Dennis Wheatley - The Secret War

Christopher was about to protest at this flagrant injustice but Lovelace nudged him and told him to pay up; knowing that in Abyssinia there was no appeal against such arbitrary decisions on the part of government officials.

The passport officer, a one eyed black, presented as Ato Wolde Rougis, now asked for their papers. He also had numerous assistants, and these, having glanced it the three passports, said that they were not in order.

What was to be done? Having visited Abyssinia Before Lovelace knew the answer and promptly slipped five thalers into Ato Wolde Rougis's hand.

The black official took the bribe but shrugged and shook his head, evidently hoping to obtain a larger sum.

Lovelace knew there was nothing wrong with the passports and considered the tip enough; so he resorted to a trick and produced a document from his note case which he carried for that purpose. It was a piece of thin vellum with Arabic characters inscribed upon it and a red ribbon attached from which dangled a large seal. The seal was actually a tin plaque lauding the virtues

of a brand of Turkish cigarettes but the characters on it looked not unlike those on the vellum, which he had written himself.

`This,' he said solemnly, 'is the sealed warrant of Ibn' Saud, King of Arabia. The possession of it placed myself and my friends above all suspicion. We are people of considerable importance.'

With a far more respectful expression on his face Ato Wolde Rougis took the piece of vellum and pretended to read the characters, although it was obvious that he did not understand them. It was the red ribbon and the fine, tin seal which impressed his native mind and made him feel that it might be dangerous to blackmail such people in case, later, they did him some injury.

After a moment he said: `Why did you not show me this at once? It is all in order. I will not delay you further.' But he did not offer to give back the money he had taken.

A third man now appeared. They did not catch his name but noticed that he did not rejoice in the title of Ato, or Mr. He had the plane run into a hangar and had to be given ten thalers for his trouble. Then, it seemed, they were free to leave the aerodrome.

Henrick Heidenstam took them over to a rickety car with a black chauffeur and, while the airport police kept back the sullen looking mob, they drove off.

Three minutes later the car stopped outside a petrol station. Heidenstam smiled ruefully.

`I'm awfully sorry,' he said. 'This fellow's evidently run out of juice and you'll have to buy some if you want to go any further. This is a government car, you see, and one of their methods of getting petrol is to play this game on , strangers. I'd buy some myself but I haven't been paid for months so I'm pretty hard up at the moment.'

'Please don't worry it's not your show.' Christopher assured the Swede; but the man at the petrol station refused to supply him with less than a tonika of four and a half gallons which cost another thirteen thalers, roughly one pound, and he was angered by this further imposition,

'What a racket,' he exclaimed as they drove on. 'Is all Addis Ababa as full of grafters as that airport?'

Heidenstam shrugged philosophically. `I'm afraid you'll find it so. Abyssinia's a lousy country. With the exception of the Emperor, who is a really wonderful little man, and about a dozen of his Europeanized helpers, there's hardly a native in the place one can respect. They have all the cunning and the greed of oriental’s but none of the Arabs' love of colour and gaiety and good living. It may be their particular brand of Christianity that gets them down. I don't know; anyhow all they seem to get from it is their morbid killjoy ways. It doesn't prevent them getting drunk or being unbelievably cruel and vicious. They're lazy too lazy as hogs. You can never get anything done unless you go to the Emperor. Even the highest government officials constantly put you off with Ishe naga which means, “all right, but tomorrow,” or actually, “come next week and I'll put you off again,” '

They were driving through well wooded country with fields, rough gardens, and white, one storied buildings dotted here and there between the patches of blue gum trees.

`When shall we reach the city?' Valerie asked.

'We're in it now,' Heidenstam replied. 'Addis Ababa is a young town. It was started only fifty years ago because the wife of the old Emperor Menelik came and built a palace here. The Emperor followed her and it has grown until its 130,000 inhabitants have spread out over as big an area as Paris.'

The white walled, zinc roofed houses became a little more frequent as they entered the European quarter. They pulled up outside a big building on a hill and Heidenstam said: 'This is the Hotel Imperial. There are others, but it's supposed to be the best, and you'll not

be uncomfortable here. Also, you will be quite safe, so I shall leave you now. One of the Emperor's people will visit you this afternoon and tell you what you may or may not do during your stay. Haile Salassie is most anxious that all Europeans should be protected from any unpleasantness and, even though he's at the front now, his partisans continue to superintend visitors' arrangements personally in his absence.'

They thanked the Swedish airman, who drove away with a cheerful wave of his hand. Lovelace then interviewed the Greek hotel proprietor. The results were far more satisfactory than they had hoped. Three good bedrooms, each with a private bath, were placed at their disposal, and it was promised that a sitting room on the first floor should be reserved for their exclusive use.

Having viewed the rooms and parked their few belongings, they came downstairs again. Now that the excitement of their flight was over they felt chilly and depressed. Although it was still only mid morning, a drink seemed the obvious remedy.

A square faced, grey mustached man and a red headed youth were the only occupants of the bar. After ordering drinks Lovelace got into conversation with them. The elder was a Dutchman representing a firm of coffee merchants; the younger a Belgian adventurer who had come out hoping to secure a command in the Abyssinian Army when the regular officers loaned by his Government were officially recalled on the outbreak of war. As he possessed exceptional linguistic attainments, he had managed to get a job as interpreter at the Consular Court where justice was dispensed among alien nationals.

They soon informed the newcomers why it had been so easy to secure accommodation. From September to Christmas the hotel had been crammed from basement to attic with foreign correspondents, armament men and every sort of shady white who hoped for good fishing in the troubled waters. But the armament people could not find anyone with the cash to buy their goods the Press men discovered that even the Abyssinian War Office knew nothing of what was going on at the front, and the job seekers had found the inborn suspicion of the Abyssinians concerning the honesty of all whites too deeply rooted to be overcome. After three or four months of wasted time and money the editors had recalled their journalists, the munition pedlars had packed their samples, and the funds of most of the others had run out. The place was now two thirds empty.

When Valerie remarked how surprising it was to find that every room in the hotel had a bath, they both laughed.

`It happens to be built next to a hot spring,' the Belgian said. `It's the only place in Addis of it's kind. Even the people in the legations come here for a bath once or twice a week. But the food is filthy and the prices extortionate. You would do better at the Deutsches Haas.'

Christopher asked if they had run across an elderly Armenian named Paxito Zirrif, during the last fortnight, but they shook their heads. Neither of them had even heard of him.