Oliver Benjamin
CHAPTER 12
Two lusts breed in the soul of man: the lust for aggression,
and the lust for telling lies. If one will not allow himself to
wrong others, he will wrong himself. If he doesn’t come
across anyone to lie to, he will lie to himself in his own
thoughts. Sweet to man is the bread of untruths, says the
Book of Proverbs.
RYSZARD KAPUSCINSKI, The Emperor
It is the POETSwhom the erring follow:
See how they rove
as if bereft of their senses in every valley?
And that they say that which they do not do?
The Qu’ran, SuraXXVI
1. The Kettle Black
Though Roy had disappeared multiple times in the past, he usually
resurfaced before long. After a few days passed and he still didn’t
come back a tense calm descended upon them like a blanket of snow.
Compounding their loss, the attack against Biddenbrooks seemed to
have backfired.
Forgetting the fundamental law of publicity, that there is no such
thing as bad publicity, they overlooked the romance of disaster. The
new Biddenbrooks store had been the site of an honest-to-goodness
event, a piece of history, of glorious infamy. People came in droves to
chat with the employees about what happened. Like a race riot or
celebrity murder, people rallied around the dying flames of a history,
trying to kindle them, to keep the spectacular alive. It was like a
cotillion for the bored, with continuing news articles helping to pump
up the ballroom. Down deep, many of the patrons were hoping it
might all happen again.
It wouldn’t, though, as the clerks were all subjected to heavy
background checks and the milk and sugar was now handed out in
safety-sealed packets. Nothing was left to chance. If people wanted to
spike their own drinks, they might, but they would not sully the river
itself.
Bidden could have fingered Roy, but he didn’t. The police never
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