The Buddha's Return Read Online Free PDF Page B

glad of it; it was possible to talk to him in a different language.
    “I can understand your frustration during the earlier interrogation,” he continued. “There was a mistake, a most regrettable one: the investigator you spoke with usually handles only the simplest of cases, although he invariably strives towards matters clearly exceeding his competency. You see, he owes his position to party membership; one cannot make too many demands of him. Let us, however, get down to business. Are you aware of the charges brought against you?”
    “I would like to know,” I said, “who it is that I’ve been mistaken for. It’s obvious to me that what has happenedhere is the result of some misunderstanding, which I would very much like to clear up. My surname is”—I gave him my surname—“I live in Paris and I am a student of history at the university there. I have never—as is easy to ascertain through even the most superficial of investigations —engaged in any political activity, nor have I ever belonged to any political organization. The accusations concerning terrorist intentions are so absurd and illogical that I see no point in discussing them further. I admit that the man you take me for may be both a terrorist and your political adversary, but that has nothing to do with me. I only hope that your state apparatus is sufficiently organized to establish this.”
    “Are you alleging that Rosenblatt was mistaken? If so, your case will take a decidedly tragic turn.”
    “Who is this Rosenblatt? This is the first time I’ve heard the name, I’ve never seen the man.”
    “I must say, you did everything you could so that no one would ever see him again: you strangled him.”
    “Forgive me, but half an hour ago I was told that his surname was Ertel.”
    “That was a mistake.”
    “What, another mistake?”
    “Personally speaking, I never much rated Rosenblatt,” continued the investigator. “When you called him a hired assassin, you weren’t far from the truth. The pity is that he was the only man who could have saved you. You’verobbed him of the opportunity to do so. We have in our possession his secret report on you and your activities. The intelligence it contains is much too detailed and accurate to be a fabrication. And in any case, the man was utterly bereft of imagination.”
    “It’s entirely possible that the intelligence contained in his report is accurate. But the single most important factor in all this is that it concerns someone else, and not me.”
    “Yes, but how are we to prove this?”
    “For a start, this man cannot be my twin. Moreover, I presume he would have a different surname. Then, of course, there are other distinguishing features: age, height, hair colour, and so forth.”
    “Rosenblatt’s report, although comprehensive in all other respects, unfortunately contains none of these indicators. And anyway, why should I believe you and not him?”
    “You may not believe me. But there would be nothing easier than to make enquiries in Paris.”
    “We avoid, insofar as possible, all contact with foreign police.”
    It began to dawn on me that my situation was hopeless. The judicial machinery of the Central State displayed absolute rigidity and a lack of any interest in the accused; its function was solely punitive. The primitivism characteristic of all justice had been reduced to an absurdity. There was one single formula: anyone brought beforethe court stood accused of crimes against the state and was liable to be punished. The innocence of the accused was admissible theoretically, although it was bound to be disregarded. Obviously a hint of desperation glinted in my eyes, for the investigator said:
    “I’m afraid you will find it objectively impossible to prove any error on our part. This leaves you with a choice: either to persist in this fruitless denial and thus knowingly to consign yourself to death, or else to sign a confession and make peace with the fact that you will