Michael Pearce - The Fig Tree Murder

‘It’s got a small head, Malik,’ said one of the other men.

‘Have to be the body, then. Even that will be tricky. Moving target, moving gun platform. Damned exciting! Exciting, isn’t it, Owen?’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Glad I spotted you. We’ll go into the Racing Club afterwards for a bit of lunch. They ought to stand us lunch, you know. After shooting an ostrich. Doing them a favour.’

‘Doing them a favour?’

‘Yes. The damned birds are always getting out and attacking the racehorses.’

‘I don’t think they actually attack them, Malik. It’s just that they scare them.’

‘Same thing, isn’t it? They’re a damned nuisance. Someone ought to speak to that old fool, Zaghlul.’

‘We do. Often.’

‘That farm is a liability.’

‘Oh, I don’t know, Malik,’ objected one of the others. ‘It’s very picturesque, don’t you think? Interesting for the tourists.’

‘Well, make it more interesting,’ said Malik. ‘Turn it into a game reserve. Sell shooting rights. God, that’s an idea! I say, I’m quite a businessman, aren’t I? What an idea! Let’s put it to the Syndicate.’

‘Old man Zaghlul will never agree.’

‘Buy him out. I’ll get the Syndicate to buy him out.’

‘I think it’s tried, Malik. It would like the land. But Zaghlul will have none of it.’

‘We’ll have to make him see reason, then.’

Over on the horizon, Owen suddenly saw a group of horsemen.

‘Over there! Over there!’ shouted Ahmed excitedly.

Malik pointed the car towards them and sounded his horn. ‘Tally ho!’ shouted Ahmed. He looked at Owen. ‘That’s what they shout in England, don’t they?’

‘I imagine so.’

They didn’t go in for hunts much in the part of Wales that he came from.

The car bumped crazily across the desert, threatening at every moment to throw them out.

‘Damned exciting, isn’t it?’ said Malik, teeth gleaming.

They came up with the horsemen. An old man in ragged Bedouin dress and with a rifle slung on his back rode over to them and gesticulated angrily.

Malik took no notice.

‘By God, there it is!’ he shouted.

For out in the desert in front of them a solitary ostrich wheeled and scudded.

‘Tally ho!’ cried Malik, leading the car in its direction.

The horsemen scattered. Owen just had time to see the old Bedouin unslinging his gun and then he had to cling on for dear life.

‘Load the gun, Ahmed!’ shouted Malik.

‘Which one?’

‘Any one!’

The ostrich, startled, ran before them.

‘You’re gaining, Malik!’

‘Got the gun?’

But just at that moment the front wheels of the car ran into a deep drift. They all pitched forward. Owen suddenly found himself sprawling across the bonnet.

‘Give me the gun!’ shouted Malik.

Owen hauled himself back.

There was a loud explosion.

Ahead, the ostrich checked, veered and then ran off at right angles.

‘Try another one, Malik!’

But the distance was now too great. Malik, disgustedly, climbed out of the car. Across the desert Owen saw groups of horsemen converging on the ostrich.

It took them nearly an hour to dig themselves out of the drift and to get going again. The car bumped across to where, now, the horsemen seemed to have the ostrich secured.

It was lying on the ground trapped in a huge net. The men had tied its feet together. It lay there, sides heaving. Men were holding its neck. From time to time it reached round and tried to peck at their hands.

Malik sighed.

‘Damned difficult shot!’ he said. ‘It would have been a beauty if I’d brought it off. How about a drink?’

‘Vermin!’ said the man at the bar of the Racing Club. ‘That’s what they are!’

‘Heard my idea?’ said Malik happily. ‘Turn the damned farm into a game reserve. Sell shooting rights. It would be a big attraction.’

‘Ostriches and horses don’t mix,’ said the first man. ‘The ostriches frighten the horses and the horses frighten the ostriches. You’ve got to keep them apart. That farm’s too close to the racetrack.’

‘It’s three miles away!’ objected someone.

‘That’s not far if they’re going to break out. And what about the training gallops?’

‘They’re not going to be breaking out all the time!’

‘I should hope not. They’re damned dangerous beasts. Break a horse’s leg in no time.’

‘Dangerous, are they?’ said one of the Belgians uneasily. ‘We’ll have to watch that. An ostrich farm is one thing-in fact, it could be quite attractive, couldn’t it? An unusual feature-but if they’re dangerous, it’s quite another.’

‘Could you pay the old man to put them down?’

‘How many are there?’

‘Several hundred.’

‘Cost too much. And he might not be willing.’

‘My idea’s better,’ said Malik. ‘Get people to pay to put them down.’

‘I say, Malik, there’s a woman!’

They all scurried across to the window.

‘It’s Salah-el-Din’s girl.’

‘A bit bold, isn’t she?’

‘I’m going over,’ said Malik, making for the door. ‘You coming?’ he said over his shoulder to Owen.

‘I don’t think so. In fact’-he glanced at his watch-‘I ought to be making a move.’

‘Don’t go yet,’ said one of the Belgians. ‘We’d like to have a word with you.’

They led him away into a corner of the barroom and ordered more drinks. From where he was sitting he could see out through the window. Beside the racetrack was a strip of newly planted grass and on it a girl was walking. A servant held a parasol over her head.

‘A little forward, yes?’ said one of the Belgians.

‘All right on the boulevards,’ said Raoul, the one he’d played tennis with. ‘But here?’

‘She’s very young,’ said Owen.

‘Their tastes are different here.’

As he watched, he saw Salah-el-Din come up and join her and then, a moment after, Malik at the run.

‘An ambitious man, Salah,’ said one of the Belgians. ‘He has big plans.’

‘It’s not always a good idea for a district mamur to have big plans,’ said Owen.

‘No. And you yourself: do you have big plans?’

‘It’s not always a good idea for British officials to have big plans, either.’

‘Not in the sense you mean, no. But you must make plans of some sort. You have to retire so early. Then what?’

‘Good question,’ said Owen.

‘Unless your government is very different from ours, the pension is piffling.’

‘I’m some way off drawing a pension yet,’ said Owen.

‘That’s the time to make plans.’

Owen, used to such approaches, was not bothered. The conversation turned to other things. The Belgians said the project was going quite well. Building, with plenty of space and cheap labour, was no problem. The only difficulty, if there was one, was in matching development to cash-income flow.

‘Any building project is a long-term one,’ said Raoul. ‘The trouble is, if it’s too long-term, the people financing it start getting bothered. So what you try to do is get something going quite early on that yields a cash flow.’

‘Like a gambling house?’ said Owen.

Raoul laughed.

‘It would help. But the hotel’s the main thing. Once you start attracting people in, they’ll start spending money.’

‘Building houses and selling them isn’t enough?’

‘It’s all right. In the long run. But in the short run we want more spend. That’s why the racetrack is important. If it’s attractive enough, people will come here even if they don’t live here.’

‘Provided they can get here.’

‘Yes,’ said Raoul, ‘that’s the key. Roads, rail, even trams. We intend to get the tramway system extended out to here.’