But there was something else about the newspapers’ responses that Owen found puzzling. Most of the press was strongly Nationalist, which meant that it was normally committed to a progressivist, ‘modern’ line. While it did not dare to turn up its nose at something as popular as the Cut, it usually tried to keep its distance from anything that smacked so strongly of backward-looking superstition. But here it was plunging heavily into popular feeling, embracing the Lizard Man for all it was worth!
What was even stranger was that it was using the situation to make a sharply critical attack on something it usually supported, the new dams and the new extensions of the irrigation system. Why were the Nationalists changing tack?
Owen went down to the Cut to see that all was well. McPhee had had the same thought and when Owen arrived was busy posting constables on top of the temporary dam and round the base of the earth cone.
‘It’s probably overdoing it,’ he said, ‘but-’
‘Are you going to leave them there overnight?’
‘They’re not very happy at the prospect,’ McPhee admitted. ‘This stupid nonsense about the Lizard Man-’
McPhee was discriminating over the ritual and myth that he accepted.
Owen recognized a constable he had worked with.
‘Why don’t you ask Selim?’
Selim beamed when he saw Owen looking at him and waved a hand.
Owen went over to him.
‘Selim, I’d like you to take charge of a few men-’
‘Certainly, Effendi. These thickheads! I know how to handle them. A good kick up the backside-’
‘We want to post a guard overnight and I’d like you to be in charge of it.’
‘Overnight? Here?’
Selim swallowed.
‘Of course, Effendi,’ he said bravely.
He returned to the line, however, perturbed and thinking. Some time later he accosted Owen.
‘Effendi, about that guard duty-’
‘Yes?’
‘I would do it. In fact, I am desperate to do it. Unfortunately, there is a terrible family circumstance that pre-’
‘Oh, come, Selim; there wasn’t one ten minutes ago.’
‘It’s my grandmother, Effendi. She comes from the south, you see. Well, she can’t help that. Someone has to. Only-’
‘What the hell’s that got to do with it?’
‘But, Effendi, I was telling you! She comes from the south, you see. Down in Dinka land. Where there’s nothing but reeds and not a woman in sight. Except my grandmother, of course. Well, it’s very primitive down there. It’s not the place where you’d want to be, believe me, Effendi. Nor me, either.’
‘Selim-’
‘It’s very primitive down there, as I was saying. And each clan has got its totem. Would you believe it, Effendi? The backward buggers! Well, my grandmother’s totem is-you’ll never believe this, Effendi-a lizard! So I’m afraid that rather rules me out.’ ’I don’t see why.’
‘Well, Effendi, it makes it doubly hard for me. I’d see him off, otherwise. What’s a mere Lizard Man to a man like me? Pooh! But, you see, with it being my grandmother’s totem, I’d have to beat him twice. And that, with a Lizard Man, is a bit much!’
‘Well, it would be, Selim, if that were, in fact, your grandmother’s totem. Only I think you may have been misinformed. You see, I know the Dinka totems; and the lizard is not among them. So you’d only have to beat him once. For a man like you.
‘Effendi,’ said Selim, cast down, ‘even a man like me could have problems with a Lizard Man!’
‘I know,’ said Owen, relenting, ‘and therefore I will help you. It so happens that I have a magic amulet here, which, for the sake of our friendship, I am prepared to lend you.’
‘Effendi!’ said Selim, overjoyed. ‘I will kick that Lizard Man in the balls!’
‘That may not be necessary. You see, I think that if there is any problem, it will come from Muslim gravediggers-’
‘Effendi, which shall I break: their backs or their necks?’
‘-or the Jews.’
‘Or both?’
‘Just see they don’t damage anything to do with the Cut, that’s all.’
Selim saluted and returned, buoyant, to the line.
‘Selim, you’ve never agreed!’ Owen heard the men beside him whisper.
‘What is a Lizard Man to me?’ said Selim.
‘But, Selim, he’ll bite your ass off!’
‘I’d like to see him try. Although-’ he inspected his neighbour critically, ‘he may bite yours off.’
‘Why mine, Selim?’
‘Because you’re going to be with me, Abdul.’
As Owen was walking along the street a small stone landed almost at his feet. Surprised, he looked up but could see no one. He wondered for a moment if a hawk had dropped it. But it was hardly shiny enough to attract a hawk’s attention. A moment later another stone skittered past him, so close that it almost hit him. He spun round but again could see no one. Children, no doubt, but all the same it was surprising.
He walked on, turned a corner and then stepped quickly back into a doorway. After a little while he heard the cautious pad of bare feet.
When the boy came round the corner he grabbed him. ‘Why did you do that?’
‘Ow, Effendi! Why you do this to me? I have done nothing!’ Owen held him firmly by the arm. Not by the galabeeyah- cloth could tear.
‘What is your name?’
Ali, Effendi,’ the boy said sulkily.
He was about twelve years old.
‘Where do you live?’
The boy made a gesture.
‘There, Effendi.’
At the end of the street the broken-down houses seemed suddenly to open up. He realized that he was near the Canal. ‘Which one?’ ‘Efjj
He marched the boy down the street.
‘On the other side, Effendi.’
The boy pointed across the dry bed to where a derelict warehouse backed on to the Canal in a fall of rubble.
‘That is not a house.’
‘I don’t have a house,’ said the boy.
‘Do you have a father or mother?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘So who gives you food?’
‘The men do. Sometimes.’
‘Did the men tell you to throw a stone at me?’
The boy was silent.
‘Why do it, then?’
‘You’re not wanted,’ said the boy. ‘Here in the Gamaliya.’
On an impulse, and in some fury, Owen plunged down into the bed, dragging the boy after him. He walked across and climbed up the rubble to the warehouse. There was a cart inside and men were busy around it. They looked at him in consternation.
‘If you want to throw stones at me,’ raged Owen, ‘don’t get a boy to do it!’
‘He’s nothing to do with us,’ one of them said after a moment.
‘He’d better not be!’ said Owen.
He saw now that the cart was a water-cart and recognized the driver. It was the one he’d encountered previously.
‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded.
‘I keep my cart here,’ the man said. ‘Anything wrong with that?’
A man moved out of the shadow.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘anything wrong with that?’
Owen recognized him, too. It was Ahmed Uthman, Fatima’s husband.
He went up to the two men.
‘Twice,’ he said, ‘I have met you recently. If I have any more trouble from you, it will not be me who is not seen on the streets of the Gamaliya!’
He stood there until they yielded.
‘Come on, Farag,’ called one of the other men. Are you never going to get that horse ready?’
The driver shrugged and returned to his harnessing. After a moment, Ahmed Uthman turned, too, and walked away. As he went, he spat deliberately into the straw.
Owen knew he had to do something. His blood boiled. He went after the man and swung
him round.
They stood looking at each other.
‘Well?’ said the water-carrier.
‘I am just marking your face,’ said Owen.
He let the man go, gave the other men a look, and then walked away.
He heard feet scampering behind him, stepped aside and caught the boy again.
‘I was just following,’ the boy protested. ‘I wasn’t going to throw any more stones!’
Owen released him.
‘These are bad men,’ he said, ‘and bound for the caracol. Take care that you do not join them!’
The boy nodded.
Owen turned away. The boy fell into step behind him. Owen put his hand in his pocket and gave him a piastre. The boy saluted his thanks and dropped back.
‘Tell me,’ said Owen, over his shoulder; ‘whose house is that?’
‘Omar Fayoum’s,’ said the boy.
As he turned into a street he saw ahead of him the two water-carriers who had been part of the altercation with the cart driver and Ahmed Uthman the previous day.
‘Hello,’ he said, catching up with them. ‘You, too, still walk the streets of the Gamaliya, then?’
‘Yes,’ said one of the men. ‘But we pick our streets.’
‘And we walk together,’ said the other one.
Owen nodded.
‘It is bad when a man has to do that,’ he said. ‘How long has it been like this in the Gamaliya?’
‘It has been getting worse,’ said one of the men, ‘but it is only lately that it has got like this.’
‘Why is it?’ asked Owen.
The man shrugged.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Perhaps Omar Fayoum wants to fill his bag before the pipes get here.’
Further on, he met Suleiman, just coming out of a public bathhouse. The boy saw him, crossed the street hurriedly, and tried to walk past.
Owen stopped him.
‘Is this wise, Suleiman, to come where you have enemies?’
‘I am not afraid of Ali Khedri!’ said the boy fiercely. ‘Perhaps not. But here in the Gamaliya Ali Khedri has friends.’
‘I am not afraid of his friends, either!’
‘I have met some of his friends. I think it might be wisest not to come to the Gamaliya for the next month or so.’
‘I have my work to do.’
‘Would you like me to speak to the Water Board? I am sure they would be willing to move you to another district.’
To his surprise, the boy shot him an angry look.
‘No,’ he said.
‘I am concerned only for your well-being.’
The boy muttered something and tried to break away.
‘Why do you not wish to be moved? It would be best, you know. Not just because of Ali Khedri’s foolishness but in order to put the past behind you.’
‘Everyone says, put the past behind you!’ said Suleiman bitterly. ‘But what if you do not want to put the past behind you?’
‘She will not come back, Suleiman. Would that she could!’ The boy fidgeted and stared at the ground.
‘It’s not that,’ he was unwillingly. ‘Not just that. I know she will not come back, I do want to put the past behind me. But not-not just in your way. The past is what killed Leila and I want to kill it. I want to kill it here in the Gamaliya. I want to kill the ignorance and stupidity that killed Leila. And,’ said Suleiman, ‘I shall; by bringing my pipes.’
‘It will happen. But let others do the killing.’
‘No!’ said Suleiman fiercely. ‘I want to do it. And I want to do it not just because I want to end it-that is what Labiba says, that I must work to end the squalor and the ignorance so that there will be no more Leilas. Well, that is good, that is right. I want to do that. But I want to do more.’
‘Is not that enough?’
‘No. Because, you see, I know a thing that Labiba does not know. She knows that when you do something like this you make the world a better place. But I know that when you do it, you also hurt people. Well, I know who bringing the pipes will hurt. And,’ said Suleiman, ‘I want to hurt them.’
‘Get the boy out of here!’ said Owen. ‘There’s a gang down here and they don’t like him.’
‘Certainly!’ said the manager at the Water Board. ‘I’ll see him tomorrow.’ He hesitated. ‘However, he may not be very willing. The fact is, I’ve tried to move him before. After the death of-you know about the girl?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I thought, I thought that it would be better to move him. We had a vacancy over in El Hilmiyah but he refused to go.’
‘A junior effendi? Why didn’t you just tell him?’
‘I didn’t have the heart. And besides-besides, he said he would resign. I thought that would be worse.^- ’
‘Did you think he would resign?’
‘He was very adamant. But I will see him tomorrow and try again.’
‘He stands a chance of getting killed if he stays in the Gamaliya.’
‘I will certainly do all I can. But-what if he insists on handing in his resignation?’
Owen thought.
‘He is, as you say, just a junior effendi,’ the manager said. ‘We would not ordinarily go to these lengths. But his father is my wife’s cousin and I would like to do what I could to help him.’
‘Quite so. Look, if he wants to hand in his resignation, do what you can to delay him. Tell him he’s got to give notice. Meanwhile, find something else for him to do, out of the Gamaliya.
There are other people who may be able to influence him. I will speak to them.’
‘We don’t want a killing,’ said the manager. ‘Bringing the pipes in is difficult enough as it is. It will do them nothing but good and yet you would be surprised how many people are against them.’
‘I will certainly speak to him,’ promised Labiba, ‘but I doubt if he will listen to me.’
‘You have more influence over him than you suppose.’
‘Perhaps; but I have found there are limits. I will, however, do my best. And I will also speak to Mas’udi, who has been seeing a lot of him lately. Suleiman has been helping him in his work.’
‘What sort of work?’
‘You are very suspicious, Captain Owen. Humble clerical duties in the evenings, mostly, I gather. Assemblymen have a great need of such help. Unpaid, that is. But I think that Suleiman has also been giving him specialized advice on water. The Nationalists are taking a great interest in water just at the moment.’
‘Yes,’ said Owen. ‘So I have noticed.’
Owen went up to the barrage, where he found Georgiades in the Gardens lying under a tree.
‘I have been walking the Gamaliya,’ said Owen accusingly. ‘It’s been pretty hot here, too,’ said Georgiades hurriedly, scrambling to his feet.
It was, indeed, hot in the Gardens that morning. As Owen had come up from the river, the heat had met him like a blow in the face. The sand was so hot that he could feel it through the soles of his shoes. When he came to the grass of the Gardens it was no cooler. The great walls of bougainvillea and datura acted like sun traps and out on the lawns the heat quivered and danced.
He made at once for the shade of the trees; along with the lemonade sellers, the peanut sellers, the Turkish delight sellers, the pastry and poultry sellers, the water-carriers and everyone else who happened to be in the Gardens at that time. They lay stretched out under the banyan and casuarina trees, every sparse item of clothing removed, including trousers. Even the birds seemed to be gasping in the heat.
‘Where is it, then?’ said Owen.
Reluctantly, Georgiades, not built for speed, led him through the trees towards the regulator. Ahead of them they could see the blue waters of the Nile winking in the sunlight and here and there flashes from the various water-ways enclosed behind the barrage.
They came upon the white surveyor’s tapes he had seen the other day, marking out the line of the new canal. Owen was appalled to see how much of the beautiful gardens they too
k in.
All this?’
Georgiades nodded, and led him in among the clumps of bougainvillea and clerodendron, already hacked back severely to allow unimpeded progress for the tapes. On the far side, the side nearest the canal, the posts holding the tapes had been torn out and the tapes broken. A loose end of tape led out towards the canal.
Just where it ended, the side of the canal had been broken. The earth had been scraped away to form a shallow trench leading down to the water, rather like the sort of place made for water-buffalo to go down to drink. Only this was too small for a water-buffalo.
The earth had been thrown back to the rear of the trench as if by the paws of some animal, and the wattles which reinforced the sides of the canal at this point, had been snapped and forced aside.
A little group of men were standing looking down at the damage. Among them were Macrae and Ferguson, and also the ghaffir and the gardener.
‘It’s some dog or other,’ Macrae was saying. ‘You’d better make inquiries in the village. And if you see it up here,’ he said to the ghaffir, ‘shoot it!’
The ghaffir swallowed.
‘Effendi,’ he said, ‘it doesn’t look like a dog to me.’
He touched the wattles.
‘What dog could do that?’
‘Well, what do you think it was, then?’
The ghaffir and the gardener looked at each other unhappily. ‘The Lizard Man,’ they said.
Chapter 10
Standing a little way back from the canal bank was an old weeping willow. It did not provide much shade but it was the only tree hereabouts and with one accord they moved into its broken shadow. The heat rising from the bank was so great that at this time of day, just before noon, it was uncomfortable to stand there for long.
The earth had been eroded away from the foot of the willow and little lizards skittered in and out among the exposed roots. Sometimes, though, they would freeze still for a moment and then you could see the beat of their hearts under the shiny skin.
‘Well,’ said Macrae, ‘it wasn’t one of those, anyway.’
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