Black Mischief Read Free Page A

later. The idea will come to me … a telephone might do … I will see.
Meanwhile begin the letter:
     
    ‘From
Seth, Emperor of Azania, Chief of the Chiefs of Sakuyu, Lord of Wanda and
Tyrant of the Seas, Bachelor of the Arts of Oxford University, to Messrs Mappin
and Webb of London, Greeting. May this reach you. Peace be to your house …
     
     
    Evening and a small stir
of life. Muezzin in the minaret. Allah is great. There is no Allah but Allah
and Mohammed is his prophet. Angelus from the mission church. Ecce ancilla Domini:
fiat mihi secundum verbum tuum. Mr Youkoumian behind the bar of the Amurath
Café and Universal Stores mixed himself a sundowner of mastika and water.
    ‘What I
want to know is do I get paid for the petrol?’
    ‘You
know I am doing all I can for you, Mr Youkoumian. I’m your friend. You know
that. But the Emperor’s busy today. I’ve only just got off. Been on all day.
I’ll try and get your money for you.’
    ‘I’ve
done a lot for you, Ali.’
    ‘I know
you have, Mr Youkoumian, and I hope I am not ungrateful. If I could get you
your money just by asking for it you should have it this evening.’
    ‘But I
must have it this evening. I’m going.’
    ‘Going?’
    ‘I’ve
made my arrangements. Well, I don’t mind telling you, Ali, since you’re a
friend.’ Mr Youkoumian glanced furtively round the empty bar — they were
speaking in Sakuyu — ‘I’ve got a launch beached outside the harbour, behind the
trees near the old sugar mill in the bay. What’s more, there’s room in it for
another passenger. I wouldn’t tell this to anyone but you. Matodi’s not going
to be a healthy place for the next week or two. Seth’s beaten. We know that.
I’m going to my brother on the mainland. Only I want my money for the petrol
before I go.’
    ‘Yes,
Mr Youkoumian, I appreciate your offer. But you know it’s very difficult. You
can hardly expect the Emperor to pay for having his own motor-boat stolen.’
    ‘I
don’t know anything about that. All I know is that yesterday evening Mr Marx
came into my store and said he wanted the Emperor’s motor-boat filled up with
petrol. Eighty rupees’ worth. I’ve served Mr Marx with petrol before for the
Emperor. How was I to know he wanted to steal the Emperor’s motor-boat? Should
I have given it to him if I did?’
    Mr
Youkoumian spread his hands in the traditional gesture of his race. ‘I am a
poor man. Is it right that I should suffer in this way? Is it fair? Now, Ali, I
know you. You’re a just man. I’ve done a lot for you in the past. Get me my
eighty rupees and I will take you to stay with my brother in Malindi. Then when
the troubles are over, we can come tack or stay or go somewhere else, just as
we like. You don’t want your throat cut by the Arabs. I’ll look after you.’
    ‘Well,
I appreciate your offer, Mr Youkoumian, and I’ll do what I can. I can’t say
more than that.’
    ‘I know
you, Ali. I trust you as I’d trust my own father. Not a word to anyone about
the launch, eh?’
    ‘Not a
word, Mr Youkoumian, and I’ll see you later this evening.’
    ‘That’s
a good fellow. Au revoir and remember, not a word to anyone about the launch.’
    When
Ali had left the Amurath Café, Youkoumian’s wife emerged from the curtain
behind which she had been listening to the conversation.
    ‘What’s
all this you’ve been arranging? We can’t take that Indian to Malindi.’
    ‘I want
my eighty rupees. My dear, you must leave these business matters to me.’
    ‘But
there isn’t room for anyone else in the launch. We’re overloaded already. You
know that.’
    ‘I know
that.’
    ‘Are
you mad, Krikor? Do you want to drown us all?’
    ‘You
must leave these things to me, my flower. There is no need to worry. Ali is not
coming with us. All I want is my eighty rupees for Mr Marx’s petrol. Have you
finished your packing? We start as soon as Ali returns with the money.’
    ‘Krikor,
you wouldn’t … you aren’t going to