I was sitting in my office this morning, checking through a stack of reports that Casselle had just submitted to me, when I heard someone come in. I didn’t bother to look up. “Casselle, if there are any more, just leave them on the desk.”
“Louis, it must be your lucky day,” said a familiar voice.
“Well, Ricky, isn’t it early for you to be up and about?”
“Well, yeah, but today’s different,” he said. “I made a special effort to be up early today, just because.”
“Oh?” I buzzed Casselle to bring us some coffee. “Because what?”
“Louis, are you telling me you don’t remember?”
I confess my memory isn’t as perfect as it once was, but I trust I am not yet prey to the ravages of dementia. “Now see here, Rick, I’ve got work to do.”
“That’s too bad,” he said. “It’ll just have to wait.”
“Oh? Is that so?” I gave him the benefit of my raised eyebrow. “Another of your schemes, is it?”
“I’m taking you into custody, Louis. Now it’s best for both of us if you come along quietly.” His expression said he was serious, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Get your hat. Leave everything on the desk and come along. I don’t want to cause a commotion but I will if I have to.”
“Really!” Now I was irritated. “I hope you realise what you’re doing, Rick!” I did as I was told. I’ve always trusted that Rick is as sane as the next man, but I also know he can be wild and unpredictable. He has a spotted past, does Rick, a life with many interesting detours.
We went out and got into a car that he’d obviously hired for the occasion. It’s the sort of car one seldom sees in Casablanca since the war started: sleek and black and very well-appointed. We drove for some time, to a part of town I’m personally unfamiliar with, but which I’ve heard a great deal about. My stomach clenched in apprehension, and I wondered what his intentions were: perhaps he was taking me to some assignation? Did he think I wanted that sort of thing, shadowy encounters with strange women in the dark? A quick fumble and a few francs left on the bedside table?
“You know, this isn’t necessary,” I said. “There are plenty of desperate young wives about these days, who are all too eager to impress the Prefect of Police.”
“Louis, you’ve got me all wrong,” he said. He pulled the car in and stopped. “Come on, I want to show you something.”
It was dark inside, at least until my eyes adjusted, and then I saw that the room was done entirely in red and gold, all very sumptuous. “Well,” I said, “it’s not exactly your garden-variety bordello, is it?” A man appeared out of the shadows and ushered us behind a bead curtain, into what was obviously a private room.
“The bottle I ordered,” Rick instructed, as soon as we were seated. The man nodded, lit the candle on our table and vanished. Rick grinned at me. “Louis, I’m amazed at you.”
“Really?” I lit a cigarette. “You know, I’m still violently confused. What is this place and why have you brought me here? Surely it’s for some heinous purpose?”
“Louis, what’s the date?”
I thought for a moment. “Why, it’s the fifteenth of the month.”
“Right.” He waited.
And then it dawned on me. Of course…I had forgotten.
I think I may have even blushed a little.
“Starting to make sense?” he asked. He paused while the waiter appeared and poured for us: a very fine Veuve Clicquot. “What day is it, Louis?”
“It’s my birthday.” I’m afraid I was smiling—pleased that he had remembered, even when I had not. “Thank you, Rick.”
“Oh, and this is for you. Sascha picked it up for me, so I can attest to the quality, but you might want to check the engraving.”
“Rick, I can’t accept—”
“A present on your birthday? Sure you can. Just think of all those bribes you’ve taken. This shouldn’t be too hard.” He nodded at the box. “Go on, open it.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Happy Birthday, Louis.” He raised his glass to me, and I raised mine to him. “Looks like it’s your lucky day.”
