The Mamur Zapt and the Camel of Destruction

‘He’s had the house altered a lot.’

‘The mandar’ah! New marble entirely.’

‘And not the cheapest!’

‘Oh, he’s done well, all right. But then, he’s had to work for it.’

‘Yes, never home till late at night.’

‘Of course, it took its toll.’

‘Well, yes, that was it, of course, wasn’t it. In the end he paid the price.’

‘You could say he sacrificed himself for his work.’

‘Much appreciated,’ said Owen. ‘Much appreciated.’

They were in the funeral pavilion, which had been erected in the street in front of the house, greatly to the surprise of traffic which had intended to pass by. The tent was crowded, mostly with men in the stiff collar and dark suit and little red pot-like hat, the tarboosh, of the Egyptian civil servant.

‘Would it be possible to pay my respects?’ Owen asked one of the relatives.

‘Of course!’

They pushed their way out of the tent. The street was equally crowded. Apart from onlookers, and as the average Cairene was a great believer in onlooking there were plenty of them, those more intimately involved in the funeral procession were beginning to assemble. There were the blind men, the boys, and the Fikis to chant the suras. There were men with banners and men with torches, for this was evidently going to be a funeral in the old style.

The relative led Owen into the house. From one of the upper floors came the sound of wailing. Owen thought at first that it was the paid mourners but then a door opened and some black-clad women filed down the stairs. The wailing continued up above and he realized that it came from the women of the family.

He followed the relative up the stairs. Outside a door two Fikis were squatting reciting passages from the Koran. The relative pushed open the door and led Owen in.

The body lay in a bier with a rich cashmere shawl draped over it.

Owen advanced and bowed his head. He stood like that for a moment or two and then touched the relative on the arm.

‘May I look one last time on the face of someone who was dear to me?’

‘Of course!’

But, as he bent over the body, there was really no need to look; the smell by itself was sufficient.

‘It was straightforward,’ said Owen, ‘if you set aside nearly causing a riot, antagonizing the Ulama, provoking the Kadi, irritating the Khedive and raising uproar in the National Assembly. Not to mention upsetting a rather nice old couple still in a state of shock after losing their son.’

‘I’m sorry about that,’ said Paul. ‘The others I can live with.’

‘And was it worth it, I ask myself? So he did take poison; where does that get us? Does it matter if he took poison? That’s his business, isn’t it?’

‘Well, not entirely. Why did he take poison? That’s the question they’re asking.’

‘How do I know? Girlfriend, boyfriend, personal problems, fit of depression, overwork – yes, and while we’re on that subject, can I just mention that I was up all last night trying to get the quarter to calm down.’

‘You poor chap! And can I just mention that I myself was up half the night trying to sort out something that was much bigger.’

‘What was that?’

‘The stupidity of bankers.’

‘Heavens, you’ll never be able to do anything about that. My bank manager – never mind my bank manager, what about this chap commiting suicide, what are we going to do about him? And, incidentally–’ a ray of hope gleamed– ‘why am I doing anything about it at all? It’s nothing to do with me. Suicides, murders – that’s the Parquet’s business, surely?’

In Egypt responsibility for investigating a suspected crime did not lie with the police but with the Department of Prosecutions of the Ministry of Justice, the Parquet, as it was known.

‘The Parquet will have to be involved, certainly. It’s a crime, of sorts, and they’ll have to be notified. They’ll check on the circumstances, etc., etc., and make a fine pig’s ear of it, no doubt, but their part of it really is straightforward. No, no, they can be left to get on with that bit. It’s the other bit–’

‘What other bit?’ asked Owen. ‘It sounds as if it’s just a question of managing the Assembly and that’s something you and the Old Man can do, surely? You’re doing it all the time!’

Paul did not reply at once. Owen hoped he was having second thoughts. He wasn’t.

‘I think you’d better stay with it, Gareth,’ he said.

‘Doing what?’

‘Asking yourself why Osman Fingari committed suicide. And why Ali Maher and Co. are so interested.’

There was, then, going to be not one investigation but two. This was, actually, nothing out of the ordinary, for Egypt was a country of parallel processes. There was, for example, not one legal system but four, each with its own courts. Knowledgeable criminals played off one court against another. If they were very knowledgeable, or rich enough to afford a good lawyer, they could often escape conviction altogether.

A similar parallelity could be observed in Government, though here there were only two Governments and not four. One, the formal one, was that of the Khedive; the other, the real one, was that of the British, who had come into Egypt twenty years before to help the Khedive sort out his finances and were still helping. Every Minister, Egyptian, had an Adviser, British, right beside him. The Prime Minister did not; but found it politic to draw abundantly on the wisdom of the Consul-General before adopting a course of action. The system worked surprisingly well. From the British point of view, of course.

Mohammed Fehmi, the Parquet lawyer appointed to handle the case, was an experienced hand. The following morning he called on Owen in his office.

‘Coffee?’

‘Please.’

‘Mazboot?’

Mohammed Fehmi, like most Egyptians, preferred it sweetened.

‘About this case now–’

‘Sad.’

‘Oh yes. Very sad. But straightforward, I would think, wouldn’t you?’

Mohammed Fehmi’s alert brown eyes watched Owen sharply across the cup.

‘Oh yes. Straightforward, I would say.’

‘I was wondering–’ Mohammed Fehmi sipped his coffee again– ‘I was wondering – the nature of the Mamur Zapt’s interest?’

‘General. Oh, very general,’ Owen assured him. ‘I wouldn’t be thinking of taking, um, an active interest–’