Greed, page 14
‘“Anyone who wears jogging pants has lost control of their life”,’ commented Maya with a broad grin. ‘Karl Lagerfeld said that, even though he sells his own branded pairs. But they give you street cred – and you’re going to need all you can get once we’re inside.’
‘What I need is a truckload of handcuffs. These total layabouts, taking over other people’s property …’
‘You can’t blame them, seeing how expensive it is to rent.’
‘Well, they should get off their arses and work.’
‘Most of them do. Want to bet?’
‘What work? Bed-hopping, studying, signing on?’
‘Feel free to carry out a survey.’
‘Like hell I will.’
‘People are sick to the back teeth of everyone telling them they’ve never had it so good when many workers have to claim benefits despite slaving away all week on low wages. They can’t find a flat they can afford, their children’s schools are crumbling and there aren’t enough teachers. Public swimming pools are closing, and unless you have private health insurance you wait for months to see a doctor …’
‘Not surprising when all the immigrants are—’
‘Oh, don’t give me that cra—’
‘It’s true though. They don’t pay into the system but claim billions …’
Do I really have to spend all night with this guy?
‘By that logic there’s no reason to offer support to any German kids either. They don’t pay anything into the system for fifteen to twenty-five years and yet they have access to healthcare, childcare, education and so much mo—’
‘But their parents—’
‘Many don’t. Ultimately they receive more in tax relief, child allowance and other payments than they put in.’
‘But still—’
‘What?’
‘Oh, there’s no point discussing stuff like this with you.’
‘Because I’m right?’
Jörn didn’t rise to this bait and instead asked, ‘So how do we get inside?’
They were thirty feet now from the front door of the squat. People were standing around outside chatting.
‘We just go in like we’re part of the scene.’
‘I want to see this.’
‘Watch and learn,’ Maya said with a grin, ‘and whatever you do, stay cool.’
‘I’m always cool.’
A tall handsome guy in his mid-twenties was leaning against the doorjamb. His face twisted into a devilish grin that might have worked on women his own age but left Maya absolutely cold. ‘Hey, I haven’t seen you around here before, and trust me, I’d have noticed.’
Someone sure thinks he’s God’s gift to women.
He sized up Jörn. ‘Nor this gym teacher here.’
Keep calm, Jörn.
‘I’m Sören,’ the man said. ‘Who’ve you come to see?’
‘Are you the doorman or something?’
‘Nope. Just curious.’
Maybe he had some information.
‘Jan and Fitzroy.’
‘Fitz-what?’
‘Fitzroy and Jan.’
‘Never heard of them.’
‘Well, you can’t know everyone in here, can you?’ said Maya, pushing past him with Jörn close behind.
In front of them the hallway split off to the left and right into two corridors of six to eight flats, with a staircase straight ahead. There were people everywhere, walking, propping up walls, talking and drinking.
Maya got her phone out. ‘What’s your number?’
Jörn gave it to her and fished out his own mobile. Maya called him.
‘OK, you go left, I’ll take right. We stay in touch, just in case. One of us keeps an eye on the stairs at all times, so we take turns searching the apartments.’
‘That’ll take for ever.’
‘Stop whining and let’s find them.’
33
‘All right, all right,’ Fitz murmured as he pored over the white hieroglyphics on the grey sheet of paper. ‘OK.’
‘What is it?’ Jan asked urgently.
‘I haven’t finished yet,’ Fitz objected.
‘So what’s it about? Any help?’
‘Hmm.’
‘Oh, come on!’
‘I’m trying. This is a novel Will’s written, or at least notes for a novel. A few times he’s written “Illustration”.’ Fitz picked up the pencil, tore the shaded sheet from the pad and began to scribble on the blank page underneath.
He drew a square and divided it into four fields of equal size separated by something that looked to Jan like a road. In each field was a name – Ann, Bill, Carl and Dana – along with a few houses.
‘What is it – a village?’
‘Yep. Four farmers – two women and two men. Ann’s and Carl’s fields are to the west, on the flat land of the lower village. The farming conditions in their fields are identical. Bill’s and Dana’s fields are in the hillier area to the east of the upper village. Their circumstances are a bit different to those in the lower village. The conditions for growing grain are the same in Bill’s and Dana’s fields, but different to those on Ann and Carl’s land. This is due to differences in water supply and climate and varying susceptibility to pest attacks.’
‘Will’s scribbles told you all that?’ asked Jan.
‘As I said, it’s a collection of notes. Will describes the four farmers as follows: Ann is hard-working, organized and thrifty. Or as we are to understand: “If everyone farmed like her, everything would be fine.”’
‘A good housewife,’ was Kim’s comment.
‘Exactly. The second farmer, Bill, is the competitive type. He always wants to be the best and tries to carve out an advantage for himself in any given situation. His motto is “If everyone takes care of themselves, then everyone’s taken care of”.’
‘Nice,’ Kim groaned.
‘Naturally, Ann and Bill sow millions of seeds, but to make things easier, Will kicks off his example with Ann having one grain.’
‘What are these?’ Jan asked nervously. ‘Rules of a board game?’
‘No idea, because you didn’t give me time to read it through to the end,’ Fitz said. ‘Anyway … in good soil and with good weather, Ann’s one grain produces one ear of wheat. And one ear of wheat – to simplify matters – contains ten new grains.’
Fitz made a rapid sketch of a woman farmer with an ear of wheat and ten grains.
‘The art world doesn’t know what it’s missing!’ Jan teased him.
‘I know. The aim is to keep the calculations simple, and we therefore assume that Ann doesn’t eat any of her harvest herself nor does she sell any of her crop. The following year, therefore, she can plant ten grains instead of one.’
Fitz frowned as he applied himself to deciphering the rest of the scrawl. ‘The second harvest is bad. A late frost kills three of the ten seedlings, pests eat another two and a further three succumb to the summer drought.’
‘That leaves two ears,’ said Kim. ‘Twenty grains.’
‘Picture, please,’ said Jan. ‘It’ll help me figure it out.’
Fitz sketched a farmer, some dead plants and twenty grains.
‘Her starting position for the third year is still better than it was in the first,’ Fitz continued. ‘She now has twenty grains instead of ten. And so it continues, year after year, each a little better or slightly worse than the others.’
‘I just don’t get where this is heading,’ Jan muttered.
‘Be patient, will you?’ Kim said.
Jan blushed. He sat tight and hoped that Kim wouldn’t notice his embarrassment.
‘Carry on,’ she told Fitz. ‘Those look like more figures there …’
‘Yep. Will assumes the following four-year growth rate for Ann’s field: the first year, she turns one ear into two, which becomes six in the second year, followed by six again in the third year and twelve in the fourth.’
He wrote all of this down.
‘Thus after four years Ann has twelve ears of wheat instead of her initial one,’ Kim summarized.
‘Over the same period, the wheat in Bill’s fields to the east of the village develops differently,’ Fitz continued. ‘The first year he has four ears instead of one – much better than Ann – but in the second year he harvests only four, the same as his previous crop. However, in year three, those four become eight and in the fourth year that leaps to sixteen.’
Another drawing.
Jan clenched his fists in his pockets and reined in an urge to make a scathing remark. What was the point of this numbers game?
‘So Bill managed to turn one ear of wheat into sixteen over four years,’ said Fitz. ‘In some years Ann had higher yields, in others Bill did. Add them together and we see that over four years the two of them harvested twenty-eight ears from an original base of two.’
‘What now?’ asked Jan. ‘Do we have to do the same calculations for Carl and Dana too? We already know what the outcome will be.’
His nose almost touching the paper, Fitz ignored the snarky tone and said, ‘Yes, but the figures are very different. Whereas Ann produced twelve ears of wheat after four years, Carl managed eighteen! On the other side of the village, Bill had sixteen ears at the end of four years. Well, Dana had eighteen too, meaning that Carl and Dana together produced thirty-six ears in the same length of time. Far more than Ann and Bill’s combined crop!’
Fitz entered these figures into the drawing of the four fields.
‘They must’ve had better fertilizer,’ Jan interjected. ‘Or pesticides. Or more productive seed. Or—’
‘No, Will explicitly rules out such differences.’
‘Explicitly,’ Jan snorted.
‘“All the conditions are identical.” All of them. He was categorical.’
‘All right, I get it.’
‘So how does he explain Carl and Dana’s higher productivity?’ asked Kim.
‘Good question,’ said Fitz, pointing to the bottom of the sheet. ‘The only thing here, at the end, is a brief dialogue between Bill and Dana.’ He read it out.
‘Bill: “How did you do it?”
‘Dana: “Clever farming. Remember how five years ago my harvest was terrible, while you had a very good year?”
‘Bill: “That’s just the way it goes. There are good years and bad years.”
‘Dana: “Back then I asked if you …”’
Fitz looked up and gazed innocently at Jan.
‘The end.’
‘What do you mean, the end?’
‘Finished, all over. That’s the end of the story.’
34
‘That’s it?’ Jan asked drily.
‘That’s it,’ said Fitz.
‘What the fuck? Bloody hell – that’s why we were almost beaten to a pulp, and took the risk of falling to our deaths from walls and rooftops? That’s why we’re on the run from the police? For some village fairy-tale bullshit? Bollocks! Fuck that! All for nothing.’
‘Jan.’ The word came to him as if through cotton wool. ‘Jan!’ Fitz, a blurred figure in front of his eyes, was shaking him by the shoulders. Only now did Jan realize that he’d leaped to his feet. Kim and two other people who’d just come into the room were staring at him in fascination and bemusement. He didn’t care.
‘Jan,’ Fitz said again, ‘we had to try. It’s better to have a go than do nothing.’
Doesn’t feel that way to me. ‘That’s exactly the attitude that got me into this shit to begin with! I should’ve kept cycling. I’d have been safely tucked up in bed by now if I had.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Kim asked. The furrowed brow didn’t suit her.
‘Forget it,’ said Fitz. ‘It’s been a long day.’ He slumped back on to his chair and stared absently into the distance.
Silence fell, and all of a sudden Jan’s tiredness hit him. The others in the room were glancing anxiously back and forth between Fitz and him, and when he met Kim’s gaze, Jan bit his lip with embarrassment and sat down.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
‘No need,’ Fitz replied. ‘It hit you before it hit me, that’s all.’ He flashed Jan a grin, one of his gambler’s grins – sure of victory, or adept at making others believe it. It worked.
‘All right then, but I repeat my question: what does it mean?’ Jan asked.
‘It’s a kind of fable if you ask me,’ Fitz said. ‘With an economics theme, I guess, given Thompson’s background. Will liked that kind of thing, and he was trying to illustrate something.’ He laughed. ‘Unfortunately the end is missing.’
‘Who wrote this story of yours?’ Kim asked. ‘Why don’t you just ask him or her?’
Fitz hesitated, and so did Jan.
‘The author’s dead,’ Fitz said eventually.
‘Oh,’ Kim said, commiserating with the two friends. ‘Was he a friend of yours?’
‘Yes,’ Fitz said.
‘I’m so sorry.’ She placed her hands on Jan’s and Fitz’s shoulders for a moment, sending a shockwave through Jan’s body. A shock of pleasure – the first nice sensation that evening.
Maya was up on the third floor by now. She hadn’t found either of the two men yet. The ground floor layout with passages leading off to the left and right of the central staircase was repeated on the upper storeys. Each hallway served several flats, some of which had no door, some a curtain and others a makeshift door. Maya suspected that the owner of the building must have removed any fittings that would have made it remotely habitable. She wondered how the squatters had managed to rig up power and water, as bulbs were casting light from the ceilings and the toilets seemed to be in working order, even if no one had given the ones she’d seen a serious clean recently.
She’d just finished checking the first flat on this particular floor when she came across an old acquaintance in the entrance to the next. Sören was leaning in the doorway, chatting up an attractive blonde. He hadn’t wasted any time.
‘So?’ he asked. ‘Find those people you were looking for?’
Maya ignored him and went past him into the rooms beyond. None of the people there paid any attention to her. She didn’t spot Wutte or Peel in any of the three adjacent rooms. Most of the occupants had settled down to sleep on mats or in sleeping bags by now. Many had probably gathered under the glowing peace sign earlier that evening, gazing up in awe and excitement. Tomorrow they would be taking part in the big demo. For a second she envied these young people for their straightforwardness, their enthusiasm, their naivety.
‘Not to be a socialist at twenty is proof of want of heart. To be one at thirty is proof of want of brain.’ But what if you had both?
The hallways were less busy now too. As Maya left the apartment, she found Sören and the blonde still leaning against the wall. A young woman with ringlets and one with a striking black bob were passing by, but otherwise there was no one around.
‘I’m out,’ she said, casting an eye at Jörn lingering on the landing. ‘Your turn to go in again.’
Jörn disappeared through the doorway. Maya took up a position outside the next flat. Three more on this floor. Lost in thought, she watched the two women vanish into the flat furthest away from her.
‘This is Nida,’ said Kim, introducing a tall woman with a snow-white complexion, dark glasses and a black bob. She was dressed in a hoodie, skinny jeans with ripped knees and the inevitable pair of Converse. ‘Nida’s an economist and I thought she might be able to help make sense of your story.’
A what? An economist? Seriously? How’s she supposed to help? thought Jan. It was kind of Kim – how could she know that their real problem wasn’t an economics puzzle, but a gang of killers as well as the police on their tail.
Nida nodded to them all, and Jan and Fitz briefly introduced themselves before Fitz explained the situation and showed her his drawings.
‘Hmm,’ was all Nida had to say in return.
‘There you are!’ came a cry from the doorway. It was Christo, with the guy in the hoodie from the IT hub.
Holding out a scrap of paper, the hoodie guy said, ‘Here are Jeanne Dalli’s mobile numbers. The first one’s private, the other two are for work.’
‘Thanks.’
‘My pleasure,’ the guy murmured, slipping away before Fitz could say anything else.
‘Jan and Fitzroy, right?’ Christo asked.
‘Yep,’ Fitz replied. The phone numbers had raised his spirits.
‘A little bird told me that some chick and a bloke are walking around the place looking for two guys named Jan and Fitzroy.’
Jan felt a sick sensation in his gut.
‘I thought no one could get in here,’ Fitz retorted.
‘Well, no one like those geezers out on the roof. These two look pretty normal though.’
‘How did you find out anyway?’
‘Internal comms,’ Christo explained. ‘Just because there’s a lot going on here doesn’t mean we don’t know what’s going on.’
‘What if they’re with them?’ Jan whispered to Fitz.
‘A man and a woman?’ Fitz said in a low voice. ‘Sounds like those two from my hotel – the police.’
‘How the hell do they know we’re here?’ Jan hissed, his cheek muscles twitching.
‘The helicopter?’ Fitz reminded him with a roll of his eyes.
‘Are you in serious trouble?’ Kim asked with more curiosity and amusement than concern.
‘Do we puzzle champs look like we would be?’ Fitz shot back.
‘Where’s the woman now?’ Jan asked.
Christo peered out into the hallway and then said, ‘Heading in this direction. About thirty feet away but closing fast.’
‘They mustn’t find us,’ gasped Jan.
‘There are fire escapes down into the courtyard,’ Christo said, ‘through the window in the next room …’
Jan was already on the move. He raced into a living room where five people were lounging on sofas, passing around a joint. Jan was fully focused on the window. There really was a fire escape ladder outside it. He pulled up the sash and looked out.
