Jimgrim - The Spy Thrillers Series. Talbot Mundy

Grim was alone in the room with the Administrator, a rather small, lean, rigidly set up man, with merry fire in his eye, and an instantly obvious gift for being obeyed. He sat at an enormous desk, but would have looked more at ease in a tent, or on horseback. The three long rows of campaign ribbons looked incongruous beside the bunch of flowers that somebody had crammed into a Damascus vase on the desk, with the estimable military notion of making the utmost use of space.

      Sir Louis was certainly in an excellent temper. He offered me a chair, and looked at me with a sort of practical good-humour that seemed to say, “Well, here he is; now how shall we handle him?” I was minded to ask outright for what I wanted, but something in his attitude revealed that he knew all that already and would prefer to come at the problem in his own way. It was clear, without a word being said, that he proposed to make some sort of use of me without being so indiscreet as to admit it. He reminded me rather of Julius Cæsar, who was also a little man, considering the probable qualifications of some minor spoke in a prodigious wheel of plans.

      “I understand you want to go to El-Kerak?” he said, smiling as if all life were an amusing game.

      I admitted the impeachment. Grim was standing, some little way behind me and to one side; I did not turn my head to look at him, for that might have given a false impression that he and I were in league together, but I was somehow aware that with folded arms he was studying me minutely.

      “Well,” said Sir Louis, “there’s no objection; only a stipulation: We wouldn’t let an Englishman go, because of the risk—not to him, but to us. Any fool has a right to get killed, but not to obligate his government. All the missionaries were called in from those outlying districts long ago. We don’t want to be held liable for damages for failure to protect. Such things have happened. You see, the idea is, we assume no responsibility for what takes place beyond the Jordan and the Dead Sea. Now, if you’d like to sign a letter waiving any claim against us for protection, that would remove any obstacle to your going. But, if you think that unreasonable, the alternative is safe. You can, stay in Jerusalem. Quite simple.”

      That had the merit of frankness. It sounded fair enough. Nevertheless, he was certainly not being perfectly frank. The merriment in his eyes meant something more than mere amusement. It occurred to me that his frankness took the extreme form of not concealing that he had something important in reserve. I rather liked him for it. His attitude seemed to be that if I wanted to take a chance, I might on my own responsibility, but that if my doing so should happen to suit his plans, that was his affair. Grim was still watching me the way a cat watches a mouse.

      “I’ll sign such a letter,” said I.

      “Good. Here are pen and paper. Let’s have it all in your handwriting. I’ll call a clerk to witness the signature.”

      I wrote down the simple statement that I wished to go to El-Kerak for personal reasons, and that I waived all claim against the British Administration for personal protection, whether there or en route. A clerk, who looked as if he could not have been hired to know, or understand, or remember anything without permission, came in answer to the bell. I signed. He witnessed.

      Sir Louis put the letter in a drawer, and the clerk went out again.

      “How soon will you go?”

      I told about the promised escort, and that a day or two would be needed to get word to ben Nasir. I forgot that ben Nasir would not start before moonrise. It appeared that Sir Louis knew more than he cared to admit.

      “Can’t we get word to ben Nasir for him, Grim?”

      Grim nodded. So did Sir Louis:

      “Good. There’ll be no need, then, for you to take any one into confidence,” he said, turning to me again. “As a rule it isn’t well to talk about these things, because people get wrong ideas. There are others in Jerusalem who would like permission to go to El-Kerak.”

      “I’ll tell nobody.”

      He nodded again. He was still considering things in the back of his mind, while those intelligent, bright eyes smiled so disarmingly.

      “How do you propose to reach the Dead Sea?” he asked. “Ben Nasir’s escort will probably meet you on the shore on this side.”

      “Oh, hire some sort of conveyance, I suppose.”

      “Couldn’t we lend him one of our cars, Grim?”

      Grim nodded again.

      “We’ll do that. Grim, can you get word to ben Nasir so that when the escort is ready he may send a messenger straight to the hotel with the information? D’you get my meaning?”

      “Sure,” said Grim, “nobody else need know then.”

      “Very well,” said Sir Louis. He rose from his chair to intimate that the precise moment had arrived when I might leave without indiscretion. It was not until I was outside the door that I realized that my permission was simply verbal, and that the only document that had changed hands had been signed by me. Grim followed me into the ante-room after a minute.

      “Hadn’t I better go back and ask for something in writing from him?” I suggested.

      “You wouldn’t get it. Anyhow, you’re dealing with a gentleman. You needn’t worry. I was afraid once or twice you might be going to ask him questions. He’d have canned you if you had. Why didn’t you?”

      I was not going to help Grim dissect my mental processes.

      “There’s a delightful air of mystery,” I said, “I’d hate to spoil it!”

      “Come up on the tower,” he said. “There’s just time before sunset. If you’ve good eyes, I’ll show you El-Kerak.”

      It is an enormous tower. The wireless apparatus connected with it can talk with Paris and Calcutta. From the top you feel as if you were seeing “all the kingdoms of the world in a moment of time.” There are no other buildings to cut off the view or tamper with perspective. The Dead Sea was growing dark. The Moab Hills beyond it looked lonely and savage in silhouette.

      “Down there on your left is Jericho,” said Grim. “That winding creek beyond it is the Jordan. As far eastward as that there’s some peace. Beyond that, there is hardly a rock that isn’t used for ambush regularly. Let your eye travel along the top of the hills—nearly as far as the end of the Dead Sea. Now—d’you see where a touch of sunlight glints on something? That’s the top of the castle-wall of El-Kerak. Judge what strategists those old crusaders were. That site commands the ancient high road from Egypt. They could sit up there and take toll to their hearts’ content. The Turks quartered troops in the castle and did the same thing. But the Turks overdid it, like everything else. They ruined the trade. No road there nowadays that amounts to anything.”

      “It looks about ten miles away.”

      “More than eighty.”

      The sun went down behind us while we watched, and here and there the little scattered lights came out among the silent hills in proof that there were humans who thought of them in terms of home.

      Venus and Mars shone forth, yellow and red jewels; then the moon, rising like a stage effect, too big, too strongly lighted to seem real, peering inch by inch above the hills and ushering in silence. We could hear one muezzin in Jerusalem wailing that God is God.

      “That over yonder is savage country,” Grim remarked. “I think maybe you’ll like it. Time to go now.”

      He said nothing more until we were scooting downhill in the car in the midst of a cloud of dust.

      “You won’t see me again,” he said then, “until you get to El-Kerak. There are just one or two points to bear in mind. D’you care if I lecture?”

      “I wish you would.”

      “When the messenger comes from ben Nasir, go to the Governorate, just outside the Damascus Gate, phone OETA, say who you are, and ask for the car. Travel light. The less you take with you, the less temptation there’ll be to steal and