The Last Cut mz-11 Page 17

  ‘Show him in!’

  Suleiman’s father came diffidently into the room.

  ‘Effendi-’

  ‘Mr Hannam!’

  And to show Yussef what ought to be what, Owen ordered coffee.

  ‘Effendi, I apologize for disturbing you when you must be so busy but Labiba Latifa told me-’

  ‘Labiba Latifa? You’ve met her?’

  ‘Yes, and she told me that you were concerned about- Effendi, I have tried to persuade him, I have even used a father’s authority, although that doesn’t seem to go far these days-’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘My son. You asked Labiba-’

  ‘Yes, indeed. I advised her to use her influence to get the boy out of the Gamaliya for a time. And you have been adding your efforts?’

  ‘Well, yes, Effendi. But without success. He will not listen to me. He will not listen to his father! He says he is on the brink of finding out something that his chiefs will be very pleased about and that will make his career. He asks me if I do not wish well for him, if that is not what I want, him to do well, to make a success of his career? And, Effendi, I do, that is what I sent him up here for. Water is our life-blood, I told him, but it comes in different forms. In the fields it is sweat, in the city it is money. Effendi, I have laboured in the fields and done well enough, but that is not what I want for my boy. And now he says: “Father, I have done what you ask and now, just when I am getting somewhere, you bid me to leave!” “You can do as well elsewhere,” I said. But he said: “No, father. We get but one chance in our life-you have told me that yourself-and for me this is it!” So what shall I do, Effendi? What shall I say to him? I come to you!’

  ‘Has he said what he is on the brink of finding out?’

  ‘No, Effendi. It is to do with his work.’

  ‘I think I know what it is. It is important but it is nothing compared with his life.’

  ‘You think it may come to that?’ said Suleiman’s father, troubled.

  ‘I hope not. Nevertheless, he has enemies in the Gamaliya. As you have.’

  ‘He is too young to have enemies. Such enemies!’

  ‘I think so, too. And therefore I think he would be better out of the Gamaliya.’

  ‘I begin to wish I had never sent him up here. Terrible things happen in the city. First that girl. Then this!’

  ‘Good things happen also, and they can happen to him. But I think it would be well if he were out of the Gamaliya for a time. He stands on the brink, you say? How near is that? Is it a matter of days? Or weeks?’

  ‘I do not know. Days, I think.’

  ‘If it were a day or two, and if he watched his step, all could yet be well.’

  ‘I will tell him that,’ said Suleiman’s father, relieved.

  ‘But let it not drag on!’ Owen warned.

  ‘I will tell him that, too. And insist that a father’s authority shall not be set aside!’

  Yussef brought coffee. Over its aromas, Suleiman’s father calmed down.

  ‘What things happen in the city, Effendi!’ he sighed. ‘What things happen in the city!’

  ‘Things happen in the country, too,’ said Owen, ‘and one thing that especially interests me is what happened once, years ago, between Ali Khedri and yourself.’

  Suleiman’s father was silent for a while, a long while. Owen sipped his coffee and waited. He knew better than to hurry the old man. In Egypt, where all present things had roots in the past, such conversations took a long time.

  ‘It was a dispute over water,’ said Suleiman’s father at last. ‘In the villages most disputes are. We ploughed adjoining fields. Between our fields there was an old canal, not much used because now there was a new and better one which went past the end of my field but not past his. I allowed him to build a gadwal across my land and take off water from the new canal. The old canal was on my land and one day I decided to fill it in. Ali Khedri objected.

  “You cannot do that,” he said.

  “Look,” I said, “we have the new canal and I have allowed you water. The old canal stands idle, and it is on my land. I will plant it with cotton.”

  ‘But Ali Khedri said: “The canal is not yours but the village’s.’”

  ‘I said: “It is on my land.’”

  ‘Well, we went to the sheikh and to the omda and then to the Inspector and they said that I was in the right. So I filled it in and planted cotton. And Ali Khedri was very angry and one night he came and beat the cotton down. And I said: “If that is what you do, then I will beat you down!” And I tore out his gadwal.’

  ‘So then he was without water?’

  ‘He had to carry it. Well, it is hard to carry enough if you have fields, and his crops dwindled and my crops throve. I would have let him build his gadwal again if he had said a soft word, but he did not. So I hardened my heart against him.’

  ‘Did not the neighbours bring you together?’

  ‘They tried but he would not listen to them. “I would rather carry,” he said, “than accept from him, even though I go poor.” Well, he went poor and in the end he had to leave, and now I own his fields, and many others.’

  He looked at Owen.

  ‘These things are not good, I know, but life in the fields is hard. Although not as hard as life in the city if you are a water-carrier.’

  In this heat you needed to take fluid frequently and some time later Owen found himself pouring out another glass of water. As he raised it to his lips his conversation with Yussef came back into his mind. He put the glass down again.

  ‘Yussef,’ he said, ‘where does this water come from?’

  ‘The river, Effendi. Right from the middle. It’s the best.’

  ‘But how did it get here? Here, to the Bab-el-Khalk?’

  Yussef shifted his turban to the back of his head and scratched. ‘How did it get here? In a water-cart, I suppose.’

  ‘Water-cart?’ said the man from the Water Board indignantly. ‘No it doesn’t! You’re one of the buildings on the pipes!’

  ‘I’ve never seen them.’

  ‘Well, you wouldn’t, would you? They’re underground. Look, there are two sorts of pipes and they bring two sorts of water.’

  ‘From the river?’

  ‘From our pumping station on the river. One sort of water is filtered and that’s for drinking. That’s the stuff, I hope, that Yussef gives you. The other sort is unfiltered-it comes straight out of the river-and that is for irrigation. It’s the sort of stuff you see in the parks and gardens on watering days. We turn the cocks on and flood the place. And then it all seeps down into the ground and comes back again, into the river. Water-carts? Look, water-carts are a health hazard, about as big a danger to health as that bloody old canal they’re about to fill in. It’s all right when they’re carrying water to damp down the dust in the streets but what some of the buggers do is sell water from the cart for drinking. And that’s not the worst of it!’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No. They even tap our pipes-the ones we use to carry water for irrigation in-and sell that for drinking!’

  ‘Did I hear someone say the magic word?’ said Macrae, coming towards them with a bottle.

  ‘Water?’

  ‘No. Drinking.’

  He poured them both a generous dram. It was the rehearsal for Burns Night that Macrae had invited him to. Scotsmen were there in abundance. So, too, were many whom Owen had hitherto never suspected to be Scottish. Paul, for example. ‘Mother’s side,’ he claimed.

  He was talking to the man from the Khedive’s Office.

  ‘But, just a minute,’ the man was saying, ‘there he is!’

  They looked across the room and saw the pink young man who had been responsible for despoiling the Khedive’s Summer Palace.

  ‘I thought he was in the Glass House?’ said the man from the Khedive’s Office. ‘Being tortured?’

  ‘Oh, he is, he is!’ Paul assured him. ‘He’s just been let out for this special occasion.’

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nbsp; ‘He doesn’t look as if he is being tortured,’ said the Khedive’s man.

  ‘I should hope not!’ said Paul indignantly. ‘We British are trained to keep a stiff upper lip!’

  ‘Even so-’

  ‘Besides,’ said Paul, ‘the whole point is that it should be lingering.’

  ‘Perhaps you are starting too gently?’ suggested the man from the Khedive’s Office.

  ‘You think so?’ Paul inspected the pink man critically. ‘Of course, it would be underneath his kilt,’ he said.

  ‘You mean-?’

  Paul nodded.

  ‘Well, that’s the place to start,’ said the Khedive’s man, impressed. ‘The genitals.’

  ‘He bears it well, don’t you think?’ said Paul.

  ‘Well, he does. And yes, perhaps you’re right. You don’t want them to die too quickly. It’s a fine judgement. Well, I’m sure the British know what they’re doing.’

  Cairns-Grant was there, also kilted. Owen asked him if he carried a surgical knife in his stocking instead of a skean dhu.

  ‘Nae,’ said Cairns-Grant. ‘I keep a wee bottle of Islay there. In case the other runs out.’

  ‘Now, look,’ said Owen, ‘have you been talking to the Nationalists lately?’

  ‘Are you accusing me of being subversive?’

  ‘I’m just wondering where all these ideas on health are coming from.’

  ‘Well. They’re not all coming from me, I can tell you. That lassie, Labiba-’

  ‘On circumcision, I grant you.’

  ‘Well, she’s got something there. In the case of pharaonic circumcision-you know, where all the girl’s genital organs are excised-we estimate that complications occur in over fifty per cent of the cases. And where they occur we estimate that death results in over fifty per cent of cases.’

  ‘Okay, she’s beginning to persuade me. Not that I can do much about it.’

  ‘Ah, well, there you are, you see. That’s what we all say. And it’s true, you see, not just of circumcision but of a lot of other mortality too. And not just mortality, disease. A lot of it could be avoided. That’s why I’ve been talking to the Nationalists.’

  ‘And that applies to water-borne illnesses, too?’

  ‘It does,’ Cairns-Grant looked across the room to where Macrae and Ferguson, bottles in hand, were welcoming new arrivals. ‘Now you see those two laddies; if anyone told them that what they were doing was not for the benefit of the public, they’d laugh at you. And a lot of what they do does benefit the public. Egypt would be a great deal worse than it is if it weren’t for them. They’re grand laddies. But I’m beginning to wonder if they’ve not got it wrong.’

  Macrae came bustling across.

  ‘Are you talking to that auld resurrectionist?’ he said to Owen. ‘I’ll bet he’s touting for business again. “Bring me the bodies, Owen! As long as you keep them coming, I’m all right for a job!”’

  Cairns-Grant threw back his head and laughed.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘there’s no doubt I’m in the right place. Egypt’s a great country-for pathologists.’

  Later in the evening the reeling began. The dancing, that is. Owen reeled too; and as the evening wore on and the supply of whisky continued, he reeled more and more.

  At one point he was sure he could hear Cairns-Grant talking about lizards.

  ‘Aye,’ he was saying to the pink young man, ‘they shed their tails. Drop them, when they’re startled. When I was on the wards in Alexandria they used to play a game. There were always lizards skittering over the walls, you understand. Well, the game was to clap your hands when a lizard was just above the man in the bed opposite you so that it would drop its tail on him.’

  ‘Really?’ said the pink young man.

  ‘What was that?’ said the man from the Khedive’s Office. ‘He’s telling him about the next torture,’ said Paul. ‘We keep these special lizards, and-’

  ‘Really?’ said the man from the Khedive’s Office, looking thoughtful.

  And it was just about then that the orderly came in to fetch Owen.

  McPhee was waiting for him outside.

  ‘Owen, there’s been an attack at the Cut.’

  ‘What on?’

  ‘The dam, I think.’

  Any idea who by?’

  McPhee hesitated.

  ‘The Lizard Man, they say.’

  He and Owen left at once. They found an arabeah in the Place Bab-el-Khalk with its driver sleeping beneath it, woke him and set out through the moonlit empty streets, with the domes and minarets mysterious against the velvety sky. It was about three in the morning and in another hour the city would be waking. Or, at least, some of it would. At the moment, however, there was nothing to impede them as the driver urged his horse along.

  At the Cut men were stirring in the darkness but there were not the great crowds that Owen had feared. Selim came running excitedly towards them.

  ‘Effendi, I have done it! I have killed the Lizard Man!’

  ‘But, Selim-’ began one of the other constables hesitantly. ‘While these poofters were sleeping!’ said Selim, dismissively. ‘A Lizard Man has but a back like everyone else! That is what I said, didn’t I, Abdul?’

  ‘You did, Selim. But-’

  ‘Then it can be broken like anyone else’s back! That is what I said, didn’t I?’

  ‘You did. But, Selim-’

  ‘And that is what I did. One blow, Effendi, that was all. But a mighty one!’

  ‘I’m sure it was!’

  ‘And there he lies, Effendi! Just the other side of the dam. I thought it best to leave him lest in his death agonies he might sweep me to the ground with his tail and fall upon me. That’s what you’ve got to watch,’ said Selim condescendingly, ‘the tail. It is as with crocodiles. The tail is the most dangerous part. I know he is but a lizard, Effendi, but he’s a hell of a big one!’

  ‘How did it happen?’ asked Owen.

  ‘Well, Effendi,’ said Selim, preening himself, ‘I woke in the night and found I wanted to have a pee. So I prised myself loose from Amina’s embraces-she is a dirty slut, I know, Effendi, and but a peanut seller, but when one is far from home one has to find consolation where one can-and went to water the canal bed. And then I thought: “I’ll bet those idle sods are fast asleep!” For, Effendi, as guards they are not to be trusted. So I went to look, Effendi, for am I not Captain of the Guard?’

  ‘You certainly are,’ agreed Owen.

  ‘Well, then. But, Effendi, I did not need to look for even from the bank I could hear Ibrahim’s snores. “I will go over there,” I said to myself, “and give that idle bastard a kick up the backside.” But then, Effendi, I had a better idea. A really good one!’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘I thought, I will come upon him quietly, like a thief in the night. And I will lift his galabeeyah and bite him in the bum. And then he will think the Lizard Man has got him and shit hot bricks! That will teach the bugger to fall asleep when I am Captain of the Guard!’

  ‘So, Effendi, I slid forward on my stomach like a lizard. And I had almost got there when I heard a noise, as of another lizard. And then I thought, it is another lizard! And then I thought, O, my God, it is the Lizard Man himself! Well, then, Effendi, I lay as one dead!

  ‘And then I thought, Effendi, “He can have that stupid bastard, Ibrahim, for breakfast if he wants,” and I began to slide away again.

  ‘But then, Effendi, I stopped. Am I not Captain of the Guard, I said to myself? Am I the man to desert my post? And that stupid bastard, Ibrahim, asleep though he be? So, Effendi, I slid forward again and unshipped my truncheon.

  ‘And there he was, Effendi, bold as brass, digging at the dam! Oh, ho, my beauty, I said to myself, we’ll see about that! And I gave myself a really big swing and then landed him one right across the back. And he gave a great jump and a mighty groan and then lay still. But, Effendi, afterwards I did not go close for I thought he might twitch. They do, you know. Crocodiles, that is. So-�
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  They came round the side of the dam.

  ‘Bring a lamp!’ said Owen.

  ‘Selim-’ said the hesitant constable again.

  ‘What is it, Abdul? Why don’t you go back to sleep? Now that all the real work has been done by others.’

  ‘Selim, he is still alive!’

  Owen lifted the lamp. By its light he could see a huddled figure lying against the face of the dam.

  ‘Oh, is he? Stand aside, Effendi. Abdul, Ibrahim, get ready to rain blows upon him should he-’

  ‘I don’t think that will be necessary,’ said Owen.

  He could see now that the huddled form was that of a man. He went up to him and turned the body over with his foot. ‘Why!’ he said. ‘It’s-’

  ‘Do you know him?’ said McPhee.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Owen. ‘It’s one of the Muslim gravediggers.’

  ‘He’s broken my back!’ groaned the gravedigger.

  ‘That will teach you not to be the Lizard Man!’ said Selim. ‘Lizard Man?’ said the gravedigger.

  ‘You are a fortunate man,’ said Owen. ‘It could have been worse.’

  ‘Lizard Man?’ said the gravedigger, attempting to sit up. ‘I don’t want anything to do with the Lizard Man!’

  ‘Leave him lying there!’ said Owen. ‘Let the Lizard Man take his own.’

  ‘Here, look-’ began the gravedigger.

  ‘What were you doing there?’ said Owen.

  ‘Nothing!’

  ‘Right, leave him!’

  Owen began to walk away.

  ‘Hey, wait!’

  Owen turned.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I was thinning out the dam,’ said the gravedigger sulkily. ‘In case those Jews get the job.’

  ‘You were going to make the Cut yourself?’

  ‘No, no. It’d take more than me to do that. No, I was just thinning it out in one place. So that it would fall on the Jews when they started.’

  ‘That is a bad thing,’ said Owen severely. ‘Not only that, it is a stupid thing. What if you gain the contract?’

  ‘We would know what to do.’

  ‘Are the others with you on this?’

  The gravedigger closed his mouth firmly.