The Clowns of God (10 page)

True Evangelicals, they demanded that it be fruitful in word and action. Mendelius went on.

“By temperament and training I have always been inclined to interpret the future in terms of continuity, modification, change. I could not come to terms with consummation.

Now, however, I find myself drawn to the view that consummation is possible. It is an experiential fact that mankind has all the means to create a global catastrophe of such dimension that human life as we know it would be extinguished on the planet. Given the other experiential fact of man’s capacity for destructive evil, we are faced with the fearful prospect that the consummation may be imminent.”

There was an audible gasp from the audience. Mendelius added a footnote to the affirmation.

“But whether it would be wise to preach such a message is another question altogether, and I confess that, at this moment, I am not competent to answer it.”

There was a moment of silence and then a small forest of hands shot up. Before he called for more questions Mendelius reached for the water glass and took a long swallow of liquid.

He had a sudden incongruous vision of Anneliese Meissner peering at him through her thick spectacles and grinning all over her ugly face. He could almost hear her mocking verdict.

“I told you, didn’t I, Carl? God-madness! You’ll never be cured of it!”

The session was scheduled to end at midday, but the discussion was so lively that it was a quarter to one before Mendelius was able to escape for a pre-lunch drink in Herman Frank’s office. Herman was lavish with compliments; but Mendelius was less than happy with the headlines in the newspapers stacked on his desk.

They ranged from the extravagant to the malicious: “Hero of the Corso’; “Distinguished scholar in shooting affray’; Ex Jesuit chief witness against terrorist brigades’. The photographs were lurid: Mendelius spattered with blood kneeling beside the victim, Malagordo being hoisted into the ambulance, Mendelius and the detective huddled in talk over their whisky. There was also an identikit picture of the assassin, carefully captioned: “Impression of the assassin by Professor Carl Mendelius of Tubingen University’. The copy was orchestrated in Italian operatic style: grandiloquent horror, high heroics and heavy irony.

“It is, perhaps, not without a certain poetic justice that a Jewish Senator should owe his life to a German historian.”

“God Almighty!” Mendelius was pale with anger.

“They’ve set me up like a decoy duck!”

Herman Frank nodded unhappily.

“It is bad, Carl. The embassy called to warn you that there are strong links between local terrorists and similar groups in Germany.”

“I know. We can’t stay at your place any longer. Call back to the embassy, get them to use their influence to book us a double room in one of the better hotels, the Hassler perhaps or the Grand. I absolutely refuse to expose you and Hilde to danger on my account.”

“No, Carl! I will not bend to this kind of threat. Hilde would never permit it either.”

“Herman, please! This is no time for heroics.”

“It’s not heroics, Carl.” Herman was surprisingly resolute.

“It’s simple common sense. I refuse to live underground like a mole. That’s what these bastards want! Besides, it’s only for a week. The girls can go to Florence as they planned. A couple of old stagers like you and me should be able to look after ourselves.”

“But listen!”

“No buts, Carl. Let’s put it to the girls over lunch and see how they feel.”

“Very well. Thanks, Herman.”

“Thank you, my friend. This morning was a special triumph for me. In all my years at the Academy, I’ve never seen such an animated debate. They can’t wait for your next appearance. Oh, I almost forgot. There were two telephone calls for you. One was from Cardinal Drexel. He’ll be in his office until one-thirty. The other was from the wife of Senator Malagordo. She’d like you to call her back at the Salvator Mundi hospital. Those are the numbers. Make the calls now and get them off your mind. I’d like you to enjoy your lunch.”

As he dialled Drexel’s number, Mendelius was filled with misgivings. The Vatican placed a high premium on discretion.

Drexel might well see the threat to Mendelius as a threat to the privacy of Jean Marie Barette. He was surprised to find the old warrior cordial and solicitous.

“Mendelius? I presume you’ve seen this morning’s papers?”

“I have, Eminence. I’ve just been discussing them with my host. An embarrassment, to say the least.”

“I have a suggestion. I hope you’ll accept it.”

“I’d be happy to consider it, Eminence.”

“For the rest of your stay I’d like you to have the use of my car and my driver. His name’s Francone. He used to be in the Carabinieri. He understands security work and he’s alert and capable.”

“It’s a kind thought, Eminence, but I can’t really accept.”

“You can. You must. I have a vested interest in your safety, my friend. I propose to protect it. Where are you now?”

“At the Academy. I’m going back to the Franks’ for lunch.

The address is …”

“I have the address. Francone will report to you at four and will remain at your disposal during the rest of your stay. No arguments now! We can’t afford to lose the Hero of the Corso, can we?”

Much lighter in heart, Mendelius called the Salvator Mundi hospital and asked for the wife of Senator Malagordo. He was put through first to a very brusque German nun and then to a male security man. After a long silence the Senator’s wife came on the line. She wanted to tell him her thanks for saving the Senator’s life. He was badly hurt but his condition was stable. As soon as he was in a condition to receive visitors he would like to see the Professor and offer his thanks in person.

Mendelius promised to call later in the week, thanked her for her courtesy and rang off. When he heard the news, Herman Frank was happy again.

“You see, Carl! That’s the other side of the medal. People are kind and grateful. And the Cardinal’s a canny old fox.

You probably don’t know it, but the Vatican has a staff of very tough security boys. They have no inhibitions about breaking heads in the service of God. This Francone is obviously one of them. I feel better now much better! Let’s go home to lunch.”

During the meal, Lotte was very quiet; but afterwards, when the Franks had retired for their siesta, she made her position plain.

“I’m not going to Florence, Carl, not to Ischia or anywhere out of Rome unless you’re with me. If you’re in danger I have to share it; otherwise I’m nothing but a piece of furniture in your life.”

“Please dear, be sensible! You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

“Have you never thought I might have to prove it to myself?”

“Why, for God’s sake?”

“Because, ever since we married, I’ve been on the comfortable side of the bed; the wife of a notable scholar first, and then the Frau Professor at Tubingen. I’ve never had to think too much about anything, except having my babies and running the house. You were always there, a strong wall against the wind. I’ve never had to test myself without you.

I’ve never had a rival. It was wonderful, all of it; but now, looking at other women my age, I feel very inadequate.”

“Why should you? Do you think I could have made this career without you, without the home you provided, and all the loving inside it?”

“I think so, yes. Not quite in the same way perhaps but yes, you’d have made it without me. You’re not just a stuffy scholar. There’s an adventurer in you, too. Oh, yes! I’ve seen him peeping out sometimes and I’ve shut the door on him because he frightened me. Now, I want to see more of him, know him better, enjoy him before it’s too late.”

She was weeping now, quiet tender tears. Mendelius reached out and drew her to him, coaxing her softly.

“There’s nothing to be sad about, darling. We’re here together. I don’t want to push you away. It’s just that suddenly, yesterday, I saw the face of evil real evil! That girl she couldn’t have been much older than Katrin looked like one of Dolci’s Madonnas. But she shot a man in cold blood, not to kill him but to maim him in his manhood … I don’t want you exposed to that sort of cruelty.”

“But I am exposed to it, Carl! I’m part of it, just as much as you are. When Katrin went off to Paris with her Franz, I wished I were young again and going in her place. I was jealous; because she was getting something I never had. When you and Johann used to fight, a part of me was glad, because he would always turn to me afterwards. He was like a young lover with whom I could make you jealous. There! It’s out now; and if you hate me I can’t help it.”

“I can’t hate you, darling. I’ve never ever been able to be angry with you for very long.”

“That’s part of the problem, I suppose. I knew it and I needed you to fight me.”

“I still won’t fight you, Lotte.” Suddenly he was sombre and remote.

“Do you know why? Because, all of my early life, I was bound by my own choice, I agree but bound nonetheless. When I became free I prized it so much, I couldn’t bear to impose a servitude on anyone else. I wanted a partner, not a puppet. I saw what was happening, but until you saw it yourself, and wanted to change it, I couldn’t, I wouldn’t force you. Right or wrong, that’s how I felt.”

“And now, Carl? What do you feel now?”

“Scared!” said Carl Mendelius.

“Scared of what may be waiting for us out there in the streets; even more scared of what’s going to happen when I meet Jean Marie.”

“I was asking about us you and me.”

“That’s what I’m talking about, my dear. Every way we move now, we’re at risk. I want you with me; but not to prove something to me or to yourself. That’s like having sex just to show you can do it. It may be magnificent but it’s a long way from loving. In short, it’s up to you, darling.”

“How many ways do I have to tell you, Carl. I love you.

From now on, where you go, I go.”

“I doubt the monks will offer you a bed in Monte Cassino;

but apart from that, fine! We go together.”

“Good!” said Lotte with a grin.

“Then come to bed, Herr Professor. It’s the safest place in Rome!”

In principle, it was an excellent idea; but before they could put it into practice the maid knocked on the door to tell him that Georg Rainer was on the line from the bureau of Die Welt. Rainer’s approach was good humoured but crisp and businesslike.

“You’re a celebrity now, Carl. I need an interview for my paper.”

“When?”

“Right now, on the telephone. I have a deadline to meet.”

“Go ahead.”

“Not so fast, Carl. We’re friends of a friend, so I’ll give you the ground rules, once only. You can decline to answer;

but don’t tell me anything off the record. Whatever you give me I print. Clear?”

“Clear.”

“This conversation is being recorded with your consent.

Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“We’re running. Professor Mendelius, your prompt action yesterday saved the life of Senator Malagordo. How does it feel to be an international celebrity?”

“Uncomfortable.”

“There have been some rather provocative headlines about your act of mercy. One calls you the “Hero of the Corso’.

How do you feel about that?”

“Embarrassed. I did nothing heroic. I simply applied elementary first aid.”

“What about this one: “Ex-Jesuit chief witness against terrorist brigades’?”

“An exaggeration. I witnessed the crime. I described it to the police. I presume they have taken testimony from many others.”

“You also gave them a description of the girl who fired the shots.”

“Yes.”

“Was it accurate and detailed?”

“Yes.”

“Did you not feel that you were taking a big risk by giving that evidence?”

“I should have taken a much bigger one by remaining silent.”

“Why?”

“Because violence can only flourish when men are afraid to speak and act against it.”

“Are you afraid of reprisals, Professor?”

“Afraid, no. Prepared, yes.”

“How are you prepared?”

“No comment.”

“Are you armed? Do you have police protection, a private bodyguard?”

“No comment.”

“Any comment on the fact that you are German and the man whose life you saved is a Jew?”

“Our Lord Jesus Christ was a Jew. I am happy to have served one of His people.”

“On another matter, Herr Professor, I understand you gave a very dramatic lecture at the German Academy this morning.”

“It was well received. I shouldn’t have called it dramatic.”

“Our report runs as follows and I quote: “Asked by one questioner whether he believed that the end of the world as foretold in the Bible was a real and possible event, Professor Mendelius replied that he considered it not only a possibility but an imminent one.”” “How the hell did you get that?”

“We have good sources, Professor. Is the report true or false?”

“It’s true,” said Mendelius.

“But I wish to God you wouldn’t print it.”

“I told you the ground rules, my friend; but if you’d like to amplify the statement I’ll be happy to report you verbatim.”

“I can’t, Georg. At least not at this time.”

“And what’s that mean, Herr Professor? Did you really take yourself so seriously?”

“In this case, yes.”

“All the more reason then to print the report.”

“How good a journalist are you, Georg?”

“I’m doing all right so far, aren’t I?” Rainer’s laugh crackled over the wire.

“I’m offering you a deal, Georg.”

“I never make them well, hardly ever. What do you have in mind?”

“Kill the end of the world story and I’ll give you a much bigger one.”

“On the same subject?”

“No comment.”

“When?”

“A week from today.”

“That’s a Friday. What do you expect to give me the date of the Second Coming?”

“You get lunch at Ernesto’s.”

“And the story exclusive?”

“That’s a promise.”

“You have your deal.”

“Thanks, Georg.”

“And I still have the tape to remind us of it. Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Professor.”

“Auf Wiedersehen, Georg.”