that is one of the times when anything can be believed, even the craziest, most unlikely things, even a nonexistent drop of blood, just as one believes in the books that speak to you then, to your weariness and your somnambulism, to your fever, to your dreams, even if you are or believe yourself to be wide awake, and books can persuade us of anything then, even that they're a connecting thread between the living and the dead, that they are in us and we are in them, and that they understand us.' And immediately I remembered more or less what Tupra had said at Sir Peter Wheeler's buffet supper by the River Cherwell in Oxford: 'Sometimes that moment lasts only a matter of days, but sometimes it lasts forever.'
'But if this man won't even write off the debt of a defenseless old man,' I said to Perez Nuix after we had both fallen silent for a few seconds; I had rested my right cheek on my fist while I listened to her, and I was still in that same position; and I realized that she had done the same while she was talking to me, both of us in that identical posture, like an old married couple who unconsciously imitate each other's gestures, 'and if you believe him capable of brutal acts and if that's what you most fear about him in your father's case; and if he's not the dissembling type, as you said a little while ago ('I know this, I know him,' you said), then I don't see how I could possibly persuade Tupra not to see what is glaringly obvious. Maybe you're attributing to me gifts I don't possess, or too much influence, or else you take Bertram for a scatterbrain and a greenhorn, which I find hard to believe. He's far more experienced than I am, not to mention more knowledgeable and more perceptive. Probably even more than you, more experienced, I mean.' I made this unnecessary clarification, thinking of Tupra's own views on her abilities, at least according to Wheeler, and also because I didn't want to downgrade her. She didn't, however, pick up the indirect compliment.
'No, you haven't fully understood me, Jaime,' she replied, again with that instantly suppressed note of desperation or exasperation. 'I didn't explain myself properly when I said that. I've been with Incompara, I've met him a couple of times now, to see what I could get out of him or what could be done for my father, to try and calm him down and gain time, to see what he's interested in and to see if I have some bargaining chip in my hand I wasn't aware of, and it turns out I do have one. If you will help me. It's true, he's not the dissembling type. By which I mean that you can tell at once that he'll have no scruples he can't set aside if he needs to. And that he's probably brutal about it. Not personally perhaps (I can't imagine him beating anyone up himself), but in the orders he might give and the decisions he might take. There's his rigidity about any agreements he makes, the obsessive importance he gives to obligations being met, in a way he's a stickler for the rules, although that might just be an act he's putting on for my benefit to justify his intransigence in my affair. He only cares about other people meeting their obligations, of course, not about meeting his own. A characteristic he shares with far too many people nowadays, never have so many eyes been so contented to wear their beams with pride.' She didn't use the Spanish word '
'What would you gain exactly?'
'Vanni Incompara would be willing to write off the entire debt in exchange for this.'
'In exchange for what exactly?' I asked, repeating the word 'exactly.' 'What would satisfy this man? What would the consequences be? What would your part in all this be? And do you believe him?'
'Yes, I do in this case. He wouldn't hesitate to teach my father a lesson or anyone else who didn't keep his word, but I'm also sure that he would always rather save himself the bother. He won't mind not getting the money back if he's compensated for it with something worthwhile; he's got plenty of money. He knows that someone has asked our group to assess him, I mean, that they've asked Bertie, since he's the one who receives instructions from above as well as most of the private commissions, those of any substance. I don't know who has asked for the report, Incompara hasn't told me, but that doesn't matter to us, does it? We don't usually know anyway. Whoever they are, it's important to him that he wins their approval and that they don't reject him, or that he reaches an agreement with them or strikes a deal or gets to participate in their projects. He'd consider the debt paid off entirely if I made all or any of those things happen-if he's accepted by the people who are submitting him to this examination, that's all he needs. He would, he says, put it down to my intervention, to my collaboration, however partial, as long as it did the trick; he's obviously not a hundred percent sure of himself, he must know what his weak points are and will imagine a trained eye would detect them, well, we all feel that way under scrutiny. It would take a few days to know the result, perhaps a week or more, but meanwhile… well, at the worst, we would have bought my father a deferment.' Yes, her Spanish was decidedly bookish: she didn't manage '
'Why are you so sure that I'll be the one chosen to interpret this fellow Incompara? It could be you, and then you'd have no problem and wouldn't have to ask anyone for a favor.'
'I've worked with Bertie for several years now,' she replied. 'I usually know who's going to be assigned to whom, when it's not routine work and I'm told about it beforehand. When there's a lot of money involved or if, for whatever reason, special tact is required-for example, if we had to make a study of the Prince's current girlfriend (and it will happen, we'll be asked to do that sooner or later)-he would use me for the task. To help him out, shall we say, for a second opinion, as a contrast, because he wouldn't delegate such a task to just anyone. Otherwise, he follows a complex system of turn-taking, depending on our individual characteristics. He doesn't stick to it rigidly, but according to that system and to my calculations, it's your turn. I'd love it if he chose me to interpret Incompara. If only… And if I'm wrong and that's what happens, I can assure you I'll be the first to celebrate, more than you or him, more than anyone. That would make things much easier for me, I'd prefer not to have to depend on you. Not to have to bother you with this or get you mixed up in it all. I gave all this a lot of thought before asking you. I've been thinking about it for the last few days, and just now, during the walk over here, more than once I was on the verge of turning around and going home. What I can't do is offer myself for the job, or show a particular interest in taking it on, because Bertie would immediately wonder why and ask me questions and get suspicious; he never shies away from suspicions or brushes them under the carpet, he never thinks anyone is above suspicion. Not even his own mother, if she's still alive, although, as I said, I've never heard him mention his family. And there's another element too: from what I know, Incompara must have a finger in a lot of pies. Bertie will probably think that, among other factors, you are the least exposed to previous chance contaminations because you haven't been in London all that long.'
I sat looking at her and then poured her the glass of wine I'd denied her before, the fourth. I could see that she was tired, or perhaps beginning to feel the effort of having to persuade and to ask, which takes a lot of energy, and that she was tense too, which is exhausting, and there's always a moment when, however enthusiastically we might have begun an assault, we doubt that we'll get what we want, that we'll succeed. The whole thing suddenly seems pointless, we're convinced people will say 'No' or even take pleasure in saying 'No' and refuse, and that they'll be able to come up with cast-iron reasons for doing so: 'I'm a bit hard up at the moment,' 'I don't want to get involved,' 'Sorry, you're asking too much of me,' 'It won't work, I'm no good at that kind of thing,' 'I have my loyalties,' 'It's too big a risk,' 'If it was up to me, I'd do it, but there are other people involved'; or more clearly, 'What's in it for me?' Perhaps young Perez Nuix, in a sudden loss of faith, was already asking herself which of these formulae I would opt for. Yes, what was in it for me? I could see no benefit at all, and she would know that I couldn't, because there was none. She hadn't even tried that route, at least not yet, and hadn't even attempted to invent some benefit. During those moments when she seemed distracted, almost resigned, I again glanced at the run in her stockings, at her ever more naked leg. I hoped she would do something before her tights exploded (that would be a shock) or went all baggy and loose (that would be repellent) or suddenly dropped to the floor (that
