The Ends of the Earth (22 page)

‘It sounds a long way from how this was supposed to be managed.’

Appleby nodded ruefully. ‘It is.’

Brigham was fetched from the dinner table at the Beau-Rivage Palace to take Appleby’s call. He began by being irritable, then became reproachful. ‘Nothing like this was supposed to happen,’ he complained. But at Appleby’s insistence he agreed to drive to Rolle and see if there was anything to be seen. He doubted there would be and, privately, Appleby agreed. But they had to try everything. He said nothing about Eugen shooting the Marmiers and left the exact circumstances of the boy’s escape unspecified. He judged it best to delay giving Brigham the gruesome details until they met.

When Brigham returned several hours later, Appleby was waiting for him at the Beau-Rivage Palace. He had by then booked himself into the Meurice. He was tired and downcast, but still cleaving to practicalities. Brigham was tired too and clearly rattled as well as disgruntled.

The disgruntlement turned to consternation when Appleby told him all that had occurred at Les Saules. They went to his room, where Brigham heard him out while working his way through a tumbler of Scotch.

‘This could hardly be worse,’ he pronounced, rubbing his forehead. ‘How in God’s name did you allow it to happen?’

‘I didn’t
allow
it, Brigham. An operation like this always has the potential to go wrong.’

‘In this case
spectacularly
wrong.’

‘Hiring the Marmiers was a calculated risk. They turned out to be greedier than I thought.’

‘What are we going to do?’

‘You saw nothing on the road?’

‘Not a damn thing. I stopped at St-Sulpice, Morges, St-Prex and Nyon as well as Rolle. All quiet as the grave. No police. No motor-boat. Nothing.’

‘What about Dulière?’

‘I kept an eye on his offices as you asked. He went out this afternoon. I followed him up in the funicular to the station. I was behind him in the queue at the ticket office and distinctly heard him ask for a return to Rolle.’

‘Sent there by Lemmer, I imagine, to find out what the school knows.’

‘Very probably.’

‘He’s not likely to hear anything about the boy’s escape before tomorrow morning at the earliest. That gives us the better part of a day in Tokyo for Lemmer to conclude he has to give in.’

‘You still hope to pull this off?’ Brigham’s expression was sceptical, if not incredulous.

Appleby looked at him sternly. ‘I mean to hold my nerve, Brigham. And I require you to do the same.’

‘
MISS HOLLANDER
,’
SAID
Lemmer softly, taking the telephone from Anna Schmidt. ‘You are punctual. As befits a secretary.’

‘What is your answer, Herr Lemmer?’ Malory asked levelly.

‘To your demands? My answer is this. I will discuss them with Max.’

He had instantly wrong-footed her. She did not know how to respond. ‘I don’t understand. Max is dead, as you well know.’

‘But he isn’t, is he, Miss Hollander? As
you
well know. I am prepared to make Max an offer. But only face to face. We must meet. Today.’

Malory was struggling to come to grips with the suddenly altered situation. Should she continue to deny Max was alive? Or should she accept Lemmer’s proposal? ‘Will you agree to the terms I laid before you yesterday?’

‘Perhaps. Let Max find out. Send him to me at the Kojunsha Club in Ginza at eleven o’clock. It is comfortable there. And quiet. We can talk in peace.’

‘What makes you—’

‘Max is alive, Miss Hollander. Please don’t pretend otherwise. Dombreux has told me everything. If Max wonders whether he should meet me, tell him this. He was not born in Tokyo.’

‘Pardon me?’

‘Tell him.’

And tell him she did.

‘It was only a matter of time before he found out I was alive, Malory,’ Max assured her. ‘I’d hoped it would be longer, but it can’t be helped.’

‘You’ll meet him?’

‘Of course. What choice do I have?’

‘Do you have any clue what he means by saying you weren’t born in Tokyo?’

‘None. It might be no more than bait to draw me in. He wants to keep me – us – guessing. That’s clear. But we have him, Malory. We have him and he knows it.’

‘You will be careful, won’t you?’

‘I’m always careful.’

‘That’s not what Sam says.’

‘He worries too much.’

‘And you worry too little.’

Max approached the Kojunsha Club later that clammily hot morning with more in the way of trepidation than he had been prepared to admit to Malory. What had led Dombreux to tell Lemmer the truth, given how damaging that truth was to his standing in Lemmer’s eyes? Max’s best guess was that Lemmer had good reason to believe only Dombreux knew of the existence of his son and that he and Max must therefore have struck a deal. If so, Dombreux was in serious danger.

But that was his problem. Max had problems all of his own.

A careful scout around the vicinity of the Kojunsha revealed no sign of surveillance. Max entered the club and found it to be just the sort of cool, quiet haven from the tumult of the city he might have imagined. At that hour, when most of its members would be at their places of business, it was echoingly empty, which Lemmer had no doubt considered an advantage.

Max was expected. According to the elderly porter who greeted him, Lemmer was waiting in the little boardroom. As he escorted Max up the stairs, he said, ‘Your father came here often, Maxted-san. I remember him. He was –
sonkei-suru-hito
.’ Seeing Max’s frown of incomprehension, he added: ‘Someone a man can respect.’

Max was tempted to ask if Lemmer was
sonkei-suru-hito
. But he had no wish to embarrass the fellow. ‘Thank you,’ he said.

The little boardroom was in fact far from little, with three shaded windows’ worth of the building’s frontage to itself. The table and chairs were made from pale, yellow-brown wood. A fan with vanes as big as propellers was revolving with a deep, thrumming whirr.

Lemmer sat at one end of the table, a Japanese newspaper spread before him, a coffee-cup at his elbow. He was wearing a cream linen suit and looked entirely at ease, unhurried and untroubled.

‘Would you like coffee, Max?’

‘No.’

‘Very well.’ Lemmer nodded dismissively to the porter, who withdrew. The door clicked shut behind him. ‘Will you sit down?’

Max sat, at a distance of several chairs from Lemmer.

‘I’ve been reading about Marquess Saionji. He seems to be in no hurry to return to Japan. He’s currently in England, where he’s dined with the King. I wonder what they discussed. The Kaiser, perhaps. They are cousins, after all. Saionji was the Japanese ambassador in Germany when Wilhelm came to the throne. Did you know that?’

‘No.’

‘1888.
Drei achten, drei Kaiser
, as the schoolchildren say to remember their history. Three eights, three emperors. Wilhelm’s father only reigned for a few months. He died of a throat cancer. That was lucky for me. A new young kaiser was my opportunity. I showed him what could be achieved during my time with the embassy here. After that, he trusted me. He believed – still believes, I assume – that the Tsarevich escaped death by my design. Sabotage Russo-Japanese relations, but leave cousin Nikolai alive, though not unscathed. Clever, no?’

‘No one will ever doubt your cleverness, Fritz. Sending me to the Orkneys to talk Commander Schmidt into handing over the Grey File was a masterstroke.’

‘Thank you.’

‘And plotting to sell your network of spies to the Japanese lock, stock and barrel. That was clever too. A fresh start. A new employer. Another world to conquer.’

Lemmer smiled. ‘Retirement wouldn’t suit me. I have no aptitude for it.’

‘Perhaps you should try to develop one.’

‘Because of Appleby’s ultimatum?’

‘We want their names, Fritz. The names of all your spies.’

‘I can’t give you them.’

‘You must.’

Lemmer shook his head. ‘No. You ask me to surrender my life’s work – the levers of my power. It’s too much. I won’t do it.’

‘Your son’s life depends on it.’

‘Appleby won’t kill Eugen, Max. You and I both know this. His greatest weakness is his lack of ruthlessness. It’s a bluff. He will not do it.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘As sure as I need to be. But what he may do is keep my son from me. Alive, but apart, no longer under my control. I can’t have that.’

‘Give us the names, then. And Tomura’s secret. And the Terauchi–Zimmermann letter.’

Lemmer closed the newspaper and folded it neatly in half, pressing his hands down heavily to crease it. He looked fixedly at Max. Neither man flinched. ‘This is my offer to you, Max. Cable Appleby. Tell him you’ve learnt Eugen isn’t my son. He’s holding an innocent boy. He has to let him go. Then I will give you Tomura’s secret. And the letter. That will enable you to buy Morahan and his two friends out of prison. As for my spies, I keep them. But you – you, Max – learn at last what your father died trying to achieve. And then you have the chance – and the means, which I’ll give you – to achieve it.’

‘You know I won’t agree to this.’

‘Think about it. That’s all I ask. It’s the middle of last night in Europe. It’ll be another six hours before there’d be any point cabling Appleby. Take those six hours to consider very carefully what you should do.’

‘The answer’s no. You take those six hours, Fritz. You consider very carefully what
you
should do.’

‘You know I have the secret. Here.’ Lemmer tapped a finger against his temple. ‘The mystery can be explained. If you accept my offer. Are you armed, by the way?’

Max wondered if there was a tell-tale bulge beneath his left arm, where his gun rested in its shoulder-holster. The Shanghai tailor had assured him there would not be. ‘What if I am?’

‘If you are, I invite you to draw your gun and hold it to my head and threaten to fire. Then you’ll see what I’m willing to tell you to save my life.’

‘You’d tell me nothing.’

Lemmer nodded. ‘This is true.’

‘And I expect you’re armed yourself.’

‘I don’t need to be. The names of my spies; the nature of Tomura’s secret; you wouldn’t want to erase so much valuable information, would you?’

‘How did you get the truth out of Dombreux?’

‘I didn’t. I
deduced
the truth. Only he could have told you about Eugen. Why did he tell you, Max? Why didn’t he kill you?’

‘What does he say?’

‘Nothing. He’s dead.’

Max should have felt neither surprise nor sorrow. Yet, oddly, he felt both. ‘It wasn’t his fault. He was unlucky. And then … he had to give me something.’

‘Why do people who try to kill you always seem to be unlucky, Max? Those fellow countrymen of mine who flew against you in the war. Norris’s marksman in Paris. Tarn, the master assassin. Fontana. Grattan. Dombreux. There are a lot of heads for you to hang on your wall.’

‘Nothing like as many as there are for you to hang on yours.’

‘Well, you and I aren’t the sort who collect souvenirs, are we, Max? We make mistakes. But more often we don’t. Tell Miss Hollander, by the way, that Monteith has paid for his mistake with his life.’

‘I never met the man, but I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure Malory will be too.’

‘Yes. The sentimental Miss Hollander. An admirable woman, in her way. But it seems to me she carries too many regrets with her. And regrets aren’t helpful, are they?’

‘Maybe they’re inevitable.’

‘Some, perhaps. You’ll certainly regret rejecting my offer. If that’s what you decide to do. The secret, Max. Your father’s secret.
Your
secret. You can have it. You can avenge Henry and Kuroda and Jack Farngold and …’ Lemmer spread his hands. ‘You can do all you’ve dreamt of doing and more besides.’

‘The message you gave Malory for me, Fritz. What did you mean by it? I
was
born in Tokyo.’

Lemmer smiled. ‘No. You were not.’

‘My birth certificate says I was.’

‘Certificates can be forged. Just as photographs can be faked.’

‘Where do you say I was born?’

‘I don’t. I say nothing. Until you accept my offer and send the cable and we hear that Eugen has been freed.’

‘What makes you think Appleby would take my word for it that the boy isn’t your son?’

‘He trusts you. And you will tell him Dombreux has admitted lying to you. I have rejected your demands. I have denied Eugen Hanckel is my son. And Dombreux has confirmed he isn’t. That is what you must say. Remember: I was here in Japan in May 1891, when you entered the world. I know your mother and your father. I know exactly what happened. I know everything.’

‘I won’t do it.’

‘You should. You really should. Because otherwise you’ll get nothing from me.
Nichts
.’

‘We have your son, Fritz. We have him and you’ll never see him again if you refuse to give up your spies.’

Lemmer let his gaze dwell on Max for a moment before he responded. ‘Then I’ll never see him again,’ he said quietly.

And Max believed he meant it.

LEMMER’S IMPLACABILITY SHOULD
have come as no surprise to Max. The man was immune to normal human frailties. The logic of what he had said niggled away at Max as he made his way through Ginza to Shimbashi station. Appleby could not have what he wanted. But Max could have what he wanted, or part of it, at any rate – the secret part that was close and personal to him. ‘
You were not born in Tokyo.
’ He would not give ground. But he was tempted to. And Lemmer knew it.

Max turned into the station, bought a ticket and went up on to the southbound platform. Then he turned back abruptly, intending to retrace his steps to the crowded ticket hall. It was a ruse to flush out anyone who was following him, though somehow he did not think Lemmer would have set a tail on him.

Then he saw her, halfway up the stairs he had just started back down. A tall, thin, narrow-faced European woman with ash-blonde hair, wearing a striped, pleated dress and a long pale coat. She was just as Malory had described her.

‘Herr Maxted,’ Anna Schmidt said. ‘We must talk.’