“No,” Donovan said, adding dryly, “There are many schools of thought on Thami.
The Disciple, previously professor of Near Eastern Studies at Princeton, believed that Thami el Glaoui, pasha of Marrakech, was not only a very interesting character but that he had every likelihood of becoming king of Morocco. “Who?” the German Industry Disciple asked, chuckling.
“That sounds like an Armenian restaurant.” He was given a withering look by the Near Eastern Disciple. Thami el Glaoui,” the Disciple began patiently, pedantically, “bridges, one might say-he’s sixty-some, maybe seventy, no one seems to know for sure-the Thousand and One Nights and what it pleases us to consider modern civilization. He rules over his tribesmen like a sheikh in the desert, as absolute monarch, exercising the power of life and death. But he also owns wineries, farms, a bus company, and phosphate mines. God only knows how much he made by taking a percentage for smuggling diamonds and currency out of Morocco and France.”
“Can he do us any good?” the Italian Disciple interrupted impatiently.
“And if so, how?” The Near Eastern Disciple was not used to being interrupted, and produced another withering look. “We could not have gotten the mining engineer Grunier out of Morocco without his permission,” he said.
“That cost us one hundred thousand dollars. If I may continue?”
“Please,” Donovan said, spreading oil on troubled waters. “If Thami el Glaoui were to come to believe that we were in favor of his becoming king, or at least that we would not support the present monarch-who would, I should add, like to behead him-it could be quite valuable to us, I think.” Sorry, Charley,” the Italian Disciple said contritely.”
No offense. The apology was ignored. “The man who has led Thami el Glaoui into the twentieth century is another interesting chap,” the Disciple went on, as if picking up a lecture. “He is the old pasha of Ksar es Souk. For years and years and years he was the 6minence grise behind Thami’s maneuverings. He was assassinated on December sixth last, probably by the king. Probably with the tacit approval of the Germans.
Possibly by mistake-they could have easily been JEER after his son instead. The son was involved in high-stakes smuggling.”
“I don’t get the point of all this, Charley,” C. Holds worth Martin, Jr., said.
THE SECRET WARRIORS N as “On the death of the pasha, the eldest son became pasha. The pasha is dead. Long live the pasha. The new pasha of Ksar es Souk is Sidi el Ferruch,” the Disciple went on.”
Twenty-five years old. Educated in Switzerland and Germany. A product of this century.”
“What about him?” East Europe asked impatiently.
“Can he do us any good?” It was time for Donovan to interrupt. “He already has,” he said.
“He smuggled-with el Glaoui’s permission-Gruni er out of Morocco.
Charley feels that he could be very useful when we invade North Africa.
So do I. But there is, to reiterate, more than one school of thought on the question.”
“You’re thinking about causing a native rebellion, then?” The previously skeptical Italian Disciple was now fascinated. “The Army’s weighing the pros and cons,” Donovan said, not wanting to get into a lengthy discussion of that now.
“It’s something for the back burner. A rebellion could quickly get out of hand, but simply ensuring that Thami el Glaoui’s Berbers stay out of the fight seems worth whatever effort it would take. I’ll let you know what’s decided.” The Near East Disciple was used to concluding lectures when he wished to conclude them, and not before. He was also, Donovan decided, not immune to the romance of his first venture into international intrigue.
“With an eye to using el Ferruch in the future, and for other reasons,” the Disciple said, we decided not to bring Eric Fulmar out when we brought Grunier out.”
East Europe took the bait.
“Who is Eric Fulmar?” It was the first he had heard about this operation. “Still another interesting character,” the Near East Disciple said.
“His father is the Fulmar of Fulmar Elektrische Gesellschaft, and his mother is Monica Carlisle, the actress.” Now that Charley had the other Disciples’ rapt attention, Donovan knew that silencing him was going to be damned near impossible. “I didn’t know she was even married. Or was that old,” C. Holds worth Martin, Jr.” said.