The Piano Tuner Read Free Page B

a deep breath. He could suddenly feel
his heart beating faster. “I apologize, I do not intend my remarks to
seem presumptuous. In fact, every minute of your history makes me more
interested. But I am confused. If you so disapprove of our pianist, Colonel,
then why am I here? You are a very important person; it is rare for someone of
your rank to spend several hours interviewing a civilian, even I know this. I
also know that the War Office must have invested a tremendous sum in shipping
the piano to Burma, let alone purchasing it. And you have offered to pay me
generously—well,
fairly
in my opinion, but from an objective
perspective, generously. Yet you seem so disapproving of my commission.”
    The Colonel leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his
chest. “Very well. It is important that we discuss this. I am open with
my disapproval, but please do not confuse that with disrespect. The
Surgeon-Major is an extremely effective soldier, an unusual person perhaps, but
he is irreplaceable. There are some, very high within this office, who have a
great interest in his work.”
    “But not yourself.”
    “Let’s just say that there are men who get lost in the rhetoric
of our imperial destiny, that we conquer not to gain land and wealth but to
spread culture and civilization. I will not deny them this, but it is not the
duty of the War Office.”
    “And yet you support
him?”
    The Colonel paused. “If I speak bluntly, Mr. Drake,
it is because it is important that you understand the position of the War
Office. The Shan States are lawless. Except Mae Lwin. Carroll has accomplished
more than several battalions. He is indispensable, and he commands one of the
most dangerous and important posts in our colonies. The Shan States are
essential to securing our eastern frontier; without them we risk invasion,
French or even Siamese. If a piano is the concession we must make to keep him
at his post, then it is a small cost. But his post is a military post, not a
music salon. It is our hope that when the piano is tuned he will return to his
work. It is important that you understand this, that you understand that
we,
not the Surgeon-Major, are hiring you. His ideas can be …
seductive.”
    You don’t trust him, thought Edgar. “Just
a concession then, like cigarettes,” he said.
    “No, this is
different, I think you understand.”
    “So I should not try to
argue that it is
because
of the piano that he is
indispensable?”
    “We will know when it is tuned. Won’t
we, Mr. Drake?”
    And at his words, the piano tuner smiled.
“Perhaps we will.”
    The Colonel sat forward. “Do you
have any other questions?”
    “Only one.”
    “Yes, what is it?”
    Edgar looked down at his hands.
“I am sorry, Colonel, but what exactly is
wrong
with the
piano?”
    The Colonel stared. “I think we have discussed
this.”
    The tuner took a deep breath. “With all due respect,
sir, we discussed what you think is wrong with
a
piano. But I need to
know what is wrong with this piano, with the 1840 Erard that sits somewhere in
a jungle far away, where you are asking me to go. Your office has told me
little about the piano besides the fact that it is out of tune, which, I might
add, is due to the swelling of the soundboard, not the body, as you mentioned
in your letter. Of course, I am amazed that you did not anticipate this, the
piano going out of tune. Humidity works horrors.”
    “Again,
Mr. Drake, we were doing this for Carroll. You will have to make such
philosophical inquiries of the man himself.”
    “Well, then
may I ask what it is that I need to mend?”
    The Colonel coughed.
“Such details were not provided to us.”
    “He must have
written about the piano somewhere.”
    “We have only one note,
strange and uncharacteristically short for the Doctor, usually a man of
eloquence, which made us somewhat incredulous of the request, until it was
followed by his threat to resign.”
    “May I read
it?”
    The Colonel hesitated,