Greek Fire by Winston Graham Page B

contradictions within themselves. I wonder sometimes about the new United States of America.”
    â€œYou do right to wonder,” said Gene, “but I wouldn’t lose any sleep about it.”
    â€œSurely the equality of opportunity that you boast of is really equality of opportunism— isn’t that so?—a chance to get rich quick at the expense of your neighbour? And what is this freedom of religion? Freedom to worship money as the only criterion of success? And freedom from fear? I have never yet met an American who is not afraid—afraid of not making enough money, afraid of being cheated, afraid of not being thought superior, afraid of being down-graded in a social scale as rigid as any that has ever existed in the world before. And freedom from want. No race has ever ‘wanted’ more.”
    Gene said: “Man always falls far short of his ideal. It happens everywhere. No state has ever existed on earth which has not laid itself wide open to being shot at from one quarter or another. I think if you read Thucydides you’ll find descriptions of the Athenian city state that make your criticisms of America read like the Garden of Eden before the snake got in. I might even quote you some. But why bother? One tries to see the best and not judge by the worst. One likes a country or one doesn’t like it for better reasons, I hope, than the existence of a few scabs on the surface. The only proviso is that, if one loves a country sufficiently, one may make efforts and even sacrifices to remove a few of the scabs.”
    The room became suddenly very quiet indeed. Not a coffee-spoon clinked. People’s expressions had become frozen. It was clear that the last remark had been taken in its most personal way, as a deliberate and ugly affront. Anya stretched out a hand to tap the ash off her cigarette, but she did it quietly and she did not raise her eyes. Then in the silence Major Kolono came across the room.
    â€œYou are Mr. Eugene Robert Vanbrugh?”
    â€œI am.”
    â€œThe police have been trying to trace you. They called at the address you gave, the Hotel Astoria, but you were not there.”
    â€œI was invited to stay with friends.”
    â€œThey are anxious to ask you some questions about an accident that took place in Galatea Street last Tuesday morning in which a man, a Spaniard, was run over and killed.”
    Gene looked at him. It was as if the whole room was ranged against him now. “A Spaniard?”
    â€œYes, a man called Tolosa. We understand that you were seen driving a car away from Galatea Street shortly afterwards.”
    â€œThen you understand wrong. I have not driven a car in Athens at all.”
    Kolono raised his stubby eyebrows in disbelief. “Where are you staying now?”
    â€œIn Benaki Street. Number six.”
    â€œPerhaps if I called to see you tomorrow morning at nine?”
    â€œYou’re connected with the police?”
    â€œI am.”
    â€œYou don’t know yet who ran this man down?”
    â€œI think we have a very good idea.”
    â€œHave you questioned Mandraki?”
    Kolono stopped rubbing his moustache. “ Who?”
    â€œA gunman. You must know him.”
    â€œI know a man of that name. A silversmith. He has not a very good record, but he has nothing to do with this. He was in his shop at the time.”
    â€œHe always is in his shop at the time. One wonders what protection he has.”
    â€œThat doesn’t happen in Greece,” said Manos. “You’re thinking of America.”
    â€œShady politicians are not peculiar to any one country.”
    â€œWho was talking of politicians?” said George Lascou. “It was an association of ideas.”
    Kolono said: “ May I ask you, Vanbrugh, what you were doing in a hired car on Tuesday morning last?”
    Gene glanced at the hostile faces of the men around him. “ Your dinner-party, M. Lascou, seems to be turning