Michael Pearce - The Mamur Zapt and the Night of the Dog

“Bloody hell!” said Owen.

Nikoslooked up.

“What else do you expect him to do?” he asked. “He’s living in the graveyard, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but-”

“It’s not much of a living. Everybody knows about it so they don’t leave anything valuable on the body.”

“Except Copts,” said Nikos.

“He robs Moslems too,” said Georgiades. “No sectarian prejudice here. No,” he said, turning to Owen, “that’s not the problem.”

“What is?”

“Where’s the body?”

Owen thought for a moment.

“I’d assumed it was in the mortuary. Either still at the lab or somewhere else.”

Georgiades shook his head.

“No. Too crowded. They need the space.”

“You mean it’s been handed back already?”

“They don’t keep them for long.”

“If you just rush down now,” said Nikos, “you can interrupt a Moslem funeral and desecrate that too.”

“I didn’t desecrate it.”

“You could always take a dog.”

“Shut up. What are we going to do?” he appealed to Georgiades.

“Find out where the body is. If it’s in any of the mortuaries, OK. If it’s been handed back I’ll find out where the tomb is. They always bring them the same day so there’s not much point in looking anywhere else. Anyway, there would be too many people around.”

The implications of what Georgiades was saying sank in.

“Break into the tomb? Christ!”

“There’s no other way.”

“Yes, I know. But-”

“Look,” said Georgiades patiently, “do you want this settled or don’t you? Is it important? If it’s not, well, I’m not exactly keen. But if it might stop a massacre…”

“It might stop a massacre.”

“OK, then.”

Owen was still not happy.

“Suppose we were seen?”

“You will be seen,” said Nikos.

“Yes,” said Georgiades. “Those little bastards.”

He rubbed his chin.

“I’ve got an idea,” he said. “Why don’t I have a word with that little sod Ali and see if he can arrange it all? It would need money but it would be worth it. If he’s seen, or they are seen, that’s OK. There’s nothing out of the ordinary. Whereas if we’re seen it’ll start a Holy War.”

“You won’t be able to use his evidence,” said Nikos. “Not in court.”

“We wouldn’t anyway.”

“Why do it, then?”

“It sets his mind at rest,” said Georgiades, looking at Owen.

“It would give a motive,” said Owen, “and once you’ve got that, you’ve got other lines to work on.”

“All right,” said Nikos.

“Can you trust Ali?” asked Owen.

“No,” said Georgiades, “but you can trust money.”

“I mean afterwards. Is he going to talk?”

“I don’t think he’ll talk,” said Georgiades. “His mates may.”

“We wouldn’t want it to get out.”

“I’ll speak to Ali.”

“It’s risky.”

“Got any better suggestions?”

“No,” said Owen regretfully.

“Want me to get on with it, then?”

“Yes.”

As Georgiades went out, Nikos said: “At least it will bring the Copts and the Moslems together.”

“What?”

“When they find out it’s the Greeks that are breaking into their tombs.”

Owen was pursuing Garvin about the Camel Watering Account.

“It’s damned silly,” he said. “We always need money at this time of year. And we always transfer it out of the Camel Watering Account. Why the hell can’t we do it this year?”

“Because they’re looking, that’s why. Usually they don’t bother. They’ve got other things to think about.”

“And this year they haven’t?”

“This year they’ve got Postlethwaite looking over their shoulder so they’re making damned sure they’re being strictly kosher.”

“I don’t mind them playing their little games,” Owen complained. “It’s just that they have real effects. On me. It affects my work.”

“Does it?” said Garvin, not really very interested.

“Yes, it does. I rely on it to supplement the Curbash Compensation Fund.”

“What?”

“Curbash Compensation Fund. It’s what I pay the bribes out of.”

“The curbash was abolished years ago.”

One of Cromer’s first acts had been to abolish the use by government officials of the curbash, the whip, as a means of enforcing obedience.

“I know, but the fund still exists. When the curbash was abolished they set it up to compensate anyone who was whipped after the abolition. You see, they couldn’t rely on the local beys not to forget it had been abolished. So they set up this fund to compensate victims in serious cases of abuse. They didn’t want to make too much fuss about it, otherwise the whole population would come along claiming they’d been whipped. So the fund’s administered by the Mamur Zapt.”

“Have there been any claims?”

“Not recently.”

“And there’s a grant each year?”

“That’s right. That’s what makes it so convenient. The trouble is, we’ve been having to spend more money on bribes lately. It’s never enough. So,” concluded Owen, “I have to transfer money from the Camel Watering Account.”

“Otherwise you’ll have to cut back on bribes?”

“Yes.”

Garvin toyed with the ebony paperweight on his desk.

“Yes,” he said, “I see your point.”

He thought for a moment or two.

“Can’t you use some other account?”

“No. It’s nearly the end of the financial year and most of the money’s been spent. Anyway, why the hell should I? The system’s worked all right up to now. The Consul-General wants the work done, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t want to know about it. And above all he doesn’t want to see it appearing in the accounts. They are scrutinized, you know, by a parliamentary committee back at home. How do you think it would look if there was a Mamur Zapt Bribes Account? All the little Postlethwaites would go berserk.”

“We don’t have to call it that. ‘Special Purposes’ or something like that.”

“Create something new in finance,” said Garvin, “a new code, a new sub-heading, and that’s always the thing that gets picked out. Stick to what they’re familiar with.”

“OK,” said Owen. “I’ll stick to the Curbash Compensation Fund. But I still want some more money in it.”

“That’s what they all say. Including the Khedive. He wants his allocation upped too.”

“It’s his money, isn’t it?”

“No. It’s ours. He doesn’t have a bean, other than what we lend him. That’s why we’re here.”

Of all the countries in the world, Egypt was perhaps the most thoroughly in debt. Its international indebtedness had reached such alarming proportions under the previous Khedive that its Western creditors had become seriously alarmed. Britain, as the largest of these, had stepped in to sort out the country’s chaotic finances. But that had been thirty years before, and the British were still there. Egypt’s finances, they claimed, were still unsettled.

“Besides,” said Garvin, “all he wants it for is to go to Monte Carlo again. So we’re not keen.”

“But my money-” Owen began.

“Is part of it. He wants a larger allocation in any case. That means more taxes. And here there’s potentially big trouble, because the way he wants to do that is by taxing the Copts more.”

“Just them?”

“Just them.”

“They won’t be pleased.”

“They’re not pleased.”

“I’ve not heard anything about this.”

“You wouldn’t have. It’s still being fought out inside the ministry. Finance are resisting it strongly. No wonder. They’re all Copts.”

“If this gets out-”