‘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.
‘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?’