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The room was dove-grey, the furniture black steel. The big window looking ou t
across the tumuli was a single sheet of flawless glass fitted with plastic
Venetian blinds. The desk at which Erkhard was seated filled most of the fa r
side of the room, and all the wall behind him was taken up with a relief m ap
of Arabia dotted with flags. He didn't rise to greet me, but simply waved me
to the chair opposite his desk. 'You're a lawyer, I understand?'
I nodded and sat down.
'And you're out here on account of young Whitaker's death?'
'I'm his Executor.'
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'Ah, yes.' There was a peculiar softness about his manner, a smoothness alm
ost. It was something to do with the roundness of his face and the way the
lips were moulded into the suggestion of a smile. He was sitting perfectly
still, watching me - waiting, I felt. It was disconcerting and I found him a
difficult man to place, probably because he wasn't a type I had met befor e.
In a weaker man that half-smile might have appeared ingratiating. But th ere
was nothing weak about Erkhard. And the eyes were cold as they stared a t me
unblinkingly. 'Have you see the young man's family?' There was an acce nt, but
so slight it was barely noticeable.
'The mother,' I told him. 'I haven't seen the sister yet.'
'She's out here in Dubai - a nurse.'
I nodded. 'You cabled her the news. She sent me a copy.'
'Yes. A very unfortunate business. It's not often we have a casualty.' Ther e
was a long pause, and then he said, 'Why are you here, Mr Grant? Are you
hoping to persuade us to resume the search? I had a message, something to t
hat effect from London Office.' And he added, 'I assure you it would be qui te
useless.'
'Perhaps if I had a full account of the circumstances,' I suggested.
'Of course. There is a report of the search. I'll see that you're given a c
opy before you leave.' Another long pause. 'You were asking for Sir Philip
Gorde, I understand. Why?' And when I didn't answer, he added, 'I signed th at
cable to Nurse Thomas and you've been in touch with London. You knew per
fectly well that I gave the order for the search to be abandoned.' He stare d
at me. 'Perhaps you would care to explain?'
'There's nothing to explain,' I said. 'It happens that I have to see Sir
Philip on a private matter.'
'Connected with Whitaker?'
'Yes.'
He got suddenly to his feet. 'I'm the General Manager in Arabia, Mr Grant.
Whitaker was employed by me. His death is my responsibility, not Sir Philip
Gorde's.'
'I appreciate that.'
'Then your correct approach was surely to ask for an interview with me?'
It seemed to worry him and I wondered why. He was staring down at me, waitin g
for an answer. Finally he turned away and stood looking out of the window at
the brown, dried-up landscape. His light tropical suit was obviously tail ored
in London and the silk shirt was monogrammed with his initials. 'Sir Ph ilip
is in Abu Dhabi.' He said it quietly as though he were speaking to hims elf.
'Tomorrow, or perhaps the day after, he will be going on to Sharjah. Th at's
another of the Trucial sheikhdoms, further to the east. He will not be back
here for at least a week, perhaps a fortnight.' He turned then and look ed
directly at me again. 'How do you propose to contact him? Have you though t of
that?' 'I only got in this morning,' I said. 'Have you visas for the Tr ucial
sheikhdoms?' 'No. I have to apply to the Political Resident's office--
' 'Mr Grant.' He was smiling again. 'I don't think you understand. It isn't
easy to get visas for the Trucial Oman. The PRPG is very naturally extremely
Page 53
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
reluctant--' He gave a little shrug. 'This is Arabia, you know, not Europe.
The political situation is far from stable and there is a great deal at sta
ke; enormous sums of capital have been sunk in this area.' He paused there t o
give me time to consider. 'Of course, we could help you. Not only in the m
atter of your application for a visa, but in transport, too. We have flights
going east along the coast to our various development projects. In fact, I
think there is one going to Abu Dhabi tomorrow. But,' he added, 'in order to
help you we should have to know the exact purpose of your visit.'
He was taking a lot of trouble over this. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'Beyond saying
t hat my business with Sir Philip concerns the Estate - a matter of a
signature -
I cannot disclose--'
'You have a document for him to sign?' He sounded puzzled, and when I refuse d
to be drawn, he gave a little shrug and returned to his desk. 'Since it is a
private matter and not the concern of the Company, I'm afraid I can't hel p
you, Mr Grant. I'll send Gorde a personal note, of course, to tell him you
're here.' A fractional hesitation and then with that little smile that neve r
remotely touched his eyes: 'And if you'd care to communicate with him dire ct,
then I've no doubt we could arrange for a letter to be delivered to him by
tomorrow's plane.' His hand reached out to the onyx bell-push on the desk.
I
'One moment,' I said. I wasn't sure how to handle it, but I knew that once I
was out of that office, the opportunity to question him would be gone for eve
r. 'I wonder . . . perhaps you would be good enough to clear up one or two po
ints for me?' I said it tentatively. 'Whilst I'm here,' I added.
There was a momentary hesitation whilst his hand still hovered on the bell-p
ush.
'I'm a little puzzled about certain aspects of the boy's death,' I murmured.
The hand moved back from the bell-push, reluctantly. And then he smiled and
leaned back in his chair. 'Of course.'
'You say he was employed by you at the time of his death?'
'He was employed by the Company, yes.'
I hesitated. The devil of it was I didn't know what I was after. Something
. . . but what? The map, towering behind him, caught my eye. 'Could you sho w
me exactly where it was his truck was found?'
He got up at once, almost with relief, I felt. The position he indicated was
well to the south-west of Buraimi Oasis, a position where three dotted line s
met. Peering over his shoulder I saw that these marked the boundaries of S
audi Arabia, the Sheikhdom of Saraifa and the emirate of Hadd. His finger re
sted on a point inside the Saudi Arabian border. The whole area was shaded w
ith little dots. The sands of the Rub al Khali,' he explained. 'Dune country
. It's called the Empty Quarter.'
'You've no concessions in Saudi Arabia, have you?'
'No.'
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
'Then what was he doing there?'
That's something we should like to know, Mr Grant.'
'He was there without your authority then?'
'Of course.' His nod was very emphatic.
'If he was carrying out a survey, then presumably he had a survey crew. Wh at
happened to them?'
He hesitated and the quick glance he gave me suggested that this was somet
hing he didn't want to go into. But in the end he said, 'He had an Arab cr ew.
They were picked up by Askari of the Emir of Hadd. However, the men ha ve been
interviewed. It appears they became nervous. Hardly surprising in that area.
Anyway, they downed tools, took the Land-Rover and left Whitake r there on his
own.'
'In Saudi Arabia?'
'No, no.'
'Where, then?'
He glanced at me quickly again, his eyes narrowing. 'They wouldn't say. At lea
st . . . they couldn't give the exact location.'
'Was it somewhere on the Hadd border?' I asked, remembering what Griffith s
had said.
He ignored that. 'Doubtless they could have led us to the place, but the Emir
refused to allow them outside the Wadi Hadd al-Akhbar.' He gave a little shr
ug. 'The Emir is very difficult.' And he added, 'But of course this is hardly
a matter that concerns you.' [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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The room was dove-grey, the furniture black steel. The big window looking ou t
across the tumuli was a single sheet of flawless glass fitted with plastic
Venetian blinds. The desk at which Erkhard was seated filled most of the fa r
side of the room, and all the wall behind him was taken up with a relief m ap
of Arabia dotted with flags. He didn't rise to greet me, but simply waved me
to the chair opposite his desk. 'You're a lawyer, I understand?'
I nodded and sat down.
'And you're out here on account of young Whitaker's death?'
'I'm his Executor.'
Page 52
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
'Ah, yes.' There was a peculiar softness about his manner, a smoothness alm
ost. It was something to do with the roundness of his face and the way the
lips were moulded into the suggestion of a smile. He was sitting perfectly
still, watching me - waiting, I felt. It was disconcerting and I found him a
difficult man to place, probably because he wasn't a type I had met befor e.
In a weaker man that half-smile might have appeared ingratiating. But th ere
was nothing weak about Erkhard. And the eyes were cold as they stared a t me
unblinkingly. 'Have you see the young man's family?' There was an acce nt, but
so slight it was barely noticeable.
'The mother,' I told him. 'I haven't seen the sister yet.'
'She's out here in Dubai - a nurse.'
I nodded. 'You cabled her the news. She sent me a copy.'
'Yes. A very unfortunate business. It's not often we have a casualty.' Ther e
was a long pause, and then he said, 'Why are you here, Mr Grant? Are you
hoping to persuade us to resume the search? I had a message, something to t
hat effect from London Office.' And he added, 'I assure you it would be qui te
useless.'
'Perhaps if I had a full account of the circumstances,' I suggested.
'Of course. There is a report of the search. I'll see that you're given a c
opy before you leave.' Another long pause. 'You were asking for Sir Philip
Gorde, I understand. Why?' And when I didn't answer, he added, 'I signed th at
cable to Nurse Thomas and you've been in touch with London. You knew per
fectly well that I gave the order for the search to be abandoned.' He stare d
at me. 'Perhaps you would care to explain?'
'There's nothing to explain,' I said. 'It happens that I have to see Sir
Philip on a private matter.'
'Connected with Whitaker?'
'Yes.'
He got suddenly to his feet. 'I'm the General Manager in Arabia, Mr Grant.
Whitaker was employed by me. His death is my responsibility, not Sir Philip
Gorde's.'
'I appreciate that.'
'Then your correct approach was surely to ask for an interview with me?'
It seemed to worry him and I wondered why. He was staring down at me, waitin g
for an answer. Finally he turned away and stood looking out of the window at
the brown, dried-up landscape. His light tropical suit was obviously tail ored
in London and the silk shirt was monogrammed with his initials. 'Sir Ph ilip
is in Abu Dhabi.' He said it quietly as though he were speaking to hims elf.
'Tomorrow, or perhaps the day after, he will be going on to Sharjah. Th at's
another of the Trucial sheikhdoms, further to the east. He will not be back
here for at least a week, perhaps a fortnight.' He turned then and look ed
directly at me again. 'How do you propose to contact him? Have you though t of
that?' 'I only got in this morning,' I said. 'Have you visas for the Tr ucial
sheikhdoms?' 'No. I have to apply to the Political Resident's office--
' 'Mr Grant.' He was smiling again. 'I don't think you understand. It isn't
easy to get visas for the Trucial Oman. The PRPG is very naturally extremely
Page 53
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
reluctant--' He gave a little shrug. 'This is Arabia, you know, not Europe.
The political situation is far from stable and there is a great deal at sta
ke; enormous sums of capital have been sunk in this area.' He paused there t o
give me time to consider. 'Of course, we could help you. Not only in the m
atter of your application for a visa, but in transport, too. We have flights
going east along the coast to our various development projects. In fact, I
think there is one going to Abu Dhabi tomorrow. But,' he added, 'in order to
help you we should have to know the exact purpose of your visit.'
He was taking a lot of trouble over this. 'I'm sorry,' I said. 'Beyond saying
t hat my business with Sir Philip concerns the Estate - a matter of a
signature -
I cannot disclose--'
'You have a document for him to sign?' He sounded puzzled, and when I refuse d
to be drawn, he gave a little shrug and returned to his desk. 'Since it is a
private matter and not the concern of the Company, I'm afraid I can't hel p
you, Mr Grant. I'll send Gorde a personal note, of course, to tell him you
're here.' A fractional hesitation and then with that little smile that neve r
remotely touched his eyes: 'And if you'd care to communicate with him dire ct,
then I've no doubt we could arrange for a letter to be delivered to him by
tomorrow's plane.' His hand reached out to the onyx bell-push on the desk.
I
'One moment,' I said. I wasn't sure how to handle it, but I knew that once I
was out of that office, the opportunity to question him would be gone for eve
r. 'I wonder . . . perhaps you would be good enough to clear up one or two po
ints for me?' I said it tentatively. 'Whilst I'm here,' I added.
There was a momentary hesitation whilst his hand still hovered on the bell-p
ush.
'I'm a little puzzled about certain aspects of the boy's death,' I murmured.
The hand moved back from the bell-push, reluctantly. And then he smiled and
leaned back in his chair. 'Of course.'
'You say he was employed by you at the time of his death?'
'He was employed by the Company, yes.'
I hesitated. The devil of it was I didn't know what I was after. Something
. . . but what? The map, towering behind him, caught my eye. 'Could you sho w
me exactly where it was his truck was found?'
He got up at once, almost with relief, I felt. The position he indicated was
well to the south-west of Buraimi Oasis, a position where three dotted line s
met. Peering over his shoulder I saw that these marked the boundaries of S
audi Arabia, the Sheikhdom of Saraifa and the emirate of Hadd. His finger re
sted on a point inside the Saudi Arabian border. The whole area was shaded w
ith little dots. The sands of the Rub al Khali,' he explained. 'Dune country
. It's called the Empty Quarter.'
'You've no concessions in Saudi Arabia, have you?'
'No.'
Page 54
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
'Then what was he doing there?'
That's something we should like to know, Mr Grant.'
'He was there without your authority then?'
'Of course.' His nod was very emphatic.
'If he was carrying out a survey, then presumably he had a survey crew. Wh at
happened to them?'
He hesitated and the quick glance he gave me suggested that this was somet
hing he didn't want to go into. But in the end he said, 'He had an Arab cr ew.
They were picked up by Askari of the Emir of Hadd. However, the men ha ve been
interviewed. It appears they became nervous. Hardly surprising in that area.
Anyway, they downed tools, took the Land-Rover and left Whitake r there on his
own.'
'In Saudi Arabia?'
'No, no.'
'Where, then?'
He glanced at me quickly again, his eyes narrowing. 'They wouldn't say. At lea
st . . . they couldn't give the exact location.'
'Was it somewhere on the Hadd border?' I asked, remembering what Griffith s
had said.
He ignored that. 'Doubtless they could have led us to the place, but the Emir
refused to allow them outside the Wadi Hadd al-Akhbar.' He gave a little shr
ug. 'The Emir is very difficult.' And he added, 'But of course this is hardly
a matter that concerns you.' [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]