Michael Pearce - The Mingrelian Conspiracy

On the other side of the river, beyond the island, he could make out the low houses of the village of Gizeh and behind them, pink in the sun, the pyramids. If you were a tourist you crossed the river higher up, from the modern city. The Babylon ferry was for the humble poor, most of them fellahin going to or coming from the fields on the other side. The ferry was a battered old gyassa, its days of glory on the river now done, sailing, when it was fully loaded, suspiciously low in the water.

Although there were plenty of boats about, gyassas, feluccas and even the occasional dhow, the Old Cairo Landing was not really a port. Vessels bringing grain would go on to Bulaq to unload. Nevertheless, it had something of the air of a dock. There were jetties and mooring posts, boats bobbing on the end of ropes, and, here and there, spindly against the sky, the spars of some larger vessel looming above the houses.

Over to his right was Babylon, but he wasn’t going there today. The Fustat police station was in the Arab, not the Coptic, part and inland some way from the ferry.

Mahmoud was sitting in the local Mamur’s office. He sprang up as Owen came in and embraced him warmly.

‘We’ve got them all, I think,’ he said. ‘That little man from the cafe was very useful. He led us to a cafe which served as a kind of headquarters for them, or at least a base. I got him to identify as many of the gang as he could. He did very well. He had seen them when they raided Mustapha’s. Of course, he’s not very keen to give evidence but your man, Selim, will probably do that, won’t he?’

‘In so far as he can. I don’t know at what stage he got hit.’

‘The cafe owner?’

‘Mustapha? Hm, I’m not sure…He won’t want to stick his neck out. His wife, perhaps.’

‘Identification is important,’ said Mahmoud sternly. It was one of the crosses he had to bear. Nothing happened unobserved in Cairo; but after the event few would acknowledge that they had seen anything, particularly where a gang was concerned and there was the possibility of reprisals.

‘There may be other cafes,’ said Owen. ‘I’ll give you a list. At least of the ones down in the Fustat that have suffered. This gang keeps, I think, to the Fustat for the most part.’

‘Yes,’ said Mahmoud. ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You said you’d like to know who’d commissioned the job at Mustapha’s. Well,’ he said, ‘I think I’ve found out. Or found out something.’

He went to the door and called out: ‘Bring Omar!’

A door slammed somewhere away in the recesses.

‘I’ve been examining them all morning,’ said Mahmoud. ‘We picked them up last night. This man, Omar, was present when the job was discussed. He says that the gang was approached first through an intermediary and that when they indicated they might be interested, a meeting was arranged with the principal. He was present at that meeting.’

Feet were heard along the corridor. Owen sat down in a chair over to one side of the room, where he could watch Omar but would not interfere. This, now, was Mahmoud’s case.

Mahmoud made a sign to the two constables and they stepped back.

‘Well, Omar,’ said Mahmoud pleasantly; ‘just a few questions. Nothing new, just going over ground we’ve covered. I want to make sure I’ve got it right. This job, now, at Mustapha’s: out of the usual run for you, I think you said?’

‘That’s right. And I wish we’d never heard of it.’

‘You should have stuck to the Fustat.’

‘We should. I said that at the time. Stick to what we know, I said. I mean, we weren’t even getting any money out of it!’

‘Not getting any money? But, Omar, you were hoping to get money, surely? Why else were you working the cafe?’

‘We were doing it for someone else. We weren’t making any money. It was all going to go to him!’

‘But, Omar, if it was all going to go to him, what was there in it for you?’

‘Well, that’s what I said. Only Narouz said, “We’re doing this as a favour. It’s exceptional, see?” And I said, “Well, I don’t see. Why should we be doing anybody a favour?” And he said: “Because we owe Hussein al-Fadal one, that’s why, and Hussein is not the sort you don’t pay back when you’re asked.” Well, I knew about Hussein, of course, everybody knows about Hussein, and I wasn’t going to argue too much, not with Hussein. So I went along with it. But it was a mistake. I know we didn’t have much choice, you’ve got to do people a favour when you owe one, but it was a mistake all the same. Look where it’s got us!’

‘Let’s get this straight: you were going to squeeze money out of Mustapha and then give it to-?’

‘Hussein’s friend. Don’t ask me why. Maybe Hussein owed him a favour.’

‘Can you tell me about this friend?’

‘Well, yes, I certainly don’t owe him a favour. We met him at Ali’s. It’s a little coffee house not far from the ferry. It was all set up, really. I mean, there wasn’t any bargaining about terms. He knew that we were going to do what he asked. All he had to do was tell us what he wanted.’

‘And what did he want?’

‘Just to call on Mustapha and get the money.’

‘Have you any idea why it was Mustapha you were to call on? Was there anything special about him?’

‘I don’t think so. I think he had just seen this place and thought it would be a good one to call on. The important thing was the money. He wanted it quick. I said: “Why don’t you break in somewhere and steal it?” But he said no, that wouldn’t do, protection was easier. And then he named the sum he wanted. I said: “That’s ridiculous!” And he said: “That’s what I want.” And I said: “Look, you’re not going about it in the right way. A little at a time but lots of times, that’s what you want. It makes it easier for everyone.” But he said no, he needed the money now. It had to be upfront in a lump sum. Well, it didn’t matter to us, it was easier in a way because it meant we only had to do the cafe once. But it was a bit odd, if you know what I mean. It’s not the way you usually go about business like this, not the way we do it, at any rate. It’s sort of, well, amateur.’

‘But that’s what he wanted?’

‘That’s what he wanted, so that’s what he got. Or would have got.’

‘What sort of man was he?’

‘Ah, well, now, I’m not sure. I…well, that would be telling, wouldn’t it?’

‘You could tell me a bit. After all, you don’t owe him anything. It’s the other way round if anything. He owes you something.’

‘Well, maybe. But I don’t know that I could tell you much, anyway. I only saw him the once.’

‘But you saw him. So what sort of man was he?’

‘Well, he wasn’t an Arab, for a start. That’s another thing I didn’t like. “Let’s stick to our own,” I said. “Then we know where we are.” ’

‘A Copt, was he?’

‘Oh, no, no. Not as bad as that.’ He hesitated. ‘I don’t know what he was, really. But Sayeed-he was with me- said that he thought he was one of those funny people, Christians, you know, thin faces, dark hair-’

‘Armenians?’

‘No, no. The other side ofTurkey.’

‘Georgians?’ said Mahmoud.

They took Omar to the Der. He looked around him uneasily. ‘Don’t like these places much,’ he said.

‘Keep your galabeeyah over your face,’ advised Mahmoud. ‘Then no one will recognize you.’

‘It’s not that,’ said Omar. ‘It’s the place. All tunnels. All darkness. Like being in a grave.’

Al-Mo’allaka was dark, too. The lamps had been turned down and the air was dense with incense. In one corner there was a small light where the man was working. They went across.