Under The Net - Iris Murdoch [15]
Eleven
I made for the nearest quiet place I knew of, which happened to be the Wallace Collection, to sit down and put together the fragments of my answer. Sitting facing the cynical grin of Frans Hals's Cavalier, I laboured at it. My mind was still not working very fast. My translation of Breteuil's Rossignol de Bois, which I had left with Madge, had been purloined by Sammy. No, it hadn't, it had been presented to Sammy by Madge. Why? To be made a film out of. Who by? Some fellow called H. K. who knows no French. An American probably. What's in this for Sadie? Sammy sells this idea to this Yank, and sells him Sadie at the same time. What about Bounty Belfounder? Sadie walks out on them. Can they do anything about that? Apparently not, they haven't got Sadie tied up properly. What about me? If I won't play it doesn't matter tuppence once this H. K. has been sold the idea. Would Jean Pierre defend me? Of course not. He'll deal directly with where the dollars are. Anyhow, have I any rights? None. Then what am I complaining about? My typescript has been stolen. Stolen? Madge shows it to Sammy, who shows it to H. K. Stolen? What's Madge up to anyway? Madge is being double-crossed by Sammy, who ditches her for Sadie. Sammy uses Madge and Sadie uses Sammy to get her revenge on Hugo and make a fortune in dollars at the same time. I began to see the whole picture. What was so maddening was that The Wooden Nightingale would in fact make a marvellous film. It really had everything. Madge, in days when she imagined that it might somehow be possible to persuade me to make money, had gone on about it continually. Poor Madge! She had picked the winner, but Sadie and Sammy would hit the jackpot. 'Not if I can help it!' I exclaimed, and made for the exit. 'An entertaining story,' said the Cavalier. 'I applaud your decision.' What was my decision? There were no two ways about it. I must try to get back my typescript at once. To do this would be to defend my own interests, and to defend Hugo's, and, what mattered most, to do down Sadie and Sammy. That would be striking a blow for Madge too. Where was the typescript? At Sammy's flat. Where was Sammy's flat? The universal provider of information to which I had applied before told me that Sammy lived in Chelsea. It was clear that I should have to work fast. I must get hold of the typescript before this H. K. could see it. The way Sadie had referred to it suggested that it had not yet been copied. Sammy had implied that he would not be visiting his flat until the evening. He had said that it was probably empty. I rang Sammy's number and got no reply. Then I decided that I badly needed Finn. I rang Dave's number and after some delay Finn answered, sounding rather dazed. I told him that I was glad he hadn't been drowned, and that I wanted him to come and join me as soon as he could. When he knew it was me he cursed me for a long time in Gaelic, and said that he'd been asleep. I congratulated him, and asked how soon he could get along. At last after much grumbling he said he would come to meet me in the King's Road, and there about three-quarters of an hour later we duly met. The time was then about twenty to three. I had taken the precaution of asking Finn to bring with him an implement which we called the Master Key, which was a lock-picking tool of simple style which we had designed together on scientific principles. You may think it odd that two ordinary law-abiding citizens like myself and Finn should have troubled to provide ourselves with such an article. But we have found by experience that there are a surprising number of occasions in a society such as ours when simply in defence of one's own rights, as in the present case, one needs to get through a locked door to which one possesses no key. And after all, one may even find oneself locked out of one's house, and one can't call the Fire Brigade every time. We telephoned again to make sure the flat was empty; and then as we walked along the road I told Finn the outline of the story. He found this so interesting that he quite got over his bad temper. It was clear, however, that he still had a dreadful hangover. He had the slightly squinting look which he gets with a hangover, and kept shaking his head as he went along. I have often asked Finn why he shakes his bead when he has a hangover, and he tells me that it's to make the spots move away from in front of his eyes. It surprises me when Finn, with all his Irish training, stands up to a drinking bout less well than I do; though on this occasion it was possible that although, like the Walrus, I had got all I could, Finn had in fact, like the Carpenter, got hold of more. He has an almost psychic capacity for finding drink at all hours. Whatever the reason, he was in bad shape, while I was by now feeling fine, only a little bit weak in the stomach. I wasn't at all sure how easy it would prove to get into Sammy's flat. Sammy was the sort of person who might easily have installed a special lock, or worse still a burglar alarm. He lived, moreover, in one of those enormous blocks of service flats, where it was possible that we might be interfered with in our work by the porter or some other busybody. When we reached the block I sent Finn round to the other side of the building to see if he could find a tradesmen's entrance, in case we were disturbed, while I walked in the front way, keeping an eye lifting for porters. We met outside Sammy's door, which was on the fourth floor. Finn said there was a decent quiet tradesmen's entrance. I told him I had seen only one porter, who sat in a glass cage near the main door and didn't look as if he was likely to move. Finn whipped out the Master Key, while I kept watch at the end of the corridor. In a minute or two Sammy's door was opening quietly and we both went in. We found ourselves in a wide hallway. Sammy had one of the large corner flats. We tried a door, which led into the kitchen. 'We'll concentrate on the living-room and on his bedroom,' I said. 'Here's his bedroom,' said Finn, and started opening drawers. He lifts and replaces objects with the speed and dexterity of a factory hand on piece work; and as he puts it himself, divil a one would know that it was other than the spring breeze had touched their things. We were both gloved, of course. I watched him for a moment, and then I made for what I took to be the main living-room. The door opened right enough into a large corner room, with windows on both sides. But what I saw as I opened the door made me stop dead in my tracks. I looked at it for a while, and then I called to Finn, 'Come and have a look at this!' He joined me. 'Mother of God!' he said. Right in the middle of the room was a shining aluminium cage, a bola three feet tall and five feet square. Inside the cage, growling softly and fixing us with a nervous bright eye, was a very large black-and-tan Alsatian dog. 'Can it get out?' said Finn. I approached the cage, and as I did so the animal growled more loudly, wagging its tail vigorously at the same time in the ambiguous way dogs have. 'Be careful with the brute!' said Finn, who doesn't care for dogs. 'It'll be springing out on you.' I studied the cage. 'It can't get out,' I said. 'Well, thank God,' said Finn, who once this was clear seemed to have no further interest in the phenomenon. 'Don't be teasing it now,' he added, 'or it'll set up a howl will bring the cops on to us.' I looked at the animal curiously; it had a kind intelligent face, and in spite of its growls it seemed to be smiling. 'Hello,' I said, and thrust my hand through the bars, whereon it became silent and licked me prodigiously. I began stroking its long nose. 'And don't be acting the maggot with it either,' said Finn; 'we haven't got all day.' I knew that we hadn't got all day. Finn went back to Sammy's bedroom and I began to study the living-room. I was very anxious indeed to find the typescript. I kept pausing to imagine with delight Sammy's fury on finding that it was gone. I ransacked Sammy's bureau and a chest of drawers. Then I searched through a cupboard on the landing. I looked in suitcases, and brief-cases, and under cushions and behind books, and even went through the pockets of all Sammy's coats. I came upon various interesting objects, but not the typescript. There was no sign of the thing. Finn had drawn a blank too. We searched the other rooms, but without much hope, as they looked as if they were very little used. 'Where the hell else can we look?' asked Finn. 'I'm sure he's got a secret safe,' I said. The fact that the bureau was unlocked suggested this. If I knew my Sammy, he was a man with plenty to hide. 'Well, if he has it'll do us no good finding it,' said Finn, 'for we'll not be able to open it.' I feared he was right. But we scoured the house again, tapping the floorboards, and looking behind pictures, and making sure that there was no drawer or cupboard which we had missed. 'Come on,' said Finn, 'let you and I be making tracks.' We had been there nearly three-quarters of an hour. I stood in the living-room cursing. 'The bloody thing must be in some place,' I said. 'True for you!' said Finn, 'and it'll likely stay in that place.' He pointed to the dial of his watch. The dog had been watching us all the time, its bushy tail sweeping to and fro against the bars. 'A fine watch-dog you are!' Finn told it. The roof of the cage, which like its floor was made of solid aluminium, was pitched high enough to let the beast stand upright, but not high enough for it to prick its ears when standing up. 'Poor boy!' I said. 'You know,' I said to Finn, 'it's very odd this dog being here. I've never seen anyone put a dog in a cage like that, have you?' 'I suppose it's some sort of special dog,' said Finn. Then I whistled. There suddenly came back to my mind what Sammy had said about a new star; and in that moment I recognized the animal. 'Did you ever see Red Godfrey's Revenge?' I asked Finn, or Five in a Flood?' 'Is it cracked you are?' said Finn. 'Or Stargazers' Farm or Dabbling in the Dew?' 'What are you at at all?' he said. 'It's Mister Mars!' I cried, pointing at the beast. 'It's Marvellous Mister Mars, the dog star. Don't you recognize him? Sammy must have bought him for the new film!' I was so fascinated by this discovery that I forgot all about the typescript. Nothing thrills me so much as meeting a film star in real life, and I had been a fan of Mars for years. 'Och, you're potty,' said Finn, 'all Alsatians look alike. Come away now before himself arrives back on us.' 'But it is Mars!' I cried. 'Aren't you Mister Mars?' I said to the dog. It pranced and wagged its tail faster than before. 'There you are!' I said to Finn. 'A fat lot that tells you!' said Finn. 'Aren't you Rin Tin Tin?' he said to the dog, who wagged its tail faster still. 'Well, what about this?' I said. Inscribed unobtrusively along the top of the cage were the words: Marvellous Mister Mars--and on the other side The property of Plantasifilms Ltd. 'That bit's out of date,' I said. 'I'll not dispute it then,' said Finn. 'I'm off,' he added and made for the door. 'Oh wait!' I said, in such a tone of anguish that he stopped. I was beginning to have a wonderful idea. While it came slowly up I held both hands pressed to my temples and kept my eyes fixed on Mister Mars, who gave one or two soft encouraging barks as if he knew what was coming into my mind. 'Finn,' I said slowly, 'I have an absolutely wonderful idea.' 'What?' said Finn suspiciously. 'We'll kidnap the dog,' I said. Finn stared at me. 'What in the world for?' he said. 'Don't you see?' I cried, and as the glorious daring and simplicity of the scheme became even plainer to me I capered about the room. We'll hold him as a hostage, we'll exchange him for the typescript!' Finn's look of puzzlement softened into a look of patience. He leaned against the edge of the door. 'They wouldn't play,' he said, speaking slowly as to a child or a lunatic, 'and why should they indeed? We'll only get ourselves in trouble. And anyway, there wouldn't be time.' 'I won't go away from here empty handed!' I told him. The time element was certainly serious. But I felt a feverish desire to become an actor in this drama. It was worth taking a risk with Mars. Sammy's position over the typescript was just dubious enough to restrain him from getting tough. If I could embarrass him by detaining Mars, or even persuade him that Mars's safety was at stake, he might at least be made to parley about the typescript. In fact, I had no really clear plan in my mind at all. I am a swift intuitive type of thinker. All I knew was that I had a bargaining-point under my hand and that I would be a fool not to take advantage of it. Even if the whole manoeuvre did no more than annoy and inconvenience Sammy, it would have been worth it. I explained all this to Finn as I started to examine the cage to see how it opened. Finn, who now saw that my mind was made up, shrugged his shoulders and started examining the cage too, while Mars followed us round inside, watching our movements with obvious approval. The thing was mysterious. There was no door in it, and no locks or bolts or screws, so far as we could see. The bars fitted closely into the roof and the floor. 'Perhaps one side comes away,' I said. But there was no sign of any special fastening. The whole thing was a smooth as a pebble. 'It's soldered in,' said Finn. 'It can't be,' I said. 'Surely no one carried the thing upstairs like this.' 'Well, it's some trick modern fitting,' said Finn. This didn't help. 'If we had a good hammer and knew where to tap it...' he said. But we hadn't. I battered it for some time with my shoe, but nothing gave. 'Can't we break the bars?' I suggested. 'They're as hard as the Divil's forehead,' said Finn. I went to the kitchen to look for a tool, but I couldn't find a screw-driver, let alone a crowbar. We tried a poker on the bars, but bent it without their yielding a millimetre. I was frantic. I would have sent Finn out for a file, only it was getting late. He was looking at his watch. It was ten past four. I knew he was straining to be away, though I knew too that now we were embarked on a particular enterprise he would stand by me as long as I wanted him. He was squatting there by the cage, and both he and Mars were looking up at me, Finn with the gentle look which he reserves for moments of difficulty. 'Every time I hear a noise on the stairs I have heart disease,' said Finn. I was having it too. But I wasn't going to go away without Mars. I took off my gloves; I felt that things were moving into a new phase. 'Then we'll take the cage as well,' I said. 'It won't go through the door,' said Finn, 'and anyway someone's sure to stop us on the way out.' We'll try,' I said. 'If it won't go through the door I'll promise to give up.' You'll have no choice,' said Finn. I was certain it would go through the door. But to get it through we should have to stand it on its side. There was a bowl of water inside on the aluminium floor of the cage. 'That proves it,' said Finn; 'they surely put it together up here. We'll not get it away.' I took a flower vase and poured the water from the bowl into it, holding it close against the bars. Then very gently we began to tilt the cage. Mars, who had been watching us intently, now began to get very excited. 'Be careful,' said Finn, 'or he'll bite the hand off you.' We tilted the cage until it lay entirely upon its side, and as we did so Mars slid down until he was standing on the bars which now rested on the floor. He began to bark nervously. 'Be quiet,' I told him. 'Think of the fix you were in in Five in a Flood, and it all turned out all right!' 'When we lift the cage,' said Finn, 'his feet will fall through the bars and he may break a leg by struggling.' This was a sensible thought. We stood and considered the problem. We were past troubling about the time. We were ready to go on now even if it meant another two hours. 'We must stretch something across the bars,' I said. I seized a tablecloth, and stuffing it into the cage tried to spread it out under Mars's feet. But he immediately started to paw it and worry it. 'You'll have to fix it somehow,' said Finn, 'or he'll scruff it away with his feet.' 'String,' I said. "That would slip off,' said Finn. 'What you need is something long enough to double back and tie on to itself underneath.' He disappeared and came back a moment later with a sheet. We measured the sheet against the edge of the cage. 'It's not long enough to meet underneath,' said Finn. I began trying to tie the corners of the sheet to the bars, but it was highly starched and the knots came undone at once. We looked round desperately. 'What about those curtains?' I suggested. 'We'd need a step-ladder to get them down,' said Finn. 'No time,' I said. I gave them a sharp tug, and the fitting came out of the wall and the curtains came down on top of us with great clattering of rings. We detached one of them. It was extremely long. We stretched it along inside the cage, making Mars pick up his feet and stand on it. Then there was quite enough of it protruding at either end for it to meet itself if doubled back on the underside of the bars. But we had no means of getting at the underside. 'We need a jack,' said Finn. I took two chairs and put them one at each end of the cage 'Lift it on to these,' I said. We began to lift, but as we did so Mars's paws, slipping through the bars as soon as the cage left the floor, pulled the curtain into a tangle. At the same time he began to bark loudly. We put the cage down again. I looked at Finn. He was sweating. He looked at me. 'I've just thought of something else,' he said quietly. 'What is it?' I asked him. 'Even suppose we were to tie the two ends of the curtain together underneath,' said Finn, 'the knot would pull the curtain up into a rope on the inside of the bars, so it wouldn't even then be spread out under his feet. Do you see what I mean?' I saw what he meant. We leaned pensively against the two ends of the cage. 'Perhaps after all it would be better to try twine,' said Finn. 'If we were to thread two pieces into the curtain rings at each end, and then make two holes...' 'To hell with it!' I cried. 'We'll try nothing more,' and I began to drag the curtain out from under Mars's feet. He forthwith seized the corner of it in his mouth and wouldn't let go. 'Get it away from him!' I told Finn. 'You do that,' said Finn, 'and I'll pull.' With difficulty I forced Mars's mouth open, and we rescued what remained of the curtain. After that I sat on the floor and leaning my head against the bars I began to laugh hysterically. I've thought of something too,' I told Finn. 'What?' 'Perhaps it won't go through the door after all!' I was laughing so much I could hardly get this out. Then Finn began to laugh too, and we both lay on the floor and laughed like maniacs until we could do nothing more but groan. Alter that we started hunting for where Sammy kept his whisky, and when we had found it we had a couple of stiff ones. Finn showed signs of wanting to settle down to this, but I led him back to the cage. 'Come on!' I told Finn briskly, 'and let him do what he likes with his feet!' We lifted the upended cage from the ground, holding it at each end by the bars. At first Mister Mars began to slip and slither; but it was soon evident that in our anxiety about his welfare we had reckoned without his own intelligence. As soon as he realized that he had nothing to stand on but the bars, he tucked up his legs and lay stretched out along the side of the cage, looking a little uncomfortable but perfectly calm. When we saw this we began to laugh again so much that we had to put the cage down.