The Cotton Spies, Page 2

CHAPTER 1

  Persia March 1918

  ‘They are going to murder you Major Edrich.’

  Edrich stared at Mousafi, the governor of the Persian town and district of Shushtar and said nothing. He made a square using the forefinger and thumbs of both his hands and squinted at Mousafi. He frowned and then looked down into his lap - something was wrong. Then he saw it. The right ear was far too low. He erased some lines and then with deft strokes drew new ones. He looked at the portrait. Yes, that was better. Then he noticed that the nose was too angular. Edrich began to change the nose and then realised that Mousafi had spoken to him and by the look of him he expected an answer. Edrich tried to remember what had been said but he had been concentrating on the portrait too hard.

  ‘I think this is my best work to date, Excellency. You have been most generous in allowing me to draw you today when I know you are so busy.’ He beamed at Mousafi but he was sorry that he had ever mentioned the fact that he was an artist on his arrival in Shushtar six weeks ago. He had started drawing the governor at their second meeting and now the portrait was nearly completed but all Edrich could see were things that needed changing; he could appreciate why a little known Dutch painter, he could not think of the name, had cut off his ear. The governor continued to stare at him in a most odd way. ‘I am sorry, you said something about something?’

  ‘Murder, Major Edrich!’

  Edrich nodded. ‘Ah yes. I was so engrossed in getting your ears right that I did not hear whom you said was murdered.’

  ‘There is nothing wrong with my ears, major.’

  ‘No of course not, it is my drawing of your ears that is wrong,’ Edrich quickly replied not wanting to upset the governor.

  ’What I said was not who was murdered, but who will be. And I am afraid it is you, Major Edrich.’

  Edrich sat up straight. ‘Me? Are you sure, Your Excellency? I am a murder target?’

  ‘I am afraid so,’ sighed Mousafi.

  Edrich nodded mechanically at this statement and his face, which had at first flushed, then gone sallow, before beginning to return to its normal colour. As if by magic his right shoulder, which had taken a German bullet in France began to ache whilst his left shoulder that had once been filled with Ottoman Turk shrapnel at Gallipoli gave him a jolt of pain. Thank God he was in Persia. The accuracy of the local tribesmen’s shooting was known to be so dreadful that it was accepted that one was in more danger catching a stray shot than a deliberately aimed one. He suddenly had a ridiculous thought: he was assuming that they would shoot him but perhaps they would try and kill him by shellfire after all that’s how most people were being killed on the Western Front. No! Firing an artillery piece would be beyond the wit of the locals, particularly now they were without the Germans to help them. That left the knife and they’d be good at knife work because they had to be good at something, whoever they were.

  Edrich was calm when he spoke. ‘Do you know who they are? Will you be taking action to prevent them?’ Edrich remembered the instructions given by Percy Cox, the Head of the Government of India’s Political Service in Mesopotamia and Persia. ‘Do not tell Persians what to do. Make suggestions only on what they should do. We must give the impression that the Persians run their own country and not us.’

  In 1907 Russia and Great Britain had secretly divided Persia into two zones of influence, Russia’s zone being the north and Britain’s the south. Both countries kept military forces in their zones to control banditry and subdue any opposition to their presence. The Persian Government had since 1907 oscillated between being run by, nationalists who wanted all foreigners out of their country or, politicians who were happy to have Persia dominated by Russia and Britain from whom they received bribes. In the southern zone were situated the Persian oilfields that were virtually owned by a British company. Britain divided its management of Persian affairs between the Foreign Office who controlled officials, like the Ambassador in Tehran and the Government of India who controlled lower level consular officials like Edrich.

  The Government of India was involved in Persia because she was constantly worried that a threat to her rule in India, like the Indian Mutiny of 1857, could erupt and that Britain might lose India ‘the jewel in her crown’. One of ways the Government of India protected itself was through its Political Department. A major role of this department was the gathering of intelligence, particularly military intelligence. It collected this intelligence from parts of India not directly under its control, like the princely states or the tribal areas along the Northwest frontier. The department also collected information from those countries whose tribes bordered, and were ethnically the same as those found in India, like the Pathans of Afghanistan and the Baluchis of Persia.

  Edrich had originally joined the Indian Army but after five years he had transferred to the Indian Political Department in 1905 but kept his military rank. He served in various parts of India and its adjoining territories till the outbreak of war in 1914 where he just chanced to be on leave in England. Expecting it to be, “all over by Christmas,” he rejoined his original regiment and fought on the Western Front and at Gallipoli for the next three years. It was only when Edrich was recovering from his second wound that the British and Indian governments realised that officers like him who had valuable experience and knowledge of places like India were more valuable alive than dead. Therefore rather than being sent back to the charnel house known as the “Western Front” Edrich was returned to duties in India in late 1917. After an initial sojourn on the Indian and Afghan border he had been posted to Persia in January 1918.

  He suggested, ‘would you allow me to help you?’

  ‘Yes, I have told the Gendarmerie to begin an investigation. If and when they identify who these murderers are, arrests will be made.’ Mousafi smacked a fist against an open palm before sitting back and saying more calmly, ‘You are welcome to make your own enquiries, Major Edrich. However I insist that you inform me if you do perchance find them before my gendarmes.’

  ‘Thank you. Naturally I will keep you informed.’

  Mousafi knew that Edrich had access to a more reliable intelligence service and military force than himself. Edrich knew the Shushtar Gendarmerie were under trained and a rarely paid rabble. Edrich also knew that Mousafi collected the district taxes and that most of them went into his own pocket rather than spending them on local services like the Gendarmerie. Mousafi stirring himself to do something about Edrich’s murder would definitely go against the habits of a lifetime.

  ‘I do not think it would be a fitting end for a soldier to end up lying in a ditch with his throat cut,’ said Mousafi.

  ‘They would be brave men to murder me that way.’ Edrich saw Mousafi looking bewildered so he added, ‘the murderers have to get up close to do that.’

  Mousafi gave a shudder. ‘Major Edrich I was being rhetorical about your being knifed. Your murder would be sad for someone who has fought and survived as a soldier against both the Germans and the Turks.’ Mousafi became grave, ‘your murder would also be a blot on my career.’

  ‘I certainly don’t want to be a blot on your career or, at least my murder anyway,’ Edrich said lightly.

  Mousafi looked pleased by the remark. Then with his chin on his fingers he said in a stage whisper, ‘your assassins are from the Lur tribe.’

  ‘Why do the Lurs want to murder me?’

  ‘Blood feud,’ Mousafi snapped.

  Edrich blinked, ‘blood feud?’

  ‘Do you not have blood feuds in England?’

  ‘Not for many years,’ said Edrich. ‘I have seen them in India up on the Northwest frontier.’ He shook his head, ‘such a waste of time let alone life.’

  The governor lounged back in his chair and flicked at a fly. ‘In Persia there are only feuds like this with our nomadic peoples like the Lurs. We true Persians, like you English, are a sophisticated people and we do not have them.’

  Edrich could agree with that comparison of Persians to the nomads
but he did not like the cheeky comparison of the Persians to the English. ‘What I do not understand is why I am part of a blood feud? I have not: killed anyone; maimed anyone; stolen property belonging to a Lur or anyone else.’

  The governor shifted in his chair and thought for a moment before replying. ‘As you probably know there was trouble here last year between us British supporters and those like the Lurs, who see you as an unwelcome and an interfering nation. In addition the Lurs are the traditional enemies of the Central Persian Government, whom I represent. Last November the Lurs, led and bribed by German agents, tried to seize control of Shushtar. The Lurs murdered my chief advisor and I only escaped with my life because I was not here!’ The governor shuddered at the thought before adding, ‘the Lurs and their supporters then attacked the British Mission containing your predecessor. Luckily the tribesmen had neglected to cut the telephone or telegraph lines into Shushtar. One of the members of my staff telephoned the local British military commander based in Dizful and he sent an Indian cavalry column immediately whilst the Mission defied the Lurs’ attacks.’

  ‘They got here, in only twelve hours,’ Edrich exclaimed recalling a report his predecessor had left for him.

  Mousafi nodded in agreement. ‘Yes, the rebels were absolutely amazed at the soldiers’ arrival. Your wonderful soldiers routed the insurgents within a few minutes and arrested twelve of the Lurs. Unfortunately none of those arrested included any of the murderers of my advisor.’ Mousafi paused, ‘your predecessor, Major Curtis, a very nice man and an excellent officer, decided to hang three of the Lurs and imprison the other nine. Major Curtis used an expression as to why he had to hang the three men. I really liked it.’ He looked at Edrich for help.

  ‘For the sake of example?’

  ’Yes,’ Mousafi looked pleased, ‘that was it. Well of course the Lurs swore vengeance against the British for hanging their three men. You have replaced Major Curtis and so you have inherited the feud. The Lurs have been away with their flocks on their winter pastures for the last three or four months but now they are on the move to their summer grazing ground and pass Shushtar on their journey. Perhaps the danger will only last a short time.’

  ‘That is comforting,’ said Edrich.

  Mousafi’s shrugged before he began to whine, ‘I get no help from Tehran because it is six hundred miles away. My police have not received pay for two months. I am but an oasis in a sea of Arabs and tribesmen.’ Mousafi looked as if he was about to start crying.

  Edrich knew that any tears shed would be crocodile ones, he guessed one reason the governor did not want to get too involved because the Germans might win the war and take control of Persia. If that happened Mousafi would still want to be governor for the money if nothing else. Doing nothing in the current situation would help him with the Germans. Edrich also knew that Tehran was between four and five hundred not six hundred miles away from Shushtar but that was just another exaggeration that helped the governor’s indolence.

  ‘I appreciate your difficulties but if you can ensure that your police conspicuously patrol round the British Residence I am sure their presence will help deter the Lurs.’

  Mousafi looked doubtful for a moment before he looked officious and said, ‘of course, major.’ He smiled graciously, ‘how is the drawing coming along? Can I see it?’

  Edrich stood and held the drawing under his chin. ‘What does his Excellency think?’

  Mousafi looked at the drawing from his seat then rose and came over to where Edrich was standing for a better look. He took the drawing out of the latter’s hands and walked over to a mirror. He looked back and forth between the drawing and the mirror several times. Then still studying the picture he walked back to where Edrich was standing and handed it back. ‘My ears are not so round as you have me there. However, I must say it is rather good. Your style is typically European but I like it. How many more sittings?’

  Edrich grimaced, ‘the problem is in the detail so I am not sure.’

  ‘Well let us hope you get a chance to finish it.’ Mousafi realised the implications of what he had just said so he added forcefully, ‘have no fear - between us we will not allow you to be killed.’

  The change of subject from murder back to the drawing by Mousafi was a clear indication to Edrich that the former had decided that their meeting was at an end. Edrich began to gather his drawing materials and official documents and stuff them together into a battered satchel before standing up.

  ‘Thank you, Your Excellency.’

  ‘Thank you, Major Edrich, it has been a pleasure talking to you,’ said Mousafi bowing.

  Edrich saluted Mousafi and then sweeping up his case he turned and strode out of the room without a backward glance. As Edrich went through the next room at a steady clip his Indian clerk, Pandit Roy, quickly excused himself from talking to a group of Persians and joined him. Edrich put the satchel in Roy’s outstretched hand without appearing to look to see if the hand was indeed there. The pair went out into the walled courtyard Edrich deep in thought kept his eyes fixed firmly on the ground. Roy scuttled along taking three steps to every two of Edrich’s desperately wanting to say something but realising that the time was inopportune. The pair climbed into the consul’s waiting buggy, Edrich’s bodyguard of two Indian Sepoys took up their positions and only then did the vehicle move slowly out of the courtyard.

  ‘Your discussions went well with his Excellency, Major Edrich?’ Roy spoke warily sensing Edrich’s mood was not as happy as when they had arrived.

  ‘Oh yes it went well,’ said Edrich. ‘My drawing is awful, Roy. I really cannot show it to Mousafi again. You must spill tea on it so that it is ruined.’

  ‘I am sure, sahib, that that would be a terrible waste. You are a fine artist.’

  ‘Thank you, Roy, I do appreciate your comments but perhaps you are too loyal for your own good. If you don’t watch out I’ll give the drawing to you,’ said Edrich.

  ‘Where would I put it? Anyway, I would prefer sahib a drawing of someone who is thin?’

  ‘Why‘?’

  ‘I will only ever be able to afford a small house on my pension when I return to India. A drawing of a fat man would take up too much space.’

  ‘Well back to spilling tea on it, Roy,’ said Edrich laughing.

  As soon as Edrich reached the Residency he ordered Havildar Singh to his office. Havildar (the Indian equivalent rank of sergeant) Singh was the senior of the twenty India soldiers who made up the Residency’s garrison.

  ‘Havildar, information has come to my attention that there are three Lur tribesmen who are threatening murder because of a blood feud. Whilst I am their primary target I think all here are targets.’ He knew that the Shushtar locals disliked Indians even more than the British because so many of the Indians were traders and were often seen by the Persians as rogues. ‘I think we could be dealing with the same situation as last November. You were not here then Havildar so perhaps Roy can describe what happened.’

  ‘I assume we will get no help from the police in this matter?’ the Havildar said when Roy had finished telling him of the Lur attack and its aftermath.

  Edrich smiled, ‘I don’t think we will and if we do we shall all be surprised won’t we, but we must act as if they are helping us.’

  The men then discussed what they should do to ensure Edrich’s safety and the protection of the Residency. It was decided that Edrich should not restrict his excursions from the building too much but that he should increase his bodyguard to four soldiers and that he should always ride in the buggy or horseback rather than walk even short distances. Havildar Singh was instructed to: review the Consulate’s physical defences, even though they were strengthened after the November attack; arrange the extra duties that the increase in Edrich’s bodyguard would bring.

  ‘This threat is almost certainly the work of Baqir Khan, Major Edrich,’ said Roy once the Havildar Singh had left. ‘Major Curtis was pretty sure he was behind the murders here in November but we
could never prove it. Perhaps we should go find and arrest him?’

  Edrich shook his head, ‘Roy, we must be circumspect otherwise Germany’s friends in Tehran will have a great propaganda tool and create merry hell for us. Anyway we don’t know for sure it’s Baqir, we need proof. Remember softly, softly.’

  ‘Catchee monkey,’ interrupted Roy in a diabolical attempt at a posh English accent and a stage whisper. Both men burst into laughter.

  ‘I am due to see Mr Ali Ravgani, the Commissioner of Police, tomorrow afternoon. Let us see what we can find out before I visit him.’

  ‘Is it really worth asking him to do anything? Some of the people who have been banned by us before last year’s incident have been seen in the town on several different occasions but Mr Ravgani never manages either to find them or arrest them so he must be in the pockets of the brigands or the Germans.’

  ‘I don’t think so. The problem is I’m afraid that the men under his command were, until their acceptance as policemen, the riff raff of the town. As for Mr Ravgani himself.’

  ‘Absolutely useless!’ interjected Roy.

  Edrich thought about his choice of words. ‘It is true he has not a clue on how to run a police force because he has had no training for such a position. Nepotism got him the job. I will concede though that he does not appear to have a brain in his head.’

  ‘Nor anywhere else, Major Edrich,’ interrupted Roy with a grin. ‘Why not call in extra troops from Dizful, now?’

  ‘I’ll only do that if the Lurs come into town in large numbers. One thing we must not do, Roy, is to panic because that is contagious. It would be very bad for our prestige if we were to be seen cowering from the potential threat of a bunch of bandits who cannot shoot for toffee.’

  ‘You are playing a dangerous game, Major Edrich.’

  ‘I’m not so sure. Don’t forget that we have ten more soldiers than were here in November. These Lurs know how quickly our troops can travel from Dizful.’

  ‘What about the Germans, could they be behind this?’

  ‘Our capture of Krueger, Neufeld and Wasserstein last year has stopped the Germans directly meddling in Persian affairs. Of course the Germans, no doubt, still send propaganda to their supporters in Tehran who then pass it on to towns like Shushtar.’ Edrich paused and he looked at Roy quizzically, ‘see if you can find out whether anybody has been hearing things from Tehran?’

  ‘You mean what people are saying in the Shushtar inns and coffee shops?’

  ‘Yes, and what news the caravans are bringing into town.’

  Roy was just leaving when he stopped. ‘The major has not forgotten that Sarder Sabahi and Houshang Azari our friendly and not so friendly local newspapermen are coming to see you tomorrow morning.’

  ‘No, I hadn’t forgotten, that is why I want to see Ravgani in the afternoon – they might tell us something useful. I am not due to leave the Residency again today and I think it unlikely that the Residence will be attacked just yet. So I am going to work out what else I have to do to protect us all.’ Edrich had learned from his experience fighting on the Indian frontier that acting quickly and decisively must be balanced by thought.