The Mingrelian Conspiracy. Michael Pearce

about security?’

      ‘We’ve got to agree on the programme first, haven’t we? Right, let’s move on. There will be a Grand Ball, of course …’

      ‘There could be difficulties,’ said Owen.

      ‘What difficulties?’

      ‘Well, dresses. That kind of thing.’

      Paul glanced at his notes.

      ‘No, this has already been decided. The Consul-General’s wife –’

      ‘A March Past?’ suggested the Army, some time later.

      ‘March Past?’

      ‘The Khedive reviewing his troops.’

      ‘There may be international observers,’ said Paul. ‘I don’t think we should make our military presence too obvious. We could have a jolly procession, I suppose.’

      ‘The Khedive would like that,’ said Mr Abd-es-Salem. ‘In fact, he would wish to take part in it himself. He could ride at the head with the Grand Duke in an open landau.’

      ‘Is that a good idea?’ asked Owen.

      ‘Why not?’ said Mr Abd-es-Salem, surprised.

      ‘Because it would make it easy for someone to take a pot shot at him.’

      ‘The Khedive feels safe with his people,’ said Mr Abd-es-Salem reprovingly.

      ‘I was thinking of the Grand Duke,’ said Owen hastily and untruly.

      ‘Surely there is no risk of that?’

      ‘Cairo is a city of many nationalities. And not all of them are sympathetic to Russia.’

      ‘Even so –’

      ‘The Balkan countries, for instance.’

      ‘Ah, yes,’ said Mr Abd-es-Salem thoughtfully. ‘The Balkans!’

      ‘The Mingrelians!’ added Owen, for the benefit of the Army.

      ‘My God, yes!’ said the major. ‘The Mingrelians!’

      ‘Round them up,’ said Shearer. ‘Round them all up!’

      ‘All of them?’ said Owen. ‘There are over twenty thousand people from various Balkan countries in Cairo alone. The place is like a miniature Balkans. It’s a potential powder keg, I can tell you. I think this visit is crazy. Why don’t we call the whole thing off?’

      ‘Call it off?’ said Mr Abd-es-Salem, aghast. ‘His Royal Highness has set his heart on it!’

      ‘I’m afraid we’ve gone too far down the road to call it off now,’ said Paul. ‘Although I agree with you about the potential threat.’

      ‘Threat?’ said Mr Abd-es-Salem, with considerable- asperity. ‘Are you saying that the British can no longer maintain order? Even with an Army?’

      ‘Certainly not!’ said the major indignantly.

      ‘We can handle it,’ said Captain Shearer.

      ‘Can you?’ said Owen quickly. ‘Well, there’s a lot to be said for –’

      ‘No chance!’ said Paul firmly. ‘It has already been decided that the Mamur Zapt has overall responsibility for the security arrangements. But a good try!’ he added, turning to Owen.

      ‘You again?’ said the café owner. He was sitting with his legs heavily bandaged and propped across a chair in front of him.

      ‘I like coffee,’ said Owen.

      ‘You don’t think you could enjoy it somewhere else?’

      ‘I especially like it here.’

      ‘You get in the way, you know.’

      ‘You mean, the men won’t come while I’m here? Isn’t that a good thing?’

      ‘I don’t know. They’ll come again when you’re not here.’

      ‘I could leave someone with you.’

      ‘They’re big blokes.’

      ‘This is a big bloke.’

      ‘Hanging around all day drinking coffee?’

      ‘He could work for you. In fact, it would be better if he did. You could say he had come up from the country.’

      ‘Why don’t you just go away?’ said the café owner.

      ‘I’m like the other lot. I’m never going to go away.’

      The café owner cursed softly.

      ‘You get me down,’ he said. ‘You really do.’

      ‘I’m your only way out,’ said Owen. ‘You’ll be glad of me. Later.’

      ‘A lot later,’ said the café owner. ‘When I’m in heaven.’

      ‘Even before. It’s just the next bit that’s hard.’

      ‘Why pick the hard way?’

      ‘Because if you pick the other way, it never ends. You don’t just pay once. You go on paying. You pay all the time. They come more often. And after a while they ask for more. And then more. And then more still. In the end you’re working only for them. All you’ve built up is theirs. Look, I know what it takes to build up a place like this, what it costs you. It costs you years of your life and you’ve only got one life. Going to give it all away, now, are you?’

      ‘I’m not giving anything away,’ said the café owner. ‘But I’m still thinking.’

      ‘Think on. Take the long view. You’ve had to take the long view, haven’t you, all your life? Otherwise you’d never have got where you are. Think long now. My way is hard at first but then there’s an end to it. The other way is easy today and hard tomorrow. And tomorrow goes on for a long time.’