The Ways of the World Page 19

  ‘I never speak about you to anyone without your permission, Malory,’ said Morahan, sounding offended by the suggestion.

  ‘No? Well, that may be so,’ conceded Malory. ‘In which case I apologize.’

  ‘Apology accepted. I’ll be seeing you, Max.’ With that Morahan retreated in the direction of his own office.

  ‘Oh lord,’ said Malory. ‘I believe I’ve hurt his feelings.’

  ‘I believe you may have.’

  Malory looked at Max then with a frown of concentration, as if properly assessing him for the first time. ‘Travis said you were born in Tokyo.’

  ‘He’s disturbingly well-informed.’

  ‘But it’s true?’

  ‘Yes. I have no memories of the city, though. We left when I was only a few months old. It could as easily have been Timbuktu. You’ve been there?’

  ‘Tokyo? Yes. Timbuktu? No.’

  They both laughed. Some of Malory Hollander’s artfully concealed vivacity broke briefly from cover.

  ‘What took you to Japan, Malory?’

  ‘I was a Lutheran missionary. Very young and very naive. I believed it was my duty to spread the word of God. And I set about my duty with the kind of energy only the very young and very naive possess. I’m pained to recall how insensitive I was, forcing pamphlets and prayer-meetings on all those polite, restrained and contented Shintoists and Buddhists. I’m lucky no one tossed a rock at my head. I wouldn’t blame them now if they had.’

  ‘How long did you last?’

  ‘Three years. Three wasted years. Except that I learnt how beautiful the country is and how remarkable its people are. I gained much more from the experience than they did.’

  ‘Does that mean you know how Kuroda’s mind works?’

  ‘Goodness, no. But it does mean I know better than to try to understand how it works. The greatest honour the Japanese do us is to refrain from telling us how stupid they think we are. I told Travis that once.’

  ‘How did he take it?’

  ‘He said he likes it when someone thinks he’s stupid. It makes it easier to outwit them.’

  ‘I doubt he’d find it easy to outwit Kuroda.’

  ‘I doubt that too.’

  ‘Do you ever think of going back to Japan?’

  ‘I will, one day.’ Malory smiled brightly at him, then added, bafflingly, ‘Something tells me you will too.’

  Max found it hard to believe he really was no longer under surveillance, despite Morahan’s confidence on the point. He went down into Pyramides Métro station, bought a ticket to Gare de l’Est and waited on the platform with a smattering of other passengers, none of whom seemed to pay him the slightest attention. He gave them a lot of his, and elicited nothing in the way of a suspicious reaction. Then the train rolled in and everyone climbed aboard.

  Max stood inside the doors for a few moments, then stepped back out. There was time for anyone following him to do the same, but no one moved. The doors closed. The train rolled out. And Max was alone on the platform.

  GILBERT MELLISH, SURREY solicitor, possessor of a finely honed professional manner, a balding dome of a head, an aldermanly paunch and an expression of practised neutrality, settled himself in the armchair to which he had been directed and pulled a bulging file from his briefcase. He gazed at his audience through thick-lensed glasses that magnified his eyes disquietingly, and cleared his throat.

  The widow, brother-in-law, eldest son and daughter-in-law of his late lamented client, Sir Henry Maxted, were gathered in a semicircle around him. Of Sir Henry’s younger son there was no sign and Mellish had as yet sought no clarification of Sir Ashley’s statement that ‘My brother can’t be with us.’

  Winifred, the Dowager Lady Maxted, appeared calm and composed. Her brother, George Clissold, sat beside her, regarding Mellish through heavy lids. Sir Ashley was altogether more alert, sitting upright in his chair and fiddling with his tie. He had made no reference to the somewhat testy telephone conversation he had had with Mellish two days previously, though the frown on the face of Lydia, the junior Lady Maxted, suggested she for one was well aware of it. Mellish’s correctitude had evidently failed to meet with her approval.

  ‘It’s my understanding that you’re all familiar with Sir Henry’s wishes for the disposition of his estate,’ Mellish said by way of preamble.

  ‘Yes,’ said Ashley. ‘We are.’

  ‘Gresscombe Place and the entailed farmland is yours, Sir Ashley, along with five sixths of the income it generates, one sixth being reserved for your mother.’

  ‘Henry laid these matters before us some years ago, Mr Mellish,’ said Winifred. ‘There is no confusion on anyone’s part.’

  ‘Indeed not.’

  ‘There are no other beneficiaries, then,’ said Lydia.

  Mellish wondered if she was thinking of herself, but was inclined to suspect she was more concerned about her absent brother-in-law. He nodded. ‘There are not.’

  ‘I have the death certificate issued by the French authorities, Mellish,’ said Ashley. ‘Armed with that, I assume you can set about applying for probate.’

  ‘Ah, there a small complication arises, I’m afraid.’

  Ashley frowned. ‘Why?’

  ‘My firm has not been appointed as an executor of the will.’

  ‘A mere detail. As executor, I will—’

  ‘Neither have you, Sir Ashley.’

  There was a brief, shocked silence. Winifred stiffened. George opened his eyes. Lydia stared. And Ashley glowered. ‘What the devil are you talking about?’

  ‘You are not an executor, Sir Ashley. Only an executor can apply for probate and in due course implement the provisions of the will. I’m sorry, but there it is.’

  ‘A moment ago you said you understood we were fully aware of Sir Henry’s wishes,’ said Lydia.

  ‘For the disposition of his estate, yes. Nothing has been changed there. Only in the matter of the executorship did Sir Henry make an alteration.’

  ‘When did he do this, Mr Mellish?’ asked Winifred.

  ‘The revised will is dated …’ Mellish broke off to consult the document. ‘The twelfth of March.’

  ‘March this year?’ Ashley snapped.

  ‘Er, yes.’

  ‘But that’s only … a few weeks ago.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘How is this possible? He’d been in Paris since early January.’

  ‘Not all the time, self-evidently. He telephoned me from his London club on, let me see …’ There was a rustling of papers. ‘Yes. On Tuesday the eleventh. He said he wanted urgently to make an amendment to his will and would call on me the following day to do so.’

  ‘He came to Epsom?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘You must be mistaken,’ Lydia cut in. ‘He wouldn’t have come to Epsom without contacting us.’

  ‘He came, Lady Maxted, I assure you. Having the revised will typed there and then so that it could be signed and witnessed the same day placed something of a strain on my secretarial resources. I well recall the occasion.’

  ‘Henry was in the country,’ said George. ‘I saw him myself.’

  Ashley turned on him. ‘What?’

  ‘In London. The eleventh, you say, Mellish?’ George nodded. ‘Yes, that sounds about right.’

  ‘You saw him?’

  ‘I did. At some distance. In Lombard Street. I thought I must be mistaken, but clearly I wasn’t.’

  ‘Did you know about this, Mother?’

  ‘Yes, my dear. George told me.’

  ‘Well, you might have told me.’

  ‘I didn’t consider it important.’

  ‘Not important?’

  ‘Who is the executor, Mellish?’ George asked, ignoring Ashley. ‘You may as well put us out of our misery.’

  ‘It’s James,’ said Winifred quietly.

  ‘James?’ Ashley’s tone had now acquired a timbre of horror.

  ‘You are correct, Lady Maxted,’ said M
ellish. ‘Mr James Maxted is the sole executor of Sir Henry’s will.’

  ‘Good God,’ Ashley exclaimed, ‘this … this is …’

  ‘Intolerable,’ said Lydia. ‘That is what it is.’

  ‘Sometimes the intolerable must be tolerated,’ said Winifred.

  Ashley glared at her. ‘How can you take this so calmly?’

  ‘I imagine the appointment is legally unchallengeable,’ Winifred replied.

  ‘Indeed so,’ said Mellish.

  ‘Then to take it other than calmly would be futile.’

  But calmness clearly did not commend itself to Ashley, who squirmed and grimaced helplessly. ‘I assume James could renounce the executorship if he wished,’ said Lydia tightly.

  ‘He could,’ Mellish responded. ‘Do you know of some reason why he might wish to?’

  ‘Well, he’s currently abroad and didn’t return even for his father’s funeral. That hardly suggests he’s a natural choice for the role.’

  ‘Be that as it may, Lady Maxted, Sir Henry’s wishes were very clear on the point. If you can furnish me with an address for your brother, Sir Ashley, I’ll—’

  ‘Much good that’ll do you.’

  ‘But you can tell me where he is?’

  ‘Yes, yes, damn it. Hotel Mazarin, Rue Coligny, Paris. Unless he’s moved on to God knows where.’

  ‘We have no reason to doubt his presence there, Mr Mellish,’ said Winifred with some emphasis.

  ‘Then I shall communicate with him as soon as possible,’ said Mellish. ‘As regards his suitability or inclination, I’ll certainly offer my firm’s services for the settlement of the estate.’

  ‘He’ll probably plump for that,’ said George. ‘He won’t want to bog himself down in paperwork.’

  ‘Let’s hope not,’ said Ashley, stroking his forehead gloomily.

  ‘I’ll need the death certificate you mentioned, Sir Ashley,’ said Mellish, smiling uneasily.

  ‘Yes, yes, very well.’ Ashley hauled himself to his feet and headed for the door.

  ‘Tell me, Mr Mellish,’ said Lydia as soon as her husband had left the room, ‘if, purely for the sake of argument, James did renounce the executorship, who would replace him?’

  ‘The courts would appoint an administrator, Lady Maxted.’

  ‘And who would that be?’

  ‘Normally, the residuary legatee. In this case, Sir Ashley.’

  ‘And in that event, we would be much where we were, in testamentary terms, before Sir Henry made the recent alteration to his will?’

  ‘We would be exactly where we were.’

  ‘I see.’ Lydia nodded thoughtfully. ‘Excuse me for a moment, would you all?’ With that, she rose and bustled from the room.

  Winifred watched her depart, then turned back to Mellish with a smile. ‘We should have offered you tea, Mr Mellish. Would you care for a cup?’

  ‘Or a glass of something stronger?’ George suggested.

  Lydia caught up with Ashley in his study. He already had the death certificate in his hand and was about to leave. She closed the door behind her, clasped his arm and fixed him with a purposeful stare.

  ‘As executor, James is likely to prove an appalling nuisance,’ she said. ‘It’s simply not to be borne.’

  ‘I know,’ Ashley groaned. ‘But what’s to be done?’

  ‘If he renounced the executorship, you’d take over, according to Mellish.’

  ‘Why would he renounce it?’

  ‘To secure the land he needs for his wretched flying school.’

  ‘I’ve already told him that’s out of the question.’

  ‘You’re going to have to change your mind, darling.’ Her grip on his arm tightened. ‘Or at least pretend to.’

  THE PARC MONCEAU looked both springlike and wintry in pallid sunshine. The snow lay in half-thawed patches between colourfully blossomed beds of flowers. The keen wind did not encourage the pram-pushing nannies to loiter and the benches flanking the path Max followed into the park were empty.

  He had taken care to arrive exactly on time, suspecting Kuroda would be punctual, and was soon rewarded by the sight of the Japanese detective walking towards him. He was wearing a Homburg, gloves, scarf and heavy overcoat and was carrying an umbrella, though no rain was threatening.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Maxted,’ Kuroda said as they met.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Kuroda. Why don’t you call me Max? Everyone does.’

  ‘Your father did not.’

  ‘Everyone except my family.’

  ‘Aha. Very well. Come then, Max. I had thought we would sit and talk, but we must walk if my teeth are not to chatter.’

  They headed at a brisk pace towards the gate Max had entered by. ‘And what should I call you? Mr Kuroda? Commissioner? Masataka?’

  ‘I had the honour to know your father as Henry and to be known by him as Masataka. You are the son of my friend. Therefore …’

  ‘Masataka it is.’

  Kuroda gave a formal little nod of approval.

  ‘I was surprised to get your message last night, Masataka.’

  ‘Why? You must have calculated that I could not speak without constraint in the presence of Mr Morahan.’

  ‘I wasn’t sure you wanted to speak without constraint.’

  ‘Henry would wish me to advise you candidly, Max. I do not walk with you here this morning as a loyal servant of the Emperor. I walk with you here this morning to give you my counsel.’

  ‘I’ll take it, gratefully.’

  ‘Then first we must acknowledge the facts. Neither you nor Mr Morahan referred to the murder of Raffaele Spataro and the arrest of Corinne Dombreux. Yet those events flow from the same source as the murder of your father. You agree?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I believe you are in considerable danger. Have you received any threats to your life?’

  Max sighed. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Which you have disregarded?’

  ‘I’m staying in Paris until I learn the truth.’

  ‘Your resolve is commendable. It may also be fatal. But why do you suppose the threat to your life has not yet been acted upon?’

  ‘They think I can be frightened off.’

  ‘They hope you can. Their difficulty is that your murder would make it hard for the police to continue to pretend that Henry’s death was accidental or that Madame Dombreux murdered Spataro. That is why they stay their hand – for the moment.’

  ‘Do you know who they are?’

  ‘You are caught in a web. And Lemmer is the spider at its centre. That is all I can be sure of.’

  They reached the gate. Max paused to light a cigarette. Kuroda declined his offer of one. They turned and began to retrace their steps.

  ‘Henry sought in his last weeks to sell valuable pieces of information he possessed to various people. The whereabouts of Fritz Lemmer was only one such piece of information. You are aware of this, I think.’

  ‘I am. I didn’t know you were.’

  ‘My duties require me to be aware of many things. Henry’s behaviour suggested desperation to me. He was a professional diplomat. This auction of secrets was a contradiction of all he stood for. Have you discovered what drove him to it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, perhaps it is not your most pressing problem. Do you know what else besides his knowledge of Lemmer he hoped to profit from?’

  ‘I have a few … indications.’

  ‘Do any of those indications point to a matter that might involve my delegation?’

  Max nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And that matter was?’

  ‘Something he referred to as the Chinese box. Meaning, I assume, the boxload of secret documents stolen from the head of the Chinese delegation when he stopped off in Tokyo on his way here.’

  ‘I assume that also.’

  ‘Stolen by your lot, according to Appleby.’

  ‘My lot?’ Kuroda chuckled drily. ‘There he is mistaken.’

  ‘Who, then?’
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br />   ‘I greatly fear the thief, whether or not he was Japanese, acted on instructions from Lemmer.’

  ‘Why would Lemmer want the documents?’

  ‘To answer that question I must entrust you with a state secret, Max. I should not, of course. It is most unwise, most … irresponsible. But if I don’t, I estimate your chances of leaving Paris alive will be close to zero.’

  ‘It can’t be that bad.’

  Kuroda cast him a sidelong glance that might have been one of pity. ‘I have serious doubts about the wisdom of discussing this matter with you. You could ease those doubts by assuring me that you will disclose what I am about to tell you to no one else … unless to do so becomes the difference between life and death.’

  ‘You have my word.’

  ‘Thank you. I will hold you to it. Now, the Chinese box. There is a game played in China in which a series of wooden boxes must be fitted inside each other. It can only be done in one specific sequence. The difficulty arises from the minute differences in the size and shape of each box. This is what we are doing, Max: puzzling over sizes and shapes. There is only one solution to the puzzle. And this, I believe, is that solution.

  ‘Lemmer’s calculation from the start of the war was that the only hope Germany had of winning was to outflank its enemies. He planned to do this by neutralizing some of them and turning others into allies. So, he gave the Bolsheviks secret support to bring down the Tsar and plunge Russia into chaos. And he sought to persuade Japan to change sides. Japan’s entry into the war had been a strategic disaster for Germany. They lost their Pacific naval base at Tsingtao and the island colonies it protected. Lemmer understood that if and when the United States joined in, Germany was doomed, unless Japan by then was an ally. Japan could distract the Americans, by threatening Hawaii and the Philippines. So, through agents in China, which was still neutral then, he offered the Japanese government a deal: as much territory as they wanted in eastern Russia and the Pacific, including Australia and New Zealand, in return for an alliance with Germany. From some viewpoints, it was an attractive offer. And I must tell you it was seriously considered.’

  ‘How seriously?’

  ‘I believe the stolen box contained a copy of a letter sent by Prime Minister Juichi to the German Foreign Minister, Zimmermann, accepting the offer. If the evidence of this letter was made public, it would have a catastrophic effect on Japan’s relations with the United States and Great Britain. It might even lead to Japan’s expulsion from the peace conference. The consequences of that are hard to judge. But they would be extremely grave.’