The Damascened Blade(96)
‘Yes, of course,’ said James, hurriedly passing out glasses and jugs of water. ‘There’s whisky and sherry and fruit juice of some kind. Please help yourselves. Oh, and I should say that I’ve arranged for a meal to be laid on for all of us in the officers’ mess as soon as we’re finished here.’
‘The reason for my being here,’ said Iskander carefully and quietly, ‘one of the reasons, is to ensure that the proper enquiry is made into the death of my cousin Zeman. It seems to me that there is still a mystery hanging over this event, a mystery which more than one present would like to see resolved.’
Edwin Burroughs helped himself to a glass of water. ‘So far as I have any function round this table,’ he said peevishly, ‘it is to evaluate the relevance of what seems to be laughingly called the “Forward Policy” in the light of recent events. I make no secret of it – I recommend withdrawal from this cockpit of war. Our presence here is an incitement to military response. By withdrawing to a sustainable frontier we will cut down dramatically on expense – of lives and materials.’ He sat back in his chair and looked round the room.
‘It perhaps goes without saying,’ interpolated Fred, ‘that I am here to consider the extension of the Forward Policy. I believe, unlike Burroughs, that the only way to assure peace is to patrol the frontier from the air. But the issue is an extremely complicated one and I’m not prepared to say more than that at this moment. I reserve my position.’
‘Good old Fred!’ thought Joe. ‘He’s learning!’
‘And now,’ said Sir George, ‘since we’re all showing our shopping lists, I turn to Grace. Grace who has so often “stilled the seething cup of discord with a cool breath of wisdom”. Your move, Grace,’ he said, cocking a lively grey eyebrow.
‘My concerns,’ she said almost angrily, ‘do not vary from year to year or month to month, certainly not from day to day. They are, as they have always been, to create a situation where “every man can sit under his fig tree or under his vine and no man shall make him afraid.” Little enough to ask, you’d think. Unfortunately, in this part of the world, anyone sitting under a fig tree for ten seconds together is likely to get shot and his figs stolen. It is my purpose in life always to save lives not squander them and I have no respect or sympathy for those of any race who would endanger others whatever their motives. As far as I have any purpose here I suppose it would be to urge that this corner of the frontier be left in peace.’
‘And I – we – share Grace’s aspiration,’ said James, ‘as we always have. Whether we’re any nearer to achieving it remains to be seen.’
‘Thank you, James. Thank you too, Betty. I always know where you stand.’ Sir George sat back in his chair, evidently pleased with what he had heard. ‘So, it appears that, although we approach from different angles, we are all aiming for the same thing – peace.’
The door at the end of the hall banged open to admit Rathmore. He was – and to those present it seemed his habitual state – purple in the face with rage. Lily looked at him critically. ‘He’s a sort of not very successful massproduced copy of Sir George,’ she thought. It was almost as though he had waited to see what Sir George was wearing and had dressed himself likewise. The blazer: large golden insignia on the pocket. The tie: widely striped and accompanied by a matching silk scarf supporting flawlessly creased white trousers. The cuff-links: where Sir George was wearing a battered gold pair, Rathmore wore large amethysts.
Rathmore exploded indignantly, ‘Sir George? Good Lord! Wasn’t expecting to see you here! I’m hoping we’ve met here to bring certain people to justice! And I’m pleased to see, by your presence, that at last the powers that be are taking this seriously!’
George got up and walked over to seize Rathmore by the hand and shake it with what Joe considered to be undue warmth and for an undue length of time. ‘Indeed!’ he said. ‘And the purpose of this meeting, my dear Rathmore, is to determine exactly what has passed over the last few days and make any recommendations that seem appropriate to my lords and masters in Simla. But I don’t need to explain the inner workings of government to a fellow statesman and diplomat . . . enough, perhaps, to say that it is my aim to see that “every brother has his due”. Eh? What? We’ve kept you a seat at the foot of the table.’ An unctuous smile and a languid hand ushered Rathmore into the last remaining place, facing Sir George.