‘Ah,’ said Suleiman Fazi, ‘that is the question.’
‘Algeria?’
‘French,’ said Suleiman Fazi.
‘Tunisia? Libya?’
‘French, too.’
‘Egypt?’
‘English. It is a question,’ said Suleiman Fazi, ‘that he has not yet resolved.’
‘It would be a pity if he left,’ said Macfarlane. ‘People like him will be needed here.’
‘That is what I tell him. To be like you, he says? There are worse fates, I say. Oh, he says? Tell me them.’
‘The young are always restive,’ said Macfarlane.
‘There is nothing for him here,’ said Suleiman Fazi. ‘There is nothing for me, either. All the French will let us do,’ he said bitterly, ‘is collect the taxes for them. And you can imagine how popular that makes us! Everything else we have to leave to the French.’
He looked at Seymour.
‘Your concern is with Bossu,’ he said. ‘Our concern is with the hundreds of Bossus that will be coming.’
‘He means: under the Protectorate?’ said Seymour.
‘Yes. He fears that the French will flood in. As they have done in Algeria.’
‘And will they?’
‘The army first. First they have to secure the country. Which, of course, they are presently doing. And that is why I am taking you now to see Monsieur Lambert, the Resident-General Designate.’
‘Ah!’ said Monsieur Lambert. ‘ L’affaire Bossu. And you are Monsieur Seymour. From Scotland Yard. A long way to come, Monsieur Seymour, and I wonder if your visit is strictly necessary.’
‘The committee,’ said Macfarlane softly, ‘is an international one, and other powers beside France need to be satisfied.’
‘The committee!’ said the Resident-General, brushing it aside.
‘Nevertheless, it has to be worked with, Georges,’ said Macfarlane quietly.
Monsieur Lambert seemed about to say something but then thought better.
‘Have the Mahzen been informed?’ he asked.
‘I have taken Mr Seymour to see Suleiman Fazi.’
‘Good.’
He turned to Seymour.
‘The forms have to be preserved,’ he said. ‘We know they are just forms, that the Sultan and his Mahzen have no longer any real power. Nevertheless, we must keep to the forms. Pretend that he has. In the interests of-’
He stopped.
‘International harmony,’ prompted Macfarlane. ‘The other powers wouldn’t like it if the French just said, “Right, we’re taking over Morocco.” It would look bad. But if they say, “Look, we’re just trying to help Morocco along, protect it from other nasty European powers, so we’re declaring it a French Protectorate,” well, that looks much better. It makes it more legitimate, and the international community likes legitimacy.’
Monsieur Lambert shrugged.
‘Well, I don’t mind keeping up appearances,’ he said, ‘if that’s strictly necessary. It’s as well, though, if Monsieur Seymour understands the difference between appearances and reality. And the reality is that a Frenchman has been killed and I am the one who has to answer for that in Paris.’
‘Of course!’ said Macfarlane soothingly. ‘But it is also true that in the present delicate situation Monsieur Bossu was as well a servant of the international community and they too require satisfaction.’
‘They’re not going to make trouble, are they, Alan?’ said Monsieur Lambert.
‘Not if I can help it,’ said Macfarlane.
‘Bossu has caused enough trouble as it is,’ said Lambert.
At the end of the corridor, as they came out, Seymour saw a small group of women about to enter the private quarters of the Residency One of them was a middle-aged woman, the mother, perhaps, of the two younger women who were with her.
But, hold on! That couldn’t be right, since one of the younger women, he was almost sure, was the receptionist at the hotel.
They disappeared inside.
‘What trouble did Bossu cause?’ asked Seymour, as they walked away.
‘Oh, something in the past,’ said Macfarlane.
‘He’s meeting all the nobs,’ Seymour heard Idris say to Mustapha. ‘That can’t be good, can it?’
‘So where in all this,’ said Seymour, ‘do the police fit in? Do they come under the Mahzen or under the French?’
‘Both,’ said Macfarlane. ‘In principle, they report to the Vizier of the Interior. But in practice it’s more complicated. In much of the interior there aren’t any police at all. The only thing keeping order is the French army. In the more settled parts there will be a Pasha or a Caid — a sort of local governor. And in the big cities, Marrakesh, for instance, or Casablanca, there will be both a Pasha and a French commander.’
‘I see,’ said Seymour. Doubtfully.
‘Remember, though,’ said Macfarlane enthusiastically, ‘that this is a Muslim country and wherever you are, most things will be handled by the local mosque. Disputes about property, say. In fact, most disputes. In so far as there is law in most of the country, it’s Muslim law.’
‘Well, I’m not very up in Muslim law-’
‘Don’t worry about that. You don’t need to be. The local mosque comes in usually when it’s a question not of law but of arbitration. Settling an argument between two parties. As long as you stay on the right side of them, you’ll be all right.’
‘I see,’ said Seymour, even more doubtfully. And then ‘So where does Renaud fit in?’
‘Ah, well, Tangier is a bit different. There are a lot of businesses here which would like more freedom than either the Sultans or the French would like to give them. International businesses, for instance. So part of the Protectorate deal was that Tangier should become an international zone, a sort of free city. There actually is a Chief of Police here. That’s because there are a lot of European businesses and they like things to be done in the European way. Renaud is their man. In more senses than one.’
Seymour was silent for a moment. Then ‘So who is it exactly that I’m answerable to over investigating Bossu’s death?’
‘Me.’ Macfarlane frowned. ‘Although I have to say that part was left rather vague. Just take it, in practice, that you’re answerable to me.’
‘Oh, good. Well-’
‘As well as to a lot of other people, of course. France, Spain, Italy and Germany will be taking an interest, especially as the committee is their creation and Bossu was, in a sense, their appointee. And, of course, the Mahzen. It would be improper to leave them out. And then the French — Monsieur Lambert should certainly be kept informed. The Muslims I don’t think you need to bother about. You just have to stay on side with them, and that should be easy.’
‘Easy? Ye-e-s…’
‘And the same with the settlers. Mind you, they’re trouble-makers, but if you handle them in the right way…
‘And the business interests. Large business, that is. They’re very important. They’ve got a voice in Paris. That’s partly what Lambert was talking about… Bossu, you know… there was a time when he was very close to them. Perhaps he still was…
‘Any more? No, I don’t think so. I think that’s about it.’
‘Well, that seems straightforward,’ said Seymour.
By now it was about eight o’clock and the city was just waking up. The streets in the main shopping quarter were crowded and the shops full of people. Up here, where Macfarlane had brought him, the shops were mostly European, spacious, well lit and with counters which were not sat upon but where the goods were displayed in the European way. The goods, too, were European: shoes from Spain, perfumerie and lingerie from France, elegant European dresses from Italy. You could well have been on the other side of the Mediterranean in the towns of Italy or Spain or Greece.
The shoppers, too, seemed European. At least, they were dressed in European styles. Only the occasional dark-veiled, dark-gowned woman lingered along looking in at the windows. The men were bolder, walking along in twos and threes in the middle of the street, their arms around each other in the Arab manner. Many of them, especially the younger ones, had doffed their brightly coloured gowns in favour of shirt and trousers.