The Mingrelian Conspiracy

by Michael Pearce

  ‘This effendi, what sort of man was he?’

  ‘Small, very polite.’

  ‘English?’

  ‘No, no.’ Mustapha hesitated. ‘It’s hard to say. None of the usual ones. Not Greek. Not Turk. Somewhere over there, though.’

  Owen guessed he was hearing about Katarina’s father. He had hitherto, without thinking about it, put him down as a bookish man. Sorgos had given the impression that he lacked spirit. Was it just that his spirit expressed itself in ways other than the old man’s nationalism?

  ***

  ‘Djugashvili,’ said Georgiades. ‘Friend of Sorgos, friend of the man working on the ikons, friend of quite a lot of people down in the Der. Came to Cairo only six years ago. Left Georgia in a hurry after some trouble with the Russians.’

  ‘What was the trouble?’

  ‘I don’t know exactly. There was a sort of Nationalist movement, anti-Russian, of course, and he was involved. How far it got, I don’t know, but he’s much admired, down in the Der, as a man of action.’

  ‘Sorgos likes men of action,’ said Owen.

  ***

  ‘They need money,’ said Nikos. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? We know they were having difficulty in finding it—Nicodemus said so. Well, time is running out. They’ve got to find it quickly. So they’ve had to turn to this.’

  ‘Commissioning a gang to get it for them?’

  ‘Why not? We’ve said all along they’re amateurs. It’s the first time they’ve done anything like this. Want money? How about a spot of protection? Don’t know how to go about it? How about someone who does?’

  ‘And you find someone near to you, a gang in the Fustat, and you approach them through an intermediary because you don’t know any gangs yourself. I can see all that: but what I don’t see is how they are paying for it. If it’s with money, that destroys the object.’

  ‘Favours. The world runs on favours. Especially the Arab world.’

  ‘The gang owes this fellow Hussein a favour, OK, and that’s why they’re doing it. But what is Hussein getting? What can Sorgos and the others give him?’

  ‘Maybe they don’t have to give him anything. Maybe he’s returning a favour too.’

  ‘And they’re just calling it in?’

  ‘ That’s right. They’re owed the favour and they’re exchanging it for cash. This way.’

  ‘It’s possible,’ said Owen, ‘but—’

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Why do they have to do it this way? Why go in for all the complication? Why do they have to use explosives? Why not use a bullet? It would be much simpler.’

  Nikos and Georgiades looked at each other. Both shrugged.

  ‘Does it matter?’ asked Georgiades. ‘So long as that’s the way they are doing it.’

  ‘No,’ Owen admitted.

  ‘That certainly seems the way they’re committed to,’ said Nikos. ‘Sorgos is still rushing around desperately trying to buy gold and the only reason I can see for that is that it’s crucial to them if they want to get their hands on the explosives in time.’

  ‘No money,’ said Georgiades, ‘no explosives!’

  ‘That being so,’ said Nikos, ‘isn’t the next step obvious?’

  Chapter Ten

  ‘My young friend from the mountains!’ cried Sorgos.

  ‘Not this time,’ said Owen; ‘the Mamur Zapt.’ Sorgos’s smile disappeared.

  ‘So,’ he said. ‘It has come. I had hoped—But never mind. You have your duty to do. Well, do it.’

  He held out his hands.

  ‘Not yet,’ said Owen. ‘Let us talk. It may not be necessary.’ He followed Sorgos into the small room.

  ‘Well?’ said Sorgos, turning and facing him.

  ‘I had hoped you would have heard my words,’ said Owen.

  ‘You are in a country which has treated you with honour and justice. I had hoped you would respond likewise.’

  Sorgos drew himself up. His eyes flashed.

  ‘Do you accuse me of not behaving with honour?’

  ‘What you are to yourself cannot be separated from what you are to the country you have come to.’

  ‘What I owe to myself is a private matter!’ said Sorgos furiously.

  ‘If you were a guest in a man’s house, and your enemy came to that house and was also received as a guest, would you offend your host’s kindness?’

  ‘I would wait until my enemy left before killing him.’

  ‘Then do the same here, where you are also a guest.’

  ‘Do you think I have not thought of that?’

  ‘I think you have not thought of that enough.’

  ‘It is not just I,’ said Sorgos, not giving an inch; ‘it is my people.’

  ‘The Mingrelians? Does not what I have said apply to them, too? Are they not also guests?’

  ‘We have suffered,’ said Sorgos, breathing heavily, ‘and we will be revenged.’

  ‘Is that what Mingrelians do,’ asked Owen, ‘offend their host?’

  ‘They kill their enemies,’ said Sorgos fiercely.

  ‘Anywhere? In the house of another, so that the blame will fall on them? Can this be honour?’

  Sorgos was for a moment at a loss.

  ‘This, too, is a country. Here, too, are a people,’ said Owen, pressing home his advantage. ‘Why should they suffer because of a cause which is not theirs?’

  ‘It is theirs,’ said Sorgos fiercely. ‘It is every man’s cause. Why should the poor, the small, the weak be trodden down by the mighty? It is not Russia that we are resisting but oppression!’

  ‘A man must choose his cause,’ said Owen, ‘and you must let them choose theirs.’

  ‘I had hoped,’ said Sorgos, ‘that you, as a man from the mountains, would understand.’

  ‘I do understand. It is because I come from a country like yours, small, like yours, proud, like yours, that my heart goes out to you. We, too, have been invaded, oppressed, for much longer than you have, for many centuries. And from the centuries we have learned a lesson: that death breeds death. For a people to live there must be an end to the killing.’

  ‘They took away our country,’ said Sorgos. ‘They did not take away yours. For a people to live, they must have a land. When even that is taken away, all you are left with is the spirit. In time even that will fade. The young—I must not say that, Katarina says I must not say that, that the young have always been like this but that somehow they grow up and then are like the old. That they will care as I do and fight as I do. But,’ said Sorgos, ‘I fear—’

  ‘It is for them to choose,’ said Owen, ‘not for you.’

  ‘I am the last,’ said Sorgos. ‘In my heart I know it. I had hoped to rebuild a people but they turn their backs on me. Even my granddaughter does not understand when I say that there must be children. The time is coming when the Mingrelians will be no more. Well, so let it be. But if it has to end, let it end with honour. I will kill the Grand Duke.’

  ‘I had hoped to persuade you otherwise.’

  ‘You mean well,’ said Sorgos, ‘but you come too late.’

  ‘I do not think so. Where is the gold?’

  ‘The gold?’ said Sorgos, starting back.

  Owen went to the door and threw it open. The men began to file in.

  ‘Here is my search warrant,’ he said, pulling it out of his pocket and showing it to Sorgos.

  ‘Katarina!’ cried the old man.

  Owen ran out. She was not in any of the rooms at the back, nor in any of those upstairs. He ran out into a small yard at the back of the house in which clothes were hanging up to dry. From one side of the yard a flight of steps ran up to the roof. Owen raced up them.

  Katarina was bending over a pile of brushwood. As with many of the houses, the roof was used not just for sleeping on in hot weather
but also for storing fuel and vegetables.

  Owen kicked the wood aside. Beneath, was a pile of onions. He kicked these aside too. They were covering a drain. He lifted the lid and felt inside. A bag, very heavy, and then a second one. He lifted them out.

  ‘You were very quick,’ he said, looking up at Katarina.

  ‘I was listening,’ she said.

  He carried the bags downstairs.

  ‘All right,’ he said, and the men stopped searching. ‘You can go now.’

  They all filed out.

  ‘Do you want me as well?’ said Katarina, flushed and angry.

  ‘You are with him in everything. Yes, I know. Even when it comes to blowing up innocent people with explosives. No, I don’t want you. I don’t even, as a matter of fact, want him.’

  ‘I am ready,’ said Sorgos fiercely.

  ‘You stay here. For the time being.’

  ‘You are not arresting me?’ Sorgos seemed bewildered.

  ‘No. And I hope now that I will never need to.’

  ‘But—?’

  Katarina suddenly understood.

  ‘He has not come for you,’ she said.

  ‘But then—? What have you come for?’ Owen picked up the bags of gold dust.

  ‘You can have them back,’ he said. ‘After.’

  ***

  ‘Why didn’t you arrest him while you were at it?’ said Georgiades.

  ‘There’s still time for them to change their plans. They could still try a bullet. I want him free so that he can run around and talk to the other people. Then we can pick them up.’

  ‘They’re not going to be as naïve as that,’ said Nikos doubtfully.

  ‘You’ve been saying how naïve they are. A bunch of amateurs. Well, we’ll see. Anyway,’ said Owen with satisfaction, ‘I reckon we’ve put a spoke in their wheel.’

  ‘No gold, no explosives!’ said Georgiades. ‘Neat!’

  ‘It’s nicer to do it this way,’ said Owen, ‘if we can.’ He looked round the table.

  ‘Right, now let’s look at preparations for the visit generally: how are things going? Nikos?’ Nikos spread out his papers.

  ***

  ‘And now,’ said Paul, settling himself into his chair, ‘about the preparations for the Grand Duke’s visit: how are things going? His Highness arrives at Alexandria this afternoon and transfers to the Khedivial Yacht tomorrow morning. Now, is everything in hand? Mamur Zapt?’

  ‘No reports of intended action. Except, of course, for our Mingrelian friends, and there, I hope, we have been able to take preventive measures.’

  ‘Good. Any feel for the popular mood?’

  ‘Indifferent.’

  ‘Welcoming,’ put in the Khedive’s representative hastily.

  ‘Eager anticipation.’

  ‘Oh, good. That will be very important when we come to the procession. But that, of course, is near the end of the visit. Let’s take it in order. First, the Khedivial Yacht and the journey through the Suez Canal—’

  The meeting droned on. The flies dipped in sympathy. Had they fallen asleep, Owen wondered. Now, that was interesting. Were committee meetings so boring that even the flies fell asleep? Could you use the flies as a measure of the boringness of a committee? You could release, say, six flies at the start of a committee and see at what point they all sank soporifically down. You could even measure rates. If they all sank down pretty soon after the start of the meeting, God, that was a hell of a meeting—

  ‘Captain Shearer?’

  ‘I think I can confidently say, gentlemen,’ concluded Shearer, ‘that all preparations are now complete and that the Army is ready for all contingencies.’

  ‘Hear, hear!’ said the major.

  ‘Including explosives?’ asked Owen.

  ‘Explosives? Well—’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ said the major.

  ‘Depends how they’re used,’ said Shearer, frowning. ‘We’ll line the streets during the procession and keep people well back, beyond throwing distance—’

  ‘Suppose they’re buried or hidden in a building? A large cache?’

  ‘A mine, you mean?’ said the major, disturbed.

  ‘That sort of thing.’

  ‘Well, it would be difficult to guard against all eventualities,’ said Shearer, less confidently. ‘I mean, we’d have to check all the buildings beforehand—’

  ‘All the buildings?’ asked Paul. ‘I’m a bit worried about the practicalities of this.’

  ‘We’d have to get in some extra men, of course. There’s a battalion of British troops at Aden, and there may be just time to ask India—’

  ‘It would look bad,’ said Paul. ‘It would suggest we couldn’t cope with things ourselves.’

  ‘We can handle it,’ said Shearer automatically. ‘We can handle it.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Paul.

  ‘We’ll need sappers,’ said the major worriedly. ‘Mines are damned nasty things.’

  ‘How serious a possibility is this?’ asked Paul, looking at Owen.

  ‘Oh, a definite possibility. We’ve heard that some explosives, possibly connected to the visit of the Grand Duke, are coming in at Suez.’

  ‘My God!’ breathed the major.

  ‘We’ll do all we can to intercept them, of course,’ said Owen, ‘but I can’t guarantee anything. There’s too much coming into Suez for us to be able to search everything. I have to say that it remains a possibility, a distinct possibility. Thought you’d like to know,’ he said sweetly to Shearer, ‘since you’ll be taking responsibility for the procession.’

  ‘What’s this?’ said Paul.

  ‘Captain Shearer and I have agreed. He is assuming full responsibility for the procession. Unified policing,’ said Owen innocently.

  ***

  Paul had been trying to catch his eye, and when the meeting was over and the Army had departed he came up to him.

  ‘Now, look,’ he said, ‘I’m in that procession—’

  ‘It’ll be all right,’ Owen assured him hastily. ‘It’s not as bad as that. I think I’ve put a spoke in that particular wheel. But I just thought it might give Shearer a sleepless night or two.’

  ‘Perhaps I could get the Old Man to travel at the front of the procession instead,’ said Paul thoughtfully.

  ***

  Owen was meeting Zeinab for lunch after the meeting and he suggested that Paul should come along.

  ‘An apéritif, perhaps,’ said Paul, glancing at his watch.

  ‘I’ll tell her about the arrangements I’ve been making for the Grand Duke’s visit.’

  ‘Paul, I don’t think she’s that interested—’

  ‘She will be in what I have to tell her,’ said Paul confidently.

  ‘It’s about the opera. Now, I’ve really been giving my mind to this. It’s our one chance to get something out of this damned visit so we must take it. I’ve been saying to everyone that we’ve simply got to have an opera or the visit won’t be a true replica of the previous one. I know that in fact they didn’t actually get to see an opera, but the point is they would have seen one if it had been ready. It was there in spirit. That’s what I told the Khedive yesterday, anyway, and he agreed. He likes the colour and the clothes and the pretty women. Oh, and the music, too. Anyway, he’s agreed.’

  ‘Wonderful! But, Paul, surely there won’t be time to—’

  ‘Oh, it won’t be a completely new production. There isn’t time for that. It’ll have to be one they’ve got in repertoire, but that’s La Bohème, so that’s all right. Zeinab will like that. She always identifies with Mimi. Now my idea is this: we can’t change the opera but we can change the singers. Or at least some of them. So why not get in somebody special? Fonseca and Peppone, say. There’s still time for them to get here from Italy. Somebody special for a
special occasion, I said to the Khedive. He liked that.’

  ‘It’ll cost millions!’

  ‘Yes, but Finance won’t find out until it’s all over. That’s the beauty of it, you see.’

  ‘Well, I do see, but—’

  ‘I can’t wait to tell Zeinab.’

  The Ismailiya, where Owen was meeting Zeinab, was the modern European quarter of Cairo. There were the business houses, banks and consulates; there, too, the hotels and fashionable shops, the salons and the French-style cafés. No storytellers outside them! And there was Zeinab, dressed à la Parisienne, conceding so much to Egypt as to wear a veil, but not so much as for it to be one that would be a soupçon out of place on the Faubourg St Honoré.

  On hearing Paul’s news about the opera she went straight for the jugular.

  ‘So,’ she said, ‘two dresses, not one. That makes it even more impossible. There’s still time. Are you going to send the cable or not?’

  ‘Not,’ said Owen firmly.

  ‘Cable?’ said Paul. ‘What cable?’

  ‘To her couturier. In Paris. By the Diplomatic Postbag.’

  ‘Why not?’ said Paul.

  ‘There you are!’ said Zeinab triumphantly. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s a misuse of public funds. Why can’t she use the Post and Telegraphs like everyone else?’

  Zeinab put her hand on Paul’s.

  ‘He is a simple man,’ she said. ‘He does not understand these things. But you understand them, don’t you? You understand that there are some things a woman might wish to keep secret from other women until the right moment, the moment of éclat, that she might not wish to blazon her secrets through all Cairo by using the public Post Office?’

  ‘You overrate the interest of all Cairo in what you are going to wear.’

  ‘Overrate?’ said Zeinab pityingly. ‘When the British ladies talk of nothing else? Samira was at the hairdresser’s with the Consul-General’s wife yesterday and she said that all the talk was of what everyone was going to wear. Samira herself—’

  ‘I do think she has a point, you know,’ Paul said to Owen.

  ‘I was talking to the C-G’s wife only this morning—’ Zeinab patted his hand.

  ‘You understand,’ she purred, ‘because you have imagination.’