The afternoon, a time of oblivion for the U.N. Adviser (today most exceptionally), Rowlandson (during this brief season of rest), Nando Tasca (habitually), was a time of activity for others. And the rain, of course, having shut out the sun, needed no siesta. Darting like the rain, Patu leapt from his car outside the Government Building, leapt up stairs and along corridors, flattening himself at intervals in niches and round corners as listless clerks and secretaries passed along with papers, emerging into the safe clear by the U.N. Adviser's office. The U.N. Adviser's office door was ever-open, signifying that the U.N. Adviser was always available to all classes of men except revolutionary leaders. Patu peered inside and saw a small thin birdlike man, face twisted in agony, rummaging in the desk drawers of the absent U.N. Adviser. Patu whispered,
"Ah!” and Sebastian Hup looked up in agonised guilt. "He is not here this afternoon," said Sebastian Hup. "He phoned through about something in his drawer. It has to be sent up to the Residency."
"That is not true," said Patu. He grinned through his beard. "I know. I was just now with him."
Sebastian Hup gave a grin of pain. Confused, he fumbled for a language, and Spanish came out. "Pero es verdad. Yo – " The head of hair and the beard, against a window vista of relentless rain, frightened him somewhat. But then, boldly, he said, "You should not be here. You are not a government officer."
"There is not much time," said Patu urgently. "I want the 'approved' stamp and the facsimile signature. They must be there." He pointed a black finger at a kind of small metal Christmas tree from which rubber chops hung by handles fitted into grooves.
"What do you want them for?" asked Sebastian Hup, swiftly revolving prices in his mind.
"A friend of mine wants to come from Colombo. The U.N.A., because this man is a friend of mine, wants to keep him out. It is as simple as that."
"It can't be done."
"I shall want also a piece of U.N. Adviser's notepaper. How much will that be altogether? But we'll have to be quick."
"You can't take them away," said Sebastian Hup.
"Much too risky." At that moment a woman's footsteps and a woman's humming could be heard coming along the corridor. "Miss Fanshawe," breathed Sebastian Hup. "Behind the desk, quick." It was a big desk. Lightly the two hid behind, crouching low. Miss. Fanshawe looked in, humming, an ugly ginger woman, saw nobody there, hummed off. "A near thing," breathed Sebastian Hup, a tight vice of agony gripping his face and body. The two straightened, still fearful the one, alert the other.
"Five hundred bucks," said Patu.
"What? Five hundred? And I may lose my job. It's very, very risky."
"And supposing I say that I saw you in here looking in his desk?"
"That's different. I work for the Government. One thousand bucks. You've got plenty in the party funds."
"Seven fifty."
"Eight."
"All right, eight."
"When do I get it?"
"I've got my cheque book,''' said Patu. "Quick, some paper."
Sebastian Hup hopped about like a bud. The middle drawer, long and shallow, contained paper embossed with the arms of the State, the legend "U.N. Adviser". "Stamp several sheets with his signature," said Patu. "It will be useful for other occasions."
"That puts the price up," said Sebastian Hup. "Very, very dangerous. Why, you might try and bring anybody into the State. This man Bastians, for instance. Quick," he added urgently. "Down." Two men, bulky and loud mouthed, arrived at the threshold the instant the other two ducked. They were Mr. Covendry, the State Irrigation Officer, and Mr. Brethren, the State Architect.
"Wonder what's the matter with him," said Mr. Covendry. "Not like him at all. Between you and I, I think he's got something on his mind, Jack."
"Could have sworn I heard voices," said Mr. Brethren.
"But there's nobody here."
"You and your hearing voices," laughed Mr. Covendry.
"Bad as bloody Joan of Arc." It was considered appropriate for a State Officer to lard his talk with literary allusions. "And I thought you was on the wagon, too."
"Am till the next Lodge meeting," said Mr. Brethren. "Come on, we'll have to see him tomorrow." They went away bulkily and loudly. Sebastian Hup knifed up again and began furiously stamping pieces of official paper.
"A couple of flimsies, too," requested Patu. "For copies, you know."
Sebastian Hup stamped madly. "Here you are," he said, holding out the sheets. "Take the lot for one five."
"A thousand."
"Done. Let's see the colour of your cheque book." Soundlessly a man in a white suit and dark glasses had arrived at the door. He knocked politely at air, his mouth open.
"Have I," he said, "the honour of addressing the U.N. Adviser?" He inclined slightly towards Patu.
"Can I do anything for you?" asked Patu in a fair minor public school accent. But he looked round furtively for other exits. Sebastian Hup grinned, hands clasped tight before him, nodding and nodding and bowing slightly.
"The U.N. Adviser is rather busy now," he said. "He has an appointment at the barber's."
"I see," said the stranger. "The stress of work. So little time." He was vague-coloured, his accent unplaceable. He had a walking-stick. "Perhaps I can make an appointment for tomorrow. I represent the International Herbal Health Association. You will have received a letter about me. I am to lecture here. Under the auspices of your Information Department." He started to fumble in an inner pocket.
Patu spied danger. "Yes," he said. "That's right. You're to go up-river. The villagers are anxious to hear about it. Everything's laid on. There's a boat going to Preku at three o'clock. Get a taxi down to the quay. We're a bit short of official transport, I'm afraid." It was true about the boat: there was one taking some headmen back: they were taking to their village-folk, along with Government orders, some pamphlets in Sudu written by Patu: these, designed to inflame simple hearts, were to be read out to the village-folk: the boat came and went once a month: not for nothing was Patu accounted a leader of men.
“I had thought," said the stranger, "that, perhaps for tonight – "
"The matter is urgent," said Patu. "There is no time to be lost. Taxis are difficult to find in this weather."
"So I noticed. The hotel had some difficulty. Perhaps I could telephone from here?"
"The telephone is out of order," said Patu promptly; "it is best to stand out in the rain and wave. But lose no time. The villagers are waiting to hear about Herbal Health."
"Thank you, thank you," said the stranger vaguely. "But I had thought – " He wavered, swung his stick, turned, hesitated, turned back, looked at the grim hair and beard and the agonised obsequious grin, and said, "Thank you, thank you," and was gone.
"Herbal Health," said Patu. He sat for an instant in the U.N. Adviser's chair, like Satan in the Book of Job usurping the throne of God. Then he got up briskly. "That cheque," he said. "You shall have it now. I am a man of honour. I have the signed sheets in my pocket. There is no proof of anything. But I will pay you. We'd better go into the lavatory to fix that up. Too many people about here."
Previous chapter | Next chapter