The Torch of Tangier Read Online Free PDF Page A

less.”
    “I’d say less. You don’t know the locals.” Drury looked Korian over, lingering on the stains on his lapel and his over-polished shoes. “You’re not an Arab, you’re Armenian, born and raised in California, in the Central Valley.”
    Drury began to pace the area in front of the desk, his hands clasped behind his back. He shook his finger at Korian as if to a naughty child. “And it’s time you had a short course on Moroccans and their languages.” He cleared his throat and folded his arms. “The Romans called them Mauri, derived from the Hebrew word for west, but the Berbers were the indigenous ‘Libyans’ of North Africa. They’ve been here since the dawn of history, known to the Egyptians as ‘Lebu.’” Striding up and down as if he were in a lecture hall, he droned, “The Riffian dialect changes Arabic ‘L’ to ‘R’. ‘F’ and ‘B’ are interchangeable, hence Rifi from Libi.”
    Korian rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “We have to listen to this?”
    Boyle grunted and Drury resumed pacing.
    “I’m giving you the benefit of fifteen years of education and research.”
    Once he gets started, there’s no stopping him, Lily thought. He’ll harangue us forever. She picked up a bulletin.
    “You read Arabic, Miss Sampson?” Boyle broke in.
    “I read it but don’t speak it. It says here that Doolittle led an air raid on Tokyo.”
    Korian gathered the pamphlets. “That’s what it says. Good for you.”
    He eyed Drury disdainfully and stalked out of the room, wafting tobacco smoke behind him.
    Boyle closed the door after him. “One thing I’d like you to tell me is how you know the background of Legation personnel.” He waited. “You won’t say, of course.”
    Boyle looked from Lily to Drury and back again. “You’re anthropologists, aren’t you?”
    Drury finally stopped pacing. “That’s what we are.”
    “You know how people in foreign cultures think?”
    “That’s what we do for a living.”
    Boyle folded his glasses and held them in his hand. “Wouldn’t hurt if you prepared a report on the Riff. Work up a pamphlet about propaganda in Morocco, what would work, what wouldn’t.”
    “Exactly what I had in mind.”
    Boyle tapped his glasses against his hand. “Can’t pay you, of course.”
    “Wouldn’t take the money if you could.” Drury sat in the chair facing Boyle’s desk and leaned back luxuriantly.
    “It’s settled then,” Boyle said. “Busy yourself with Arab affairs, find out what they’re thinking, how they can be influenced.”
    “We’ll both work on it.” Drury looked over at Lily. “As a team. Just want to do our bit for the war effort.”
    “And you’ll shut up and leave me alone.” Boyle opened the door for them. “God help us. With teams like this, we could lose the war.”
    ***
    Lily saved her comments until they were back on the Rue de Statut.
    “Boyle made me feel like a floozy.”
    “He meant it as a compliment. Forget it.”
    “Why’d you tell them we could do a pamphlet on propaganda?”
    “We can. We’ll do an ethnography, chapters on social organization, kinship terms, religion. Contrast tribal areas with cities.”
    “I don’t know enough about the Berbers.”
    “Doesn’t matter. Throw in some anthropological jargon. Makes a good impression. The more ponderous and mysterious, the greater they’ll think it is.”
    While he was talking, Drury stared across the street. Lily followed his gaze. Suzannah was seated at a sidewalk table in a café across from El Minzah. When they passed, Suzannah raised her eyebrows then looked away.
    “Besides,” Drury said, his voice hesitant, distracted. He was still looking in Suzannah’s direction. “They think I work for the COI, Coordinator of Information, doing research and propaganda.”
    “Don’t you? Who do you work for?”
    Drury peered at Lily and then glanced across the street. Suzannah picked up a glass and held it to her lips without drinking.
    Lily was certain