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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 1993
Copyright © Michael Pearce 1993
Michael Pearce asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authors imagination
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Source ISBN: 9780008259327
Ebook Edition © SEPTEMBER 2017 ISBN: 9780007484980
Version: 2017-09-05
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Praise
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Keep Reading
About the Author
Also by Michael Pearce
About the Publisher
Praise
Pearce summons up his vanished world with a finesse thats dab, fond and droll. Impeccably done
Literary Review
The Mamur Zapts sly, irreverent humour continues to refresh the parts others seldom reach
Observer
Pearces secret policeman is implausibly likeable
TLS
CHAPTER 1
It was, alas, not uncommon for senior members of the Department to nod off in their offices, overcome by their exertions and the heat, so when Abdul Latif stuck his head through the door and observed Osman Fingari he thought nothing of it.
It was, however, decidedly unusual for them to be at their posts after two oclock, when the city as a whole closed down for its siesta; so when, going round to make sure the shutters were closed, Abdul Latif found him still there at three, he was taken aback.
Its not like him, he said in the Orderly Room. Hes usually away by two.
Hes usually away by half past eleven, said one of the other orderlies.
Abdul Latif felt called on to defend his master.
Its these lunches, he said.
Thats right. Eat too much, drink too much
Drink too much? Abdul Latif was shocked. Osman Fingari was, so far as he knew, a strict Moslem.
He likes his drop.
Abdul Latif disapproved of this and felt he should bring the conversation to an end.
We cant leave him there, he said.
Why not?
Its not proper, said Abdul Latif firmly. Besides, I want to go to the souk.
Then why not go? He can wake himself up, cant he?
Unfortunately, this was one thing that Osman Fingari could not do and so it was that the night porter found him still there when he made his rounds at seven oclock. A cruder individual than Abdul Latif (night porters were paid less than orderlies), and taken by surprise, he said roughly: Here, come on, you cant do that! and shook Osman Fingari by the shoulder.
Whereupon Osman Fingari slid slowly out of his chair and fell to the ground.
Nasty thing in one of the offices, said Farquahar in the bar the following lunch-time. Chap in Agriculture. Found by the night porter.
Heart attack?
I expect so.
In the heat of Cairo such things were not unusual and conversation passed to other topics.
Owen, sitting at a table nearby, heard the remark but did not think it worth registering. People were dying all the time in Cairo. Not in Government offices, of course, or something would have had to be done about it. He had, in any case, more important things on his mind.
And then the bank manager said to me
His companion leaned back wearily.
Gareth, he said, do you read the newspapers?
Of course I read the papers. Damn it, its my job. Part of it, he amended.
One of the incidental duties of the Head of Cairos Secret Police, the Mamur Zapt, was to read the days press. Actually, he read it twice; before publication, to stop undesirable items from getting in, and after publication, to realize, resignedly, that they had.
The financial pages?
Well, no.
They consisted, so far as he could see, entirely of numbers; and on the whole numbers were not considered politically inflammatory.
You should.
Cotton prices, contango, that sort of thing? No, thanks.
Take cotton prices, for instance. Nothing interesting about them?
Absolutely nothing, said Owen firmly.
You have not noticed that they are only half what they were a year ago?
No.
Cotton was Agricultures concern.
A half, you say? Thats rather a fall.
It is. And since Egypt depends on cotton, its reduced the whole national income. By fifteen per cent.
Hmm. Well, that does seem a lot. But manageable, manageable.
Thats what your bank managers doing. Managing it.
Yes, but
It affects the government finances too, of course. In a big way.
Fifteen per cent?
More.
Well, that is a bit tough. It explains what theyve been doing to my budget. I thought they were just being bloody-minded as usual.
A thing like this, said his companion, who was aide to the Consul-General, gives the bloody-minded their chance. The Old Mans hospitality allowance has been cut by half. Half! How Im going to manage that, I dont know. All these damned visitors! They all expect a free drink, and they measure it in bottles, not glasses.
Another one?
Owen stood up and picked up Pauls glass. Paul glanced at his watch.
A little one, please. Ive got a meeting at three.
Owen stopped, astonished.
At three?
The siesta hour, or two, or three, was normally inviolate.
Yes. Its to do, actually, with the financial pages. Perhaps you should come along.
No, thanks. No-o, thanks.
On the outside wall of the Governorate was a stout wooden box in which from time immemorial the humble folk of Cairo had deposited petitions, denunciations and information which they wished to bring to the attention of the Mamur Zapt.
The Mamur Zapt was no longer the powerful right-hand man of the Sultan he had been in the seventeenth century indeed, there was no longer a Sultan but lots of people did not know that and still insisted on writing to him.
They wrote to him about all sorts of things: the price of bread (risen a lot recently); which of the traders was giving short measure (all, but some more than others); the sexual habits of figures prominent in the city (entertaining and quite possibly accurate).
In among the grimy scraps of paper there were often brief, scribbled messages which were of great use to him in his secret service work.
These were the items to which he turned first: but the items he turned to second were the petitions, of which there were usually quite a lot. Many ordinary Cairenes, completely flummoxed by the Egyptian bureaucracy, which was of an Ottoman labyrinthineness, preferred to make use of the more personal mode of address which the Mamur Zapts box represented.
Owen insisted on handling all petitions himself. Often there was little he could do but he always made sure that, so far as they could be, issues raised were followed up. This was very popular with the ordinary folk of Cairo but less so with the bureaucracy, as Nikos, his Official Clerk, pointed out.
It was one of Nikoss duties to empty the box every day and lay its contents on Owens desk. He did not like doing this as it meant going out of his office. He preferred to keep his distance from the hoi polloi.
That went for the contents of the box, too, which he was quite happy to leave to Owen to deal with. Occasionally, though, Owen needed his help; as this morning.
Read this. I cant make head nor tail of it. If its a dowry, I dont want anything to do with it.
Its not a dowry, said Nikos. Its a waqf.
A waqf was, Owen knew, a religious bequest or endowment. And that was nearly all he knew about it, except that the waqf fell under Islamic law (and was therefore nothing to do with him) and was extremely complicated.
I still dont want anything to do with it.
Waqfs were quite common. They were a traditional legal arrangement for the giving of alms. A waqf was an assignment in perpetuity of the income from a piece of property for charitable purposes, the upkeep of houses for the poor, for example, or the maintenance of mosques or hospitals or schools.
It could also, however, be used for the benefit of the founders family. The founder could provide for a salary to be paid to a member of his family to act as administrator or stipulate that surplus income be given to his descendants as long as they survived.
Such a system was, of course, open to abuse and over the centuries most possibilities for abuse had been thoroughly explored. From very early days it had been necessary to regulate the system and now, such was the number and scale of waqfs, that task was undertaken by an entire Ministry, the Ministry for Religious Endowments.
Not for me, said Owen firmly.
I will tell you about it, said Nikos, disregarding him.
Its from a woman, whose husband benefited for many years from a waqf. He was a schoolteacher and ran a kuttub for small children. It had been in his family for generations. Anyway, he died and she expected the benefit to pass to their son. It didnt.
I thought these things went on forever?
So did she. Apparently, though, someone invoked a clause shed never heard of whereby on the death of her husband the benefit passed to a distant male relative. The relative turned out to be senile and was, she says, tricked into selling the benefit to a rich man who now wants to kick her out.
I dont think I can handle this. Ill put her on to somebody in the Ministry.
Shes already tried them.
Well all right, give me the letter. Ill think about it.
Theres just one other thing. She says several other people in the neighbourhood have recently lost their benefits in a similar way.
The same man?
She doesnt say. Nikos handed back the letter. It would be easy to find out. A walk round the neighbourhood. But, then, thats something you like doing, isnt it?
The phone rang. It was Paul.
Gareth, the Old Man would like you to take a look at something.
Yes?
A man died in one of the offices last night.
Yes, I think I heard someone say something about it in the bar.
Did you, now? Its certainly got around.
Whats special about it?
Owen, as Mamur Zapt, or what in England would be known as Head of the Political Branch, did not reckon to concern himself with routine crime, if this was a crime.
We dont know there is anything special about it. Its just that theres been a reaction to it. A political reaction.
Ah! Well, isnt that something for you to bother yourself about, not me? I mean, if its just a heart attack
Theyre saying it isnt.
Who are they?
Ali Maher, Abdul Filmi, Al-Nukrashi. And others.
Owen could understand now. The names were those of prominent politicians. Only one formally belonged to the new Nationalist Party but the others were Nationalist in sympathy and always ready to make the most of any issue which might embarrass the Government.