The official shrugged.
‘Perhaps it was some private interest.’
‘Perhaps it was,’ said Owen.
***
A pretty good day’s work so far, thought Owen: and to keep it like that he went to see Zeinab.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘it’s all fixed up. Tomorrow!’
‘I don’t know that I want to come, really,’ said Zeinab.
‘Jesus!’ exploded Owen. ‘Just when I’ve spent the whole morning arranging—’
‘Don’t you have any work to do?’
‘You are priority,’ said Owen cunningly.
‘I wish I could believe that.’
‘You can, you can! That’s the point of the whole thing, to get away somewhere where there are no distractions, just you and me—’
‘There is that to be said for the place, I suppose,’ said Zeinab. ‘There will certainly be no distractions.’
‘That’s the point! That’s just the point!’
‘Well—’ said Zeinab, softening.
Then she sat back up.
‘You mean I might possibly have your undivided attention for two whole days?’ she demanded.
‘Sure, sure—’ he said, kissing her.
‘Not just for short, concentrated bursts?’ said Zeinab, lying back.
***
Owen collected the next day’s newspapers, all of them now, and settled down in his usual place in the café. Fewer people than usual interrupted him this evening and he was glad of that because he wanted to get back to Zeinab.
Suddenly he saw Mahmoud hurrying towards him. He had a slip of paper in his hand. He laid it before Owen. It was a transcription of a message telegraphed that afternoon from Medinet. It was addressed to Mahmoud and read:
Esteemed El Zaki Effendi: have honour to inform you that this day have apprehended dreadful assassin of Tvardovsky Effendi.
(Signed) Ali Mudina, Mudir.
‘I was going to the Fayoum tomorrow anyway,’ said Owen, staring at the slip. ‘But—’
***
Mahmoud was already there on the platform. So, as it happened, was Savinkov. As well, strangely, was Prince Fuad, who was pacing up and down moodily, his hands in his pockets. He turned in surprise.
‘Hello,’ he said, ‘you going down too? Fancy a bit of shooting?’
Zeinab threw down her bag in disgust.
‘Are there any more of them?’ she said. ‘Is this your idea of a holiday?’
Chapter Twelve
‘It won’t take long,’ pleaded Owen.
‘If you think,’ said Zeinab, ‘that I am going to hang around by myself all morning in a dump like this, then you are mistaken.’
‘There are some nice old things to see—’
‘In skirts,’ said Zeinab. ‘And they are not old.’
‘Bridges, water-wheels—’
‘I’d rather have the pelicans. How do I get to that goddamned hotel?’
‘You catch the train to Abchaway and then take a carriage—’
He settled her in the train.
‘You’re probably right. It’ll be much cooler there. Make yourself comfortable—’
‘I will,’ promised Zeinab. ‘With every man in sight.’
***
‘But I know this man!’
‘Very likely, Your Excellency. He is a most notorious villain.’
It was the waiter from the hotel by the lake, the man who had chatted away to Owen that morning by the lake when the financiers were talking.
‘But—’
‘Effendi!’ cried the waiter. ‘The man is crazy! He seized me and told me he would beat me if I didn’t confess. And then when I confessed, he beat me!’
‘That was because you confessed to the wrong things, Fazal!’
‘Mudir,’ said Mahmoud wearily, ‘on what grounds are you holding this man?’
‘Effendi, he has said bad words.’
‘No doubt. However—’
‘Not just on this but on many other occasions. Many times he has said: “The effendis are bleeding our country white. They must go.”’
‘These are foolish words. However—’
‘And then, after the Effendi died, he said: “One down, only a hundred thousand to go!”’
‘Foolish words, too. And wrong. However—’
‘“Did I not tell you,” he said, “that a blow would be struck? Well, now it has been.”’
‘When were these words spoken?’
‘After the Effendi had died. It was that very day, after all the mighty had departed. Abu heard him, and Sayid heard him, and Ibrahim, and—’
‘The cruel words by themselves are nothing: but what was that he also said? That a blow would be struck? When did he say that?’
‘Before the effendis came. When the hotel was getting ready. All were working hard, and some waxed wrathful. “Why are we doing all this?” they asked. “Just for a bunch of foreign effendis?” And it was then that he said it. “Don’t you worry,” he said. “They’ve got it coming to them. A blow will be struck which will shake them in their shoes.”’
‘Those words are interesting.’
The Mudir’s chest swelled.
‘That is what I thought, Effendi. I said to myself, those other words are but wind. They are what any foolish man might say. But to speak thus beforehand argues not foolishness but knowledge.’
‘Your thoughts are not unwise.’ Mahmoud turned to the waiter. ‘Fazal, did you speak those words?’
The waiter swallowed.
‘Effendi, I did.’
‘Then I think you must tell us what made you speak thus.’
‘Effendi—’
The waiter stopped.
‘Effendi,’ he started again. ‘Effendi, it so befell that one day I was walking beside the lake—’
‘Oh, yes!’ said the Mudir sceptically.
‘–in the cool of the evening. And I saw a boat approaching across the lake. And it drew into land and two men got out. They asked me in which direction lay the hotel and I said I would lead them to it. On the way we spoke much. And they said: “Do not we know you?” And I said: “I think not.” And they said: “Did not we hear you speaking at the cement works?” “That may be so,” I said; for, Effendi, I had indeed spoken there some weeks before. I speak, Effendi,’ the waiter explained shyly, ‘in the Mustapha Kamil cause.’
‘Proceed.’
‘The men said they had seen me then. “What you said was foolish,” they said.’
‘They’re right, there!’ said the Mudir.
‘“To speak thus in a house belonging to the Kfouris is foolish,” they said. “I spoke not against the Kfouris,” I said. “I spoke against the effendis from over the seas.”
‘“No matter,” they said. “You spoke in a house belonging to the Kfouris and they do not like such talk. You had better not go there again.” And then, Effendis, I was silent, for they were not men it was wise to argue with. And then, when we had gone a little further and could see the hotel before us, one of them said: “Although to speak thus, in such a place, was foolish, in what you said there was some merit. These foreigners settle on the land like locusts. They eat everything.” And I still was silent, Effendi, although in my heart I agreed with them.’
He looked at Mahmoud but Mahmoud’s face remained expressionless.
‘Go on,’ he said.
‘Well, Effendi, then the other man spoke. He said: “A plague is coming here: do you know that?” And I said that I knew that we were shortly to make ready for a visitation of foreigners. And he said: “That is it.” And then he asked me if I would like to strike a blow against the locusts. But I said that I was a man of peace. And they both laughed and said: “Stay out of it, then.”’
‘What did they do when y
ou got to the hotel?’
‘They asked me to show them round. And then they went down to look at the boats. And then one of them said: “There will be a shooting of birds, will there not?” And I said that was so. And he said: “It will not just be birds that are shot.” And then they went back to their boat.’
‘It was the boat that did it,’ explained the Mudir. ‘When Abu told me what he had said—this was only last Tuesday, at Khabradji’s wedding, after we had had a few beers—I went straight across there. “What’s this you’ve been doing?” I said. And he came out with some cock-and-bull story about grapes. And I said: “Right, you bastard, then I’ll have to beat it out of you.” And it was then that he came out with all this fairy-story stuff. It was when he told me about the boat that I knew he was lying. “A bunch of corsairs?” I said. “What do you think this is? The coast of Barbary?” And so I arrested him.’
***
Outside the door of the police station the headmaster was waiting with one of his boys.
‘Effendis,’ he said, ‘may I beg the privilege of a teacher and speak on behalf of one of my boys?’
‘You certainly may; but should you be speaking to us?’
‘I am afraid so, Effendis. It would be useless of me to say he meant no ill, for he plainly did. This only would I say: that there is prospect for good as well as evil in him and that too heavy a hand now may push him irrevocably away from the good. And that there is the prospect of good in him can be seen from the fact that he, of his own accord, came to me and confessed.’
‘A teacher’s words should be listened to with respect,’ said Mahmoud. ‘But, O Sheikh, why are they spoken to us?’
‘Because you have met the boy and know there is good in him.’
‘Met the boy? But—’
They had not recognized him in the school jacket and the turned-up collar. It was the boy for whom the grapes had fallen so opportunely and who had been so helpful to them in providing mounts for their journey to see the excavations and sluices at Hawara.
The boy stepped forward.
‘Effendis, I confess!’
‘So one should when one has done wrong,’ said Mahmoud sternly. ‘What is it that you confess to?’
‘I might not have confessed if the Mudir had not taken my uncle,’ admitted the boy. ‘But why should my uncle suffer for wrongs that I have done?’
‘You have done!’
The boy squared his shoulders.
‘Effendis, it was I who climbed up to the window that night and let the men in.’
‘Window?’
Light dawned.
‘The old lady’s house? You helped the men to break in?’
‘Effendis, I did.’
‘But why did you do that?’ said Mahmoud wrathfully. ‘Is she not an old lady and deserving of respect?’
The boy hung his head.
‘Effendis, she is, and I have done wrong. But at the time it seemed a bold thing to do and I—I sometimes find it hard not to do bold things. So when the other boys hung back, I said that I would do it. And climbed up to the window.’
‘That was very bad.’
‘I know it. Afterwards I was troubled in my mind and deliberated whether to go and tell all to the Sheikh. But then when nothing seemed to happen, and the Mudir to be following trails which led in circles and yet wider circles, I thought, perhaps this thing is best forgotten. And I would have said nothing only suddenly he alit on my uncle.’
‘You would have done better to have confessed in the first place. However, now that you have, there is the opportunity to turn evil into good.’
‘And will my uncle be released?’
‘Your uncle is already released.’
The boy bowed his head.
‘Effendis, I will do what I can.’
‘The men who entered the house that night: tell me about them.’
‘There were three: an Effendi and two rough fellows.’
‘The Effendi was foreign?’
‘He was.’
‘And had you seen him before?’
‘Effendi, I had. He goes sometimes to the Kfouris. I think he works for them.’
‘And the other two?’
‘They also.’
‘They are evil men,’ said Mahmoud. ‘Stay out of their way. It need not be for long.’
‘I will stay out of Medinet altogether. I will go to my uncle.’
‘That would be wise.’
***
‘O, Tarik,’ said Owen to the cripple crouched by the railway station gates, ‘you who see so much, you who see everyone who comes to Medinet: did you not say to me that there is a foreign effendi who comes to visit the Kfouris, who came in the days just before the Sitt’s house was broken into?’
‘I did, Effendi.’
‘Here is a hard question, for it happened so long ago: did that man also come in the days before the great gathering of the foreign effendis in the hotel by the lake? That gathering in which the foreign effendi died?’
‘That is a hard question indeed,’ said the cripple. He thought for a moment. ‘Effendi, so long afterwards, I cannot be sure. But I think he may have done.’
‘Thank you, Tarik.’
‘Effendi,’ said the cripple, as Owen turned to go, ‘the man is at the Kfouris now. He came this day, early.’
‘Blessing upon you, Tarik. Go in peace.’
***
‘Oh, but you’ve just missed them!’ said Irena Kundasova, when he called at her house. ‘They went out only a short time ago.’
‘Where have they gone?’
‘Well, they were going to see two of Boris’ business associates. In fact, they had a bit of a quarrel. Boris wanted to go by himself but Natasha insisted on going with him. “You’ve only got yourself to blame, Boris,” I told him. “You’re always going over to see them, when you should be having dinner here. Or at least looking after Natasha.” “I can look after myself,” said Natasha. And she insisted on going with him. But then, do you know what?’
‘No?’
‘Just at the moment when they were about to set out, someone told Boris that his friends would be away. They had a business meeting, it appeared, over at Abouxah and wouldn’t be back till the evening. Well, Boris was quite put out. “What are we going to do now?” he said to Natasha. “Wait till they get back, I suppose,” she said.
‘And then I had an idea. “Why don’t you take her out to lunch?” I said. “Yes, why don’t you?” said Natasha. “We could go to that hotel by the lake, the one you wanted to buy.” He had made an offer for it, you know, but then when it came to the point, he found that someone else had just bought it.
‘And do you know who that person was? Tvardovsky! Well, when Boris found out he laughed and laughed. “This one too?” he said. “That Tvardovsky! There’s no stopping him.” But I don’t think he minded, really. Anyway, that’s where they’ve gone. “It will make up for your neglect of her,” I said. Isn’t that lovely?’
Not so lovely, thought Owen, remembering that Zeinab would be there when Natasha arrived.
***
Owen returned to the police station. It was empty. The Mudir had gone with Mahmoud to pick up the two fellahin the boy had described. They worked at the Kfouri cement works on the edge of the town, the Mudir said. ‘It will not take long,’ he had assured them.
Long enough, thought Owen, glancing at his watch. He would miss the next train now. Zeinab would be beginning to bridle. Still, if he could get all this sorted out before he left then he would be able to concentrate on her for the rest of the weekend. Where was Mahmoud?
It was very hot in the police station and after a while he wandered out in search of air. His stroll took him in the direction of the railway station, where, at the station gates, the cripple was sitting in the shade of a lebbek tree.
‘Effendi,’ said the cripple, ‘the boy should be looked to.’
Owen crouched down beside him.
‘He has gone to stay with his uncle.’
‘I know,’ said Tarik. ‘I saw him leave on the train.’
‘I was afraid he might not be able to afford a ticket.’
‘He was sitting on an axle.’
Tarik raised his hand hastily.
‘It is all right, Effendi. The boys do that often. It is not that I am afraid of. Effendi, you spoke to the boy outside the police station. Where all could hear. There was a man of the Kfouris nearby. I think he may have heard and gone to tell his masters.’
‘Thank you, Tarik. I think it should be all right. My friend has gone with the Mudir to lay hold of those two bad men.’
‘That is good, Effendi. But the Kfouris have other men. It would be well to look to the boy. And to his uncle.’
‘Your warning is wise. Go now to the station master and say that no train is to leave until the Mamur Zapt bids.’
The cripple nodded, and loped off with his strange, hyenalike gait. Owen returned to the police station. He found some keys in a desk and then began to work through the station’s cupboards.
At last he found what he wanted: a handgun, old and outdated, but at least it was a service model, one with which he was familiar. He found some bullets in another cupboard and loaded them into the gun. Then he slipped it into his pocket.
Mahmoud came into the room, cross.
‘They’re not there,’ he said. ‘We’ve just missed them. Someone said they’d gone off with a foreign effendi.’
‘We need to find them, quick,’ said Owen.
‘That’s not going to be easy,’ said Mahmoud. ‘They went off in a boat.’
***
The engine sped along the line. In the cab the heat was terrific. Water was the problem, said the driver. They would have to stop for water. They did. A great arm swung out from a wider tank and the stoker climbed up on top of the engine to feed the pipe in. Owen and Mahmoud chafed.
In truth, it did not take long. The stoker pushed the arm back and clambered down and in a moment the engine was speeding along again.
Surprised signalmen, solitary Arabs on their camels, the odd boy working a water-wheel on his buffalo, all whizzed past. At last they saw the halt of Abchaway ahead of them.
Death of an Effendi Page 16