The Intercom Conspiracy Read Free Page A

am afraid that ‘honorarium’ was lawyer’s language) in return for your cooperation might be acceptable. My offer is still open. If you saw your way to accepting it, I could probably see my way to accepting by letter agreement the conditions you make about acknowledgment and editing.
    Don’t misunderstand me, please. In stressing the narrowness of your view I am not trying to belittle your position. A contribution from you in statement form would be valuable. It would not, however, be indispensable. You see, I already know much more about the
Intercom
affair than you do.
    That I got to know the ‘why’ part of it by accident rather than design, I freely admit. That is how I first became interested in the affair. Through a friend in the country where I spend the autumn of my days I became acquainted with the man I am calling ‘Colonel Jost’ in the book. The Colonel is in retirement now and already a little bored by it. He likes company and he likes to talk. He especially liked talking to me because I have written some books he has enjoyed. Thrillers and detective stories are his favourite reading; they make him laugh.
    I am sorry that you dislike the phrase ‘narrative reconstruction’, but perhaps you won’t object to reading one. I wrote it afterlistening to Colonel Jost talk. It is entitled ‘A Game for Two Players’ and may help explain why certain things happened to you.
    It may even persuade you to accept my offer after all.
    Yours sincerely,
    CHARLES LATIMER

Chapter 2
A GAME FOR TWO PLAYERS
    The steamer from Evian on the French side of the lake had made its stop at Territet. Now it came into sight again and turned to head for the pier on which Colonel Jost stood waiting.
    He looked down at the water. He remembers that there was a cold breeze blowing along the lake that day and that waves were breaking over the boulders along the shore. The sight did not interest him in the least. He came from a country with a coastline open to North Sea gales, and these waves, he says, reminded him of slopping bath water; but he kept his eyes on them just the same. It was better than staring expectantly at the approaching steamer, and better than appearing to examine, even idly, the other persons waiting beside him on the pier. There were five of them: two women with bulging string bags, a seedy man carrying an imitation-leather sample case, and a pair of out-of-season German tourists, husband and wife. All probably harmless, he thought, but you could never be certain; and if you appeared not to notice people, there was less chance of their noticing and remembering you. He kept staring at the waves until the steamer came alongside.
    Paddle wheels churned, mooring lines were passed, the gangway was pushed out. Four persons came ashore. The waiting passengers walked on board.
    Jost went last and saw his friend Brand almost immediately.
    Brand was sitting in the saloon, on the starboard side by one of the windows.
    Neither man gave any sign of recognition. Jost walked up the companionway, turning up the fur collar of his coat as he went, and took a seat on the upper deck.
    His expression of bored indifference to his surroundings remained,but for several seconds he had had to make a conscious effort to preserve it. He had had a shock.
    It had been over six months since he had seen Brand, and in that time his friend’s appearance had changed remarkably. Brand had always been pale; that kind of pale, slightly sallow complexion is not uncommon among Scandinavians. But always before it had been a healthy pallor; there had been blood beneath the skin. Now, the face was pinched and grey and the life seemed to have gone out of it. Suddenly, Brand looked old and either very sick or very frightened.
    The last thought made Jost’s muscles tighten for a moment. He forced himself to relax. Brand had requested this meeting and said that the need for it was urgent. With secret meetings of this kind there was always an element of risk to