Michael Pearce - The Mamur Zapt and the Girl in Nile

In the relaxed way of countryfolk, they began to chat.

‘Did you find what you wanted over there?’ asked one of them, inclining his head in the direction of the river.

Over the houses Owen caught a glimpse of blue.

‘No.’

‘Nor here, either. You’re not having much luck this morning, are you?’

‘There’s still time. If we get a move on,’ he said pointedly.

‘Oh yes. Things usually turn out right in the end.’

‘Yes, but only if—’

He stopped himself. It was pointless. One of the things he had learned since coming to Egypt was that the country had its rhythms and that if you were going to get anywhere you had to work with them and not against them.

‘It was a body,’ he said, changing tack. ‘Over there. By the river.’

‘Oh yes.’

‘Yes. Or rather, a body was reported. By the time I got there it had gone.’

The man laughed.

‘Bodies have a way of doing that,’ he said. ‘Or at least, on this part of the river they do.’

‘How’s that?’

‘Oh well, if you find one, that means more work for the Chief, doesn’t it?’

‘So he doesn’t mind too much if one goes missing?’

‘He doesn’t mind at all.’

‘How might they go missing?’

‘All sorts of ways,’ said the man vaguely.

‘They might hit a pole, for instance,’ suggested his friend.

‘What?’

The two men laughed, as at a private joke.

‘They can hit all sorts of things on their way downriver,’ said the first man, looking at his friend chidingly.

‘But what about when they’re washed up?’

‘That’s when they have to be reported.’

The man laughed again.

‘Are there people working the bank?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘On the lookout for things. Things that get washed ashore?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘Regulars?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are they organized? Is there a gang? A society?’

The men looked at each other, then dropped their eyes.

‘We wouldn’t know about that,’ they said.

They worked on carefully through the dovecot. When they had finished they patted the dovecot affectionately and climbed back unhurriedly down the stairs.

Owen sat thinking. It was a new possibility. Suppose the body had not been washed away? Suppose it had been interfered with? Suppose somebody had got to it?

Owen went to see the District Chief afterwards. He had a thing or two he wanted to tell him. To his surprise, when he reached the office he found the green car drawn up outside and the Prince about to go in.

‘Why, Captain Owen!’ said the Prince, pausing for him. ‘How felicitous! I was just making sure that everything was covered.’

‘Isn’t McPhee supposed to be doing that?’

‘Of course. But it sometimes helps if you remind key people which side their bread is buttered on, don’t you think?’

Owen wondered in what sense the District Chief was key.

The District Chief was, in fact, looking rather shaken.

‘After all,’ said the Prince with a wave of his hand, ‘it’s not every day that he gets called on by both Royalty and the Head of the Secret Police.’ He gave Owen a sidelong glance. ‘He is probably more impressed by the latter, I’m afraid.’

‘I doubt it, Prince.’

‘You’re his boss, aren’t you?’

‘No. He comes under Mr McPhee.’

‘Not the Mamur Zapt? Don’t they all come under the Mamur Zapt?’

‘No, Prince. The Mamur Zapt is, well, out to one side.’

‘You, too? Of course, things have changed. In my grandfather’s time the Mamur Zapt used to control everything. He was the Khedive’s right-hand man, you know. The man he relied on to keep him in power.’

‘I am afraid his scope is a little more restricted these days, Prince.’

The title ‘Head of the Secret Police’ was in any case something of a misnomer. Head of the Political Branch of the CID was the closest British equivalent. Perhaps, too, in army terms—and some considered Egypt an occupied country—Head of Political Intelligence.

‘Yes. And in the old days he used to serve the Khedive.’

‘He still does, Your Highness.’

The Prince smiled.

‘Well,’ he said. ‘I am sure you have business of your own with our friend here. Please don’t let me interrupt you.’

He walked over to one of the low, shuttered windows and sat on the sill.

‘Do carry on.’

Owen hesitated.

‘Not secret, is it? If it is, I will at once remove myself. Though, as you said a moment ago, you are in a sense one of my servants.’

‘The Khedive’s servants, certainly. No, Your Highness, you are, of course, welcome to stay. I was merely going to ask the Chief why he sent for me this morning.’

‘But is not that obvious?’

‘No, far from it. The proper procedure, you see, when a crime is reported, is to notify the Parquet, not the Mamur Zapt.’

‘I see. Well, man, answer him. Why did you send for him?’

‘The Mamur Zapt was nearby,’ muttered the Chief.

‘Well, that seems reasonable. You were nearby. And, by the way, that was very prescient of you.’

‘Hardly. I was conducting a search for arms.’

‘Really? In this vicinity? There does seem to be a lot going on in this neighbourhood. Arms, you say? Well, I suppose that’s important.’

‘Yes. To the Khedive as well as to me.’

‘You think so? Yes, I suppose you’re right. They’re just as likely to be used against us as they are against you. We and the British have a lot in common. We’re both unpopular.’

‘Only with some people, Prince.’

‘Well, yes. These Nationalists! Very trying people. My father keeps wondering whether to bring them in or keep them out. Bring them in and they want to change things. Keep them out and you deny them the chance to share in our unpopularity. Which is hardly wise, don’t you think? I’m all for bringing them in.’

‘You could always go half way. Bring them in so that they share the unpopularity but don’t give them enough power to change anything.’

‘Ah yes. Of course, that is the British solution. And very effective, too. But then, what about these guns? These arms of yours? Don’t you think there’s a danger that if people are disappointed they’re more ready to try extreme solutions? What do you do then?’

‘Conduct arms searches.’

‘I see. Why, Captain Owen, you’ve persuaded me! I am now convinced that your work was very important. Too important to be interrupted. So, fellow, why did you interrupt him?’

The District Chief, who had not altogether followed all this, looked blank.

‘I was wondering whether he’d received a phone call,’ explained Owen. ‘A phone call to suggest that there were other things more important.’

‘Oh, me, you mean? No. I always start at the top. I get round to the bottom later. As, of course, you see.’

‘I was puzzled,’ said Owen. ‘The message from the Chief came first. Before the message from Mr McPhee.’

The Prince looked at him sharply.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘that is interesting.’ He slipped off the sill, walked across to the Chief and stood in front of him. ‘That is interesting. Well,’ he said silkily, ‘ did you receive a phone call this morning?’

‘No,’ said the Chief, ‘no phone calls.’

‘Or any other kind of message?’ asked Owen. ‘Did someone come to see you, for instance?’

‘No.’

‘The Mamur Zapt will check,’ warned the Prince. ‘If I were you I’d get it right the first time.’

‘No one came. There were no messages, effendi. I swear it.’

‘So why,’ asked the Prince, ‘did you send for Captain Owen?’