A woman whom no one knew entered the Ecuadorean Embassy and asked for Julian. He was not there and they showed the woman out. She came back. He was not there again. They showed her out again. But now they told Julian about her and he laughed and wanted to see the woman. When she appeared for the third time, Julian took her with him back to his office on the third floor of the embassy. About 40 minutes later, he came out again with the woman. Julian put his left arm over her left shoulder and looked at her. She squinted and looked back at him. Julian was in a good mood and he and she said a friendly, even cheery, goodbye.
Back in his office, Julian laughed at his friends and colleagues. “You’re imagining things.”
Silence. “Cat got your tongue?” Julian looked into their eyes.
Silence. “Penny for your thoughts.” Julian brushed a crumb from his shirt.
Silence. “What’s supposed to be wrong with her?” he asked them. “A sincere woman. Down on her luck. Needs a victory.”
“Over you!” a voice like thunder shot back.
“I’m afraid I can’t help her there. You’re crazy, all of you!” he told his colleagues.
And afterward, he made a point of saying to them: “What the world needs now is love, sweet love.”
The woman did not come back.
But then a week or so later, Julian was looking out over the street from the third floor of the Ecuadorean Embassy when a turnip-shaped female officer leading a small Ecuadorean military patrol entered the embassy, came up to the third floor, confronted him, grabbed hold of him and called him by his name. She said she would have to arrest him on orders of the Ecuadorean government. Julian recognized her as the sincere woman down on her luck, needing a victory, who he had taken back to his office.
Julian reminded her of their time together in his office. The turnip-shaped female officer said she was sorry, but she couldn’t talk about private conversations in someone’s office.
“But that office was mine and I have very pressing business myself now at my office that you begged to be let into.”
Several more friends and colleagues wandered in and suggested that since Julian was not even attempting to resist arrest, there really was no reason why he should not be allowed to go to his office. And so the turnip-shaped female officer agreed to let him go. Two officers stood guard outside the door to his office.
But Julian did not come back out. At least not right away. He called his bitter enemy, the London police, and told them what was happening. The London Police came and arrested the small Ecuadorean military patrol led by the turnip-shaped officer.
At police headquarters, the female officer admitted that she had personally arranged Julian’s arrest. The fact that she had failed in her effort was solely the result of Julian’s calling the London police. She had not included that in her calculations, but she was known for her long memory and in time would come up to Julian again, hug him and whisper in his ear, “Now what do you think of your old friend?”
But what was the point of it all? Why did the female officer do it? Who ordered her to do it?
It wasn’t political, she declared. She had no use for politics. But a nonprofit organization whose name she couldn’t recall had offered her $375,000 if she brought Julian in. “It had nothing to do with guilt either. No guilt involved. The whole thing was just a kidnapping.” She threw her head back and made a sound like a hearty laugh.