the Ben Trovato file
‘Mystery Author in Shock Disappearance”. That’s not what I expected to see when I opened the morning paper.
It could only have been Ted or Brenda who betrayed me. To get to the package, my increasingly unstable wife would have had to wake before sunrise, slip through the hole in the fence and crawl past Ted’s bedroom window to get to his front door. Where I had left the parcel. With strict instructions.
The situation was serious. My collection of letters was never meant to be published. And Ted knew this. Because along with the parcel, I left him this note.
Dear Ted,
By the time you get this, I will be gone. It has not been an easy decision. You have been a fine neighbour, Ted. Not once did you question why I knocked on your door asking for stamps four times a week for the past seven months. And for that, I am grateful.
However, in recent days I have noticed a narrowing of eyes when I enter the post office. There are nudges and whispers when I approach the counter. This rattles me, Ted. A man wearing an outfit that was clearly manufactured in the Republic of Tajikistan is monitoring my box. Three days ago I was followed down the street by a woman dragging a schnauzer with a digital camera mounted on its head. Nothing unusual for Sea Point, I agree. But I have decided to play it safe and go into hiding for a while.
The stamps you have been providing me with were put to good use. I have been communicating with a range of men and women, some of whom turned out to be extremely rich and equally dangerous. The trouble began earlier this year when I decided to get answers to a few simple questions that were bothering me. But these days people are afraid to talk openly. I have tried to engage hundreds of people in meaningful discourse, but my efforts have largely been met by evasive and humourless replies dictated by people who should all bear the name Curt.
Free speech, Ted, is being sucked under by a great stinking bog of fear. It is being smothered by self-serving schmooze merchants and lying dogs of all political persuasion. It is drowning in a rising tide of perfidious press releases and pseudo-spontaneous soundbites from smooth-talking spin doctors paid to lie by the hour.
At some point, you may be interviewed by grim-faced people claiming to be police officers or journalists. Some could even be from the sports world. They may try to portray me as some sort of literary Unabomber. Do not be afraid. Tell them nothing. On second thoughts, tell them everything. Get to know them. Ask them as many questions as you can. Engage them in the great debate. They will grow anxious and will probably try to leave the house. Lock the doors. Keep them there as long as you can. Tell them you want answers and explanations. Don’t let them use the telephone to call for help. Give them stamps, instead.
If Brenda notices that I have gone missing, please tell her that I will be returning for my stick when it is safe to do so. Clive will be coming out of the institution any day now. Make sure your perimeter fence is secure and do not give him any matches, no matter how much he may threaten you.
I hope to reach Berlin before the end of the year, where I will spend a fair amount of time with a new friend called Shawne Fielding. Do not mention this to the police, even if they torture you.
Your friend,
Ben
PS. I shall be crossing borders and it will be too dangerous to take my correspondence along. Hide the letters. Do not show them to anyone. I will return when the coast is clear.
The next thing I knew, the morning paper was running with news of my Shock Disappearance. There had clearly been a leak. Ted had betrayed me in the worst possible way. This is the letter I found in my box as I headed out of town for the last time.
Dear Ben,
I hope you are not angry. I was afraid the authorities would search my house and find the package behind the secret panel. Mary said they would destroy the letters. And me, for good measure. So I mailed them to M&G Books, where I thought they would be safe. However, an Irish agitator by the name of Maggie Davey made thousands of copies and circulated them around the world. You can’t blame me for that.
Mary sends regards. She popped over to visit Brenda the day after you disappeared, and has returned home only nine times for fresh bottles of Chardonnay. She says she is still consoling your wife, but lately their screaming and laughing has kept much of the neighbourhood awake.
If you make it to Berlin, please could you ask Shawne if she has a sister?
Your friend,
Ted
PS. Now that The Ben Trovato Files is out, you will probably start receiving mail. I should imagine subpoenas, mainly. Please let me know what I should do with them.
The Ben Trovato Files, published by M&G Books, is available from all good book stores