Story of a Sociopath

  “Come in, I’m making supper. I hope you like fish. I’m just about to put the bass into the oven. I’ve got something to eat while we’re waiting as well. I’ve just opened a Ribera. You’ll like it.”

  I liked it. I didn’t know much about Spanish wine, but I found that it lost nothing in comparison with the French varieties.

  While the bass was cooking slowly in the oven Blanca decided to play the piano.

  “Do you like Chopin?” she asked expectantly.

  “My father loved opera, and when we were old enough he took my brother and me to the Met every now and then to see productions. And he took us to classical music concerts, but I can’t tell Chopin from Mozart.”

  Blanca laughed, not believing what I was saying. But it was true. I remembered with annoyance the times when John had tried to get the whole family to go with him to the Met. Jaime listened attentively. My mother was very still and appeared to be listening, but I, who knew her well, could see that she was bored. And as for me, I would always fall asleep as a way of expressing my disapproval.

  But I liked listening to Blanca play. She shut her eyes and slid her fingers over the keys, pulling out notes that filled the room with sound. She didn’t look at me; she seemed caught up in the music, separated from anything that was not her or the piano.

  “Well, I think the bass will be ready by now,” she suddenly said, coming back to reality.

  We drank the bottle of wine as well as a couple of gin and tonics that I made.

  Blanca was different. Free. She radiated freedom.

  I couldn’t help comparing her with Esther, and Esther came out badly. She’s soppy and predictable, I thought. Quite the opposite of Blanca, who looked at you with a smile that seemed to be telling you to get ready for the next surprise.

  I missed the plane to London. We had only gone to sleep at dawn. I woke up as Blanca shook my arm.

  “It’s nine o’clock! I have to go to class, I’ll be late. Close the door when you leave.”

  And she left the room without a single gesture of affection, as though the night that had just passed had dissolved into the cold of the morning. She was a practical girl. She didn’t ask for more than she gave.

  My head didn’t hurt all that much. I went to the kitchen for some coffee. The pot was still warm and I poured myself what Blanca had left. Then I went to the hotel. The concierge gave me an envelope with the reports that I had asked for from my team. I asked him to find me a seat on the next flight to London.

  I was lucky. I would have time to make it to the meeting with Roy and the lawyers, which was arranged for the afternoon.

  When the secretary showed me into Brian Jones’s office, the first thing I saw was Roy and the other lawyer, Edward Brown, sitting at a little circular table a few feet away from Jones’s table. Bernard Schmidt was there as well.

  “So, here we all are,” I said in greeting.

  They all looked at me. There was contempt in Schmidt’s eyes, and anger in Roy’s. Jones and Brown looked aggressive.

  “Sit down, Mr. Spencer,” Brian Jones said.

  The informal “Thomas” had been replaced by a formal “Mr. Spencer.” It was clear that this would be a tough meeting.

  I sat down next to Roy in the only empty chair.

  There was a tea set on the table. Schmidt had a cup in his hands, and so did Edward Brown.

  “I’d love a coffee,” I said, knowing that it would annoy them.

  Jones didn’t even look at me. He pressed a button on the intercom and asked his secretary to bring some coffee.

  “Well, tell us what’s happening,” Brian Jones asked.

  “I’m not your man. I can work with you and for you on various projects, but I can’t be your employee. Mr. Schmidt has shown his disapproval of me from the get-go, and I think he’s right. I don’t serve you well here.” I’m sure they understood the literal meaning of “serve” as well: I was refusing to be their servant.

  Edward Brown spread his hands in a gesture that looked like a question and Brian Jones sat still, waiting for me to say something else. Roy took charge of the situation.

  “You’re going through a bad time because of your father. I understand that. But as far as I know he’s out of danger now, so you can come back to work.”

  “Yes, I’ll come back to work, but to the work I choose. I don’t want to be an employee. You said that I was ambitious,” I replied coldly.

  “What do you want, Spencer?” Schmidt spoke even more coldly than I did.

  “To leave. I don’t want to work for you, not like this. I’m going to set up my own agency and of course I’ll always be open to any interesting jobs you might send my way.”

  “We thought you were someone a little more…” Edward Brown didn’t finish the sentence.

  “More serious? You know that I refuse to work like this, to be ordered around. Mr. Parker wanted me to keep working for him, but you didn’t want to lose control of Roy. You defend your interests. I understand that. But I have my own interests and I’m not happy working for GCP. I want out. You don’t need me and I don’t need you either. And as for Spain…you’ve given me a very strange job.”

  Bernard Schmidt didn’t move a muscle, as though my words had no effect on him whatsoever. Brian Jones looked at me in surprise and Edward Brown looked off into the distance. It was Roy who asked the question:

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s already a Spanish agency working for the oil company that wants to drill off the coast. A well-known agency. Owned by someone close to the current government. It’s not the first time they’ve done this kind of thing. And they do a clean job. They’ve taken some journalists to look at oil rigs in the North Sea, to show them that extracting oil doesn’t have to mean an assault on the environment or any of the nonsense that the activists say. There have been articles and even reports on television in favor of the drilling in Andalusia. There are discussion programs on television and the radio in Spain where journalists on both sides of the political spectrum appear. They fight among themselves in the name of the politicians, defending each party’s position.”

  “How interesting,” said Brian Jones. “And are there no independent voices?”

  “There are always a few independent voices that nobody likes.”

  “You still haven’t explained yourself,” Roy said.

  “You get it, Roy, just as Schmidt and the lawyers do: you’ve hired me to do a job that someone else is already doing. Why?” I asked, looking at Schmidt.

  “We haven’t hired you to do the same job. You have to overcome resistance. I told you to take care of the journalists and environmentalists who are causing problems. To finish them.” Bernard Schmidt did not get angry, but there was something in his tone of voice that indicated just how much he disliked me.

  “The dirty work. Yes, that’s what you hired me to do. Reckless of you, I think. You know that I don’t know Spain very well. I visited for the first time only recently, and I haven’t been there for more than a week at a time. I speak Spanish, yes, but that’s it. What you’re asking me to do is difficult for someone who has to start from zero. A single false step could cause a scandal that would damage the interests of your clients. Or hadn’t you thought of that?”

  “You don’t have any contract with the company, there’s no way they could connect the two things,” Brian Jones said.

  “Of course they could. If rumors are being spread about the people opposed to the project, do you really think no one will ask why? Or that the people under attack will do nothing? Don’t underestimate your adversaries. Also, Spanish people work according to a different logic; they’re unpredictable.”

  “They’re like the others. Not any more valuable,” Schmidt said.

  “If you say so…In any case, I’m not going to risk my neck in a country I don’t know and where the penalties for an error would be extremely great. Let someone else do it.”

  “What are you saying?” Schmidt seemed on the
verge of losing patience.

  “That I’m not going to do the job you hired me to do. It’s that easy. I can do exactly what this Spanish agency that the oil company already hired is doing, but I won’t take a single step further. I can give you a list of the people who oppose the project, who they are, what they do, but it will have to be you who finishes them off. I cannot work in an environment I do not know. This job needs local people.”

  “Well, find those people,” Schmidt said.

  “I’m not going to improvise. I don’t know how to conquer ground I’m unfamiliar with. I’m brave, daring, I can break the rules, as I showed in Roy’s campaign, but I’m not suicidal. I’m not prepared to do what you want me to do in Spain.”

  There was a long silence. They seemed to be digesting my words. Even Roy looked thoughtful. I sat back, pleased with myself, but Bernard Schmidt wasn’t going to allow me my moment of glory.

  “You can’t be so simple,” Schmidt said, not with irony, but with scorn.

  I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t understand. Roy raised an eyebrow, waiting for the next attack, and the lawyers sat back expectantly.

  “You signed a contract, Mr. Spencer. You are obliged to work for us for the next five years. You can go, but you will have to compensate us,” Schmidt said.

  “You’re wrong. I didn’t sign that,” I said with more certainty than I felt.

  “Of course you did. Your contract has several clauses in it which it seems you did not bother to read,” Schmidt continued.

  “The five years and the compensation were a safeguard for both parties. Don’t try to play hardball with me, Schmidt, or it won’t be pretty. You want to stop me from going? How are you going to do it? You two are lawyers.” Here I looked at Jones and Brown. “You know there’s no such thing as an unbreakable contract. If you want us to take this to court, we can do that. You’ll play your cards and I’ll play mine.”

  “What are you suggesting, Thomas?” Roy asked worriedly.

  “I’m leaving the agency, without asking for anything and without anyone asking anything from me. I’ll keep the confidentiality clause and we’ll all be friends.”

  “You’ve got a good job here.” Roy seemed desperate.

  “I don’t think so. You want me to work with you and they…” I looked at Jones and Brown again. “They want you on a short leash, even if they have to crush me to get that. Mr. Schmidt was never okay with my involvement, but you pressured them and, because they still need you, they came up with this arrangement, one that really doesn’t satisfy either party. This doesn’t mean that I can’t work with you or with these gentlemen as far as you are concerned or on other issues. We can do it the easy way or the hard way, you decide.”

  Silence fell once again. Schmidt looked ready to jump at my throat, but Edward Brown made a gesture with his hand to say that he shouldn’t do anything. He was going to answer me.

  “Mr. Schmidt is right; we can make things difficult. Contracts are there to be fulfilled, Mr. Spencer. But we would all lose out if we got caught up in a fight. We don’t like useless battles. But before we talk about tearing up the contract, you have to do the Spain job.”

  “I don’t have the capacity to do it, I’ve told you already. You’ll have to find someone else.”

  “You are very obstinate,” Brian Jones said.

  “Nothing more than cautious. You haven’t given me a single explanation as to why there has been another agency working for the oil company for months already.”

  “You gave us the reason yourself earlier. They do the clean work and you have to do the dirty work. It’s your specialty.” Bernard Schmidt seemed to be spitting each word he said.

  “I don’t have any scruples, but I do have a survival instinct. I’m not accepting the job.”

  “You have to accept it, Thomas. These oil people…well, they supported me, they gave me money for the campaign. They gave me more than that…They’re expecting a lot from me. You’re my boy, I put you where you are today.”

  “No, Roy, I’m not your boy. You found me and I did your job. It worked out for you and you paid me. We’re even.”

  “You have to do me this favor.” Roy seemed to be begging.

  “I don’t mean shit to these friends of yours, and maybe I don’t mean shit to you, but I mean a great deal to my friends and I’m not going to put my head on the line.”

  “Give us a way out at least…Improvise, but do what’s expected of you,” Roy insisted.

  “I want to leave this office with a piece of paper in my hands that says I’m leaving the company amicably, that I’m not asking anything of anyone and no one’s asking anything of me. Then you can look for whoever you want or whoever can do this job you’re so desperate to get done. But I’m not going to be caught up in this. I’m going to be in the background. I’ll pull strings just enough to avoid being visible. If there’s the slightest suspicion that I’m being toyed with, then I will leave immediately. I will disappear and leave a time bomb waiting to blow.”

  Brian Jones and Edward Brown looked at each other and I saw smiles of relief cross their faces. I had just promised to carry on with the job. In my fashion, but I was going to carry on. I wouldn’t put myself on the line for them, but neither would I abandon ship.

  “All right, Mr. Spencer. We’ll do it like you want it done. We’ll sign the document of annulment tomorrow. Is that all right with you?” Brown asked.

  “I’d prefer to do it now. It shouldn’t be difficult for you to draw up. Shall I do it myself?” I asked defiantly.

  “Well, it’s past six already…There’s no reason for us not to draw up the document carefully and study it well,” Brian Jones said.

  “I’m in a hurry, Mr. Jones. If you want me to give you a hand in Spain, then it would be better for all of us if I got back there as soon as possible,” I insisted.

  Jones and Brown looked at Schmidt. They seemed to be looking for some kind of a signal before they accepted my arguments. Schmidt made a sign I didn’t know how to interpret.

  “Mr. Spencer, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow. We need a few hours to speak and clear things up amongst ourselves. You owe us this time.”

  Bernard Schmidt would not allow me to have everything my own way. I had to accept; they gave me no other option. They made an appointment for the next day at five p.m., fairly late by London standards.

  I left without shaking hands. Roy followed me. He seemed like an angry buffalo, breathing hard while we waited for the elevator. We didn’t speak until we were down in the street.

  He grasped me firmly by the arm and forced me to stop. I felt his fingers on my forearm and almost gave him a kick in the shin to make him relax his grasp.

  “Would you like me to invite you out for dinner?” I asked, ironically.

  “We can go anywhere. It’d be better to go back to your flat, where we can speak calmly.”

  “All right, we can get some pizza or Chinese. All I’ve got there is whiskey.”

  We walked in silence back to my place. It was raining, but neither of us was in a hurry, and so we got wet and didn’t complain.

  While Roy dried himself off in the bathroom I called a nearby pizzeria. I would have preferred to eat at a good restaurant, but it was clear that Roy wanted to speak. I poured a couple of whiskeys with water. The night was going to be a long one and I didn’t want to be knocked out by my first drink.

  Roy took a long swig then nearly threw the glass in my face.

  “What bullshit is this? Since when do you drink whiskey and water?”

  “We’ll speak first, then we’ll drink.”

  “Thomas, I don’t drink water.”

  “I don’t like it either, but we’ve got to start somewhere.”

  I didn’t relax. I didn’t want us to end up drunk before we’d even started talking. Roy was a compulsive drinker, like me. We couldn’t keep a full glass in our hands for all that long. The liquid would rapidly drain away and once we had started neither of us k
new how to stop.

  I tried to make small talk by asking him about how things were with Suzi. I didn’t want us to get into an argument before the pizza arrived. Only on a few occasions had I taken note of the advice that it’s a bad idea to drink on an empty stomach. This was one of those occasions.

  “We’re separated. We live together, but I have to sleep in the guest bedroom. She says that she’ll leave me when the kids are older. She may try to leave me earlier. If her father dies, then she won’t care anymore what people might say about him. And so I threaten her with taking the children if she thinks about trying to divorce me. I’ve lost everything, Thomas.”

  “You’ve lost Suzi, nothing else.”

  “I’ve lost her and I’ve lost my life. I’m like a guest in my own home. I’m lonely. I don’t have anyone to talk to about what I’m going through. Suzi was always near me, ready to give me advice, to take part in everything I needed her for. I feel a huge void without her there.”

  “Come on, Roy, you weren’t ever faithful to her. I know several girls who passed through your bed. We went to Madame Agnès’s house together, and there were several willing girls there.”

  “Yes, but here in London, never in the county, never with anyone she might know. Those girls were whores: expensive whores but whores nonetheless. They didn’t mean anything to me.”

  “You seemed to like the redhead,” I said, just to keep the conversation going until the food arrived.

  “I don’t even remember her name. These girls meant nothing to me, Thomas, they were pleasantly shaped pieces of meat. You spend a while with them and then bye-bye. You don’t expect anything from them; they don’t expect anything from you. Did they mean the same to you as Esther did? No, of course not, but you’re not going to miss the chance for a good fuck.”

  “Maybe things will sort themselves out. Give Suzi some time.”

  “You know her. She’ll never forgive me. And she hates you. She’d turn you into mincemeat if she could. She’ll never forget the blackmail.”

  “You blackmailed her, Roy. It was a question of your interests, not mine.”