Eric Ambler - The Levanter

Until that afternoon in May the idea that the punctilious, hard-working Issa might have other, less desirable qualities of mind and character had never once crossed my mind. And, as I have said, even that first warning signal — Teresa’s news about the alcohol orders — didn’t really register.

Naturally, the conclusion I immediately jumped to — that Issa had been carrying on a private bootlegging business at my expense — wasn’t exactly welcome; but until I had questioned him on the subject there was nothing to be done. He might have a perfectly innocent explanation to offer. I couldn’t imagine what that might be, but the matter could, and would have to, wait.

As I drove to the Ministry that afternoon I had pleasanter things to think about, for this was a moment I had been looking forward to for months. This was showdown time for Dr. Hawa. If I played my hand properly the dry battery project would soon be no more than a disagreeable memory.

Before leaving for Italy I had prepared the ground carefully by sending him a statement of the financial position of the dry battery project Along with this profoundly depressing document, however, I had sent a cheerful little covering letter saying that I hoped, on my return, to be able to submit proposals for saving the entire situation.

As the situation was patently catastrophic, this promise of good news to come would, I thought, soften him up a little. The drowning man offered a line does not much care, when it arrives, whether the hempen rope he had been expecting turns out to be made of nylon. Although it would have been a gross exaggeration to describe Dr. Hawa’s political difficulties at the time as those of a drowning man, he was certainly floundering a little and in need of additional buoyancy.

His first words to me after the coffee had been brought in suggested that I had overdone the softening-up process.

“Michael, you have failed me,” he said mournfully.

This would not do. In his pity-me mood, which I had encountered once or twice before, he wouldn’t have bought IBM at par. I wanted him braced in his embattled PM-warrior stance, beady-eyed and looking for openings. I took the necessary steps.

“Minister, we have made some rectifiable errors, that is all”

“But these figures you sent me!” He had them there on his desk, sprinkled with cigarette ash.

“The obituary notice of an unsuccessful experiment which may now be forgotten.”

“Forgotten!” That stung him all right. “Forgotten by whom, may I ask? The public? The press?”

“Only by you and me, Minister. For the public and the press there will be nothing to forget. The battery project will go forward.”

“On the basis of these figures? You expect the Ministry of Finance to fund the project when all we have to show them is this miserable record?”

“Of course not. But if you will recall our original conversation on the subject of dry batteries, the feasibility of the project was always in question. What I have in mind now is the rectification of an original error.”

“Which error? There have been so many.”

“The error of making primary batteries. We should have made secondary batteries.”

“What are you talking about? Batteries are batteries. Please come to the point, Michael.”

“With respect, Minister, that is the point. Secondary batteries are rechargeable storage batteries, the kind you have in cars and buses.”

“But…”

“Please, Minister, allow me to explain. I propose that the battery project should go ahead, but that we phase out the dry battery operation and change over to the manufacture of storage batteries.”

“But the two things are totally different!”

“They are indeed, but they are both called batteries. That is the essential point We should not be abandoning the announced battery project, only redirecting it along a more profitable path. As for the changeover, I have had exploratory talks in Milan with a firm of car accessory manufacturers. They are willing to send us experienced technicians to train our own people and help us to set up an efficient plant for making storage batteries here.”

“But that means another pilot project.”

“No, Minister, not this time. You cannot make these things on a pilot scale. That is one reason for our present failure. This would have to be a full-scale operation from the start. That means a joint-venture arrangement between the Italian company and your agency.”

“But why should they be willing to do this? Why should they help us? What do they get out of it?”

I knew then that I had him.

They have no outlet for their products in the Middle East at present. The West Germans and the British have most of the market. They were looking for a way in and came to me.” That was not quite true; I had approached them; but it sounded better the other way. “I advised them to manufacture here and take advantage of low labour costs and the favourable UAR tariffs.”

“But it would be their product they would be making and selling.”

They are willing to put it out here under our Green Circle trademark.”

That clinched it; but, of course, he did not give way immediately. There were doubts to be assuaged about the plant’s value to the economy. The standard complaint was made that all the raw materials would have to be imported and that, as usual, money and cheap labour were all that was being asked of poor Syria. I countered with a question.

“Minister, when will the new plastics factory which has been promised be going into production?”

This factory was to be a present from Russia via East Germany and I wasn’t supposed to know about it. My indiscretion threw him for a moment.

“Why do you ask?”

The battery cases could be made there.”

“Have you a plan on paper yet for this project? Figures, estimates?"

I opened my briefcase and handed over the bound presentation that I had worked up with the people in Milan. It was quite a tome, and I could see that the size and weight of it impressed him. He leafed through it for a moment or two before looking up at me.

“In the matter of phasing out the present operation,” he said thoughtfully, “if that is finally decided upon, there would have to be continuity, Michael. If we were to go ahead with this revised Green Circle plan there could be no sudden changes, no loss of employment. The two would have to overlap.”

“I understand, Minister.” What he meant was that he didn’t want the press or radio picking up the story until we had papered over the cracks.

“Then I will study these proposals and we will have a further meeting. Meanwhile, this will be treated as confidential. There must be no premature disclosure.”

“No, of course not.” It was all right to browbeat the Agence Howell into squandering its money on a half-baked experiment after sounding off about it to the press; but to release the news of a sizable joint-venture deal involving an Italian company and his agency before clearing it with the ministries of Finance and Commerce would be asking for trouble. I was fairly sure that he would get the clearance, however. All I could do now was hope that he would get it quickly. The sooner I could start “phasing out” the dry battery fiasco the better.

Still, I was pleased with the way things had gone. Back at the house I told Teresa all about the meeting and we had some champagne to celebrate.

It wasn’t until after dinner when we were in bed that I thought again about Issa. We had taken a bottle of brandy with us, and as I poured some into her glass the fact that it was alcohol reminded me.

“I was trying to work it out earlier,” I said. “Ten rottols of alcohol would be how many litres?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know how much alcohol weighs. Over fifty litres I suppose. Can you drink that stuff?”