Disordered Minds

'Is he a Muslim?'

'No.' The fat little man smiled slightly. 'Nor is that question sequential on 'the devil's a woman,' Sergeant. As far as I'm aware, it is not Islamic doctrine that Satan wears a dress. They believe the opposite: it's the devil in men-the trouser snake-that's the problem. That's why their women cover themselves.'

The sergeant was unmoved. 'Does this Falstaff character have problems with women?'

Andrew looked interested suddenly. 'He certainly does in the opera. Verdi took the story from Shakespeare's Merry Wives, where Falstaff is portrayed as a figure of fun. He loses all his money and comes up with a plan to improve his finances by seducing the rich wives of Windsor. When the women find out about it, they devise humiliating punishments for him.'

'What kind of punishments?'

'Slapstick stuff. I haven't seen it for a while but, as far as I recall, they dump him in a river, then make him parade around in fancy dress. It's the trouser-snake theme. The women lead him on by pretending to like him-get him excited, in other words-then slap him down when he thinks he's about to score. It's a tale of male mockery by feisty ladies. The lesson is that women are intellectually and ethically superior to men.'

The sergeant gave a grunt of disapproval, as if the lesson didn't appeal to him. 'Pretty topical then. That's all anything's about these days.'

Andrew didn't disagree. 'It always has been. It's the battle of the sexes ... men are from Mars and women from Venus. Human nature never changes. We can analyze our DNA, email each other across the world, transplant hearts ... but the fundamentals remain the same. Men hunt, and women control the family. Simple as that. Shakespeare's perceptions are as true now as they were when he recorded them four hundred years ago. He was a behavioral scientist before behavioral science was invented-' he ticked the air-'a genius of a psychologist, with a very real understanding of the dynamics of relationships-particularly male-female relationships.'

'Mm.'

'Sorry,' said Andrew. 'I'm a fan ... tend to get carried away.'

'I've only ever seen Hamlet. Someone told me the whole play could be reduced down to the speech about suicide. 'To be or not to be.' Is that right?'

'He's certainly a man who explores his own tormented identity. In that respect, it's a precursor of modern theater.'

Sergeant Lovatt studied Jonathan through the window. 'Does Mr. Hughes have a tormented identity?'

Andrew followed his gaze. 'Don't we all?'

'Some more than others, I suspect,' the other said blandly. 'Has he ever displayed any mental problems that you're aware of?'

Too many to count, Andrew thought. Envy ... resentment ... insecurity ... self-loathing ... just like his agent and every other poor sod on the planet who didn't measure up to expectation. 'No,' he said. 'What makes you ask?'

'Your friend resisted arrest and refuses to explain himself. We're interested why.'

'Presumably because he doesn't believe he's done anything wrong. He writes books about the pitfalls of social stereotyping and the failings of the criminal justice system when it treats the stereotype and ignores the individual. I imagine he's working on the principle that if you haven't charged him, then he shouldn't have been arrested in the first place.'

The sergeant shook his head. 'There was nothing wrong with the arrest, sir. Mr. Hughes was detained under stop-and-search powers after going berserk in a public place. When he was taken into custody, he tried to hit an officer with his briefcase.'

'Did he make contact?'

'Barely. If he wasn't such a big girl's blouse, he'd be facing a charge of assault, and that's a serious offense.' A muscle twitched at the side of his mouth. 'He's not much of a fighter, your friend. The transport policeman who detained him said it was like wrestling with a stick insect.'

'What about the people he bumped into?'

'They were willing to let it go.'

'So what's left, other than refusing to answer questions? I thought that was a right, not a crime.'

'Unless you make a habit of it. He flew in from America last night and was detained for an hour for the same reason.'

'Oh, for Christ's sake!' said Andrew impatiently. 'It happens every time. If it's not his views on bin Laden, it's which bloody cricket team he supports. I'm never asked questions like that, and if I were I'd say Osama was a splendid fellow just to see what reaction I got.' He leaned forward. 'If no one else wants to pursue it, you've no reason to hold him.'

'We still want an explanation, Mr. Spicer. Heathrow's on heightened alert because of terrorist threats, and the same applies in the major conurbations. Unusual behavior is taken seriously.'

'More so when the suspect looks like an Arab, I suppose.'

The man didn't say anything.

'If you have his passport, then you know he's British. It used to mean something.'

'He isn't carrying anything that can identify him, sir. That's why we asked you to drive down here.'

Andrew looked surprised. 'He must have his passport. He's irrational about the damn thing ... so terrified of losing it he pats his breastpocket all the time.'

The sergeant shook his head. 'No passport.'