The Liar

  ‘The artist they like to use is actually a German, sir. Sets up his stall under the name of Alberich Golka.’

  ‘I see. And is this man, I wonder, fat at all?’

  ‘Very fat, sir. That’s about the only thing we know about him. He’s fat, he’s German and he’s very expensive.’

  ‘So this costly, full-figured Teuton was employed by the Hungarians to intercept Mendax and, it seems, to kill anyone remotely connected with it. I return to my original question. Why? Why kill Moltaj?’

  ‘Well, sir, it’s what killers do. They kill.’

  ‘Only to order. Why order this Golka to kill an innocent violinist?’

  Simon shrugged politely; Humphrey and Lady Helen shifted themselves into a more upright position, like churchgoers demonstrating their attentiveness to a sermon; Sir David Pearce yawned; Stefan gazed forlornly out of the window and Dickon Lister continued to bar the door. Adrian wondered when attention was going to be paid to him.

  ‘I ask myself,’ said Trefusis, ‘why people are ever murdered. They are murdered for reasons of revenge, retribution and rage. They are murdered as a means of winning secrecy and silence, they are murdered to satiate a psychotic lust and/or to achieve a material gain. None of these grounds satisfactorily explains the immense expenditure of monies and risk that was involved in putting a period to the existence of a harmless Hungarian fiddler. Consider too the manner of the murder. So grisly, so public, so violent, so uncomely.’

  ‘Perhaps the killer didn’t like his face,’ suggested Pearce.

  ‘Oh, but it was a lovely face. No, there is only one motive that strikes me as necessary and sufficient. Moltaj’s murder was directed at me.’

  ‘Golka mistook him for you, sir? That’s hardly …’

  ‘No, no, Simon. I meant precisely what I said. Moltaj was murdered at me, to frighten me.’

  Sir David rose, stretched and made his way to the sideboard.

  ‘More of this wine anyone?’ he called out to no one in particular.

  ‘Yes please,’ said Adrian.

  Sir David ignored him, poured himself a glass and resumed his seat. Adrian flushed and scrutinised his shoelaces.

  ‘I believe,’ continued Trefusis,’ that the killing of Moltaj was designed to impress upon me the savage and remorseless lengths to which the Hungarians were prepared to go in order to acquire Mendax. If they mean to kill for it, I was supposed to say to myself, then I had better let them have it at once. But what a footling stratagem! I am not, I hope, so old and feeble an old quiz as all that. If I was truly scared – and I must pause here to assure you that indeed I was as pitifully afraid as ever I have been – then surely the natural course of action for me to have taken would have been to deliver the Mendax papers to Sir David and to rely on his department for protection. The Hungarians are not the kind to set murderers on one’s tail simply to exact revenge. They are not MI 5, for heaven’s sake. Then again, nor are they such idiots as to imagine that they could ever panic me into giving Mendax to them, they could only panic me into giving it to my own people. That is when I realised, of course, that this is precisely what was intended. I was meant to be cowed into presenting Mendax not to the Hungarians, but to Sir David Pearce. Sir David Pearce had been running Golka. Sir David Pearce had ordered the death of Moltaj as a means of frightening me out of the game and Sir David Pearce had ordered the identical death of Martin Szabó that he might maintain his fiction of bloodthirsty Hungarians running riot throughout Salzburg.’

  ‘I’ll call for a nurse,’ said Sir David. ‘You lot keep him talking. And for God’s sake humour the poor bastard before he turns violent.’

  Trefusis dipped his head sorrowfully. ‘No, David, I don’t think anyone will be calling for nurses. Not just now.’

  Sir David met the stares of the others in silence and then burst into laughter.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake, look at you all! You can’t possibly be serious! The man’s babbling and you know it.’

  ‘Perhaps we should ask Golka,’ said Trefusis.

  ‘Ooh, yes, what a good idea. Let’s ask Golka. Or Florence Nightingale perhaps, or the Nabob of Bhandipur.’

  ‘Well, Golka?’ said Trefusis. ‘You are the one who did the killing. Perhaps you could tell us on whose orders?’

  Lister did not alter his expression at all. He shifted his weight from his right to his left leg and remained silent.

  Adrian felt his gut churning. Ten minutes ago he had not imagined getting out of this session with his integrity unscathed, now he was beginning to doubt that he would get out of it alive.

  Simon Hesketh-Harvey coughed and raised a tentative hand.

  ‘Um, excuse me, sir. I hate to seem dim, but are you suggesting that Lister is Golka?’

  ‘Oh, there can be no doubt of that. I recognise him, you see.’

  ‘Mm. He’s … not very fat though, is he, sir?’

  ‘Well of course not. Such a noticeable thing to be, isn’t it, fat? Far from ideal, one might therefore think, for the successful pursuit of the dreadful trade Golka has chosen. But you see, while a fat man can never make himself thin, a thin man may easily make himself fat.’

  ‘Padding, do you mean, sir?’

  ‘Quite. His face might not properly match the corpulence of his body, but it is not uncommon, after all, to see men who are fatter in frame than in feature. Is that not right, Mr Lister?’

  Lister said nothing.

  Adrian stared at him, trying to picture where on his person a gun might be concealed. Or his knives.

  ‘Are you absolutely certain, sir? I mean …’

  ‘Oh for God’s sake!’ exploded Sir David, his voice setting the bells of the gilt and porcelain clock on the wall to chime. ‘You work to me Hesketh-Pisshead-Harvey! You sir me, do you understand? You do not sir this sack of rotting tweed. You sir me!’

  Simon did not turn to look at Pearce during this outburst. ‘As you say, sir,’ he said stolidly. ‘You are suggesting then, Professor, that in order to acquire Mendax, Sir David hired Golka?’

  ‘Yes, because he has been operating privately, I think. He wants Mendax for himself. A supplement to the nugatory pension he might expect from his masters. If he had succeeded in frightening me into offering Mendax to Her Majesty’s Government, he would have made sure, I have no doubt, that Golka crashed the handover and took Mendax away, apparently from the both of us. It had to look like the Hungarians had won, you understand.’

  ‘This is so stupid of you, Donald,’ said Sir David. ‘So very stupid. You see, if your analysis is correct, I already have one half of Mendax, the half that Lister took from Martin this afternoon. It seems natural that I should trouble you for the other half.’

  ‘Oh but you don’t have one half of Mendax, David. That is the whole point. I have both halves.’ Trefusis looked down at the two radio sets on the table in front of him.

  Adrian watched as Uncle David’s eyes froze into a momentary stare of panic before slowly relaxing into a smile.

  ‘Bad bluff, Donald. V. bad bluff.’

  ‘I am afraid not. You see, there is something else of which you and Lister or Golka – whichever he prefers – are in ignorance. Walton’s First Law.’

  ‘Oh hell!’ said Humphrey Biffen suddenly.

  Everyone turned to stare at him.

  ‘Ever since you mentioned the Third Law I’ve been sitting here racking my brains trying to remember the others,’ said Biffen with an apologetic shake of the head. ‘I remember Two and Four of course, but what on earth was One?’

  ‘Oh come on, Humpty!’ his wife nudged him playfully. ‘“Whatever is on the person is not true.” How could you forget?’

  ‘Oh yes!’ cried Biffen with satisfaction. ‘I am an old fool. So sorry, Donald.’

  ‘My dear fellow, not at all. Lady Helen is of course quite right. “Whatever is on the person is not true.” I wonder, Sir David, if you ever listen to the little wireless essays with which from time to time I infest the air waves? They may be heard
domestically every Saturday morning on Radio 4. They are also broadcast around the globe by the BBC World Service.’

  ‘I know that. Anyone who’s ever tried to listen to the cricket knows that. To their bored cost.’

  ‘Ah, then it is possible that you heard this week’s essay? It was transmitted in Europe this morning at oh three hundred hours and again at fifteen hundred this afternoon.’

  ‘Yes, I heard it,’ said Sir David. ‘By God, this had better be leading somewhere.’

  ‘Indeed it is. You might recall a reference to a chaffinch in my piece. Chaffinch is my name for Martin Szabó. Stefan here is Coaltit, I am Bald Eagle, Adrian is Lyre Bird.’

  Adrian blushed again. Why ‘Liar Bird’? It didn’t seem fair.

  ‘And you, Sir David,’ continued Trefusis, ‘are Duvet, I don’t know why, but you are. I hope that doesn’t upset you.’

  ‘I’ve been called worse things.’

  ‘Oh, surely not?’

  ‘Just get on with it, will you?’

  ‘Very well. In this same broadcast I also uttered these words … let me see … the sentence went like this … “reminded me at first of a copy of Izaac Walton’s Compleat Angler that I have in my possession”. Yes, I think that was it. This was an instruction to Martin to obey Walton’s First Law: Whatever is on the person is not true. “Reminded me at first of a copy of Izaac Walton’s …” I knew, you see, that if you or Golka did intercept Martin you would expect to find your treasure in the lining of his coat. In his last interview with his grandson in Hungary, Szabó had deliberately told Martin that this was where Mendax should be secreted. Your department’s man in Budapest has a contact inside the Hungarian secret police. Simon tells me he is called “Locksmith”. “What you want will be in the lining of Martin Szabó’s jacket,” Locksmith no doubt signalled to London, as Bela intended him to. You briefed Golka accordingly: “Expect to find Mendax in the lining of Pollux’s coat,” you will have said. Martin did indeed create an inner pocket to his jacket in which he hid a piece of microcircuitry. This Lister gratefully took after he had cut the poor boy’s throat. I believe you will discover that what you killed that boy to obtain controls the spin cycle of a tumble drier. The wireless set on Martin’s dressing table would have yielded a much richer secret. I have it here.’

  Trefusis held up the second of the two radios.

  ‘There we have it, you see. Mendax. I know how badly you want it, David, and I am so terribly sorry that I am not in a position to oblige you. Humphrey and Lady Helen, like myself, are old friends of Bela Szabó and we feel that we have the prior claim. Simon’s loyalty, naturally, is to his parents-in-law and to me, the devoted godfather of his wife Nancy. Stefan here, as Bela’s heir and the brother of Martin, whom you so pitilessly slew, must decide on what punishment should be meted out to you. Lister, I’m afraid, cannot be allowed to live.’

  Sir David rose to his feet. ‘This has all been most instructive,’ he said. ‘A tidy operation on your part, Donald. I congratulate you. I must now ask you to present Mendax to me. Mr Lister, if you please.’

  Adrian watched as Lister’s right hand went slowly to his left side and brought out, from under the lapel of his powder-blue safari jacket, an automatic revolver. At least Adrian supposed it was an automatic revolver. It was certainly some form of hand gun, and it was pointed very directly at the head of Professor Trefusis. Adrian had imagined that he had a lifetime before him in which to acquire all kinds of facts, including a basic knowledge of firearms, enough for instance to be able to tell the difference between a pistol, a revolver, an automatic or a semiautomatic. But now he was to be killed by one such instrument before he had the chance to find out what it might be.

  ‘Mendax,’ said Trefusis with no indication of concern, ‘is of course yours to keep or dispose of as you will, Sir David. I have no argument against bullets. But I must ask you to allow me to finish my address. Then you may kill us all, as kill us all you surely must, for I am sure I speak for everyone in this room when I say that I have every intention of informing your political masters of the entirely reprehensible part you have played in this affair.’

  ‘Oh certainly I shall kill you all,’ said Sir David. ‘With the greatest pleasure in the world I shall kill you all.’

  ‘Naturally. But I cannot allow you to purchase Mendax, even at the bargain price of six bullets, without offering you a demonstration of its prodigious abilities. You cannot be expected to buy a pig in a poke, Sir David … sight unseen. That, after all, is why Adrian is with us here.’

  Sir David folded his arms and reflected.

  ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘If it amuses you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Trefusis bent down over the table. ‘Now correct me if I am wrong, Stefan, but I believe that all we need do is connect these two radio sets like so …’

  Adrian forced his eyes away from the gun in Lister’s hand and round towards Trefusis behind him. He had prised open the battery compartments of each radio. From one a ribbon of parallel connecting cable now protruded, ending in a plug. As Trefusis pushed this plug into the battery compartment of the other it snapped home with a soft plastic click. He plugged the headphone jack into one of the radios and looked enquiringly towards Stefan, who was shaking his head.

  ‘Not this, it must be the other. Certainly the other.’

  ‘Thank you, my boy.’ Trefusis unplugged the headphones from the first radio and attached them to the minijack socket of the second. ‘Two hundred and fifty metres, I think?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Stefan. ‘You will hear noise.’

  Trefusis held the headphones up to one ear and turned the tuning wheel on the first radio set. ‘Aha!’ he said at length. ‘Adrian, if you would be so kind …’

  Adrian took the headset with trembling hands. He looked up at Trefusis, who returned the gaze affectionately.

  ‘Must be done, my dear,’ he said. ‘I don’t believe you will be harmed in any way.’

  As soon as the headphones were over his ears, Adrian felt reassured. A gentle hiss filled his head, foregrounded by brighter, sharper little sounds that were like an aural equivalent of spots in front of the eyes. It was very pleasant, very relaxing; a bath for the brain. He heard too, quite clearly, the real external sound of Trefusis pressing a button on the device behind him. The effect of this was to cause the hiss, and the dancing little sounds in front of it, to be replaced by a wider, deeper hum. Slowly Adrian lost all sensation of physical contact with the world. He knew quite clearly that he was sitting in a chair, but he could not feel which parts of his body were touching it. Somewhere in the centre of this warm, weightless pool of sound hung the voice of Donald Trefusis.

  ‘Tell me how you feel, Adrian.’

  Adrian knew how he felt. He knew everything. Suddenly nothing in his mind was mystery; all was open and clear. It was as if he was swimming through the lobes, folds, neurones, synapses, chambers and connectors of his own brain.

  ‘I feel fucking great,’ he declared. ‘Sort of swimming feeling like the time I had that grass round at Mark’s place in Winnet Street – that must have been years ago – I can see the outline of Lister’s cock the way he’s standing there – very badly cut safari suit I suppose – small circumcised as well – and after we had the grass I was really sick all over Mark’s duvet – when Uncle David came to stay and I was twelve I found magazines under his bed I remember – that fluff smell under the spare-room bed – I smelt it again when we stayed in the hotel on Wednesday on our way to Salzburg – I had to pretend I knew the difference between grass and resin which I didn’t which is pathetic because it’s so fucking obvious isn’t it – I wish I hadn’t taken Uncle David’s fucking money – why on earth Donald calls him Duvet – the word for the unit of thermal insulation in duvets is tog – Donald will know where it comes from – come to think of it I haven’t had a wank in two days – Lister can’t kill us all can he – I mean this is mad completely mad – they might sell KY jelly in a chemist’s somewhere in the Get
reidegasse – all that blood – if I do die it won’t matter anyway because I’m such a cunt I won’t notice – Uncle David is listening to me and looking at me as if I was a fish in a tank and I can hear Donald talking to me so I suppose if none of you minds I had better shut up and listen to what he’s saying – big helmet but tiny cock – you’ve hardly said anything Biffo and your wife hasn’t said much either – showing through his togs – what are you doing here anyway – I suppose Donald asked you to follow him as well when we were driving here – I’m asking you a question Mr Biffen and you aren’t answering – or rather I suppose you are answering because your mouth is opening and closing but I can’t hear you – awful white spittle you have in the corners of your mouth – I’ve just had this gross image of you and Lady Helen snogging can you imagine – someone is telling me to be quiet I can hear them – I think I had better stand up now – no I can’t because the headphones would slip off – I mean grass looks like grass and resin doesn’t but I thought it was a trap I suppose – Lister wearing padding and looking fat – I wonder if Simon is armed and is going to try and shoot Lister before he can fire at Donald – Lister has heard me say that now and he will probably shoot Simon first just in case – me and my big mouth – can’t be an automatic revolver come to think of it doesn’t sound right – somebody is still telling me to be quiet – thirty-eight that must be it a thirty-eight automatic though whether that’s thirty-eight millimetres or inches I have no idea – wasn’t there someone called Lister at school – Hugo is turning into an alcoholic because of me – it really is a very small cock that Lister has got perhaps that is why he is a killer – if Donald knew all along that I was being paid by Uncle David then he has never liked me and if he has never liked me then perhaps it’s just as well Lister is going to shoot us all – do you remember that time when you made me write to Mother Uncle David and I saw Tony Greig – I hope Lister shoots the others first so I can watch – that’s disgusting but then I am disgusting I suppose everyone is – I’m so happy – I really like all of you you know that – I simply must have a fuck before I die there was a girl on the footbridge with simply astonishing tits – Stefan’s got quite a cute bum it has to be said oh for God’s sake Adrian he’s just lost a brother – I don’t know why but I like you all but I am glad that we are all going to die and be together – I like you too Uncle David I always – the magazine under your bed was called Lolita wasn’t it completely hairless vaginas – I can’t imagine how you spell Golka but it is rather an impressive name – I suppose it gets bigger when he’s excited – when he’s cutting someone’s throat probably – as big as a thirty-eight slug I suppose – looks like a slug at the moment – this is an amazing experience – I probably love Donald – not like Hugo or Jenny – not like wanting to go to bed with him – ha can you imagine that Donald – me going to bed with you – no I don’t mean that but I think I love you in every other way and of course you hate me don’t you as you should because I am such a cunt – everyone watching me and listening to me and me making a total arse of myself because I can’t help it though it’s good to get it off my chest – of course it’s never going to end because –’