Dirty Story [antikvár]

DEPARTURE FROM ATHENSONEWrite it on the walls.H. Carter Gavin, Her Britannic Majesty's Vice-Consul in Athens, is a shit.In my letter I had specifically requested an interview with the Consul-General. But no; I suppose he was off playing golf. I got this H. Carter Gavin instead.He began by keeping me waiting for half an hour. Then, when I did get shown into his office, he spent five minutes talking on the telephonesome legal fiddle-faddle about a marine damage survey.He was quite young, not much more than thirty. I was encouraged by that at first. Officials are easier to deal with when they have not been calloused by experience. And when I was a boy in England we were taught to look up to our elders and respect themor pretend to anji^ay. I thought that at least he would be polite to a man old enough to be his father.He finished his telephone conversation, hung up, made a note and then tumed to deal with me. He was the longhaired, big-headed, pompous typeevery inch the Branch A, Grade nine, blue-eyed bastard.'I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr Simpson,' he said.It was the only polite thing he said. From then on he was absolutely bloodysneering and sarcastic, like a schoolmaster.I gave him a smile. 'That's all right. No bones broken.''No bones broken yet, Mr Simpson.' He picked a file out of his IN tray and gave me a look. 'But if I were you I wouldn't coimt upon that happy state of affairs continuing.'He was looking at me really nastily. Although I couldn't seriously believe that anyone was going to start any rough7