At the Villa of Reduced Circumstances

special duty. It will not be too onerous, I hope, but it will be special.’

‘I am at your service,’ said von Igelfeld. Presumably this would be something to do with the Academy of Letters. Perhaps the General wanted to be proposed for membership now, or Pedro’s cousin perhaps.

Pedro laid a hand on von Igelfeld’s shoulder. ‘I should like you – we would all like you to become President of the Republic.’

Von Igelfeld stared at him in complete astonishment. ‘President?’

‘Yes,’ said Pedro. ‘And I can see from your expression that you accept! Thank you! Thank you!’

Turning from von Igelfeld, Pedro jumped on to a chair, glass in hand. ‘Fellow Ministers!’ he shouted. ‘Silence for a moment! I ask you now to rise to your feet and toast the new President of the Republic of Colombia, President Coronel Professor von Igelfeld! Viva! Viva! Viva!’

Von Igelfeld did not know what to do. He heard shouts of Viva! about his ears and his back was slapped by several enthusiastic Ministers. Then somebody slipped a broad red sash over his shoulder, and a band struck up somewhere in the background. He looked down at his plate. What time would it be in Germany now, he wondered? What time would it be out in the rational world?

The following two weeks were very tedious for von Igelfeld. Installed in the Presidential Palace, he had been given a comfortable office and a team of adjutants and secretaries. But there was really very little to do, apart from signing decrees, which were placed, ready-drafted in front of him on his desk. Occasionally people came to see him, but he found that they did not expect him to say anything, and so he merely sat there behind his desk and struggled with boredom and irritation while they spoke their piece. Occasionally he read the decrees that were placed before him, and once or twice he had to refuse to sign and sent them back to the officials with a stern note.

One such occasion was when a large elaborate document was placed before him and a pen put in his hand. He brushed aside the anxious official for a moment and began to read the text. As he did so, he became more and more alarmed.

‘What is this?’ he said at last. ‘This document purports to be a declaration of war with Ecuador! What is the meaning of this?’

The official laughed nervously. ‘It is not important, Senor Presidente. I suggest that you sign it. It is not important.’

‘A declaration of war is not important?’ snorted von Igelfeld. ‘Is that what you’re telling me?’

‘Well, it’s not a serious declaration of war,’ said the official. ‘Declarations of war don’t mean quite the same thing in South America as they do elsewhere. They’re more of a statement, really.’

‘So this document does not create a state of war between us and Ecuador?’ asked von Igelfeld. ‘Is that what you’re telling me?’

‘Well, not exactly,’ said the official unctuously. ‘Technically we shall be at war with Ecuador, on the side of Peru. You may recall that they have had a long-standing dispute over the ownership of the Amazon Basin. Nothing really serious, of course, but they do go to war with one another every so often. If we join in, we will make a few incursions into Ecuador and perhaps blow up a few bridges. Not much more than that.’

‘But,’ said von Igelfeld, ‘why on earth should we get involved in the first place? What’s the point?’

The official smiled. ‘El Presidente will be aware of the fact that our air force is a little under strength. In fact, none of our planes works. Not one. Peru has offered us four new MIG fighters – four! – if we’ll join them in a war against Ecuador. It’s an absolute bargain.’

Von Igelfeld pursed his lips. ‘I shall not countenance this,’ he said crossly. ‘Take this document away.’

The official nodded. He had not been too hopeful of getting the declaration of war approved, but it had still been worth a try. But he was angry, and he felt spiteful towards von Igelfeld.

‘I shall have to ask the next President,’ he said. ‘He will be in office soon, I imagine.’

‘Oh?’ said von Igelfeld. ‘When?’

‘Two or three weeks,’ said the official. ‘After the narcotraficantes have disposed of Your Excellency.’

Von Igelfeld looked at the official. ‘Disposed of me?’

The official looked sympathetic. ‘Your Excellency is a brave man,’ he said quietly. ‘But then perhaps nobody has told Your Excellency why you were chosen for this office by Senor Pedro. He’s the one who’s running the country back there – Your Excellency is merely, how shall I put it delicately? – the figurehead. Senor Pedro knows that the narcotraficantes will assassinate whoever is President, and that’s why they put Your Excellency in this position.’ He paused, studying the effect of his words on von Igelfeld. ‘I thought that Your Excellency would have known.’

‘Of course I knew,’ said von Igelfeld sharply. ‘Any fool could work that out. Now please leave me alone. I have to telephone the German Ambassador to arrange to pay a State Visit next week.’

It was a very curious feeling arriving back in Germany as the President of Colombia. The German Ambassador had been most supportive, and had stressed to the German Foreign Ministry that the President did not wish to be greeted with excessive pomp, but nonetheless there were certain niceties to be observed and von Igelfeld was obliged to inspect a guard of honour and stand at attention for several minutes while the national anthems of the two countries were played. Then, after a brief talk with a German Minister, who seemed to be particularly interested in selling him a nuclear reactor, von Igelfeld insisted on being driven to the Institute. They had been notified, of course, and everybody was lining the steps when he arrived. They never did this when I was not a president, he thought bitterly, but that was human nature, he supposed.

Surrounded by his Colombian diplomatic officials and his aides-de-camp, von Igelfeld drank a cup of coffee in the coffee room with his old colleagues.

‘My aunt will simply not believe this,’ said the Librarian. ‘I told her that you had become President of Colombia and she became slightly confused, I’m sorry to say. In fact, the doctor was a little bit cross with me for telling her this as he said that she should not be subjected to excessive excitement.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said von Igelfeld. ‘That is very true.’ But he sounded as if his mind was not on the Librarian’s tale,