Eco: Foucalt's Pendulum by eco foucault (important books to read .txt) 📗

his passport in the pocket isstill here. But that doesn't make things any easier, because theold man says the colonel was stretched out on the bed in hisjacket, unless k was a different jacket. God, I feel like I'm in aloony bin. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, in his jacket we foundplenty of money, too much money. So it wasn't money they werelooking for. And you gentlemen have given me the only lead. You saythe colonel had some documents. What did they looklike?"

"He was carrying a brownbriefcase," Belbo said.

"It looked more red tome," I said.

"Brown," Belbo insisted."But I could be wrong."

"Red or brown," DeAngelis said, "it's not here now. Last night's visitors must havetaken it. The briefcase is what we have to concentrate on. If youask me, Ardenti wasn't trying to publish a book at all. He hadprobably come up with something he could blackmail Rakosky with,and talking about a publishing contract was a way of applyingpressure. That would have been more his style. From there, anynumber of hypotheses are possible. The two men may have threatenedhim and left, and Ardenti was so scared that he fled into thenight, leaving everything behind except the briefcase, which heclutched under his arm. But first, for some reason, he tried tomake the old man think he was dead. It all sounds too much like anovel, and it doesn't account for the way the room was torn up. Onthe other hand, if the two men killed him and stole the briefcase,why would they also steal the corpse? Excuse me, but may I see yourIDs?"

He looked at my studentcard, turning it over a few times. "Philosophy student,eh?"

"There are lots of us,"I said.

"Far too many. Andyou're studying the Templars. Suppose I wanted to get somebackground on them¡Xwhat should I read?"

I suggested two books,popular but fairly serious. I also told him he would find reliableinformation only up to the trial. After that it was all ravingnonsense.

"I see," he said. "Nowit's the Templars, too. One splinter group I haven't run intoyet."

The policeman namedAnnunziata came in with a telegram: "The reply from Paris,sir."

De Angelis read it."Great," he said. "No one in Paris has heard of Rakosky, and thepassport number shows that it was stolen two years ago. Now we'rereally stuck. Monsieur Rakosky doesn't exist. You say he's theeditor of a magazine¡Xwhat was it called?" He made a note. "Well,we'll try, but I bet we find that the magazine doesn't existeither, or else it folded ages ago. All right, gentlemen, thanksfor your help. I may trouble you again at some point. Oh, yes, onelast question: Did Argenti indicate that he had connections withany political organization?"

"No," Belbo said. "Heseemed to have given up politics for treasures."

"And confidence games."He turned to me. "You seem not to have liked him much."

"Not my style," I said."But it wouldn't have occurred to me to strangle him with a lengthof wire. Except in theory."

"Naturally. Too muchtrouble. Relax, Signer Casaubon. I'm not one of those cops whothink all students are criminals. Good luck, also, on yourthesis."

"Excuse me," Belboasked, "but just out of curiosity, are you homicide orpolitical?''

"Good question. Myopposite number from homicide was here last night. After they founda bit more on Ardenti in the records, he turned the case over tome. Yes, I'm from political. But I'm really not sure I'm the rightman. Life isn't simple, the way it is in detectivestories."

"I guess not," Belbosaid, shaking his hand.

We left, but I was stilltroubled. Not because of De Angelis, who seemed nice enough, butbecause for the first time in my life I found myself involved insomething shady. I had lied. And so had Belbo.

We parted at the door ofthe Garamond office, and we were both embarrassed.

"We didn't do anythingwrong," Belbo said defensively. "It won't make any difference ifthe police don't learn about Ingolf and the Cathars. It was allraving anyway. Maybe Ardenti had to disappear for other reasons;there could be a thousand reasons. Maybe Rakosky was an Israelisecret-service agent settling old scores. Or maybe he was sent bysome big shot the colonel had conned. Or maybe they were in theForeign Legion together and there was some old grudge. Or maybeRakosky was an Algerian assassin. And maybe this Templar-treasurestory was only a minor episode in the life of our colonel. Allright, the briefcase is missing, red or brown. By the way, it wasgood that you contradicted me: that made it clear we had only had aquick glimpse of it."

I said nothing, andBelbo didn't know how to conclude.

"You'll say I've runaway again. Like Via Larga."

"Nonsense. We did theright thing. I'll see you."

I was sorry for him,because he felt like a coward. But I didn't. I had learned inschool that when you deal with the police, you lie. As a matter ofprinciple. But a guilty conscience can poison afriendship.

I didn't see Belbo for along time after that. I was his remorse, and he wasmine.

I worked for anotheryear and produced two hundred and fifty typewritten pages on thetrial of the Templars. It was then that I learned that a graduatestudent is less an object of suspicion than an undergraduate. Thosewere years when defending a thesis was considered evidence ofrespectful loyalty to the state, and you were treated withindulgence.

In the months thatfollowed, some students started using guns. The days of massdemonstrations in the open air were drawing to a close.

I was short on ideals,but for that I had an alibi, because loving Amparo was like beingin love with the Third World. Amparo was beautiful, Marxist,Brazilian, enthusiastic, disenchanted. She had a fellowship andsplendidly mixed blood. All at the same time.

I met her at a party,and acted on impulse. "Excuse me," I said, "but I would like tomake love to you."

"You're a filthy malechauvinist pig."

"Forget I saidit."

"Never. I'm a filthyfeminist."

She was going back toBrazil, and I didn't want to lose her. She put me in touch with theUniversity of Rio, where the Italian department was looking for alecturer. They offered me a two-year contract with an option torenew. I didn't feel at home in Italy anymore; Iaccepted.

Besides, I told myself,in the New World