The Miernik Dossier

6. REPORT BY LÉON BROCHARD, A FRENCH NATIONAL EMPLOYED BY THE WORLD RESEARCH ORGANIZATION, TO A FRENCH INTELLIGENCE SERVICE (TRANSLATION FROM FRENCH).

There was a curious incident today (19 May) at the lunch that has become a weekly habit for Collins, the Englishman; Christopher, the American; Miernik, the Pole; el Khatar, the Sudanese; Khan, the Pakistani; and myself. The central figure in this incident was Miernik, though Khatar, Khan, and Collins were also involved.

Miernik and Christopher arrived together at the restaurant. The rest were already there. The talk was lively as usual. Khatar told an amusing story about Fenwick, the Englishman who is an Assistant Director General of WRO, whom he is trying to induce to call him (Khatar) “Your Royal Highness.” Khatar is a prince of a Muslim sect in his country. Khatar’s family still keeps slaves, including apparently some intellectuals; he says that Fenwick has the makings of a useful slave. “Fenwick would be quite happy with us as a slave, all our slaves are,” said Khatar. “But first he must be trained not to call me ”my dear chap.”’

Miernik seized on this bit of frivolity with great resentment. He read Khatar a lecture on the evils of slavery. “Did you learn nothing at Oxford?” Miernik demanded.

“I learned that it is inconvenient to be without slaves,” said Khatar.

Even Khatar, who usually is oblivious to the behavior of others, was taken aback by the ferocity of Miernik’s attack. The Pole would not stop talking. It seems that Khatar’s father, for political reasons, recently married his son, in absentia, to the thirteen-year-old daughter of another black prince. The father sent this new bride by airplane to Geneva. She is now living in Khatar’s apartment.

Miernik, going there for dinner last week, was introduced to the girl. Khatar requires her to sit on the floor beside the table, and he tosses her scraps from his plate. Apparently this is the only food she receives. Miernik upbraided him for this behavior.

“Be cheerful, Miernik,” said Khatar. “She will go back to Sudan as soon as I can bring myself to consummate the marriage.”

Collins said, “Look, Kalash, why don’t you send your Swiss girl away for an evening, and do the deed? Then you won’t be offending old Miernik when he comes to dinner.”

Khatar, who regards himself as quite the most handsome black in the world, laughed. “She is circumcised,” he said. “It’s a dry experience, my dear Nigel. When I have her, I shall have to be prepared by Nicole. But once she has prepared me, Nicole will not let me go.

At this, Miernik threw down his napkin and left the table. He strode to the door, then came back, red in the face. “Kalash,” he cried, “you are a disgusting savage!”

Khatar was quite undisturbed. “It seems that Miernik has no respect for my culture,” he said.

“None whatever, if you are its product,” said Miernik, and left the restaurant. There were actual tears in his eyes.

Christopher went after him. Everyone except Khatar was enormously embarrassed. Collins, of course, could not let the matter lie.

“Kalash,” he said, “you mustn’t take old Miernik too seriously.”

“I thought that he was quite serious. He was crying.”

“It’s nothing to do with your sex life, really,” said Collins.

“Perhaps he ought to arrange a sex life of his own, then,” said Khatar. “They are too moralistic, these Communists.”

“Miernik has a good deal to be serious about,” said Collins.

“He is very worried,” said Khan.

Collins gave Khan a warning look. But the Pakistani went on: “Miernik thinks that he is in danger.”

“Really, Hassan!” Collins said.

“You do not believe him?” asked Khan.

“That’s neither here nor there. It’s an official matter.”

“A human matter, I should have said. Is the D.G. going to do anything for him, or not?”

“I really don’t know.”

“He must do something. It’s unthinkable that Miernik should have to go back.”

“Back where?” asked Khatar.

“To Poland,” said Khan.

“That is where he comes from,” said Khatar. “Why shouldn’t he go back?”

“Because he is not a royal highness. The Poles are bringing pressure to have him returned. They think that he is a spy, I gather, because of his friendships with us. They wish to put him into prison.

I asked Collins, “Is this true?”

“I have no idea,” said Collins.

“That is what Miernik thinks,” said Khan. “That is what he told the D.C. in your presence, I believe.”

Khan was agitated. Collins paid him no attention.

“If that’s so, then Miernik had better sleep with some girls before he goes,” said Khatar. “He may not have the chance after he’s clapped into the dungeon.”

“I assure you,” said Khan, “it is not funny.”

“No,” said Collins, “I suppose it isn’t.”

I deduced from Collins’ reaction to this conversation that what Khan said was substantially true. Collins is expected, as First Assistant to the Director General, to be a tomb of discretion. But there was no mistaking that he was disturbed and embarrassed by Khan’s spilling of secrets at the luncheon table.

Neither Miernik nor Christopher returned to the restaurant. Khatar, as usual, had no money. I paid the extra portion of the bill, and a claim for expenses is attached.