Michael Pearce - A dead man in Tangier

‘Of course, you never escape from these things. Afterwards I was always known as Bossu’s man. So you can understand that when he died, I was — well, I won’t say pleased, that would be a nasty thing to say, and he had always treated me fairly, but — I felt as if a load had been lifted off me. I saw a chance to start again. I could even go back to Casablanca, which is where I came from originally, although it would not be easy.

‘That is why, when Mr Macfarlane asked me to stay on, I refused. I just couldn’t. I feel that I couldn’t, any longer.’

When he went out, the group of young men were sitting again in the cafe across the street. He could see Sadiq, and also the other one, who had been involved in the altercation with Chantale the day before, Awad. When they saw him, Awad said something to Sadiq and they both jumped up and came across to him.

‘I would like to express my thanks for your intervention yesterday, Monsieur. At the time I wasn’t sure whether I should accept your suggestion — I wanted to make a stand! But, on reflection, I see that you were right.’

Seymour said that was very generous of him, and that he had been talking to Chantale, and that she was taking more or less the same line. It ended with Awad and Sadiq inviting him across the road to join the group at the table.

They were mostly drinking tea, although some were having fruit juice. At first they were rather shy but then, led by Awad and Sadiq, they began to question him eagerly: about England, certainly, but also about Istanbul. They were all radical but also, it seemed to him, very naive. They took as their pattern the recent revolution in Istanbul which had led to the ousting of the Sultan. It was what they had hoped for in Morocco: but then the French had stepped in!

What, now, in the new circumstances, should they do? Leave the country or stand up for a new Morocco here? He had the feeling that it was something they discussed endlessly. Probably it was what they spent their days doing.

Exile or resolution? Twist, or bust? He could see it was a very exciting thing to discuss. But would it ever issue in anything? Would it stay at just talk?

Or not?

Another conversation was going on, apparently endlessly, behind him.

‘Mustapha, I told you it was a mistake to warn Chantale!’

‘Well, I had to, didn’t I? After what happened that other time.’

‘Yes, but we’ll be over there this time.’

‘She still won’t like it.’

There was a pause. Then Idris said: ‘Suppose we hit them at their place? Before they’ve even started?’

‘We could do that,’ Mustapha conceded.

‘Well, then…’

‘But it would make no difference. If she’s already been to the mosque.’

‘Maybe it wouldn’t.’ It was Idris who conceded this time. ‘But I still don’t like it!’ he said.

‘Well, I don’t, either.’

‘They’ve got to be taught a lesson. That’s what I said, Mustapha, if you remember. That’s what I said to you at the time. “They’ve got to be taught a lesson.” There are rules in this game and they’ve got to follow them. Otherwise, things get bloody lawless!’

‘I was waiting, Idris.’

‘We shouldn’t have waited. We should have hit them hard straightaway. Because if we don’t, they’ll do it again.’

‘I hear what you are saying, Idris.’

‘It’s our territory, isn’t it? And they invaded it. Came right in. If we let them get away with it, they’ll be over here again. And again. And then it won’t be our territory any more, will it? It’ll be theirs!’

‘I know exactly what you mean, Idris.’

‘Well, then…’

‘I was waiting. Shall I tell you why? Because I wanted to find out who was behind it. Look, I know Ali Khadr. He wouldn’t have done this on his own. It would never have entered his thick head. Someone must have put him up to it. Put him up to it, and maybe even paid him a bit, because he wouldn’t have done a thing like that for nothing. Someone must have put him up to it. And what I was doing, Idris, was waiting to find who it was, and then bloody hammer them.’

‘That’s smart, Mustapha!’ said Idris reluctantly. ‘That’s smart. But…’

‘Yes, Idris?’

‘Are you sure? About someone putting him up to it?’

‘Look, Idris, it’s not his territory, is it? He came from outside. So how did he know about it? A new hotel that wasn’t even on his territory? The day after they moved in? Someone tipped him off, Idris, and I want to find out who it was.’

‘Well, I’m with you there, Mustapha. But — couldn’t it have been the police who tipped them off? Someone said it was the police.’

‘But, Idris, again: it was our territory. The police know that as well as we do. Would they have let anyone else in on it? Would they?’

‘Well, no…’

‘And look at another thing: everyone in the quarter knows Chantale and her mother. You could say they were our people. Everyone knows that. Everyone here, that is. And they wouldn’t like it. Our people! So they had to go outside the quarter to get someone to do it. Get someone like Ali Khadr, who wouldn’t know any better. People here wouldn’t like it. The police know that as well as anybody. I’m not saying that someone in the police might not have tipped them off, maybe told them that they’d moved in, that the moment was ripe. Although if they did, they’d do well to keep quiet about it. So you see, Idris, I’m not so stupid after all. There’s someone behind this, and I want to find out who it is. That’s why I was waiting!’

‘Mustapha, you are a deep thinker!’ said Idris in admiration.

‘I am. And when I find out who set up the attack on the hotel, I’m going to cut their bloody balls off!’

‘Just a minute,’ said Seymour. ‘What’s this about a hotel?’

‘The Miramar. The one Chantale and her mother run.’

‘And what’s this about an attack on it?’

‘The day they moved in. The first day! Wrecked the place. Really did it over. It was shocking. My wife went round to give a hand in cleaning it up, and when she got back to me, she was going through the roof. “Call yourself a man?” she said. “And you let this sort of thing go on? In our quarter? Chantale and her mother. What sort of man are you?” I tell you, Idris, the beans weren’t exactly good that night!’

‘There was an attack on the Hotel Miramar? The night Chantale and her mother moved in?’

‘That’s right.’

‘It sounds like a welcome party,’ said Seymour.

‘You know about welcome parties?’

‘We have that sort of thing in England, too.’

‘In England!’

Mustapha was impressed.

‘They do it there, too?’

‘Yes.’

Mustapha turned to Idris.

‘There you are! It goes on all over the world. I’ve always said that. It’s going global, I’ve always said.’

‘Yes,’ said Seymour, ‘you’d be all right in England.’

(What was he saying?)

‘But I think you’d better stay here,’ he said hurriedly.

Ahead of him he saw a face he recognized.

‘Dr Meunier!’

‘Monsieur Seymour!’

Meunier stopped, and removed his hat, then mopped his brow.

‘Hot today, isn’t it? And getting hotter!’

‘You’ve been on an errand of mercy?’

‘You could call it that. I’ve been seeing old Ricard. You know Ricard? You may have seen him at the pig-sticking. Although you shouldn’t have. One of these days he’ll fall off and kill himself. Probably soon. Which would be a mercy for Suzanne.’

‘His wife?’

‘His daughter. Who looks after him lovingly. And with more patience than I could manage.’

He looked around.

‘Fancy a drink?’

They went into a bar.