Chapter 2: 2. Der Kommissar
When we arrive at the police station, der Kommissar is still at his post, even at this late hour. He has a lot on his mind, and even more on his desk, but nevertheless, he listens to Shirley's story.
Shirley tells him about the conversation she heard, about the man with the remarkable voice: "I was in the kitchen, cooking dinner, but I'm a woman, multitasking is my middle name, so when the Wiener schnitzel was on the stove, I mopped the floor and hung the floorcloth on the line in the back garden. There, I heard two men talking. One of them had a remarkable voice I'll never forget. He spoke about a huge seven-course dinner. At first, I paid little attention, but then I heard him say: «The dinner is on Sunday, the 28th. In the end, I'll serve all the world leaders a shattering surprise: La Bomba! Das Fest wird der Knaller…» And then they laughed and walked on…
» I was paralysed with fear. I thought terrorist attacks only happened on TV, in other countries, far away. Nobody expects suicide bombers to cook up plans in the park behind our back garden. Immediately, I ran inside to call the police, but I slipped and fell. I was unconscious. The Wiener schnitzel burnt on the stove and caused a fire. Mister Watson here, he saved my life. And now I'm here to help you save the lives of all the world leaders, perhaps even the lives of everyone in Villach. Who knows how big the masses are that those weapons of mass destruction destroy?"
Der Kommissar doesn't say much. He nods and hums now and then to encourage Shirley to go on, but his real attention is with all the paperwork on his desk.
Shirley loses her temper. She bangs her fist on the desk: "You don't even listen to what I say! All you do is move papers from one side to another!"
Der Kommissar stops moving his papers from one side to the other and looks at Shirley: "I do listen, and I do understand what you say, ma'am, but, as you see, my desk is full with real problems of real people. This is my job and this is my responsibility. You might call this «paperwork» but I call it «Friday». Terrorists cause less than 1% of our everyday problems, so I dedicate less than 1% of my time to terrorism, giving more important issues the interest and action they deserve. Today, I had five traffic accidents, three cases of domestic violence, a mortal victim of a gang war, three youngsters beating up a homosexual man, a drugs dealer who tried to sell his merchandise on a schoolyard, two armed robberies, and one break-and-entry in the local shoe factory where someone stole five hundred pairs of shoes…"
"Lovely. Arrest a centipede with shoe-size 43 and listen to me. The world is in danger…"
"The world is always in danger, ma'am, but I'm not responsible for the world. I'm responsible for this town; that's a lot of work for a little salary. Safety is all about statistics. The numbers of crimes and accidents need to decrease, and someone has made it my job to fix it. We've had 0% terrorist attacks in Austria in the last decade. If you can't measure it, it doesn't matter. If you want me to change my mind and my agenda, please, convince your neighbours that it's better for every one of us not to fight each other, not to get drunk and drugged as much as we can, to work for our money instead of stealing it, and, please, to pay a little attention to each other, especially in traffic. It would solve my problems and give me more time to solve yours. As long as that's not happening, I'm afraid I have other priorities. I'm not the one who's causing the trouble; I'm the one who tries to solve it."
Shirley loses her patience: "You don't understand. We're losing precious time. You should send out your men, order them to look everywhere, before it's too late."
"And what exactly should they be looking for, ma'am?"
"For evil, of course. It's obvious. Good creates. Evil destroys. Creating is difficult; it requires skills and patience. Destroying is simple; all it requires is stupidity."
"So we're looking for stupid people?"
"No, we're looking for people who do stupid things. There's a difference."
Der Kommissar bends over his desk, bringing his head closer to Shirley, sniffs like a bloodhound and grumbles: "Do I smell Cuban rum here? Have you been drinking, ma'am?"
He accepts Shirley's healthy colour as a confession, sits back in his chair and grumbles, while he goes on with his paperwork: "I'm sorry, ma'am. I have no time to chase the wild fantasies of old alcoholic Alzheimer patients who've watched too many episodes of that violent soap series, called «The Eight O'clock News». Bigger problems than you cry for my attention. I'm sorry."
I feel sorry for Shirley too, but in my dictionary, «being sorry» is a synonym for doing your best to help the one you feel sorry for, not an excuse to turn your back on her, or to justify your arrogant, passive behaviour. Shirley deserves better. I take a bullet for her by correcting Der Kommissar grammatically: "Your conclusion is not correct, Sir. The lady has not been drinking. She had some black stains on her face, caused by the fire and the smoke, so I used a handkerchief and some alcohol to clean her face; I will not allow a distinguished lady like Miss Shirley to walk the streets, looking like a chimney cleaner. You were correct, though, to recognise the alcohol I used: it was indeed Cuban rum, cheap important candy cane water; I would never use your fine Austrian Stroh rum to clean anything else but my throat."
Der Kommissar doesn't believe a word of my statement, but, as I expected, he doesn't say anything: noble motives can never be questioned. His (grammatically correct) body language indicates this conversation has ended: he stands up and turns towards the coffee machine in the corner for a refill. It's clear that «caffeine» is higher on his alphabetical priority problems list than «terrorists».
Shirley doesn't want to give up yet: "Drah Di net um. Der Mann werd auch dich umbringen. Er hat die Kraft, und wir sind klein und dumm."
Der Kommissar doesn't even turn around: "Du weißt warum. Dein Lebenslust bringt dich um. Dieser Frust macht dir Stumm. Mach mal Urlaub; wunderbar in Scheveningen. Alles klar?"
It's clear. This conversation is over. I answer: "Alles klar, Herr Kommissar.", and leave der Kommissar alone. At the door, before we step outside, Shirley launches a warning index finger and a final word: "I'll be back."
* * *
Shirley is furious. Outside, she turns to face the office, shakes her fist and shouts the names of quite a number of vegetables to the closed door. I put my hand on her shoulder and try to calm her down: "Please, Shirley. The man can't hear you, and even if he could, he wouldn't be interested in your opinion about him. If you spit upwards, it always ends in your own face."
"That might be true, but shouting to the top makes me feel better. I can't believe they put someone like him in charge of public safety. That's not leadership; that's moral bullying. He doesn't even listen. If you can't measure it, it doesn't matter? Try this, mister: if you can't measure it, it must be really, really important! Bah! All Leos are the same: arrogant, stubborn, authoritarian leaders who think only about being important."
"Please, don't discriminate, Shirley. You should not judge people for their race, their gender or their religion, and most of all, you should not believe that every individual of a certain zodiac sign has the same qualities. He's just doing his job, which has nothing to do with his birthday."
"You're hilarious, my dear Watson. Next weekend, I'll laugh about you. It's not his job to waste the valuable time of others. And I bet you a cup of coffee he's a Leo, born between the 23rd of July and the 23rd of August."
I hesitate, but not long. It's not fair. Shirley has only a small 1-on-12 chance to win such a bet. I'll win it and offer her a cup of coffee anyway, so we can say goodbye like good friends after I've helped her find a hotel. No hard feelings. I've had a busy day and I can use a cup of coffee too.
I smile at Shirley: "Don't underestimate me. I'm good at this game.", and then I enter the police station again. On the other side of the front door, I find the receptionist. I give him my friendliest smile and say: "Pardon me, Sir, but I hope you can tell me the birthday of Der Kommissar. He helped us so nicely. We want to send him a little present for his birthday, and we want that to be a surprise, as you can imagine."
The receptionist smiles himself into the conspiracy, looks in the agenda and answers: "It's the 16th of August. He likes Austrian Stroh rum, by the way."
I thank him and step outside.
"Pure coincidence, of course, but you won the bet, Shirley. Over there is a Conditorei, and it's still open. I invite you a cup of coffee and a piece of Sachertorte, so you can tell me what's bothering you."
"How do you know something is bothering me?", Shirley asks.
"Am I wrong?"
Shirley doesn't answer. We pick a table near the window. I order two Wiener Kaffee and two pieces of fabulous chocolate cake with apricot marmalade, which should be forbidden for being too irresistibly delicious.
I try to guess why she feels so… Troubled? "You won your bet with me. You should be happy."
Shirley opens her mouth, but not to reply, just to let a piece of Sachertorte disappear. I make another guess: "You complain you have no right to speak. The truth is: it's polite not to talk with your mouth full. And when you have enough to eat, you have nothing to complain about."
No reply either. Why is she so bitter? I make another wild guess: "Do you know why we put so much sugar in our food? To make up for the bitterness of life… Don't feel bad when somebody doesn't treat you like he should. Injustice is like the weather: if you can't stand it, you move to a place with a sweeter climate."
"I'm not bitter, my dear Watson. I don't have time to stay bitter for too long, or angry, or disappointed. Sometimes things don't go as you expect… But later you find out why… Do you believe there's something…? Or someone…?"
I try to help her out: "I believe there are Higher Powers; I believe things happen with a meaning, but I also believe we decide the course of life, both our own lives and the lives of others. I prefer to speak of Higher Powers, by the way, to show respect to anything holy for many people without calling the A B C of religion by their names: Allah, Buddha and Cristiano Ronaldo. I don't want others to feel uncomfortable because of something I said."
Shirley stirs her coffee, slowly, and finally replies: "Higher Powers. That's a nice way to say it."
"I also try to avoid swear words, related to anything holy for other people; I say «Rostov!» when I want to express strong emotions."
"Rostov! That's nice too. All children have their stage of being fond of vulgar language. My little Arnie liked to say «Scheiẞe!» all the time. It dies when they learn they're not attracting attention with it, but forbidding never works as good as giving an acceptable alternative. Rostov! I wish I heard that one before."
"I also prefer non-sexist language. I use words like «hor» and «horself» instead of «his-or-her», and I always say «she» when I refer to someone in general. She includes he."
"Nice.", Shirley replies, but I'm not sure if she refers to what I just said or to the chocolate cake.
We eat in silence. Apparently, Shirley needs some time to think about what she wants to say and how she wants to say it. When she has finished her cake, she has found the right words: "I believe life is a seven-course dinner. The Aperitif is our mother's milk. Our childhood is the Appetiser, the Antipasti as the Italians call it; at school, we try a bite of everything and get hungry for the main course of life. Then follow the Three Main Dishes: the plates of fish, poultry and meat (the elements of Water, Air and Earth) stand for our family, our social life, and our work; three diverse activities for energy and fulfilment. Dessert is the sweet moment of retirement, the satisfaction of looking back at a wonderful route from start to finish; each stage is different, but together they make the trip complete. And the final course, black coffee with liqueur and a cigar, is a metaphor for the bitter and sweet memories you leave behind when you go up in smoke, with the help of Fire, the fourth element.
» Some people don't make it until the end; others skip one or more plates; some hate fish or prefer a vegetarian life; others can't eat sugar or their body doesn't accept dairy products; some never grow up and refuse to leave the stage of their childhood. Only a few enjoy the complete seven-course dinner. I shouldn't complain. But now, while I eat the last crumbs of my dessert, looking back with pleasure and satisfaction at every splendid plate I had, my childhood, my job with the Villacher hospital, my friends and the community of my church, my happy years with my late husband and my little Arnie… I should be satisfied, but…
» I missed the salt."
I look at the last crumbs of my Sachertorte: "I never knew salt was an ingredient of this sweet sugar cake."
"The secret ingredient of the cake is not visible on the outside. Yes, there's a bit of salt in the recipe, and also the coffee you drank was prepared with a tiny bit of salt. That salt is the meaning of life. I feel like my life is not complete without a bit of meaning, without doing something back for this delicious banquet the Higher Powers invited me to. I missed the salt… I don't need much, just a touch, and after such a fantastic seven-course dinner I shouldn't complain about a few grains of salt, but…"
"But you have the idea you've not finished yet. There's something left to do for you, and things happen like they happen, so you can put the cherry on your cake."
Shirley looks me in the eye and nods: "I've heard that secret for a reason. You saved my life for a reason. Der Kommissar acted like he did for a reason. I'm here for a reason. This is something I can not leave to others. I have to do this myself. The Higher Powers try to tell me that something terrible is about to happen, and they wrote a final chapter on my menu: I have to save the world."
"You don't have to save the world, Shirley. You can leave that to professionals. Some specialists made saving the world their everyday job. They are younger than you, stronger than you, and better prepared. We can inform the Austrian secret service."
Shirley finishes her coffee and waves my good advice away: "That wouldn't work. Like Der Kommissar, they're busy with papers and statistics. I could call my son. He's young, strong and prepared. For him, saving the world is easy. He does it all the time. But he has his family, his friends and his work. Der Kommissar is a specialist who gets paid to protect our society, and he just told us he has other priorities. No, my dear Watson, I've made my decision: I have one final mission here. I have to find the man with the remarkable voice, and stop him before he does terrible things to our world. The Higher Powers gave humanity the task to serve and protect this planet. I'm here, available to serve and protect, I have nothing better to do, and I'm going to do it. And don't tell me I'm too old or not strong enough: I believe something terrible will happen, and I believe I'm here to avoid it or die in the attempt."
"You are… How much? 68 years old…? [basic training LSD, lesson 418b: never overestimate the age of a woman]. How tall are you? 1 metre 60?"
"1 metre 59. Size isn't the only way to be great."
"You should enjoy your retirement. You're no hero."
"I don't want to be a hero. I'm a woman, a she-ro. Didn't you dislike the usage of sexist language, my dear Watson? Imagine you're attending your own funeral. What would you like the speakers to say about you? He had such a nice house with a pool and three cars? He was always dressed according to the latest fashion? He could drink more beer than anyone else?"
"I would like them to say I was a nice kid, always working hard, always willing to learn, always there to help everyone, things like: «He made my dream come true. He gave me back my future. His actions saved my life. He gave me back my father. He saved the world…»."
"Which of those lines require your action before someone will really say them?"
In a flash, my entire life passes my memory like a blockbuster action film: Rostov, Scarlett, Doc, Chelsea…
"I haven't saved the world yet."
"So? Let's get started. I haven't saved the world either. My son did, several times, but that's another story… You like to help people, don't you? So? Are you going to help me? Or are you going to book a one-way trip to retirement on the Chickenshit Express, where you can watch the end of the world on TV?"
A tear of emotion escapes the corner of Shirley's eye, but it's not a tear of sadness: it's a tear of joy. She's made her decision. The sadness is for the terrorists: right now, they should start to worry real hard because this is one woman who will not give up before she found what she came for. No paid professional can stand in the shadow of this small, stout, Austrian shero.
Honestly, I didn't see this coming. I expected this to be a matter of Austrian national security, not a job for the Luxembourg Spy Department. Sometimes things don't go as you expect… But later you find out why…
I put my hand on Shirley's and smile: "World-saving heroes always have a partner, someone they can rely on, someone who takes the blows and clears the path. I offer myself in your service, Shirley. I don't want you to stand alone in this mission. Like you, I believe the Higher Powers had a reason to let me save your life. I believe that saving the world is difficult, dangerous and deadly, and I don't want you to die in the attempt. I'm prepared to take the bullet for you, so you can go on and cut the wire of the ticking time bomb in the last second before it goes off. I believe your story and I believe in you. This Shirley Holmes needs her Watson. I'm Watson."
Shirley looks surprised: "You don't have to take any bullets. Your job is to deliver the groceries to the Ambassador's villa."
"The secret ingredient of the cake is not visible on the outside. Delivering groceries is just my undercover job. Can you keep a secret?"
That little twinkle in her eyes, that slightly uplifting of the right corner of her mouth, that suspiciously looking around if nobody overhears us… I might not be Sherlock Holmes, but there's nothing wrong with my senses: Shirley can keep a secret, and she's curious as a cat in a Croatian cafeteria to find out which secret I have for her.
I bend over and whisper in her ear: "I'm a spy. My employer is the LSD, the Lëtzebuergesch Sécherheet Departement, in English: Luxembourg Spy Department. I'm an expert in finding dangerous terrorists. Since I was five years old, I've studied how to dismantle atomic bombs. You call it «Saving the world»; I call it «Friday»."
It takes only a handful to make a child or an innocent old lady happy. Shirley laughs out loud: "I KNEW it! Coincidence doesn't exist. Things happen for a reason. That second when I opened my eyes, I knew there was something special about you. Don't worry; your secret is safe with me. But there's one thing I'd like to know, Mister Bond… If you're a spy… Does that make me a Bond girl? I always wanted to be a Bond girl. These girls are gorgeous, well dressed and… they do all those amazing things: they jump out of planes and drive expensive cars, and they drink champagne while they dance with all the world leaders at exclusive parties… The name you picked for me… Shirley… It sounds like a Bond girl, doesn't it?"
"Shirley surely sounds like a Bond girl, but don't underestimate this, Shirley. Being a Bond girl is dangerous stuff. There's a reason that every Bond film has different Bond girls: this spy-business isn't very good for your health."
"Eating too much fat and sugar isn't very good for your health either. Who wants to live forever? A little risk is the price we pay for living an adventurous life."
"It's not about the risk. It's about the skills, the training and the knowledge, it's about having the physical fitness of an Olympic champion and the mental speed of a chess computer, it's about everything I did to get this job and all the time it took me to learn it.
» Don't underestimate what it takes to save the world, Shirley. You have to kick the balls of the biggest criminals, and your boots are just not big enough. You'll get one shot to hit a target the size of a fly's balls at a distance of 100 metres, and your eyes are just not good enough. You have to chase bad guys who always think they can escape by running away, and your top speed and endurance are just not high enough. And you have to seduce beautiful women with big breasts and long legs to get vital information, and your smile just isn't sexy enough. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"
Shirley's age may be higher than my 68-estimation, but it's still lower than her IQ: "I may be old, but I'm not stupid, my dear Watson. We're a team. You do the shooting, the booting, the footing and the hooting, while I recognise the voice of the terrorist and make sure nothing bad happens to you. Okay?"
That's our bond, girl: "Okay. And how exactly are you going to make sure nothing bad happens to me?"
"Every morning, the moment I wake up, before I put on my make-up, I say a little prayer for you. That will guarantee your safety for at least 24 hours. I have a direct line with… with the Higher Powers."
"If you want to say a little prayer, I appreciate it. You can do that at home, where you'll be safe. Do you remember the villa where I left the groceries? It belongs to the Ambassador of Luxembourg. I live there for as long as my mission here takes. The Ambassador is on a trip to China and Thailand, so he won't mind if you stay there too. Your house is a ruin. We can't let you sleep under a bridge. The Ambassador's teenage daughter is exactly your size and she has a walk-in closet where you'll find everything you need. You'll be safe there. You have to identify the terrorist, right? I didn't save your life to see you die another day."
"You don't have to worry about me. You just keep on walking, and I'll go with you, no matter what it takes. I'm not afraid of The Man In Black. It's not about how old you get; it's about how you get old. And I didn't get old to waste my time by doing nothing, my dear Watson. I don't have much time left. Before I go on my final journey, I want to save the world and be part of something bigger than myself."
Shirley being part of something bigger, that's not difficult. With my 1.67, I'm not the tallest tree in the forest, but Shirley is even shorter than I am, 1.59. Everything she's part of will be bigger than her.
"At our age, you should retire and leave the stunts to the younger generation, Shirley."
"At my age, I should hurry and leave nothing to others, or I'll be too late. Don't worry, my dear Watson. I've worked my entire life in the Villacher hospital. I'm used to putting duty before pleasure, and for me, it's a pleasure to do my duty. Coincidence doesn't exist. It HAD to be me who overheard that conversation and it HAD to be you, a genuine spy, who found me and saved my life. Now, I can save the lives of many others. You don't worry. As long as you have faith, everything will work out fine."
This woman is… Remarkable isn't the word. It's much stronger than that. She has something… I don't know how to say it. She seems so sure about herself, so convinced this will be an entertaining adventure with a happy end.
"This isn't some cheap Hollywood movie, my dear Shirley. Real life doesn't work that way. We're going to get into some serious danger here."
Shirley lifts her shoulders about doubts: "Lovely. Problems are an opportunity to show our skills by solving them." She has her natural strength and her security; both making it impossible to fail. My only security is that I've never met anyone like her.
I stand up and pay the check. Outside, on our walk back to the Ambassador's house, Shirley takes my arm again, not because she's still dizzy, but because she enjoys it so much that we're a team now. She's excited. I'm not.
I try to stay calm: "We should have a plan. But we have hardly anything we can work with. Was it a man's voice you heard, or was it a woman?"
"It was a man, but it was quite a high voice, not very masculine. He said «The dinner is on Sunday, the 28th. In the end, I'll serve all the world leaders a shattering surprise: La Bomba! Das Fest wird der Knaller…» At first, he spoke English, then two words in Italian, or perhaps in Spanish, and the last part was German. And then they laughed. The other one laughed like a man too, with a low voice."
"Any accent? Was it British English, or American English, or perhaps someone with a different native tongue who speaks English? Did you recognise any accent or dialect when he spoke the sentence in German? Did he speak slow or fast? Did you get an idea about his educational level?"
Shirley thinks deeply: "Not native English, but the few words he said in German were flawless. Thinking about it, I would say that we have someone who's native German, Austrian or Swiss, with a solid or even good education, coming from middle or upper class, a man who speaks more than one language, with an ease that indicates frequent contact with foreigners. Does that help?"
"Does that help? You just brought the number of suspects down from 7 billion to 20 million. That's a lot of progress in thirty seconds. Three more minutes like this, and we have our man. The place where they walked, behind your house, what's it like?"
"It's a park. Perhaps we can go there tomorrow. Not tonight. It's too dark now, and we have more important things to do right now."
"More important things? Like what?"
"Rostov! Have dinner, of course. That coffee and cake were hardly an appetiser. Cancer signs like you enjoy cooking and eating with friends. Let's go to your place. While you cook dinner, I cook up a plan to find the terrorists."
"I'm not a Cancer, Shirley."
"Of course you are."
"I'm a scientist, with a degree in Economy, and I'm not superstitious. Although you were lucky with guessing the zodiac sign of Der Kommissar, you are wrong when you think you know me because you think you know the date of my birthday."
Shirley stops. She takes one step back, gives me a lift-look (Top-down — Bottom-up, how men look at pretty women) and says: "How sad does it make me, to see someone who doesn't know anything, as I know the joy that knowledge gives me; how sad does it make me, to see someone who doesn't believe anything, as I believe in the joy that my belief gives me; how sad does it make me, to see someone who doesn't love anything, as I know the joy that loving and being loved gives me. I believe in the Higher Powers. I believe we're here to learn how to love each other. I know the Zodiac, I believe in the Zodiac, and I love the Zodiac. You are mistaken when you believe, without any knowledge at all, that the Zodiac is superstition. It's science. That's why I believe in the Zodiac, and in the Higher Powers, and in lots of other things.
» And if you believe that Economy is science, I have news for you: the Zodiac is more secure in predicting the future than Economy. Before we're at home, I'll prove it to you…"
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone