Michael Pearce - A dead man in Tangier

‘One of the pleasures of Tangier, Madame,’ he said, ‘has been meeting your daughter.’

‘Tangier has many pleasures,’ she said neutrally.

Just at that moment the front door of the hotel opened and Mustapha came in.

He stopped when he saw Chantale’s mother.

‘Madame!’ he said.

‘Why, Mustapha!’ said Chantale’s mother, with unaffected pleasure. ‘How are you keeping? And your wife?’

‘Well, Madame.’

‘And the child?’

‘Well, too, Madame. He has had chickenpox.’

‘But better now, I hope?’

‘Oh, yes, he has put it behind him. Another one is on the way.’

‘Another child? Oh, how nice for you both! Congratulations, Mustapha! And to your wife as well.’

She suddenly looked anxious.

‘Mustapha…’

‘Madame?’

‘Which midwife are you going to use?’

‘Maryam, we thought.’

Chantale’s mother pursed her lips.

‘Maryam is getting old now, Mustapha. And your wife had difficulties the last time.’

‘I know, but-’

‘Why not try Aisha?’

‘Well…’

‘If it’s money, Mustapha, we can help.’

‘It’s not money, Madame. Though thank you very much. It’s…’ He twisted awkwardly. ‘Well, the fact is, we had a little to-do with her husband a few weeks ago and he got hurt. Not badly, not badly,’ he hastened to add. ‘But things have not been the same between the families since, and I don’t like to ask her.’

‘But this is ridiculous! She’s very fond of you all, and, you know, these days, Mustapha, she would be a much better bet. You want the child to be all right, don’t you?’

‘Oh, Madame!’

‘Of course, you do. And you want your wife to be all right, too. You mustn’t let these foolish quarrels get in your way. Aisha would be much the safest choice.’

‘Yes, Madame. I know. But…’

‘But what, Mustapha?’

Mustapha hesitated.

‘I–I don’t like to go, Madame.’

‘Mustapha!’

‘Madame?’

‘Mustapha, you’re not scared, are you?’

‘Scared? Me?’

‘No, no, of course you’re not scared. I didn’t mean that. I meant that — it’s not easy for you to climb down, is it?’

‘Well, no, Madame. Not with Hussein.’

‘Would you like me to have a word with Aisha?’

Mustapha crossed the foyer and then, with unexpected grace, kissed her hand.

‘I will speak to her tomorrow.’

‘Mustapha,’ said Chantale, ‘did you come in for something?’

‘Well, yes, Chantale, as a matter of fact I did. It’s like this. We’ve heard that Ali Khadr and some of his boys are coming over tomorrow night and, knowing how you feel about these things, we wanted to tell you ahead. Knowing how you feel about these things.’

‘There is to be no fighting,’ said Chantale peremptorily.

‘No, no, there won’t be. It’s just a case of getting a few of our lads together to defend ourselves.’

‘No fighting!’

‘Yes, but they’re coming over. And we can’t just stand there, can we? I mean, it would look bad, wouldn’t it?’

‘Where does Ali Khadr come from, Mustapha?’ asked Chantale’s mother.

‘The Sukhariya.’

‘Oh, I know that part. Why don’t I go over and talk to him?’

‘Oh, no, no!’ said Mustapha, appalled. ‘You can’t do that!’

‘Oh, yes, I can. I know that part. I used to go to the mosque there. I know, why don’t I go to the mosque? They’ll soon put a stop to it.’

‘No, no, really. Madame! Really! It’s just a bit of harmless fun. We don’t want to get the mosque mixed up in this. I don’t think religion and — well, not religion — ought to mix.’

‘I’ll go this evening,’ said Chantale’s mother with decision. ‘After seeing Aisha.’

Mustapha left, unhappy. In the moment before the door closed Seymour heard Idris’s voice.

‘Well, you really mucked that up, didn’t you?’

The next morning Seymour went to see Mr Bahnini. He showed him the membership list of the hunt that Monsieur L’Espinasse had given him.

‘Do you know any of these men?’

Mr Bahnini studied the list.

‘I know quite a few of them.’

‘Did any of them use to come here? To see Bossu?’

‘One or two, yes.’

He gave Seymour their names.

‘Do you know what they wanted to see him about?’

‘They probably wished to make some representation. On a point of interest concerning their business usually.’

‘Can you tell me what their business was?’

Mr Bahnini looked at the names again.

‘Something to do with the railway. They all work for contracting firms.’

‘In Tangier?’

‘All over the place.’

‘In Casablanca?’

‘Certainly.’

‘Wasn’t there some question of a railway in Casablanca? A few years ago?’

‘It was just a local railway. Connecting a quarry with a building project on the sea front.’

‘And were these men by any chance something to do with that?’

‘Yes. Yes, I think they were. I remember their names. I did some of the contracts. I had just started working for Monsieur Bossu at the time and remember being surprised.’

‘Surprised?’

‘At how big they were. In relation to the project, the railway, that is, for it was just a small one. But I think the contracts took in a number of other things as well.’

‘There was nothing odd about them?’

‘No, no. People raised questions about them at the time but they always do. In my experience ordinary people don’t understand contracts. Because they don’t understand them, and because they’re suspicious of lawyers, they think they’re all part of some conspiracy by the rich. But usually they’re just straightforward arrangements for the conduct of business. The rich like to tie things down in case they lose money.’

‘And you were working at the time for Monsieur Bossu?’

‘Yes, he had lured me out of the Ministry.’

‘Which Ministry was that?’

‘The Ministry of War.’

‘Under Sheikh Musa, would that have been?’

‘A long way under. I was in the Accounts section. That was, actually, quite a good place to be in Morocco. You were safe there. Under the Parasol. No one could get at you. And under Musa you weren’t asked to do wrong things. They gave you a good training, too. It was always easy to get a good job after you’d worked for them. That may have been why Monsieur Bossu wanted me. If ever a man needed a good accountant, he did.’

‘Because he was often doing things that were questionable?’

Mr Bahnini considered.

‘Perhaps a little,’ he conceded. ‘They seemed so to me. We would never have done them in the Ministry. But, I thought, maybe that was the way things were done in business? But I wouldn’t say they were ever more than questionable. Not downright dishonest.’

He smiled.

‘That wasn’t the way he made his money, if that was what you were thinking. He earned it through fees, usually for negotiating something. He was very good at that.’

‘And this railway that you mentioned, did he have a hand in negotiating that?’

‘Yes. It was one of his earlier jobs. And I don’t think he did it very well, not as well as he would have done later. The route of the railway led through a Muslim cemetery and that caused all sorts of trouble. People said afterwards that he ought to have foreseen it and bought them off.’

‘It was thought to have sparked off the trouble, I gather?’

‘Well, yes.’

‘There was a lot of feeling about it?’

‘Oh, there was. Even in my own family. Sadiq was very difficult at the time. He was still at school and the students got very worked up about it. For weeks he wouldn’t even speak to me. It was a relief when he went away to university. The strain on my wife…! So when Monsieur Bossu moved back to Tangier and asked me to go with him I was only too glad to go.