Death of an Effendi Read online

  ‘That, we would like to,’ said Mahmoud, ‘if time permits. However, our main business is that we wish to talk to you.’

  ‘You are from the Ministry?’

  ‘I am from the Parquet.’

  ‘The Parquet?’ said the headmaster puzzled.

  ‘People have told us that you knew Tvardovsky.’

  ‘Ah, Tvardovsky.’

  The man’s face clouded over.

  ‘Poor Tvardovsky,’ he said quietly. ‘Yes, I knew him.’

  He led them along a corridor, past classrooms with picture cards and maps on the walls, and into his office, a little, bare room, scattered, however, with shards of pottery, and with pots in various stages of reconstruction.

  ‘Tvardovsky was interested in this,’ he said, seeing their glance. ‘That is what brought us together.’

  ‘You knew him well?’

  ‘He came to see me every time he was over here. We used to go over to Lahoun and to Hawara. I was his guide. I knew the places well,’ he explained, ‘because I was always going over there. It is my hobby. As you see,’ he said, with a gesture of his hand.

  ‘Could you take us there?’

  ‘It would need donkeys. And at this time in the afternoon—’

  ‘There is no problem,’ said a voice from the door. ‘I will supply.’

  ‘Ibrahim—’

  But the boy had already vanished.

  The headmaster sighed.

  ‘He is a good boy. But—’

  ‘He likes grapes.’

  The Sheikh laughed.

  ‘While we are waiting,’ he said, ‘let me show you the school. It is one of the new government ones and we are very proud of it.’

  He took them through some of the rooms. To Mahmoud, used to Egyptian classrooms, they seemed astonishingly well-equipped.

  ‘It was Tvardovsky. He gave us the money. He always used to visit the school when he came. He said that this was where New Egypt started.’

  ‘He did?’ said Mahmoud.

  ‘Yes. He used to say that this was the seed-corn; and that if it was to grow, three things were necessary, as with any enterprise: the right man, resources, and the vision. He said’—the headmaster gestured in self-deprecation—‘that I was the right man and that he would supply the resources. As for the vision—’

  ***

  The donkeys plodded slowly across the desert, urged by Ibrahim and a host of small boys. On this side of the town green had given way to brown.

  ‘It wasn’t always like this,’ said the headmaster. ‘In the days when Lake Karoun was Lake Moeris, the water stretched right up to Hawara. It was an artificial lake, of course. The regulator was at Lahoun. You can still see the remains of the dykes and the sluices.’

  He took them there, since that, he said, was where Tvardovsky liked to go.

  ‘He used to say: if man could do this four thousand six hundred years ago, why cannot he do it now? I would say, the land has changed since that time. No, no, he would say, it is not the land that has changed, but man. Man changes the land. And then he would tramp all over the place and he would show me how it could be done.’

  The headmaster smiled.

  ‘I do not know if he was right,’ he confessed. ‘It seemed far-fetched to me. But then,’ he said sadly, ‘Tvardovsky was the one with the vision.’

  Across the desert they could see the Lahoun Brick Pyramid and then, as they swung round to go back to Medinet, the Great Pyramid at Hawara.

  ‘Tvardovsky was always here,’ said the headmaster, ‘especially when the Germans were excavating the mummy cemetery. He was as excited as a child. “What things they are finding,” he used to say, “what things!”’

  ‘Did Tvardovsky collect himself?’ asked Owen.

  ‘No, I don’t think so. He lived, so he told me, like a Bedouin on the march, always on the move, so he had no place to put them. He just liked seeing them. I think it was part of his dream, really. He looked around and he saw the place as it had been and as it might be. Under the Ptolemies it was one of the most important centres in Egypt. Even before that, under the Pharaohs—’

  He pointed across the desert.

  ‘Over there is the Labyrinth. At least, that’s what they call it. In fact, latest opinion is that it’s nothing of the kind but the place where a national assembly used to meet. Like,’ he said to Owen, ‘your House of Commons. It was vast—twelve separate courtyards, over three thousand rooms—and some say it was too big to be just an assembly hall and that it was probably government offices. Tvardovsky liked that. He said it was far more probable that it was given over to bureaucracy than to democracy.’

  The headmaster smiled, remembering.

  ‘He used to say, though, that the name “Labyrinth” might well still be right—that if these were government offices then there probably was a monster in them somewhere.’

  Just before sunset they reached the edge of Medinet. The headmaster, however, did not lead them straight back into the town but off to one side, to a place where the ground was broken by lots of little humps and where the sand crackled under the donkeys’ feet. Looking down, Owen saw that the ground was littered with hundreds and hundreds of broken pot shards.

  ‘Arsinoe,’ said the headmaster, ‘the town the Greeks called Crocodilopolis. The water once came right up to here. The Ministers probably had their houses along the edge of the lake. Tvardovsky used to say this must have been where they played their power games; so that the losers could be disposed of conveniently to the crocodiles. Just like, he said, Cairo.’

  Chapter Four

  ‘The body?’ said the man at the Consulate blankly when they went to see him next day.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mahmoud patiently. ‘I understand it was handed over to you.’

  The man hunted through the papers.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘The least we could do.’

  ‘So what happened to it?’

  ‘It was cremated. There was no point in repatriating it. It appears that he had no family in Russia. And, besides, the deterioration—’

  ‘Is there a doctor’s certificate?’

  The man searched through the papers.

  ‘There does not appear to be.’

  ‘There should be. It is a requirement of the law that a body cannot be disposed of, whether by burial or cremation, without a doctor’s certificate having been procured first.’

  ‘Really? Well, I’m sure we did all we should. Perhaps back in the Fayoum—’

  ‘But you know that cannot have been so. The body was handed over to you immediately—’

  ‘Was it? Then it should not have been. Not without a doctor’s certificate. There was obviously a slip-up. These provincial authorities—’

  Mahmoud fought to keep hold of his temper.

  ‘Were there any personal effects?’

  ‘I believe so.’

  ‘What happened to them? Cremated, too?’

  The man smiled wintrily.

  ‘What will happen to them has still to be resolved.’

  ‘Was there a will?’

  ‘Will? I don’t think so. Perhaps there was. It will be something his lawyers might know.’

  ‘Who are his lawyers?’

  ‘Demetriades and Atiyah. At least, they’re the ones who seem to have acted for him most. They have offices in Alexandria.’

  ‘Have they been notified?’

  ‘Of course. You can be sure,’ said the man from the Consulate, smiling, ‘that we have done everything that was necessary.’

  ***

  ‘A very sad case,’ said the lawyer to Owen the next day. ‘Very sad indeed.’

  ‘Sad for Egypt,’ supplemented his partner, Atiyah. ‘Tvardovsky was a man of imagination.’

  ‘He could have done much for Egypt,’ concurred Demetriades.r />
  ‘Other countries, too,’ said Atiyah. ‘He had interests throughout the Levant.’

  ‘If only his projects had come off.’

  ‘Well, some did, didn’t they?’ said Atiyah.

  ‘They did. And so they might have done in Egypt,’ said Demetriades. ‘It was a great pity, as I said.’

  ‘You have a picture of his interests?’

  ‘Some of them. He used different lawyers for different fields.’

  ‘He was interested in so many things,’ said Demetriades.

  ‘He was a man of great imagination,’ said Atiyah admiringly.

  ‘When will you have a complete picture of your side?’ asked Owen.

  ‘Oh, months,’ said Demetriades.

  ‘If not longer,’ said Atiyah.

  ‘His affairs are very complex.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ said Atiyah. ‘He was technically very brilliant.’

  ‘Unfortunately, that makes it very difficult to unravel them.’

  ‘Did he leave a will?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Could I see it?’

  ‘Certainly. It is with Probate. We could have a copy made for you if you wished.’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘I will send a man down at once. The copy will be ready for you this afternoon.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Did he leave anything else?’ said Owen. ‘Were there any effects?’

  ‘A few. He travelled very lightly.’

  ‘What did they consist of?’

  ‘What was left in his appartement.’ Demetriades glanced at Atiyah. Atiyah nodded. ‘You may wish to see his appartement.’

  ***

  The appartement was on the top floor of a residential block. Its vast bay window faced out over the sea. There were two bedrooms as well as the living room, and, of course, a kitchen and bathroom.

  For a moment Owen could not take it in. The appartement had been very thoroughly searched. ‘Searched’ was, perhaps, not the word. ‘Devastated’ would have been better. Drawers had been emptied out on to the floor, the doors of a cupboard had been forced open and the fine china-ware inside pulled impatiently out on to the carpet. Cushions had been ripped open. Even the divan had been slit and searched.

  They walked through into the bedrooms. It was the same story there. The mattresses had been tipped off the beds. The doors of the single wardrobe were hanging open, Tvardovsky’s suits and ties spilling out on to the carpet. The drawers of his dressing table were sagging down, brushes, cufflink boxes, bow ties thrown hurriedly out, littering the floor beneath.

  The kitchen had been treated in the same way. Pots and pans were scattered about the floor. Cutlery was lying everywhere. Even the large earthenware pot which held his bread had been tipped over.

  They went back into the living room. Owen saw now that the walls had been hung with fine carpets in the Arab style, which had all been torn down and were lying at the foot of the walls. Whoever had searched had looked as well for a safe.

  Tvardovsky had had one or two pictures which had suffered the same fate. They were lying on the floor, their glass shattered. One of them had slipped down behind the divan. He went across and picked it up. It was a mummy portrait such as he had seen in the old lady’s house in the Fayoum. There was no glass here; just the face itself, painted on wood.

  Mahmoud stood in the middle of the carpet looking round.

  ‘Who did this?’ he said.

  Demetriades shrugged.

  ‘You should see his office,’ he said.

  ***

  The office was down by the docks in one of the roads running back from the sea. At the lower end, nearer the wharves, there were ships’ chandlers, rope-sellers, oil-sellers and shops selling instruments whose purpose Owen did not recognize but which were something presumably to do with the sea. Higher up, the road broadened out and there were trees. The shops gave way to offices: moneylenders, pawnbrokers, the occasional lawyer and doctor, ships’ agents. At the top end was an office marked simply ‘Tvardovsky’. Its door was heavily padlocked.

  Demetriades glanced at Atiyah. Atiyah nodded.

  ‘There is another door,’ said Demetriades. ‘The key is with Tvardovsky’s man.’

  He took them through the narrow side streets until they came to some steps leading down to a basement. The door at the bottom was open. Demetriades went to it and called:

  ‘You, Daniel! Ya, Daniel!’

  An old woman came slowly to the door.

  ‘Who is it?’ she said.

  ‘It is Demetriades; with some friends.’

  ‘Demetriades can come in. Who are the friends?’

  ‘The Parquet.’

  ‘The Parquet will come in,’ said the old woman, ‘whether one wishes it or not.’

  The door gave on to a large, dark, cool room in which a man was lying on a divan. He started to get up.

  ‘Be still, Daniel,’ said Demetriades. ‘We come only for the key.’

  ‘With the key,’ said Daniel, ‘comes the man who guards it.’

  He came with them, painfully slowly, to the office.

  ‘You worked for Tvardovsky, friend?’ said Mahmoud courteously.

  ‘I did. Here, as in Istanbul.’

  ‘That was before he came here?’

  ‘I have worked with him ever since he came out here. When first he set up office he sent for me and said: “I want you to work with me.” I said: “I do not like Russians.” “Why is that?” he said. “Because I am a Russian,” I said, “and because of what they did to me.” “I need you,” he said. Well, at that time I needed him, for there was no work for Jews in Istanbul. So I began to work in his office, and have done his business ever since.’

  ‘What was his business?’

  ‘He lent money to people who wished to build or expand their affairs. Only to people like that. He lent only for business. He liked to see businesses grow, he said. For in that way prosperity was spread. And as with a man, so with a country. He liked to see countries grow. He wished,’ said the old man, ‘to see Egypt grow.’

  ‘And so he went to the Fayoum?’

  ‘The Fayoum was close to his heart. He believed he could restore it to what it had been, when Egypt’s crops were so great that their abundance spilled over even to Rome. He talked to everyone about it but no one would listen. That was why he went to the lake that day. “This thing is too big for me alone,” he said. “There must be others.” He hoped to persuade them. He went to the Khedive’s Minister and said: “Let me come; for I know what can be done.” But the Minister said: “This is for Russians only.” “But I am a Russian!” said Tvardovsky. “Ask the Russians, then,” said the Minister.

  ‘So Tvardovsky went to the Russian Consul and said: “I want to be put on your list.” But at first they would not, for they did not like him. However, he pressed and pressed and in the end they said: “Well, why not?” That day when he came back to the office, he was like a child, beside himself with joy. It was only after that—’

  ‘That what?’

  ‘He changed. It happened suddenly. One day he came into the office and sat at his desk and I could see that he was disturbed. “What is the matter?” I said. “Nothing is the matter,” he said. But from that day he was somehow different. I could tell that he was worried, and I said: “Do not go, then.” But he said: “I must go. For this is my chance.” I thought that it would pass, that, perhaps, this being a big thing for him, he was merely nervous. But as the day came closer—’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I could see that he was not nervous but frightened.’

  ***

  The door was up a dark alleyway at the rear of the house which the rubbish men used to collect the litter. Not too successfully; the ground was strewn with refuse of all kinds, some vegetable, some animal. Demetria
des glanced at them apologetically.

  ‘It is used by all the inhabitants of the block,’ he said. ‘And by some who are not inhabitants.’

  Including, it would seem, the dogs of the neighbourhood.

  They wiped their feet as they went in. The door led into a corridor. Three rooms opened off it, one used as a storeroom, the other two as offices. All three had been taken apart. Filing cabinets were sagging open, their contents spilled out all over the floor. Desk drawers had simply been pulled out and tipped on to the desk tops. Box files standing on shelves had been swept off and broken open. An old padded chair had had its seat ripped. They had even felt inside.

  In the storeroom old files had been pulled out and then thrown on the floor. Some package chests in one corner had been broken open. A tin box had had its lock forced off.

  ‘Who did this?’ said Mahmoud.

  ‘The police,’ said the old man.

  ‘Like this?’ said Owen. He couldn’t believe it.

  ‘Even if it was the police,’ said Mahmoud, ‘they must have been under someone.’ His lips went thin. ‘It could not have been the Parquet.’

  ‘Perhaps it was the Secret Police?’ suggested the old man.

  ‘Nonsense!’ said Owen. The only Secret Police in Egypt were his.

  The old man shrugged.

  ‘When was this done?’ asked Mahmoud.

  ‘We found it like this,’ said Demetriades. ‘When we came here. After the Consulate had notified us.’

  ‘It was the same day,’ said the old man. ‘When I came in the morning it was like this. You came here in the afternoon.’

  ‘Did you notify the police?’ Mahmoud asked him.

  The old man smiled.

  ‘What’s the use?’ he said.

  ‘Was anything taken?’ asked Owen.

  ‘It is hard to tell,’ said the old man, ‘but I do not think so.’

  ‘Papers?’

  ‘I would have to go through them. But what I can tell you is that if they were looking for anything important, they would not have found it. Tvardovsky kept everything in his head.’

  ‘Surely not everything?’

  ‘The most important things: his plans.’