be the chorus…”
“Why not? That’s my job,” the writer declared.
Sciss had been listening to this conversation with growing impatience. Finally, he could no longer contain himself.
“Armour, my dear friend,” he said in a persuasive voice, “paradoxes are as necessary to you as water is to a fish. I know you enjoy doing it, but don’t reduce things to absurdities.”
“A fish doesn’t create the water,” Black responded, but Sciss wasn’t listening.
“This case has to do with facts, not with drama or lyric poetry. As you know very well,
“As long as there are human beings facts don’t exist in a void,” said the writer. “Once a fact emerges into consciousness it is already an interpretation. Facts? A thousand years ago a similar event gave rise to a new religion. And even if it had turned out to be an anti-religion, there would still be the same crowds of believers and priests, the mass hallucinations, the empty coffins pulled apart for relics, the blind seeing, the deaf beginning to hear… I admit that action in this sphere is more limited and less mythologized nowadays, the Inquisitor doesn’t threaten to torture anyone for statistical heresies — that’s why the tabloid papers make such big profits. Facts, my dear friend, are your business as well as the Inspector’s. You’re both the kind of disciples on which our era is founded. Inspector, I hope you aren’t angry at me because of our little disagreement. I don’t know you so I can’t possibly predict whether or not you’ll end up another Paul. But even if you do, Scotland Yard will remain the same. The police are never converted. I don’t know if you ever noticed that.”
“You turn everything into a joke,” Sciss grunted indifferently. McCatt whispered to him for a moment, then they both got up. Outside the checkroom Gregory found himself standing next to Sciss, who suddenly turned to him and said in a lowered voice:
“Do you have anything to say to me?”
Gregory hesitated, then, acting on an impulse, took Sciss’s hand and shook it.
“Please don’t think about me, just go about your work in peace,” he replied.
“Thank you,” said Sciss. His voice was so shaky that even Gregory was surprised and confused. Armour Black’s car was parked in front of the Ritz. Sciss got in with him, leaving Gregory alone with McCatt. Although Gregory would have preferred to say good-bye, McCatt proposed that they walk together for a while.
Both men were the same height; walking side by side, they reluctantly became aware of this fact on several different occasions when each discovered the other peering at him curiously out of the corner of his eye. These unexpected encounters called for a smile, but neither one was willing to make the gesture. After a while McCatt stopped at a vegetable stand and bought a banana. Peeling it, he glanced at Gregory.
“Do you like bananas?”
“Not too much.”
“Are you in a rush?”
“No.”
“Why don’t we try our luck,” McCatt suggested, pointing at the brightly lit entrance of a penny arcade.
Cheered by the thought, Gregory nodded and followed him inside. Several greasy-haired teenagers were watching sullenly as one of their number fired a line of blue sparks at a small airplane revolving behind the window of a glass case. McCatt walked straight to the back of the arcade, passing a row of pinball machines and automatic roulette games. He stopped in front of a glass-topped metal case. Underneath the glass cover there was a green landscape, complete with bushes and trees. He deftly threw a coin into the slot, pulled a lever, and turned to Gregory.
“Do you know this game?”
“No.”
“It’s called ‘Hottentots and Kangaroo.’ There aren’t any Hottentots in Australia, but what difference does it make? I’ll be the kangaroo. Ready?”
He pressed a button. A little kangaroo jumped out of a black slot and fell into a clump of bushes. Gregory pulled his lever — and three funny-looking little black figures slid out on his side. He manipulated the handgrip, moving his Hottentots closer to the place where he thought the kangaroo was hiding. At the last minute the kangaroo jumped out, broke through Gregory’s skirmish line, and again took refuge in the jungle. They wandered that way across the whole plastic map; every time Gregory got too close the kangaroo managed to escape. Finally Gregory worked out a tactical plan: positioning one Hottentot at the place where the kangaroo had disappeared, he held the other two in reserve, aligning them in such a way that McCatt couldn’t possibly escape. He caught the kangaroo on his next move.
“For a beginner you’re very good,” McCatt said. His eyes were sparkling, he was chuckling like a boy. Gregory shrugged his shoulders, feeling somewhat foolish.
“Maybe because I’m a hunter by profession.”
“No, it’s not that. You have to use your mind in this game. There’s no other way to play it. You understood the principle right off. This game lends itself to mathematical analysis, you know. Sciss hates this kind of fun — it’s a defect, a fundamental defect in his personality…”
That said, he walked slowly down the row of slot machines, threw a coin into one of them and jerked the lever, setting the colorful disks into motion: a flood of coins streamed out of the machine into his outstretched hand. The kids up front, noticing this, began to move slowly in his direction, watching as McCatt nonchalantly threw the money into his pocket. But McCatt didn’t try his luck again and the two men left, passing the stubborn dull-witted fellow near the entrance who was still shoving coin after coin into the machine in a desperate effort to shoot down the airplane.
An arcade lined by shops came into view a few steps farther on. Gregory recognized it at once: it was the same one he had wandered into not long before; inside, toward the back, he saw a huge mirror closing off the far end.
“There’s no exit here,” he said, coming to a stop.
“I know. You suspect Sciss, don’t you?”
Gregory paused for a moment before answering.
“Is he a friend of yours?”
“You could say that. But… he really doesn’t have any friends.”
“I know, it’s not very easy to like him,” Gregory said with surprising emphasis. “Only… you shouldn’t ask me questions like that.”
“I only meant it rhetorically. After all, it’s obvious that you suspect him. Maybe not of engineering the disappearances, but, let’s say… of being an accomplice. However, and I don’t mean to sound facetious, only time will tell. I just want to know one thing: would you close the investigation if you witnessed, with your own eyes, something that looks like a resurrection? That is, a dead man sitting, moving around…”
“Did Sciss tell you to ask me that?” Gregory asked in a sarcastic tone of voice. Without realizing it, the two men had walked as far as the center of the arcade, stopping in front of a shop window. Inside it a barefoot window decorator was undressing a willowy blonde manikin. Gregory was suddenly reminded of his dream. He watched attentively as the manikin’s slender, pink body emerged from under the gold lame.
“It’s too bad you understood it that way,” McCatt answered slowly. Bowing his head slightly, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Gregory in front of the shop window.
The lieutenant took a few steps farther into the arcade, but turned back after seeing his reflection in the mirror. On the street outside more and more window displays were lit up, and the noise and bustling had intensified as it usually does in the early evening. Continually jostled as he walked along deep in thought, he finally turned into a side street. After a minute or two he found himself standing at the entrance to a courtyard. The display cases on both sides of the gate belonged to a photographer, and his eyes swept over the rows of wedding pictures, quickly taking in the conventionally retouched happy couples — the brides all smiling shyly behind their veils, the tuxedoed men affecting virile poses. He walked into the courtyard. An old man in a slovenly, unbuttoned leather smock was kneeling beside the open hood of an old car, listening to the purring of its motor with his eyes closed. Behind him there was a garage, its doors open. Gregory could see several other cars inside, as well as empty gasoline cans and piles of spare parts scattered along the walls. The man in the smock, seeming to sense Gregory’s presence, opened
