‘We are in a discussion,’ said Iskander. ‘These things do not depend on me. There are many people to be consulted. Perhaps some of them are round this table. It would not be right to say more than that the proposition is under discussion.’
‘Politics,’ said Sir George, ‘are like unto running an infants’ school. Did you know that? Put the infants together and they will either play together or kill each other. I’ve seen it time and again. And the question is – and the reason for my being here at all is – which is it to be?’ He turned to James. ‘Anything in that bottle, James?’ he enquired, pointing. ‘It’s been a long day. I wouldn’t refuse a whisky. Others may feel the same… ’
‘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 mass-produced 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.
Rathmore was looking surprised and a little deflated but, Joe would have sworn, was beginning to recover something of his accustomed air of smug arrogance. ‘Ah. Yes,’ he said. ‘Pleased to see that someone in this sorry mess is on the square!’
‘“On the square?”… “Every brother?”… George! The old weasel!’ thought Joe. ‘I know where he’s going with this! Perhaps I’ll help him along!’
In a spirit of mischief Joe rose quietly to his feet, poured out a large whisky and deferentially offered it to Rathmore. ‘You’re one behind us, sir,’ he murmured, patting him lightly on the shoulder. ‘I think you take it neat?’
Puzzled and wary, Rathmore grunted but seemed happy to take a large swallow followed by another. Joe, hovering solicitously, topped up the glass and, leaving the bottle by Rathmore’s elbow, resumed his seat. Sir George raised his own glass, admiring the delicate amber of the Glenlivet against the soft lamplight. ‘Only the best for the officers of Gor Khatri, what! It’s not champagne but I can’t think of a more suitable tipple with which to charge my glass and toast the hero of the hour! Lord Rathmore! I understand that congratulations are due. Single-handedly, you have pulled off a coup which has eluded the combined efforts of His Majesty’s Government and armed forces for decades. You have brought us peace and a trading agreement with the Afridi.’
Rathmore gobbled in astonishment.
‘I see you’re surprised that I know already? Grace and Iskander were both eager to fill in the details before the meeting started. I make a point of finding out what’s going on from the horse’s mouth, you’ll find. The only way, I think you’ll agree?’
Grace and Iskander were both fixing George with suspicious eyes but he carried on oblivious, ‘When the authorities in Simla hear about your exploits – your mad dash into enemy territory… running the gauntlet of the Afridi forces… (by the way, old chap, if you take my advice you’ll say you “took safe conduct” – that’s the phrase – don’t want to appear too hot-headed, no one trusts a hothead!) and when they hear about your bargaining with the old rascal Ramazad, you’ll find yourself fêted. (He’s been known to get the better of many a wily old negotiator including, I have to admit, yours truly!) You’ll be a hero! You must be prepared to be consulted as to how to deal with the Pathan – prepared to reveal how you managed it – prepared to be an authority. I have to warn you that after a time you may find it begins to weigh a little heavily though – let us learn the sad lesson of notoriety from Lawrence of Arabia!’
‘ “Rathmore of the Frontier”,’ hissed Lily. ‘Doesn’t quite have the same ring.’
Joe looked around the table. For the first time ever, Burroughs and Fred Moore-Simpson were united in their expression which was a blend of outrage and unwilling admiration. James and Betty were tight-lipped and staring at the table. Grace, uncharacteristically, was concentrating on sipping her whisky. Iskander was staring mutinously into the opposite wall.