But surely the post-mortem
There isnt going to be one. Unless someone says otherwise. A doctor has signed the certificate in the normal way. Natural causes.
They why
Ali Maher says its a fix.
What do the family say?
They want to get on with it. Youll have to move fast. The bodys being buried this evening.
That was not unusual. Speed was necessary in the heat.
You want me to order a post-mortem?
Paul hesitated.
I want you to take a look at things. Order one only if you think its really necessary. We dont want this to get bigger than it needs to. That would be playing into Ali Mahers hands.
Owen, representing the British Administration, went to give his condolences. The family were surprised they had always known Osman Fingari to be important but hadnt realized he was that important but flattered.
We knew hed been doing well in the last year, of course.
Hes had the house altered a lot.
The mandarah! New marble entirely.
And not the cheapest!
Oh, hes done well, all right. But then, hes 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, wasnt 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.
Im 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? Thats his business, isnt it?
Well, not entirely. Why did he take poison? Thats the question theyre asking.
How do I know? Girlfriend, boyfriend, personal problems, fit of depression, overwork yes, and while were 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, youll 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? Its nothing to do with me. Suicides, murders thats the Parquets 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. Its a crime, of sorts, and theyll have to be notified. Theyll check on the circumstances, etc., etc., and make a fine pigs 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. Its the other bit
What other bit? asked Owen. It sounds as if its just a question of managing the Assembly and thats something you and the Old Man can do, surely? Youre doing it all the time!
Paul did not reply at once. Owen hoped he was having second thoughts. He wasnt.
I think youd 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, wouldnt you?
Mohammed Fehmis 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 Zapts interest?
General. Oh, very general, Owen assured him. I wouldnt be thinking of taking, um, an active interest
I was wondering Mohammed Fehmi sipped his coffee again I was wondering the nature of the Mamur Zapts interest?
General. Oh, very general, Owen assured him. I wouldnt be thinking of taking, um, an active interest
I would always welcome a colleague
Oh no. Quite unnecessary, I assure you. Every confidence
Mohammed Fehmi looked slightly puzzled.
Then, why, may I ask?
Am I involving myself at all? Owen saw no reason why he should not speak the truth. Its not so much the case itself that I leave entirely to you as the possible reaction to it. Politically, I mean.
A fonctionnaire? Civil servant?
Mohammed Fehmi was still puzzled. However, he shrugged his shoulders. This was evidently political in some strange way and politics was not for him. He was not one of the Parquets high fliers.
He had picked up, however, that Owen was leaving the conduct of the investigation to him, and visibly relaxed.
After all, he said, a simple suicide!
Exactly.
The post-mortem quite definite.
Oh yes.
Ill just have to find out where he got it from. And why he took it, of course.
Up to a point.
Oh yes, Mohammed Fehmi assured him swiftly. Only up to a point. Otherwise you find yourself into personal matters, family matters, even social matters, that are best left alone.
Quite so.
No, said Mohammed Fehmi, finishing his cup and sucking up the last mixture of coffee grounds and sugar, the sweet and the bitter, the taste of Egypt, no, the only puzzling thing about it is why the doctor signed the certificate in the first place.
Owen called the doctor in. He was a small, shabby man with worried eyes and a lined, anxious face.
How did you come to miss it?
I didnt miss it.
You wrote the certificate knowingly?
The doctor shrugged.
You know, of course, what this means?
The doctor shrugged again. You do it all the time, he said quietly.
Sign certificates you know to be false?
It spares the family.
You know why we have the system of certification?
Of course. To prevent abuses.
Egypt was a country of many abuses.
And you still thought you would sign the certificate?
The parents are old. He was their only son. The shock of that was enough without the other.
The other?
Suicide.
Are you sure it was suicide?
What else could it be?
The Under-Secretary, said Nikos. The Ministry of Agriculture.
Owen picked up the phone.
Captain Owen? I understand youre handling the Fingari case?
Well, of course, the Parquet
Quite so, quite so. But I understand youre taking an interest?
Ye-es, in a general way.
Quite so. I was wondering the circumstances a bit unfortunate, you know.
Yes?
The Office. The Ministry.
I dont quite
Bad for the Department. A bit of a reflection, you know.
Well, yes, but
I was wondering just wondering if it could be moved. Out of the office, I mean.
Surely it has been moved? said Owen, startled. It was taken for post-mortem. And before that, the funeral. I saw it myself
No, no. I dont mean that. Not the body. The the incident, rather.
I dont quite follow
Moved. Out of the Ministry altogether. Somewhere else. Into the street, perhaps. Or at any rate another Ministry. Public Works, perhaps.
Finance?
Yes. No, on second thoughts. The follow-up could be, well, unfortunate. No, no. Public Works would be better.
Well, yes, but
You will? Oh, thank you.
An apéritif, perhaps?
He had met them, as they had suggested, in the bar at the Hotel Continentale. There was an Egyptian, who must be Abdul Khalil, a Greek, Zokosis, presumably, and someone harder to place but definitely a Levantine of sorts, who would be Kifouri.
The waiter brought the drinks: sweet Cyprus wine for Zokosis and Kifouri, a dry sherry for Owen and coffee for Abdul Khalil.
As I mentioned over the phone, Captain Owen, were businessmen who have quite a lot of dealings with Government Departments. I think youll find that Mr Stephens would be prepared to vouch for us Stephens was the Adviser at the Ministry of Finance and I think it is a mark of our standing that the Minister invited us to join the Board. I mention this so that you will know we are bona fide and also that we are not the sort of men who would want to waste the time of a busy man like yourself.
Owen bowed acknowledgement.
In any case, our concern is, what shall I say, marginal, peripheral, which is why we thought it best to meet informally rather than call on you at your office.
Owen muttered something suitably non-committal.
You are, we understand, taking an interest in a recent sad case of suicide. A man in one of the Departments.
Yes.
Well, now, we naturally wouldnt wish to interfere in any way, believe me, in any way, with your conduct of the investigation that would be quite improper and our interest is, as I have said, marginal. However, we knew Mr Fingari and quite recently have been having a number of dealings with him
Dealings?
A businessmans way of talking. Conversations, rather. Yes, conversations. Mr Fingari, you see, represented the Ministry on the Board. And naturally, in view of recent developments
Yes, recent developments, echoed the others.
That, actually, is why we wanted to have an informal word with you. You see, negotiations are at a critical stage
And its important to carry the community with us. The business community, that is.
And with confidence so low
It is really a very inopportune moment for him to die.
Most difficult.
Now if only he could have died a day or two later
You dont think that could be arranged by any chance, Captain Owen? After all, it makes no real difference. Hes dead anyway, isnt he?
The family Owen began.
Leave that to us. Im sure that could be arranged. Well talk to them, Captain Owen.
But
Look at it like this; its actually giving the poor chap a few extra days of life. Dont be hard-hearted, Captain Owen. Dont deny him that! Think of the poor fellow, think of his family
You want me to alter the date of his death?
Well, that would be most kind of you, Captain Owen. Most kind.
Its the family, you see.
Distressed, naturally.
It is a very respectable family, said Ali Hazurat earnestly. Otherwise Mr Hemdi would not wish his daughter to marry into it.
But
The arrangements were all made. The wedding contract was about to be signed. My nephew was looking forward
A dowry?
Considerable. It was a great opportunity for my nephew. And now, alas