousand francs. That was something. You could start over. On the other hand, I'm sure so did whoever did this job. But I wouldn't have minded. Nothing against half a million and nothing against starting over. I wouldn't have cared where. Australia or South America, it wouldn't have mattered.

Later, when Tina came home, I was still sitting there lost in thought.

What's the matter with you? Tina asked.

Nothing.

Oh, come on, something's up. I can see that in your face."

We've been together long enough to be able to read each other's noses. Tina was in her early twenties and I thought she was pretty. She always had her shoulder-length hair stuck together somehow, which gave her something practical, patent.

And so it was. She always knew what to do.

Her eyes were green-grey.

A pair of eyes that meant something to me.

You can't go on like this with you, she said. You hang around all day.

I took a deep breath and said nothing.

My thoughts were still miles away. I was wondering what to do with the offer the gray man had made me. Half a million... I just couldn't get that out of my head. Every man has his price, I am convinced of it. And maybe that was mine. I thought of the compensation I had received from the French state for my services in the Legion. Almost used up. Somehow I had never had a particularly lucky hand when it came to money. How long would it take to get half a million francs through? But that was a sum that would keep me afloat for a while. Probably more than that.

What do you think of something bourgeois? said Tina.

Huh?, I did. I looked at her, she looked back.

Her grey eyes looked at me. What are you talking about? I asked.

Of work. A job. I'm not talking about these shady business you call business, though.

Let's drop the subject, I waved off.

Let's drop the subject, she imitated me. You say that every time. She crossed her arms under her chest.

Next month the rent will go up.

I raised my eyebrows.

You haven't told me anything about that.

Well, I'll tell you right now. I tell you because I think that you could slowly contribute too. We live here together, after all. And I don't earn that much money to pull out trees.

All right, I said. How much do you need?

I didn't mean it like that.

It had been a long time since she'd asked me for money. She hated that, I knew it. So it was really urgent.

Okay, I said. A thousand?

Listen...

Two thousand?

I reached into the inside pocket of the jacket, took two notes from the envelope and put them on the table. It's all right, I said. You're entitled to the money. She stared at those two thousand bucks as if she'd never seen one of those. Then she looked at me the same way.

Where did you get this? she asked.

It doesn't matter, does it?

I want to know.

Do I ask you where your money comes from?

It's no secret.

I'm not asking you. So don't you ask me either!

That was a bit harsh. Brushier than I intended. But what was I supposed to do? Tell her it was a down payment on a hit? Then it would almost certainly be over between us. She wouldn't have understood that.

So if she thinks I pulled off some little scam. That was better than the truth.

She finally took the money and put it away. Then she smiled a little embarrassed, but in her very special, inimitable way. It was probably that smile I loved her for. I replied.

––––––––2

Three days later I met the grey man with the thick glasses again. It was around nine in the morning when he was at the door. Tina was already gone. Luckily. She worked in a café with a pastry shop and had an early shift today. I must have looked pretty sleepy when I opened the door to horror. He smiled fleetingly.

I was afraid they would be Jehovah's Witnesses, I said blatantly.

He obviously didn't think it was very funny.

Have you considered the matter? he asked without responding to my remark.

I just nodded.

Yes.

Well?

"I've come to the conclusion that I don't know enough about this yet.

Of course not. He made an indefinite gesture. Can I come in?

Sure.

We walked down the narrow hallway into the living room. He sat down in one of the much too bulky chairs.

You'll get an advance, he explained, as if I'd already agreed. He seemed like a good judge of character. Anyway, he knew I bit and hung on his hook. I had eaten his bait and there probably wasn't much point in continuing to deny it. I decided to accept it. As a fact.

How much? I asked.

A hundred thousand. Set up a Swiss bank account. We'll wire it in.

I want two hundred thousand.

The grey slightly distorted the thin-lipped, bloodless mouth.

There is no room for manoeuvre. Make a note of that. He raised his hands. I also find my offer very generous.

All right, I said. Actually, one should always be particularly suspicious of generous offers. I'm sorry it wasn't me. But it probably wouldn't have helped if it had been me.

Who tells you I won't take the hundred thousand and leave with it - without doing anything for it?

You won't do that. I wouldn't recommend it to you anyway. Believe me, we'd track you down anywhere. They wouldn't be safe from us anywhere. So you better forget about that thought.

I had a feeling he was right.

It was just a question, I said.

He nodded and even seemed understanding to me.

I know.

I took a deep breath. Who is it about?

About a Russian.

There's 150 million of them. I'd like to be a little more specific.

Of course. The gray one bent over. He's a nuclear scientist. A great number of the former Soviet Union, which now sees a chance to earn a golden nose.

I've heard of such things. But more than rumours hardly ever get out into the open.

Go to a scientific congress, say for rocket technicians or nuclear physicists. It's like a contact centre.

And this man is so important?

Yes.

In what country will he earn his money in the future?

It doesn't matter to you. Anyway, you and I will sleep better if he never gets there."

I see...

There were certainly enough potential prospective buyers who wanted to buy out one or two pieces of fillet from the bankruptcy assets of the red giant empire. From the Middle East to the Maghreb and South America.

What you're going to do will be in all our interests, the Grey explained, as if he had to remove any scruples from me. He himself didn't seem to be bothered anyway, as cold as he presented himself to me.

Now I understand the high price you pay, I replied.

His face remained unmoved.

So?

The man who does this job will then be chased around the globe by some secret service.

Not unless there's a connection between those involved. You're a blank slate. You have one chance.

Slowly I thought I understood in outline what kind of game was being played here. On the other hand - with half a million in your pocket you could play dead man for quite a while and disappear somewhere until the air was clear.

But that was one thing that needed to be well planned.

He raised his thin eyebrows a little bit and then said: I asked if you had a gun before.

I don't have any.

Then I'll get you one.

Good.

I had decided to go through with it. I don't know what would have happened if I refused. I really don't have the slightest idea...

Do you have a picture of the guy? I asked.

Get everything.

When?

Along with the gun.

The grey rose.

I wondered again who I was dealing with, who was behind the man with the bottle glasses on his nose. Many came into question. The Israeli secret service Mossad, perhaps, if it was an Arab country to which the Russians were drawn. But as far as I knew about it, the Mossad liquidated it himself.

What about the CIA?

There were certainly a number of interested parties who intended to prevent the transfer of a Russian nuclear crack at any price. And if I had known the country this man wanted to serve, I would probably have been a lot smarter.

But the grey man knew that, too, and that's why he wouldn't tell me a word about it.

I walked him to the door.

It was not particularly skilful of you to come to this apartment, I rebuked him.

He raised his eyebrows and looked at me through his bottle glass.

Why not?

I don't want to drag Tina into this.

Why would that happen?

Don't play dumb. You know that as well as I do.

Do you think I'm an idiot? Then I don't understand why you want to work for me!

Anyway, I don't want it to happen again, I certainly explained.

Don't worry, we saw each other for the last time today, he told me.

And what will happen now?

Set up an account in Zurich within the next fortnight. I'll call you then.

And the gun?

You will get.

He left the apartment. I ran to the window and waited to see him appear somewhere down the street. I almost wanted to give up when I saw him. He looked around several times. A taxi came up, stopped and he got in. I remembered the number - both the car number and the phone number of the taxi company, which was oversized on the side doors.

I went to the phone and called.

The company was called Rentdorff. Afterwards it was no problem to find out the address and so I got into my rusty Volvo to pay a little visit to this taxi company.

I finally came to a simple asphalt yard where I parked my car. One of the taxis was there with the bonnet open. I saw the lower half of a back and two legs. The rest leaned over the engine and seemed to be busy quite intensively. I stepped a little closer.

I'm looking for Rentdorff, I opened.

Get in the house, it growled out from under the hood. I shrugged my shoulders and passed him and his cab.

The house was a grey, unadorned building whose exterior plaster had cracks in several places. The door was half open.

I knocked.

Yes, what is it?

It was an energetic, commanding woman's voice barking at me. The dragon of the company or something like that.

With two steps I was in a kind of office and faced a rather buxom forty-something woman who was sitting on a wheelchair and swirling around to me.

Who are you? she asked, then took a radio call and looked at me very critically.

I waited until she was finished.

After all, the number I was trying to pull should have the greatest possible effect.

I pulled my badge out of her