A Dead Man in Athens (9 page)

All three Bl´eriot machines were in the air together. When they banked over the house they were so low that he could see the pilots clearly. The Greek soldiers on guard at the end of the drive would give a cheer. The Ottoman soldiers further up regarded them expressionlessly. Orhan Eser shook his head and went back indoors.

The British sailors outside the house, who were as little used as Seymour to seeing flying machines, studied them curiously.

‘What keeps them up, then?’ one of them asked.

‘The wind?’

‘It wouldn’t be the wind, mate. Otherwise sailing boats would fly.’

‘They’ve got an engine.’

‘Maybe it’s the speed?’

‘Wouldn’t like to be up there myself. Suppose there was a storm?’

‘You’d have to make back for port a bit sharpish.’

As Seymour went back into the house he saw a movement at one of the upstairs windows. The window, and the others in that part of the house, had been removed and replaced by wooden lattice-work, which meant, he supposed, that it was a harem window. In Istanbul he had been used to seeing them. They gave light and air to the rooms inside. The air was as important as the light, especially if you never went outside. The lattice-work screened the women from being seen; but occasionally you made out a movement behind it. Someone inside was watching the Bl´eriot machines, too.

Late in the morning, towards noon, the machines flew away. You could still see them, however, only now they were circling over a different place some way out of town.

‘That’ll be where them soldiers are,’ said one of the sailors.

‘Stopped for lunch?’

‘They stopped for lunch about breakfast time, mate. I don’t reckon they’re aiming to go far.’

‘What are the machines doing, then?’

‘Trying to cheer them up, I expect. Put a bit of spirit in them.’

‘As long as it stops like that,’ said Farquhar, the Second Secretary at the Embassy, who had just joined them. He had come to the house earlier in the morning, to enquire after the Sultan’s health, Seymour imagined. He asked if Seymour felt like a spot of lunch, and they walked up the drive together and found a small caf´e where they could sit outside.

‘We’ve spoken to Stevens,’ Farquhar said.

‘Oh, yes?’

‘About not letting himself get too involved. We wouldn’t want it to look as if Britain was backing one side.’

‘Well, no. I can see that. But he’s not involved yet, is he? The new machines they’ve ordered haven’t arrived, surely?’

‘Not yet, no. But there’s a question about the three privately owned Bl´eriots and how far the army intends to make use of them. They seem to be moving towards commandeering them.’

‘Have they the pilots?’

‘They’re thinking of using volunteers.’

‘The ones who normally fly them.’

‘That’s right. And from what we can make out, Stevens is encouraging it.’

‘He’s too much of an enthusiast, that’s his trouble.’

‘Well, we could do with less of his enthusiasm. The thing is, you see, he’s on contract, so there’s not much we can do about it. The saving grace is that the new machines have not yet arrived and it’s going to be some time before they do. By that time it could all be over, one way or another. We thought we were okay, but now he’s bringing in these private machines, calling them auxiliaries. So that blurs it. He could claim he’s just offering his services to private individuals and if they offer
their
services to the Greek Government, that’s nothing to do with him.’

Later in the afternoon the Bl´eriot machines disappeared; refuelling, Seymour imagined. For towards teatime he saw two of them again, this time close to the mountains which lay between Athens and Salonica.

At the time he was taking Aphrodite to the Sultan’s residence to have tea with the Sultan’s ladies. The evening before she had asked if it might be possible to meet them. Seymour had doubted it but that morning he had put her request to Orhan Eser. The Acting-Vizier’s assistant had been taken aback; such a request had not been made before. On reflection he could see no reason why not. It was acceptable for the ladies to have female visitation. Indeed, in Istanbul it had not been uncommon. It hadn’t happened since they had left because, well . . . Because Ottomans were Ottomans and Greeks were Greeks, he supposed.

Seymour had pointed out that Aphrodite was the daughter of Dr Metaxas, who had attended on the Sultan, which should surely guarantee her acceptability. He had added that she was a student at the university and hoped to become a doctor herself.

‘Really?’ said Orhan Eser, astonished; and then he had added something that had surprised Seymour. ‘It is right,’ he said, ‘that there should be women in such professions.’ Seymour hadn’t seen much evidence of many people sharing that view when he had been in Istanbul, but perhaps things had changed since the ‘Young Turks’ had come to power. That made him think again, though, about Orhan Eser himself and exactly where his allegiance lay.

The assistant said that he would have to put it to Abd-es-Salaam. ‘You can tell him,’ said Seymour, ‘that it is possible that a woman can learn things in the harem that a man couldn’t.’ Orhan Eser had looked at him sharply and then nodded. The point, perhaps, had weighed with Abd-es-Salaam for Orhan Eser had returned saying that it was quite acceptable to the Acting-Vizier.

Seymour had wondered whether he should draw on his credit with the Lady Samira and ask for an invitation, but Orhan Eser said it was unnecessary. The ladies would be only too glad of a diversion. However, for form’s sake he would ask a eunuch to approach them. In less than no time he received an answer: The royal ladies would be delighted to receive a lady visitor for ‘English tea’. Seymour thought he saw Samira’s hand in this and guessed that some of his credit had rubbed off on the invitation after all.

He delivered Aphrodite, herself veiled in the name of decency, to Orhan Eser, who passed her to a eunuch, who took her into the harem.

When she came out, Seymour asked her how the tea had gone.

It had all been very strange, said Aphrodite, but not un-nice. They had all crowded round her, asking questions in a variety of languages, most of which Aphrodite could not speak, and fingering her clothes. Aphrodite had dressed up for the occasion but feared she had let Greece down. She had haltingly offered the explanation that she was a poverty-stricken student.

There had been a little silence.

‘Student?’

More explanation, and then a barrage of questions in incomprehensible languages, although one or two had spoken Greek and done some translation for the benefit of the others. Finally, the Lady Samira had borne her off so that they could converse alone. Actually, said Aphrodite, the conversation had been somewhat one-sided: Aphrodite had hardly said a word but Samira had said plenty. She had asked Aphrodite about Athens: about its shops, its theatres, its balls, about where Aphrodite went in her carriage when she took a promenade. Aphrodite said that as a student she didn’t go in much for promenades. Samira, after a few questions, lost interest in student life and returned to the shops, concentrating on how they differed from the great shops in Paris, which she knew, alas, only by repute.

Then the Lady Irina had seized her.

‘She just walked in,’ said Aphrodite, amazed, ‘and took me out.’

Irina had not been much interested in the Athens shops but very, very interested in Aphrodite’s life as a student. She had asked lots and lots of questions: starting, however, from a position of some ignorance, since she had first had to ask Aphrodite what a student
was
. Aphrodite had said that it was someone who was studying so that they could become a lawyer or a teacher, or, as in her own case, a doctor. Irina had been nonplussed: she had always had the impression that you started as a lawyer or whatever and picked things up as you went along. But this learning business sounded a good idea, and she asked Aphrodite a lot of questions about it.

‘She spoke with such
hunger
,’ said Aphrodite. ‘It was rather sad. She was like a tiger in a cage.’

Seymour said he wondered how she had got into the harem in the first place.

‘Oh, she’s a Vlach,’ said Aphrodite.

‘Vlach?’

‘Or Wallach. Like my mother. They’re a people who live north of here. Mostly up in the mountains. They’re often fair, and in the past that made them much sought after for harems. That was under the Ottomans, of course. And let me tell you that my mother was
not
one of those seized for the harem.’

‘I didn’t imagine that for one moment,’ said Seymour, laughing.

‘No, but it was a constant fear for families up there that their daughters might be. I expect Irina was picked up as a child – or perhaps sold. There used to be people who would travel round looking for young girls like that. You know, with the potential to be beautiful. And their families would sometimes sell them because they were so poor – so I wouldn’t be surprised if that was how she got into the Sultan’s harem.’

And then, said Aphrodite, the other ladies had come and indignantly prised her away from Irina, and they had all sat down on cushions and had tea with rose petals in it, and eaten some disgusting sweet biscuits and incredibly creamy chocolates and then, with some reluctance, the ladies had let her go.

They were sitting at a table in Constitution Square having a drink when the Bl´eriot machines appeared again. They flew low over the square waggling their wings. The people at the tables cheered.

Again there were only two of them.

‘The other one’s being repaired,’ said Aphrodite. ‘It’s George’s. Andreas was hoping to fly it but Stevens says it won’t be ready until tomorrow. Andreas is very fed up.

’ ‘What’s wrong with it?’

‘Something to do with the cables,’ Aphrodite frowned. ‘Actually, Stevens is very angry. He says he’s sure they have been cut.’

‘Cut?’

‘Yes. Deliberately, he says.’

‘But –’

‘I know. How can they have been? But he seems sure of it. He was in a terrific rage. You know, he looks on the machines almost as his children and when anything goes wrong with one of them, he takes it personally.’

‘Yes, well, if they have been cut –’

‘I know. But I don’t see how they could have been. It would have meant someone in the workshop . . . But they all deny it. Andreas says the atmosphere there was terrible this afternoon. Of course my mother was relieved that Andreas couldn’t fly. He was going to be taking Stevens up and wanted to impress him.’

‘Why was he taking Stevens up?’

‘Stevens wanted to take a look at things himself. Over towards the mountains. Or even beyond the mountains. My mother was furious when she heard that. She said that it was involving Andreas in the war, and that Stevens had no business to be doing that. The atmosphere in our house is pretty terrible, too, just at the moment.’

Chapter Seven

The eunuchs had done what Seymour had asked. When he went to the house the next morning they presented him with a list of the occasions on which royal ladies had seen a doctor over the last few weeks and of the medicines which had been prescribed. They had even been able to assemble an astonishing array of the medicines themselves. Apparently, the ladies’ enthusiasm for seeing doctors did not extend to taking the medicines they prescribed and most of the bottles had hardly been breached.

One exception, Seymour noticed, was some medicine that had been prescribed for the Lady Irina. The bottle was not to be located. Irina assured everybody that that was because she had consumed the contents and then thrown the bottle away.

The medicine, Seymour saw, had been prescribed by Dr Metaxas and Seymour, assuming that he might be found in his usual place in Constitution Square enjoying a liquid breakfast, went to find him.

‘The Lady Irina, you say? Well, it probably was. I can’t say I made much distinction between those veiled shapes crouching in a corner. But if you say it was, then you’re probably right. The medicine? Oh, I remember that! And the complaint: constipation. Severe constipation, if what she said was correct, but of course, it wasn’t. She said she had tried everything but nothing had worked. What she wanted was something . . .
formidable
. I think she said, the French word. Well, I have no patience with these spoiled ladies, whose only problem is a lack of self-discipline. So –
formidable
was what she got.

‘Could it have been used for any other purpose? Such as? Poisoning! Look, I am a doctor, not the Vizier’s Lord High Executioner. Or Venizelos’s, for that matter. You were thinking of the cat? We
know
what the cat died of, and it certainly wasn’t the medicine universally prescribed for bad cases of constipation. Might it have been switched? Poison substituted for medicine? Well, it might, I suppose. But why go to the bother? Why not just cut the bloody cat’s throat?’

Yes, yes, (wearily), he could have the medicines analysed. If Seymour took them to the place where the autopsy had been performed, they would see to all that.

Seymour, used, in the East End, to spending the day on foot, had elected for the most part to do the same in Athens. Foolishly; by mid-morning the heat had built up and by the time he had reached the mortuary his shirt was wringing wet. It was a relief to go into the cool of the mortuary; which was not the way he usually felt about going into mortuaries.

One of the technicians there remembered him from his previous visit with Dr Metaxas and after that it was plain sailing. Certainly they would analyse the medicines he had brought, although they looked at him curiously: ‘They weren’t giving this cat medicines, too, were they?’

But then it was out into the heat again, which had increased even while he was inside, and into the dust as well, which, he suddenly realized, had whitened his trousers up to the knees. Sensibly, this morning, people were staying indoors to escape the heat and the tables in the square were nearly empty. Seymour continued on though, making for his hotel and a shower.

At the hotel he found a note waiting for him. It was from Aphrodite and asked him if he would minding seeing Andreas, who would call for him at four.

At the appointed hour Andreas was waiting for him downstairs. It was still early by Greek standards and most of the inhabitants of the hotel were still at their siesta, so it was easy to find a place where they could talk without interruption.

‘I do not wish to presume on our acquaintance,’ Andreas said, slightly nervously, ‘but I would be most grateful for your help. And Stevens would. And George, too. And George’s father.’

Seymour guessed, from the way he said it, that George’s father was someone you did not refuse assistance to if you lived in Athens.

‘It’s the Bl´eriot.’

‘Ah, yes?’

‘Someone’s been tampering with it. They’ve cut the cables. Stevens says it was done deliberately.’ Andreas looked at Seymour earnestly. ‘That’s very serious, you know. It could lead to an accident. Or even – someone being killed. Stevens is very angry about it. George’s father is, too. He blames the Turks, and says they’re really asking for it if they go in for this sort of thing. Of course, we don’t know it was the Turks. But Stevens says it’s not the sort of thing someone would do accidentally, they’d have to have intended to do it, if you know what I mean. George’s father was all for going to the police but Stevens said hold on a bit – he doesn’t think much of the police here, and says that if it’s reported to them, he’s going to be spending the next couple of weeks filling in forms and sitting in offices. Get someone outside to look at it first, he says. And, well, I thought of you,’ finished Andreas, wide-eyed.

‘Well, thank you. But I’m not sure I’m really an expert on this sort of thing.’

‘Stevens jumped at it when I suggested it. He said he thought you’d got your head screwed on and would be able to tell us if he’d got it right. And what we ought to do.’

‘Well, of course, I’d be glad to help, but –’

‘I know you’re here on something else and probably very busy. But my father says you’re wasting your time – I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. What he said, actually, was that it was terrible that a good man was having to waste his time, and that it was because Governments had put their heads together, instead of having them knocked together – you know my father.’

‘Well, I could come along and take a look at it, I suppose. Although . . .’

As they were leaving the hotel, Andreas stopped and said:

‘You won’t say anything of this to my parents, will you? I mean, if my mother heard – she makes too much of things and if she heard there was a chance of my being – of something happening to me, well, she’d be out of her mind. It’s difficult enough at home just at the moment.’

‘You see, I don’t want to land up with it getting all political,’ Stevens explained. ‘I know that’s the way out here. Andreas has told me all about his father and the Sultan, and about all the doctors getting involved, and all the Governments, too. I don’t want anything like that. I’m just a simple engineer. The way I see it, you just mend the machine and put a guard on it to see it doesn’t happen again, and then you get back to flying.

‘But, of course, things are never quite so straightforward. Putting a guard on it, say – who’s going to pay for that? George’s father could certainly stand it, and maybe the others could join in, but . . . Of course, I might be able to get the Government to foot the bill, after all, it’s in their interests. I could certainly try that, but I don’t want to do it if it can be averted. The less you have to do with Government red tape, the better. The truth is that in the end it will probably have to come to that, because the cost will mount up, and the fathers are bound to jib, so . . . Well, as I say, that’s what it will probably come to. But before I go down that road, I’d like to have someone else’s opinion. Have I got it all wrong? Is it just an accident?’

‘Look,’ said Seymour, ‘if this is at all technical, then I’m not –’

Stevens shook his head impatiently.

‘It’s not the technical side. I can handle that. I’ll set out the arguments. Then you can try them out on the technicians. They know what’s what, and they’ll give you straight answers. No, it’s what comes after that. The judgement. That’s where you come in. You’re used to weighing evidence. I mean, you don’t just go in, you have to make up your mind first whether it’s likely a crime
has
been committed. That’s what I want you to do here.’

There wasn’t, actually, much doubt about it. The cables had definitely been cut. The technicians said that nobody had been working on anything nearby and that, anyway, it wasn’t the kind of thing that a competent technician would do. Someone must have come in during the night. It wouldn’t take long. Snip-snip, was all that was required.

‘If you knew what you were doing,’ said Seymour. ‘And how many people in Athens would know enough about Bl´eriot machines to know that?’

‘A good point,’ said Stevens, frowning.

That, said Seymour, would be one of the things he would be looking at were he conducting an investigation. Which, unfortunately –

‘No, no,’ said Stevens. ‘I appreciate that.’

‘You would do better,’ said Seymour, ‘to call in the local police.’

Stevens made a face.

‘God, he said, ‘if you knew the trouble I’d had with the local bureaucrats simply over bringing in parts!’

He thought for a moment.

‘The thing is,’ he said, ‘it could all be about to change. They’ve ordered three more machines, and when they get here, it’ll all be under the army. They’ll be responsible for security and all that. I’ll leave all that side of things to them. I wouldn’t need to get involved.’

He was tempted to leave it, Seymour could see.

‘It’s just in the interim,’ said Stevens. ‘Before they get there. You see, what I’ve been thinking of doing is using the private machines as auxiliaries. The lads are very keen. I wouldn’t want them to get involved in any action, that wouldn’t be right. And, anyway, the war’s not started yet. But what they could do is reconnaissance. And that would show what the Bl´eriots were capable of. It would make the case. If the case were good enough, the Government would possibly want to keep them on. That’s what I keep telling the lads. There’s room for them. Even after the new machines come. Three are not enough.’

He rubbed his chin.

‘So I’d like to keep things going. Keep the machines flying. Make the case. And it wouldn’t be difficult. The lads are keen. The technicians, too. I mean, they’re just hanging around until the new machines get here. There would be no problem about repairing. Or servicing. So it’s only security, and that’s only for a week or two, until the new machines arrive and the army takes over. Maybe I could just ask my lads to keep a special eye open? That would take care of it during the day. Then during the night, well, the other lads have volunteered to take care of that. They’d sleep beneath the machines. Take it in turns. That’s what they’ve suggested. Keen as mustard.’

As Seymour was leaving, Stevens caught his arm.

‘Would you mind doing something for me? Could you talk to your friends at the Embassy and ask them if they’ve heard anything about anyone else who’s negotiating with the Government? Trying to get into the game? Either trying to sell machines, or do what I’m doing, offering back-up.’

‘Rivals?’

‘That’s right. Otherwise I just don’t see . . . You’re right, of course. You’d need to know something about it to cut the cables. It’s not difficult, but you’d need to know what you were doing. Where to do it, for a start. And that’s not something an ordinary person would know, not even an ordinary mechanic. So I wondered if there was another party involved.’

The war did not appear to be advancing. The soldiers were still where they had been, a couple of miles out of town. Nor were they likely to move, said the waiters in the hotel. It was too hot to go to war. Not only that; the build-up in the heat suggested that there would be an electric storm that evening. All the roads would turn to mud and if there was one thing worse than heat for fighting in, it was mud. No, they would get fed up if it rained heavily, particularly if it rained all night, and in the morning they would come home. That was the consensus among the waiters and Seymour thought it likely that intelligence gathered from that source was at least as valid as that gathered from aerial reconnaissance.

The Bl´eriot machines were grounded, anyway, because of the storm. During the afternoon the heat continued to build up, the clouds gathered, and out at sea flashes of lightning began to be detected. The flashes were some way off, however, and the storm approached slowly. As the sky clouded over, however, it became stifling.

Seymour had walked to the Sultan’s residence and his shirt was dripping again. He reckoned that by the evening he would be on his fourth shirt of the day.

The Sultan’s house, however, was dark and cool. The harem shutters were open and again Seymour thought he saw movement behind the lattice-work. He knew enough about the harem now to be fairly sure that by the time he entered the front door, news of his arrival would have spread throughout the house. He half expected to be summoned by Samira.

He went instead, though, to the kitchen, where they were just beginning their preparations for the evening meal.

‘Effendi?’

‘I would like to speak to Chloe.’

‘Chloe? You mean Amina?’

‘I mean Chloe.’

The little kitchen maid was rooted out and appeared before him, wide-eyed and frightened.

‘It’s all right, Chloe. I just want to ask you a few questions. Like last time.’

Chloe nodded.

‘Because I’ve been thinking over what you said and there are one or two things that I’d like you to tell me more about.’

She nodded again.

‘Now I know you like the Lady Irina.’

‘She was kind to me.’

‘And stopped the eunuch from beating you.’

‘She said that if he beat me, she would beat him!’ said Chloe proudly.

‘I remember. And I’ll bet he’s not laid a finger on you since.’

Chloe’s worried face dissolved into smiles.

‘She is my protector,’ she said.

‘Do you know what I think?’ said Seymour. ‘I think she is your friend.’

Chloe beamed.

‘And you are hers.’

She nodded vigorously.

‘Now you told me that sometimes they let you go into the harem.’

Chloe’s worried look returned.

‘Sometimes,’ she whispered.

‘Just occasionally. And didn’t you tell me that once the Lady Samira let you try on her shoes? And the Lady Irina gave you chocolates.’

Chloe’s face lit up.

‘And they talked to you, I expect?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘And you to them. In fact, you quite got to know them. Now, I’m thinking of the Lady Irina in particular, because she was your special friend.’

‘She sat me on her lap.’

‘Well, that was nice.’

‘And she smelled all sweet.’

‘And you chatted away, I expect?’