The Passenger by Chris Petit

Author:Chris Petit [Petit, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK

The Abyss

The party was high in one of the big new super-towers, in an exclusive space with commanding views of the nocturnal city. Collard kept his overcoat on to give his appearance a semblance of formality. Otherwise he would be in jersey and jeans at a black-tie affair. There was no sign of anyone resembling Nazir.

The party was a world away from the locations he had visited that day and not what he expected, which was a low-key affair reminiscent of dull embassy drinks parties, rather than a brash, noisy gathering with a heaving crowd getting drunk on complimentary champagne. Quite how he was meant to find Patrick Bauer in the squash he wasn’t sure.

Collard pushed into the crowd, trying to imagine what Bauer looked like. People shouted to be heard. Most guests struck poses. A clique of elderly, immaculate patricians displayed an ease of manner that came from a lifetime of ordering people around. Otherwise a lot of winter suntans dressed with too much gold shouted wealth, no taste or class. Younger men tended to be bland and good-looking; the women more angular and interesting, feral even, in haute couture post-punk.

Collard stood in the middle of the room, wondering how much more he could take, when a voice in his ear said, ‘It takes the Germans to make punk dreary.’

Collard turned to find Stack grinning at him, champagne in hand. She looked reckless and drunk.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he asked, not pleased.

‘My question to you exactly.’

He took her by the arm and drew her aside.

‘Why are you following me?’

‘Let go. That hurts.’

He hadn’t realized he had been gripping so hard.

‘I’m not following you. I’m following a lead on Nazir.’

‘Through a man called Patrick Bauer?’

‘How do you know?’

It crossed his mind again that she knew exactly why he was there because she had been sent to watch him.

‘Do we have a conflict of interests?’ she asked.

He couldn’t stop her chasing her story. On the other hand, her presence as a journalist would hamper his chances.

‘I’ll give you the story if you go along with me. Whatever you do, do not let on that you are a reporter.’

‘What story will you give me?’

He saw the gleam of ambition. It didn’t matter, really. He had already told Evelyn most of what he knew and she would get it off him anyway. Before he could answer a woman joined them and asked if he was Collard.

She was the only other casually dressed person at the party, in a pressed white linen shirt, faded jeans and American boots. Even Stack had changed into a black suit.

The woman said her name was Marisa. She knew he was there to meet Patrick Bauer. She spoke English with confidence and graced Stack with an enquiring look.

‘My wife,’ Collard said.

Drunk or not, Stack was willing to go along with the charade, shook hands with Marisa and said, ‘Interesting party.’

It was being given for a private screening of the next big Hollywood movie, she told them. Her ironic manner left them in no doubt what she thought of the film.

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