The 92nd Tiger Read Online Free

him.’
    ‘I suppose he realises that success on the screen is a lot easier than success in real life.’
    ‘Subsconsciously, I think he does. But your repeated triumphs—how many by the way?’
    ‘Ninety-one.’
    ‘Yes. Ninety-one. They have had a sort of cumulative effect. He even has the impression, which he gained from an incident in which you temporarily impersonated a drunken Arab camel driver, that you speak fluent Arabic. We tried to explain to him that you would have been coached in the few words you had to speak, and that this was the extent of your knowledge.’
    ‘If you explained that to him, you were off beam.’
    ‘Oh?’
    ‘I haven’t always been an actor, you know. In fact, I came to it comparatively late. I studied Oriental languages at Cambridge. When I left, my first job was as secretary to the late Professor Emil van der Hoetzen. I expect you’ve heard of him?’
    ‘Indeed, yes.’
    ‘I spent three years with him in the Middle East. Mostly under canvas in the desert near Homs. I won’t say that I became a classical Arabist, but I was quite capable of holding my own in a slanging match with a camel driver.’
    ‘I see. Well, that certainly makes a difference.’
    ‘But not very much?’
    ‘Frankly, no. To handle the problems which are bound to arise we should have wished that you had had some diplomatic training. Or, failing that, some military experience would probably be useful. You were too young to have been in the war, I suppose?’
    ‘Much too young. But why would military experience have been useful? Are you expecting a war in those parts?’
    ‘Not a world war. But a private war. Yes. In fact, I should say there are more excuses for starting a private war in that particular area than anywhere else in the world. Iraq and Iran are still capable of going to war over the Shatt-al-Arab. There are endless causes of dispute over the median lines which divide the continental shelf. In the old days when the sea bed only produced pearl oysters it was tricky enough. Now it produces oil. Iraq covets Kuwait. Saudi Arabia wants the Buraimi Oasis. And finally – there are the Tumbs.’
    ‘The islands which Iran grabbed.’
    ‘Correct. But they are not only the islands. Not by any means. In fact there is a chain of tiny islands – sand-spits really – off the coast of Umran. You spoke a moment ago of Umran being in the same position as Gibraltar. Can you visualise the sort of difficulties which might arise if the Straits of Gibraltar were somewhat wider and there were a number of uninhabited islands in the middle?’
    ‘It sounds tricky, certainly. By the way, who owns these islands?’
    ‘According to us, Ras-al-Khaima. According to Iran, Iran. And now the Ruler of Umran has himself staked a claim. It is based, as far as we can make out, both on physical proximity and on archaeological grounds. He claims to have discovered the tomb of the founder of his family, the Ferini, on the largest of them.’
    Hugo said, ‘I can understand that there might be a shooting war between Iran, who have, I understand, got a sizeable army, and one of the western powers, if they chose to stick up for – which was it? – Ras-al-Khaima. But I can’t quite see tiny little Umran making an impression on either side. How many of them are there?’
    ‘At the last census, about eight thousand. But that was five years ago. There are probably ten thousand by now. It’s not the numbers that matter. It’s the people. The Al Ferini are desert Arabs. Their male children are taught to handle firearms at an early age. If they are provoked they will shoot. They are fighters.’
    As Mr. Taverner said this he gave a very tiny sigh. His one window looked out over a corner of Horse Guards Parade. The rain, which had been threatening all morning, had started to come down hard. Pedestrians were scurrying for shelter. But it was not this which made him sigh. Mr. Taverner was a member of the East India Club and in his lunch