The Mingrelian Conspiracy. Michael Pearce
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Название: The Mingrelian Conspiracy

Автор: Michael Pearce

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Зарубежные детективы

Серия:

isbn: 9780008257255

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ late,’ said Paul. ‘It’s in the hands of the Parquet now. The Nationalists will have us over a barrel. They’ll exploit it internationally. Even your ambassador can’t walk along the street without being bloody jumped on by British soldiers.’

      ‘We’ll confine them to barracks,’ said the major. ‘Keep them off the streets for a time. Can’t we hush this thing up?’

      ‘Not a chance!’ said Paul, beginning to enjoy himself. ‘The Parquet’s Nationalist. It’s rubbing its hands at all the trouble it’ll be able to cause.’

      ‘It wouldn’t be possible – would it – to get the Chargé to withdraw his complaint?’ said the major desperately. ‘I mean, they wouldn’t be able to go ahead then, would they? They’d have to, well, drop it.’

      Paul affected to consider.

      ‘I could go and grovel to the Chargé, I suppose,’ he said unwillingly.

      ‘Well, look –’

      ‘I could give it a go. There’d have to be a written apology, of course.’

      ‘You could manage that, couldn’t you?’

      ‘It wouldn’t have to be from me. It would have to be from you.’

      ‘The Army?’ The major swallowed; swallowed again. ‘I think that could be arranged.’

      ‘And Captain Shearer withdraws his request?’

      ‘In the circumstances,’ mumbled Shearer.

      ‘Right, then!’ said Paul, triumphant, beginning to gather his papers. ‘We –’

      ‘Excuse me,’ said McPhee, the Deputy Commandant, with his usual slightly anxious old-world courtesy, ‘haven’t you forgotten something? There was another complaint.’

      ‘My God!’ said Paul. ‘It’s all Europe now!’

      ‘No, no,’ said McPhee seriously. ‘It’s not from the Diplomatic this time.’

      ‘Who is it, then?’

      ‘The leader of the Mingrelian community.’

      There was a little silence.

      ‘What did you say?’

      ‘Mingrelian.’

      ‘Oh, Mingrelian, Mingrelian!’ said Paul, starting up. ‘My God!’ he said, catching Owen’s eye, ‘Mingrelian!’

      ‘Mingrelian!’ responded Owen loyally, seeing that something of the sort was required but not, however, having the faintest idea what it was all about, never, indeed, having heard of anything Mingrelian before. ‘Mingrelian!’ he said, shaking his head.

      ‘Them above all!’ said Paul, all dejection.

      ‘Look,’ said the major apprehensively, ‘if they’re a particularly difficult lot –’

      ‘Difficult!’ said Paul. ‘Difficult! Not content with having provoked a world war, you bring out on to the streets the most bloodthirsty, intransigent –’

      ‘Armed uprising?’ said Shearer. ‘We can handle them!’

      ‘Both of them?’ said Paul. ‘At once?’

      ‘We’ll cope,’ said the major. ‘We’ll cope.’ He looked, however, distinctly worried. ‘Two fronts,’ he said. He shook his head. ‘Don’t like it,’ he said.

      ‘None of us like it,’ said Paul bravely. ‘We have to look issues in the face, though. There may be still time, however. I’ll go straight to the Russian Chargé and grovel. Oh, no, wait a minute. First, we need a letter of apology.’

      ‘I’ll see to it,’ said the major.

      ‘Right. Then keep your men off the streets –’

      ‘Lie low for a bit. Right, I get the picture,’ said Shearer.

      ‘And persuade the Army to refrain, at least for a time, from assaulting the minority of the population it hasn’t so far assaulted.’

      ‘Right,’ said the major.

      Paul looked pleased.

      ‘That’s it, then?’

      The complaint from the Mingrelians,’ McPhee gently prompted.

      ‘Ah, yes. Well,’ said Paul, looking at Owen; ‘something for the Mamur Zapt, isn’t it?’

      ‘Thanks very much,’ said Owen.

      ‘Paul,’ he said worriedly, as they walked away together. ‘Who the hell are the Mingrelians?’

      Don’t ask me,’ said Paul. ‘Never heard of them.’

      ‘Just bring me the Mingrelian file, will you?’ said Owen casually, glancing up at Nikos as the Official Clerk entered the room.

      ‘The what file?’

      ‘Mingrelian.’

      Nikos stood for a moment, stunned. He liked to claim he had a file on everything. He believed he had the universe under control. Now the earth had moved.

      ‘Mingrelian. Oh yes, Mingrelian,’ he said, recovering quickly. He stopped in the doorway. ‘It may take a bit of time,’ he warned.

      ‘I’ll bet,’ said Owen.

      Nikos went out grim-faced.

      ‘Do you realize what you’ve done?’ demanded Georgiades.

      ‘He hasn’t got a file!’ chortled Owen.

      ‘He’ll have one soon. Those people were happily getting on with their lives unknown to the world. Now you’ve dragged them into history!’

      ‘Ever heard of them?’

      Georgiades rubbed his chin. There was a faint rasp. It was difficult to shave close in the heat.

      ‘The name seems vaguely familiar. Something to do with the Church?’

      ‘The Church!’ said McPhee, shocked. ‘Really, Owen! And you the son of a minister! It is true that they are members of the Orthodox communion at one remove, so to speak, since the Georgian Church is autocephalous –’

      ‘Georgia? Is that where they come from?’

      ‘The Caucasus, rather. They are a separate linguistic community. Linguistic, not religious. How could you think, Owen – ?’ said McPhee reproachfully.

      Later in the morning Owen took pity on Nikos.

      ‘There’s been a complaint, apparently, about the behaviour of some British soldiers last night. It came from the leader of the Mingrelian СКАЧАТЬ