Chapter 32 (2)

snort! "You're silent," said Diamond Yard. "You're brooding. Mr. Lucas, we're all in a terrible situation. If they try to kill you again, if they succeed this time, what will happen? Woolen cloth?" "Then what I announced to you will happen," I said roughly. "Now let's stop guessing and doubting. What the future holds, it will show. Is there anything else? Because I can't receive Visit." "You...you didn't tell us?" It was whispered. "No." "Not in your weakness, nor in your sleep, nor in your gibberish?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. Because otherwise you wouldn't be sitting here now, Frau Hermann." "You didn't get word of anything—any kind, or to whom?" "No." "Thank you. I thank you." "Stop talking." "Libeile..." "What's up with him?" "I want him to come in now." She walked to the door, spoke to the police outside, and walked back to my bed with Charles Ribelle.The notary was suave and reticent as usual.He greeted me politely, expressing his delight that I had escaped a murder.He said: "Mrs. Hermann came to me after it happened. I told her that I had been instructed that when I had clear evidence that your death had indeed been fatal or the aftermath of a violent attack, I just handed over all the materials I had. I said the same conditions apply to Lady Delphia."

"Correct, sir," I said. He bowed slightly. "But you're not dead," Libele said. "It looked like you were dead for a long time, but you're not dead." "Not much difference," I said. "Because you are not dead, I did not hand over the materials. In addition, Mrs. Hermann brought more than 300,000 francs when she visited. I accepted them for you and deposited them in the safe of the bank." "You should see right away--I mean Mr. Libelle should see--that we are not responsible for what happened," said Diamond Yard pleadingly.

"Thank you for the money," I said, "and from now on, please hand over the agreed amount to M. Libelle at the next due date. I don't know how long I will have to stay here. Of course there is no receipt. On the contrary, if you If this payment is delayed for a month, Mr. Libelle will tell me immediately." "I pay on time! On time!" cried Diamond Yard. "That's very good, Mr. Lucas," said the notary. "And," I said, "it's good that you are both here. That way I don't have to pass on to you through Monsieur Libelle, Madame Hermann. I have an idea."

"What?" asked Diamond Ild, terrified. I told these two people what I thought. 6 "I heard that you have a visitor," said Angera.It's seven o'clock.She also did some shopping.Now she's standing in front of my bed, freshly cut, beautiful, so pretty, but still terrified. "Yes," I said, "Madame Hermann and the notary Libelle have been here." "Who is he?" "A guy I met through my lawyer, Fontana. A totally reliable guy. When I was shot, Mrs. Hermann approached him and assured him it wasn't her and her friends who were behind it. "

"Do you believe her words?" "say to me. "why?" "Didn't I find out something about her and her friends? It's true. I know people who want to sell me the truth. Diamond Ird also knows this. Before the incident, I notarized it in Liberle in a bank safe, at the notary's, not at the police. He's entrusted with publishing them if anything happens to me. I think that's how our lives will be Guaranteed. Do you understand?" "You are so wrong!" "It was an unfortunate coincidence, a misunderstanding, a rash action. It will not be repeated, trust me, Angeras."

"Where did you get so sure?" "Because I've been thinking about something these days, because I told Diamond Ird and Libelle this afternoon." "What's the matter?" "I'm going to write my story," I said, "our story, if you want to hear it. A story of everything that happened to me and everything I know. Everything. I told Diamond Elder that The doctors say it will be months before I can leave the hospital. Now, during this time, I write my story - I am good at shorthand, and I can speak French. Ribele's secretary comes every night to fetch me to write during the day The contents of the following will be cleared. After the manuscript is typed, it will be stored in the safe of the bank. Libere has a second key, and I will concentrate on working quickly. Diamond Ilde knows now, once something happens to me, once you If something happens, this story with all the details will be published. I am doing it for both of us. The doctors here know that I gave what I wrote to Libele. So I have witnesses. We will serve as freedom live, safe and free from fear. Diamond Elder will spread the word that I am writing. No, no, when I write my story, we will both be safe."

Angera sat on the edge of my bed, turned sideways, and kissed me carefully.Her hair smells so good. 7 It's just that the writing thing didn't work out—not right away anyway.The doctors protested vigorously.They said I was too weak.As the weeks passed, my condition continued to improve.Angera brought the little Japanese "Sauer" TV into our room.It also has a bathroom, and we watch TV together again in the evening.I mostly fell asleep very quickly, and I was really weak, and then the weakness gradually subsided.I can't sleep anymore.On the weekend of the fourth week of treatment, I was able to stand up for the first time and walk a little, supported by Angera and a nurse.My left foot hurts badly when I take a step, but I don't say a word.The daily walks are gradually extended, and a masseuse comes regularly.I took a medical bath and suddenly had an appetite again, almost starvation.At the end of the fifth treatment week, on a Thursday, August 10, they allowed me to start writing.

I put my all into my work.I'm busy—writing, walking, gymnastics, massages, baths.Every minute of my day was divided.The doctors even thought it was a good thing that I wrote, they saw a work therapy in it.Of course the police also knew about my activities.Under Dillman's arrangement, the female secretary of Libelle's notary could come every night to take away the written pages.I am very diligent.Angera delayed all her work, perfunctory clients, and did not paint.Now she had to fulfill a promise that was long overdue.Therefore, I am mostly alone during the day.Angera came in the evening and left around nine in the morning.For the first time in my life, I did a job with passion.I wrote the report you read here.It should be a kind of life insurance for the woman I love--for Angera.Well, of course for me too.For that, you see, I pray to God every night that I succeed in writing what I've been through.It's not a question of can.If it's for Angera, I can do anything.It's just a matter of time.

August was unbelievably hot, and so was September.Sometimes there are heavy thundershowers.Angera was often obliged to attend parties.At first she didn't want to go, but I forced her.That was her profession, and life had to go on.I also wrote at night, many hours, when Angela went to a banquet, until she came back, often directly from the banquet table, still in evening dress.One October night—it was cooler now, though the day was still sunny, and the large hospital garden was full of shrubs and flowers—Angera walked on tiptoe around three o'clock in the morning into my room.I wrote until two o'clock, very clear-headed.She undressed in the dark, went to take a bath, and then I saw her figure in front of the open window, the moon shining.It was the first time I felt longing again.

I whispered her name softly. She trembled. "I thought you were asleep. Did I wake you up?" "come over." "what?" "Come to me. Come, Angera." "You're crazy. The cops outside will look in..." "He never came in at night when you were with me." "Or the night nurse." "She has already come. Come, Angera, I beg you. I long for you so badly." "Crazy...it's crazy, Robert!" "But you want it too! You want it as much as I do!" "Of course, Robert, of course." "Then come on." She slipped out and under my covers very quickly.I smelled the aroma of her skin, felt her naked body, and then, we bonded like we haven't in a long, long time. 8 On November 6, 1972, I was discharged from the hospital. It was a Monday and it was raining heavily in Cannes.On November 6th, at around 2:30 in the afternoon, I left Brosay Hospital.I've come a long way in my writing these past few months, and I've written almost where you just read.Before I go on, there are two more conversations I have to cover.One of the conversations that was actually repeated, and it kept coming up, was between Angeras and me.The sentence is almost always the same... "What if they let you out of the hospital, Robert? Then everything will go back to how it was before it happened. They'll try to kill you again. We won't have another Minutes of peace. Are we going to live under police protection forever?" I replied, "I don't know why they shot at me. So what can I do?" "You can call this Herman and tell her you're no longer working for Universal and you're not going to ask about it again, not for a second. Just say you didn't know you'd leak What, say you want to live quietly with me." "I already told her that," I lied. "Then tell her again!" So I ended up calling Diamond Yard.I told her, "I'm leaving the hospital now. You know, I don't work for Universal anymore. I haven't found out anything about your brother's death or anything, so I can't possibly give away anything." "Lady Delphia is listening on the other microphone, isn't she?" Diamond Elder asked. "Yes, Frau Hermann." "I've told you, and I repeat for Lady Delphia, that no one in our circle wants your life. We never dreamed of harming you. We have no reason for doing so. You once told me that you wanted to write all your experiences." "I have done this, Frau Hermann." "You see, that's enough to protect both of you from anyone else, why else would you write it? I'm sure Mr. Dillman and the police know about the writing, too." "Yes, Madame Hermann." I kept my Angela safe, as best I could. "If Dillman knows about it, Clement and Abel know about it too." "definitely." "Well, you couldn't have more protection in this vast world, Mr. Lucas!" "This vast world is full of millions of little fools, Mrs. Hermann." "Just think about it..." She hesitated, "...you are so good at protecting yourself, there will be no such a fool who decides to touch you again." "Exactly. I just want to tell you again that since my discharge from the hospital, I have lived in Cannes in a completely private capacity." "I'm glad you're here. Go on recovering well, dear Mr. Lucas," said Diamond Hield. I finally satisfied Angela with this conversation. Detective Inspector Russell insisted that I should be under police protection at least immediately after my discharge from the hospital. "Nobody knows for sure," he said.I agreed. The second conversation took place on the morning of November 6th, when the doctors examined me again.I ended up in a room alone with Dr. Joubert.We looked at each other for a long time without speaking, and then he said: "I had a hard time convincing my colleagues. They don't want to release you at all, they want you to stay here." "why?" "You are well aware of this! Your left leg. The condition of this leg was of course also brought to the attention of colleagues. With this attack, treatment and rest here, you have been granted another period of pardon. However, despite With all that, the bleeding in the legs can be catastrophic. Before long your feet will start to turn blue." "It's not blue yet." "But it hurts when you walk. Don't protest. You must be hurt!" I just nod. "It's easier for the surgeon if you can amputate the limb right away." "No!" I said forcefully, "I don't want to do this! I've been lying here for so long. Before the amputation I want to leave the hospital again—again. Don't you understand that?" "Of course I understand. So..." I interrupted him: "Lady Delphia doesn't know anything yet." "She can't hear anything from us." "So I've got to tell her! I need time for this. Only a little time." He sighed heavily. "how long?" "After Christmas and New Year's Eve." "why is it like this?" "I..." I couldn't help coughing, "I still want to go out with Angera on Christmas and New Year's Eve, I promised her. Go out, have fun, dance. Dance, Dr. Joubert! She is not at all." Didn't notice!" He looked at me sadly and said, "Okay then. But early January is the deadline. By then the foot and part of the leg will be blue anyway, and you're going to be in so much pain and have an attack. As you can imagine, you His heart isn't getting any better." "You give me bad news, doctor." "I'll just tell you the truth, and that's all. This leg has to be amputated. Well, I agree to one last extension, but it can't be delayed any longer." "Here's a nice Christmas present from me to Angera," I said. "She will bear anything with reason and love," he said. "I know her now. She is a wonderful woman." I remembered that at the bottom of the steps of the "Rock Paradise" where the yacht's boat was moored, the old man also Said the same thing.A long time ago the old man told us of his wife who left him with a mimosa grower from Glasser. On the afternoon of November 6th, as I said goodbye to the doctors and nurses and thanked everyone, it rained hard.Angera brought me a change of clothes, a suit, shoes and a coat into the hospital.Here comes Russell, Lacrosse, and Dillman.They insisted on escorting me home.I was also protected for the rest of the time, Russell said.When I left the building, the police would follow me and follow me everywhere.Usually, one person stands guard outside the door, and the other person stands at the gate of the residential building.I'll admit, I'm very happy with this guard, because the first few days you can see what's going on.I have to tell Angera the truth about the amputation this time, which makes me feel sad, and I put a lot of effort into putting on a happy smile.Of course I was also terrified of surgery.But, I think, we'll dance together at Christmas and New Years, as I promised. And that's how I left Blossey, the wonderful hospital where they brought me back from death to life.Brosay Hospital is a towering white building.It has a central wing through which the hospital is entered, flanked by broad, tall two-winged buildings.As I walked outside beside Angera, I saw that there was another hospital building opposite.There was a large clearing between the houses, and on it grew some very tall and beautiful palm trees, dripping from their leaves.The protruding part of the center wing is built on columns.As we left the hospital, there was a car park in front of a lower wall on the left, and behind that was a small church.It was summer when I got shot, hot, wonderful, colorful summer.Now many flowers are withered, the sky is almost black, the electric lights are turned on everywhere, and the cold rain hits my face.Angera left her Mercedes in the parking lot and went to fetch it.Dillman, Russell, and Lacrosse came in three cars.They formed a file, with Laclos at the front, Dillmans next, Angela third in her Mercedes, Roussel in the rear with his Citroen.I saw five or six people in raincoats running towards their car, obviously waiting for us.As they moved slowly now, three vehicles formed the leader of the convoy. "Protected well enough," I said, sitting next to Angera as usual. "Thank goodness," she said. On the large square in front of the hospital, there is an asphalt road leading down to the exit of the hospital area.There are palm trees on both sides.Arrows drawn on the asphalt show exactly where to go and where to go.The road bends at an arch and skirts an administration building near the gate.Incoming traffic rounds the building along the curve, and departing traffic rounds the other building on the other side.In front of the administration building was a wide open iron gate.Lanterns hung from the gateposts.The fence opens to both sides. LaClos and Dillman had already let their car slide on the road.Brandenburg Hospital is located on Glasser Street.The streets are not too wide here.There is also a car park and taxi stand opposite the gate.Because Glasser Road is not too wide, traffic is heavy.There were two traffic lights outside the hospital gate. They showed red lights, and Laclos and Dillman had to stop.Angera parked the Mercedes directly at the exit. A large Baker was parked in the parking lot opposite.I saw the muzzle flames flicker by the driver's window, very fast, one after the other.I also thought, this must be a submachine gun. Angera cried.I pulled her away from behind the steering wheel, pulled her under the car, and the engine stopped suddenly.I heard people shouting.Then I heard a lot of gunshots, and the officers guarding us returned fire.Lacrosse and Dillman must have shot too, I thought like a fool.I was furious.I have to see it!I need to know what's going on here!I need to know who the goddamn guy that shot at us was. So I opened the door on my side of the car.I said to Angera: "Anyway, lie down and wait for me to come back." Then I crawled around the car until I could see it.I saw terrified pedestrians being knocked down.Some of the police officers also fell on the sidewalk, and some hid behind the fence and behind the concrete pillars of the gate.They were shooting at the Baker like crazy—within ten meters of distance.Across the way, in the parking lot, taxi drivers sprawled to the ground.Suddenly, another volley of bullets swept across, hit the wall, flew out, and shattered the window of a food store opposite, behind the traffic light.There was a jumble of voices, women screaming.Everything is going much faster than when I wrote it here.Many lights go out every minute.It was still the sound of gunfire just now, but now it is quiet like a ghost.I saw two officers, and they ran to the Baker, striding and zigzagging.I follow them too.I arrived at the same time as them in front of the beige car, its side windows and windshield shattered by bullets.Before the other guy did it, I opened the driver's side door to see the dog, the goddamn dog, who just tried to kill me again.When I opened the door, the man in the blue coat fell out onto the dripping asphalt.He fell face down.No one can stop me now.I knelt down and turned the man on his back so I could see his face.I saw the face of Kessler, the tax collector in Bonn, the face of this tall and powerful man whose eyes were always so ruthless, so hard, so accustomed to orders, so imperious.Now they are pretty much closed.Now the face was as pale as lime.There must have been a lot of bullets hitting this guy.He was dying.His breath was like smoking.The coat was unbuttoned.Blood dripped from the suit, a lot of blood.Kesler is almost dead, but he's not quite dead.At this moment I lost self-control.I pulled the man a little further into the clearing until he was fully on his back.There was a "boom" sound.His submachine gun fell out.Otto Kesler was lying on the asphalt, and although the officers tried to wrestle me from him, they were unsuccessful.I yell at Kesler, Otto Kesler, the ace of the German tax authorities. 9 "Why did you do that, you dog?" He is silent. I slapped him across the face.I don't care, I don't care about anything. "Reply!" The officers are letting me go now, obviously no one understands German, or they understand that I might still get a confession from a dying man.Their colleagues were too busy with their hands to keep the onlookers back. Rain Xiaoxiao, rain Xiaoxiao. "I want you to answer, you pig!" I hit him again. "Money..." He could only speak vaguely.When he spoke, blood gushed from his mouth. "Lots of money……" "How many?" "Two million marks..." "Did they give it to you? Did they? Did they? Answer!" His eyes opened a little.They're completely crooked, and I'm pretty much just seeing the whites of the eyes. "Give it to me, yes..." "Then you are that professional killer?" "Yes...don't let me die...I...I'm...dying...help..." "You killed them all, didn't you? Viala first?" "yes……" "Where's the female nurse? Where's Danon? Did you have someone wreck the Mercedes?" "Yes Yes……" "It was some other friends of yours who hit me outside the Palais de Paris when I first arrived." "Also...friend...yes...yes...I'm going to die..." "You're going to die. What about that anonymous threatening letter to Hermann? Did you write it?" "I'm……" Now I understand why none of the participants' handwriting matches. "Who dictated that letter to you? Sagantana?" "Yes... yes... help... please... help..." "It was you who shot me in 'Rocklands'?" "It's me...it's all missions..." "They didn't expect that when you put me down, they would be finished too?" "I don't know...they're very confident...otherwise they wouldn't have given me...this mission...not now, not today. Two million...damn, this is..." His head Suddenly leaned to one side.The eyes widened and the whites disappeared.Those eyes looked at me.For the first time since I met Otto Kesler's eyes, they had a sentimental, warm, almost kind expression. This time he was dead.Raindrops fell into his open eyes.I didn't notice until now that a police officer was tugging on the sleeve of my overcoat. "What's up?" "Go to your car, sir! Go! Go!" He ran away ahead of me.I followed, limping on a badly sore leg, and turned back to the Mercedes. I squeezed in front of the car.A doctor knelt by the open door next to Angera's seat.I push him. "Why does she..." He looked up, then stood up and stepped aside. Now I'm kneeling on the dirty, wet pavement, my face pressed against Angera's. "Angela...Angela...it's over...the guy is dead... another smooth..." I paused, "Are you hurt? Don't move, Angera, don't move .You just lay there." She collapsed between the seat and the steering wheel, under the controls, her eyes open, her face very serious, although there was a very strange smile on her lips.One hand was still holding the steering wheel. "I can't see blood...but you're hurt, aren't you...shocked...you can't talk...Angela...Angela..." Someone is stroking my shoulder.I looked up and couldn't help it anymore. "Please stand up and let the doctors come," Gaston Dillman said. "She's hurt, isn't she? She's sitting on the left. All the bullets are coming in through the left window... But she's not badly hurt, you say, isn't it?" It was still raining heavily . "I don't see blood..." "No blood?" said the doctor, pushed aside by me, and unbuttoned Angera's coat.Her light cardigan was soaked with blood. "Angela, it's nothing... this is... a flesh wound..." "Just stop," the doctor said to me. "My God, can't you see that this woman is dead?" 10 Wednesday, November 8, 1972, at night. Today we buried Angera.I sat at her desk, and it was still raining.I've been writing since I got home.We buried Angera at the Great Sheepfold Cemetery.This is a big cemetery.Great Sheeppen Cemetery is also on Glasser Street, where the street has begun to rise.The cemetery is located above the city.There are many cypress trees here, and only a few palm trees.At its entrance stood low, gray cottages, one of which contained an antique shop.Tombstones look different from German ones.Most of the tombs are much larger, with stone pedestals often rising as much as a meter above the ground.A double cross with a cross and a stone on a stone pedestal.There are many flowers on the big tombstone.Today, after days of rain, Hua'er looked forlorn.There are also many graves built in the shape of small temples and chapels, and the whole cemetery gives a hideous impression.The low marble flat tombs we are familiar with in Germany, of course, also exist here.It's just in a row, not parallel to each other.Quite a bit like a maze. They assigned Angeras a burial plot at the top of the high side of the cemetery.From this position you can see all the tombs, you can see the whole city, you can see the ocean.The sea is gray today, like the sky, very lonely.Here you can see as far as you can from the nearby platform of Angera.I heard the rain dripping on the platform, but I saw not a single boat from Port Cantor to Napoleon Bay.In order not to have to look at the grave, I kept looking at the sea when the pastor was speaking.But then I kept looking at the grave again.The gravediggers are still pulling Angeras' coffin with ropes.I didn't know this pastor before.He is in charge of the California district where Angera lives.He came to me yesterday and offered to do everything for me through a funeral home.This is a very kind pastor, and I am grateful to him because I couldn't walk a step, neither yesterday nor this morning.They kept me in Blossey Hospital yesterday, and this morning they gave me a few injections before I could walk, stand, speak, read, and write.I can think too, unfortunately.The pastor inquired about Angera because he didn't know her well. How should he write a eulogy?So I told him a little bit, all unimportant things, and I failed to talk about important things.If I wanted to speak, I would literally break down in tears.I told the pastor that Angera was kind, upright and courageous, and that I loved her more than anything else.The pastor later spoke of all this and some other things at the graveside.People who knew Angera and me came.We stand in the rain.I was at the front, by the open grave, before a bouquet of flowers.I found short Inspector Lacrosse, Inspector Russell, and Gaston Dillman standing around me, and the cleaning lady, Alphonsin Petty, who was always praying for our happiness, Mr. and Mrs. Kemal, Zeorges, the valet at the Majestic, the young painter who exhibited his paintings in the Rue des Crosses in the summer (I don't know where he got the news of Angera's death), "Felix Nicholas, the owner of the "Golden Age", Jacques, the head bartender at the Port Cantor Club, Pascal and Claude Trabo, the little Giorgi who Angera specially painted Ya, and her father, a big Hollywood film studio, Robert our "waiter" at the "Majestic" hotel, the old lady behind the cashier in the "Guardian" casino, she's eighty years old Yes, still working, the overdressed Dr. Daniel Friser of the Federal Ministry of Finance in Bonn, with his calm, haggard face, and about two dozen other people I don't know.Frisser arrived early yesterday morning to clarify Kesler's case.He visited me in the hospital and offered me his sympathy.I don't know what he said. The pastor talked for a long time, and he meant well, but he talked about trivial things.I feel like I'm getting more and more restless by the minute.My feet hurt. "...Man, born of a woman, short-lived, full of restlessness. He blooms and withers like a flower. He flees like a shadow. The wind no longer knows where he is..." I have cried since Angela's death, but no one saw it, and I cried inwardly.My face must have looked like a mask, a stone mask.When the pastor prayed like this, I looked out to the sea, and the sea was covered with dark clouds.Between the dark clouds and the sea there is a dense layer of rain veil floating.Then the gravediggers finally lowered the coffin into the grave with a rope.The pastor held out his hand, said something I didn't understand, and handed me a small shovel.I bent down, scooped up a bit of wet earth, threw it in, and threw it on Angeras' coffin.The shovel is then passed from person to person to the funeral.They all threw dirt on the coffin, and many flowers.They all shook my hand, and some of them said something, but I don't know what they said.One by one they left, and at last I was left alone with four gravediggers.They closed the tomb, smoking and talking at the same time.I stood on one side and kept looking at the sea, which Angela had loved so much.It was already dark, and I was shivering with cold.I watched the gravediggers finish their work and place all the flowers and garlands on the piled mound.Then they left too.Of course, the tomb is not finished yet.I selected a tombstone, paid for it, and asked to have only one word engraved on it: ANGELA.They told me it took a while for the soil to firm up and they could bring the stone, the flat black marble. The Great Sheepfold Cemetery is indeed very large, but in the end I was the only one left.I approached the mound to talk to Angera.I did try, I did my best, because I still had a lot to say to her.But it doesn't make sense, and I can't think of a word.So then I walked through the rain to the exit of the cemetery and got into Angera's car.It was the first time I was driving this Mercedes that day, and it had several bullet holes in the left-hand seat.The little bear I had given to Angera was hanging under the windshield.I drove very slowly back into town, down Cross Road, past the Majestic, past Felix, past Clive and Alpers Jewelers. I took the Mercedes into the garage and locked it.At the gate of the residential area, a man greeted me, and when I got out of the elevator to go upstairs, there was a second one, standing outside the door.Ruthel still has people protecting me, even though Kesler is dead.But I speak German to the dying Kesler, and no one around me understands us.All I told Russell was that Kessler was ordered to kill me so I could stop snooping.I said the same thing to Frisser.Everything else will be known to the press if our notary Libelle releases to the press in Zurich the contents of the safe of the National Bank of Paris, together with this long report and the confession, photographs and tapes of Diamond Ird.During this period, I did not see Li Baile, nor did he come to the cemetery.But he knows what he has to do.Of course I kept asking myself why they would have prompted Kesler to make this crazy move.Diamond Yard knew exactly what would happen to Angera or me if they died.Have these people lost their minds?Have they found a way out for themselves, making our evidence unimportant?No matter how hard I racked my brain, I couldn't imagine such a way out.I didn't think for too long anyway, I got tired quickly and had a hard time concentrating. It's getting cold in the house.I turned on all the lights and all the televisions, went from room to room, and looked at everything very carefully—the painted and half-finished portraits in the studio, the cutlery in the kitchen, which I often The little stool I sat on, my wardrobe and Angera's clothes.I tried to smell her skin through the fabric again, but I quickly gave up because I couldn't stand it.I went into our bedroom and lay for a long time on the big bed we always slept on together.In the end I couldn't stand even this.I looked at all our portraits.There is a cup on the table in the living room.There was still half a glass of ouzo in the glass.Angela must have had a drink before she drove me out of the hospital.There is a lip balm print on the cup, and it sits in front of me as I sit at Angela's desk to write these lines. It rained heavily again.I heard earlier that the officer outside the door had been changed by another officer, and I've been writing.It took quite a while again.It's twenty-five past twenty-two.I just called the notary Libeile and told him to come back anyway at eleven o'clock and get the last few pages of my report.Then, he should do as we agreed.他讲，他理所当然会这么做。我也找过门外的刑警，他坐在电梯旁的楼梯口。我把房门钥匙给了这位警官，对他讲，公证员黎贝勒十一点要来。请放他进房，黎贝勒来取一点东西。我想躺一下，因为我累了。这位警官也通知到了。他会带黎贝勒进屋。在我跟这位刑警讲过之后，我回到屋里，来到平台上，走进雨里，它冷冷地有力地打在我脸上。这时我突然想起来，曾经有人警告过昂热拉当心而。这个人也曾经讲到过那许多白大褂和某个将要死去的人。那之后——我又想起来——贝尼斯夫人，卡诺特街上“奥地利旅馆”里的那个算命女人。她说，那之后昂热拉和我之间就什么也没有了，我们将化为一体，永远幸福。这事儿，她说，还将在这一年发生。是的，讲所有这一切的是贝尼斯夫人。 我走过平台。那许多的花有一部分被雨打落了。我越过栏杆往下看，昂热拉曾经想跳下去。房子的位置确实很高，我看到底下的水泥地面。如果从这儿跳下去，必摔死无疑。 我走回屋内。我听到电视机里在播新闻，但没听明白。我关掉了所有的电视机和所有的灯，只留下写字台上的灯，然后我写下了这几行。黎贝勒一刻钟后就会来。我要将我的报告的最后几页放整齐，好让他很快就发现手稿。我相信，我写下了所有重要的内容。现在我要走回到平台上去。栏杆潮湿得发亮，但是很容易跃过它。一切肯定非常快。 代替宣誓我，具结人，在此声明，今天，星期五，一九七二年十一月二十日，昨夜自杀辞世的德国籍公民罗伯特?卢卡斯于一九七二年六月二十六日来到我的事务所找我。他希望，我跟他一起去布图拉街上的巴黎国家银行租一只保险箱，钥匙由我们俩保管。死者将两只信封放在这只保险箱里。他告诉我，一只信封里装着照片，另一只信封里是一盒磁带。我既没看过磁带也没看过那些照片。罗伯特?卢卡斯要求我，在他暴死的情况下或者在昂热拉?黛尔菲娅夫人暴死的情况下，将两只信封拿到苏黎世，将其内容在一个新闻发布会上向国际新闻界的代表们以及国际刑警组织公布。 在对他的谋杀失败之后，罗伯特?卢卡斯想到一个主意，就他的经历写一份报告。我的女秘书每天晚上去布洛赛医院取他速记写满的这些纸页，用打字机打出来。次日我再将它们送到巴黎的国家银行的保险箱里。直到罗伯特?卢卡斯死后我才想起也读一读这份报告。我在此声明，其中一部分是有意的纯想象——大概是为了复仇、敲诈或隐瞒自己罪行的目的——尤其是一种病态的情感混乱的产品。我从没跟罗伯特?卢卡斯谈起过伊尔德?赫尔曼夫人，也从没给这位夫人打过电话。我纯属偶然地在布洛赛医院里遇到她一回，当我在第一个允许探访日去见罗伯特?卢卡斯并请求新的指示时。因此，如果认为在赫尔曼夫人和我之间或者其他人和我之间存在什么不正常的关系或协议的话，这是不真实的。任何人持此观点，我都将诉诸法庭。我从来没有收到过赫尔曼夫人的那笔三十万新法郎，正如罗伯特?卢卡斯在他的报告里所写的。我不清楚赫尔曼夫人的一份“招供”。类似的东西在巴黎国家银行的保险箱里也从没放过。 刑警今天在“棕榈海滩”赌场里听从法官的决定，让人打开了属于黛尔菲娅夫人的十三号保险箱，在场的有鲁瑟尔探长、拉克洛斯督察、法国外交部的加斯东?迪尔曼和预审法官盖拉德?帕尼塞。保险箱里除了钱和死者的首饰，也有一只封上的信封。它在预审法官的指示下被打开了。信封里有苏黎世的瑞士水星银行的一个账号的表格，上面存有一千七百八拾万零伍百瑞士法郎。正如预料到的那样，瑞士的水星银行的行长坚决拒绝公开这个账户主人的名字，当然更不会讲，这笔钱是以何种方式如何进到这个户头上的。 罗伯特?卢卡斯在他自杀前不久还打电话给我，要求我去黛尔菲娅夫人的房子里取最后数页的报告，我也照做了。次日，我让人迅速誊清了这几页，拿着它们去了巴黎国家银行，打开保险箱，取出其中的所有内容，严格按照逝者委托我的去执行。他请求过，在黛尔菲娅夫人死后不要立即打开保险箱，而是等他写完。罗伯特一定是把上面提到的两个信封——不管它们有什么内容——在不知什么时候，在谋杀他之前或者在他从布洛赛医院出院之后，从钢格里取了出去，因为它们已不在那里了。保险箱里只有现在的这部手稿。 公证员查尔斯?泰贝勒于戛纳本小说情节的发生地点主要是在戛纳及其附近地区。其中包括酒店、游艇、赌场、商店、饭店和其它许多地方，以及一群生活和工作在这里的可爱的人。这些人口头同意我在书里提到他们的名字，让他们在其中扮演一个角色。另外，我的小说里还有另一组人，他们跟整个情节一样，都是自由虚构的。任何跟真实事件和机构的相似都纯属巧合，尤其是货币危机、世界范围的金融操纵和跨国公司，或者这第二组人中的人物，不管他们在世与否。