Two evenings later, having spent the entire day plotting his next move, firmly
resolved to play his last card, Block dials Barnes' telephone number, which
he has also obtained from Barbara.
He hears the phone ringing in the distance. On the third ring, someone answers.
Barnes. It is midnight.
"Hello?"
"Hello," says the man with the moustache, speaking in an undertone,
fearful that his voice might give him away.
"Hello?" repeats the other impatiently.
"Hello," he whispers.
"Hello? Who is it?"
"Beaumier," says the writer.
"Who? Speak louder, I can't hear you."
"Beaumier," he repeats, raising his voice a little.
"Beaumier? Who's that? Who are you? What do you want?"
"Listen, I'll explain. I'm frightened. I'm all alone in my apartment. I
have a horrible pain in my chest. I think I'm going to die. It may be a heart
attack. I slept all day, I only got up from time to time to drink. I have the
feeling that it's over, all over. I can't go on like this. I tried to call a
friend, but there was no answer at her place. She's rarely at home, anyway,
she spends a lot of time on the move. So you understand..."
"But who are you, what do you want?"
"Even if she had been there, she would have refused to come, she's a busy
woman, she says-"
"Listen, who are you?"
"I told you, I'm Beaumier."
"But I don't know any-"
"It's of no importance. You don't know who I am and I don't know who you
are. It's of no importance. I want to talk to you. I'll explain. Listen. Don't
hang up. Hello? Yes,
you're still there. I'm so frightened. I'm all alone in this big, empty apartment.
The heat is oppressive. I feel as if my heart were about to leap out of my mouth.
It must be my solitude that is killing me, I don't know. Can you imagine a fear
like mine? It's unbearable! What a nightmare! I'm all alone and sick..."
"Why don't you call the hospital, then?"
"It isn't that simple. I've been sick all my life. I know what it is. It's
not just the pain. Do you understand? Yes, you understand, I'm sure. I've been
sick before but it wasn't the same, nothing like what's happening to me now.
All this emptiness, this silence, as if the walls were about to come crashing
down on me, this terrible void, like water dripping on my head. Do you understand?
So I picked up the phone and dialed a number, any number..."
"Yes," says the voice at the other end of the line. "But I don't
see what-"
"HelIo? Yes, you're still there. Listen, can I speak to you, will you hear
me out?"
(p.115-116)