Michael Pearce - The Snake Catcher’s Daughter

The crowd, however, now grown to even larger proportions, would not be moved. A lively debate ensued, the outcome of which was that an angareeb, the universal bed, was produced and McPhee laid gently upon it. The whole crowd then accompanied them to the hospital, which Owen could have done without.

“But what was he doing there?” asked Garvin.

“I’ll ask him when he wakes up,” said Owen.

McPhee, having awoken, did not respond at once. He seemed to be thinking about it.

“I don’t think I can say, old man,” he said at last, rather stuffily, “I really don’t think I can say.”

"Can’t say?” said Garvin in a fury. “Get him here!”

McPhee insisted on standing to attention. This irked Owen because he did not know how to do it properly. He had been, such were the ways of the British Administration, a schoolmaster before being translated into a senior post in the police. Owen had been in the army in India before coming to Egypt and while this was something he now tried to forget, it still irritated him mildly to see what looked like a parody of military drill. McPhee, however, was determined to take his medicine like a man.

“I would prefer, sir, to regard the matter as closed,” he said pompously.

“Closed?” said Garvin, affecting to fall back in his chair with astonishment. “Found drugged up to the eyeballs? Regards the matter as closed?”

“I accept that I am to blame, sir. I take full responsibility.”

“You mean you took the drug knowingly?”

McPhee was a great stickler for the truth.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, sir,” he said uncomfortably.

“Then what do you mean, you take responsibility?”

“I shouldn’t have put myself in the position, sir,” said McPhee, hot and bothered.

“What position?”

“I–I’d rather not say, sir.”

Garvin sighed.

“McPhee,” he said, “you are the Deputy Commandant of Police. You are found in a backyard heavily drugged. Does it not occur to you that some might regard this as anomalous?”

“It was in off-duty hours, sir.”

“You were doing this as a recreation?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Taking the drug?”

“No, no, no, no, sir.”

“Then?”

“I don’t think they meant any harm, sir.”

“Enough to knock you out for thirty-six hours? No harm?”

“I think it was just that they didn’t want me to see anything.”

“McPhee,” said Garvin dangerously, “what was it exactly that you were doing?”

McPhee was silent.

“You can tell us about it, old chap,” said Owen, trying to be helpful. “We understand about such things.”

“What things?” said Garvin.

“Bad women,” prompted Owen gently.

“Bad women?” said Garvin incredulously.

“Bad women?” said McPhee, looking puzzled.

“Sorry!” said Owen. “It was just that I thought-”

“Really, Owen!” said McPhee in tones of disgust.

“You’re obsessed, Owen,” said Garvin. “Keep out of it. McPhee, what were you doing there?”

“I was attending a Zzarr, sir,” said McPhee bravely.

“A Zzarr!”

“In my own time. Off duty.”

“I should bloody hope so,” said Garvin.

“What is a Zzarr?” asked Owen.

“A casting out of devils. From a woman.”

“They’re held in secret,” said McPhee. “You don’t come across them very often.”

“Especially if you’re a man,” said Garvin. “Did you say you were attending one?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I thought no men were allowed?”

“They’re not, sir. Usually.”

“Then how did you come to be there?”

“I–I invited myself, sir.”

“Using your position as Deputy Commandant?”

“Yes, sir. I’m afraid so, sir.”

“Why?”

“Just interest. Curiosity, sir. You see, sir, they happen so rarely. At least, one comes across them so rarely. Little is known about them. There’s nothing about them in Lane, for instance. So-”

“You thought you would add to the world’s knowledge?”

“Yes, sir. In a way.”

“Deputy Commandant!” said Garvin disgustedly. “Casting out devils!”

“My interest was purely scientific, sir,” said McPhee stiffly.

“Oh yes. I dare say.”

McPhee’s enthusiasm for traditional Egyptian ceremonies and rituals, the deeper mysteries, as he called them, was well known.

“Did it occur to you,” asked Garvin bitterly, “that your presence there might become known? Would, in fact, certainly become known by just about everyone in Cairo? Blazoned abroad in every newspaper?”

“No, sir,” said McPhee, hanging his head.

“Listen,” said Garvin: “how many British officers are there in the police, all told?”

“Two, sir. Not counting Owen.”

“Just you and me. Controlling a city the size of Cairo. How do we do it?”

“Well, sir,” said McPhee, slightly puzzled, “we can call on our men. Good men, sir, fine chaps…the army…”

“Bluff!” said Garvin emphatically. “We run the country by bluff. If somebody called our bluff we wouldn’t last five minutes. We survive,” said Garvin, “only by means of credibility. Credibility! How much bloody credibility do you think we’ll have left when it gets about that we spend our time casting out devils?”

“It was off duty,” said Owen.

“Thank you, Owen. You’re quite right. I have to speak precisely when there are lawyers, of the barrack-room sort, around. That we spend our spare time casting out devils.”

“It won’t happen again,” said McPhee.

“I’m not sure I can afford the chance of it happening again.”

“No, sir,” said McPhee. “I understand, sir.”

“I can’t afford my Deputy Commandant behaving like a bloody fool,” said Garvin. “I can’t even afford him looking like a bloody fool.”

“No, sir.”

“I don’t think you’re being entirely fair,” protested Owen. “McPhee has been the victim of an assault. It’s hardly his fault.”

“Well, in a way, you know, I’m afraid it is,” said McPhee, honest to a fault. “I shouldn’t have been there.”

“How did you come to be drugged?”

“They gave me a drink.”

“And you drank it?”

“I thought it was hospitality,” muttered McPhee.

Garvin groaned.

“The principal reason for sacking you,” he said, “is that you are so damned stupid.”

“I thought it was part of the ceremony,” said McPhee. “Other people were drinking, too,” he said defiantly.

“They put something in when it got to you,” said Garvin dismissively.

“I would vouch for their honesty,” said McPhee.

“That confirms,” said Garvin, “my view of your judgement.”

“McPhee’s only just got out of sickbay,” said Owen.

McPhee was, in fact, looking distinctly wan. Garvin let Owen lead him away. He took him out to the front of the building and found an arabeah, one of the small, horsedrawn carriages that were common in Cairo. He told one of the orderlies to get in with him and see he got safely home to bed.

When he got back to his office, Nikos said: “Garvin wants to see you.”

“He’s just seen me.”

“He wants to see you again.”

“McPhee’s not well,” he said to Garvin.

“It was a big dose,” said Garvin. “It must have been, for him to be out that long.”

“It could have killed him.”

“Yes,” said Garvin, “and that’s another reason not to regard the incident as closed.”

Owen shrugged.

“Is it sensible to carry it any further? Wouldn’t it be better to leave it alone and hope everyone forgets it?”

“McPhee’s been the victim of an assault,” Garvin pointed out. “You said that yourself.”