Comedians, The by Greene Graham

Author:Greene, Graham [Greene, Graham]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Political thriller, Thriller, Fiction, Novel, Modern Classics
Publisher: Random House / Vintage Classics
Published: 1966-01-07T03:00:00+00:00

PART TWO

CHAPTER 1

I

JONES fell from view for a while as completely as the body of the Secretary for Social Welfare. No one ever learnt what was done with his corpse, though the Presidential Candidate made more than one attempt to discover. He penetrated to the bureau of the new Secretary where he was received with celerity and politeness. Petit Pierre had done his best to spread his fame as ‘Truman’s opponent’, and the Minister had heard of Truman.

He was a small fat man who wore, for some reason, a fraternity pin, and his teeth were very big and white and separate, like tombstones designed for a much larger cemetery. A curious smell crossed his desk as though one grave had stayed open. I accompanied Mr Smith in case a translator were needed, but the new Minister spoke good English with a slight twang which went some way to support the fraternity pin (I learnt later that he had served for a while as ‘the small boy’ at the American Embassy. It might have been a rare example of merit rising if he had not served an interim period in the Tontons Macoute where he had been a special assistant to Colonel Gracia – known as Fat Gracia).

Mr Smith excused the fact that his letter of introduction was addressed to Doctor Philipot.

‘Poor Philipot,’ the Minister said, and I wondered whether at last we were to receive the official version of his end.

‘What happend to him?’ Mr Smith asked with admirable directness.

‘We will probably never know. He was a strange moody man, and I must confess to you, Professor, his accounts were not in good order. There was the matter of a water-pump in Desaix Street.’

‘Are you suggesting he killed himself?’ I had underrated Mr Smith. In a good cause he could show cunning and now he played his cards close to his chest.

‘Perhaps, or perhaps he has been the victim of the people’s vengeance. We Haitians have a tradition of removing a tyrant in our own way, Professor.’

‘Was Doctor Philipot a tyrant?’

‘The people in Desaix Street were sadly deceived about their water.’

‘So the pump will be set working now?’ I asked.

‘It will be one of my first projects.’ He waved his hand at the files on the shelves behind him. ‘But as you see I have many cares.’ I noticed that the steel grips on many of his ‘cares’ had been rusted by a long succession of rainy seasons: a ‘care’ was not quickly disposed of.

Mr Smith came smartly back at him. ‘So Doctor Philipot is still missing?’

‘As your war-communiqués used to put it, “missing believed killed”.’

‘But I attended his funeral,’ Mr Smith said.

‘His what?’

‘His funeral.’

I watched the Minister. He showed no embarrassment. He gave a short bark, which was meant to be a laugh (I was reminded of a French bulldog) and said, ‘There was no funeral.’

‘It was interrupted.’

‘You cannot imagine, Professor, the unscrupulous propaganda put about by our opponents.’

‘I am not a professor and I saw the coffin with my own eyes.

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