Page 34 of Never Tear Us Apart
Quite improbably, this Elias has occupied one of the chambers of the catacombs and filled it with every requirement for black-market administration. He is sitting behind a wooden desk, on which a number of ledgers make an unstable tower. He is working by the light of a lantern, and it throws large shadows on the wall behind him. Stacked all around his desk are piles and piles of what I imagine are black-market goods: tins of all kinds of food, bags of rice and pasta, and a variety of other items I can’t make out in this light. Standing on a tripod in one corner is a very old-looking camera that long predates this war and possibly the last.
‘Sal, my old friend.’ Elias grins. ‘I never expected to see you here. But then, even a man of principle like you may need the help of old Elias from time to time, no?’
Sal smiles, his discomfort plain. ‘It is so.’
As little as I know Sal, it’s obvious that Elias doesn’t seem like the kind of man he’d be truly close to. Any man who would set up their racketeering operation in a grave must have quite the question mark over his character, and he is not the first of his type I have encountered. In every war, there is always someone turning a profit from suffering. I’m also sure that Sal wouldn’t have brought me here if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. Needs must – that’s what Mum used to say.
‘My cousin.’ Sal gestures at me. ‘We need papers. Everything. Hers are lost.’
‘Cannot you then apply for replacements?’ Elias asks, looking me up and down very slowly. I feel the creep of his gaze on my skin. ‘Oh, is this the spy?’
‘Maia is not a spy, but there are complications,’ Sal says, with a wave of his hand. ‘It must be resolved quickly. I know you have people who can provide good-quality documents.’He is trying to look and sound as if it is not a matter of life and death, knowing, I suspect, that Elias will put the price up as soon as he sniffs out a trace of desperation or fear.
‘Have you brought money?’ Elias asks.
Sal nods.
Elias turns one of the ledgers to face us and pushes it across the desk, holding out a pencil in his other hand. ‘Write all her information here,’ he tells Sal. ‘You.’ He points at me. ‘Stand up against that wall.’
Turning, I see a square of rock that has been whitewashed. I stand in front of it.
‘Don’t smile,’ he says. That’s an easy command to follow.
A moment later, the glare of a flash fills the room, with a second of blinding light and the scent of smoke.
‘Will you take another to be sure?’ Sal asks.
‘No,’ Elias replies, without further explanation. ‘Come back the day after tomorrow.’
‘Very well.’ Sal nods. ‘How much?’
Elias gives him a figure, and Sal patiently counts out the fee, or at least half of it.
‘The rest on delivery,’ Sal tells him sternly over the top of his glasses.
Elias shrugs. ‘And what else can I tempt you with?’ He gestures at his treasure trove.
‘Where did you get all this from?’ Sal asks. He is doing his best to keep his anger hidden, but his tone is stiff and halting.
‘Some I “find”; some is sold to me,’ Elias says, unconcerned. ‘You disapprove, my old friend, but in times of war, there is always a need for a man like me, as you yourself have demonstrated. Those who sell to me are desperate. Those who buy, the same.’
Sal nods curtly. ‘Do you have another candle?’ he asks.
‘For you, on the house.’ Elias takes a fresh candle out of his desk drawer and rolls it across to Sal. ‘To remind you that I am not a monster, eh?’
‘Not a monster.’ Sal picks up the candle, lighting it from the lantern.
‘Two days and all will be ready,’ says Elias.
Sal sighs deeply as soon as we are out of earshot of Elias.
‘I’m sorry,’ I tell him. ‘It’s my fault you have to deal with him. That was a lot of money.’
‘It’s not the cost.’ Sal waves that away with a gesture. ‘To protect you is my honour, Maia. You are my compatriot in more ways than one. No, it’s this war – any war. How can Elias be a monster when the world is populated by far worse? We are all monsters now.’
‘Not you,’ I say, ‘or Christina or Warby. You’ve lived after the end of the war once already. You know how many heroes there always are.’
‘Have I the courage to be a hero here and now?’ Sal says sadly. ‘When a choice must be made, who knows how we shall make it?’
