The Girl in the Nile by Michael Pearce Page A

of a young girl. She was wearing pink shintiyan.”
    “Not a peasant woman, then. But then again, if she had been, you would not have been coming to see me. How did she come to be in the water?”
    “We do not know. She was on a boat.”
    “Ah yes,” said El-Gharbi. “Four nights ago? That would have been the Prince’s dahabeeyah. Well, of course, that does put the price up.”
    “You have information, then, that might interest us?”
    “I might. It is not straightforward, though.”
    “Would you be prepared to sell?”
    “I might. The circumstances are, however, complex. And the price would have to be right. The market is, shall I say, a live one.”
    “What do you think would be the going price in such a market?”
    “I would say that five thousand pounds, Egyptian, would attract interest.”
    “Alas,” said Owen, “I feel that the largeness of spirit for which you are famous has expressed itself in the figure you give us.”
    “On the contrary. The affection I feel for you personally has led me, if anything, to understate it. The market is, as I have said, a live one.”
    As the negotiations proceeded, Owen became more and more convinced that this was so. El-Gharbi seemed to feel under no pressure at all to reduce his asking figure, and Owen felt that this was not just a matter of negotiating tactics. He seemed to be sure he would make his price.
    The price was, however, out of Owen’s reach. He had at his discretion a sum—a considerable sum, in the view of the Accounts Department—which could be used for the payment of informers. A sum like this, though, would eat such a hole in it as to jeopardize his ordinary work.
    El-Gharbi was watching his face.
    “Of course,” he said, “if you were able to offer me something else—”
    “Something else?” said Owen, puzzled. “What could that be?”
    “Information. Like you, I am always in the market for information. And I, too, would pay a good price.”
    “What sort of information?”
    “When wealth travels by river. Which boat. When it departs. Where it is going.”
    Owen shook his head.
    “Alas,” he said, “I do not sell that kind of information.”
    “Alas,” El-Gharbi commiserated, “then it may be difficult for you to find the price my information commands in the market.
    “There is always,” said El-Gharbi after a while, “another possibility open to you. You yourself may not be able to raise the money. But perhaps you have friends who could—if it was important to them.”
    Owen’s mind had begun to work on the same lines.
    “My friends are, I am afraid, like myself, poor. But perhaps I should talk to them.”
    “Why not?” said El-Gharbi, smiling pleasantly. “I am sure your friends will be eager to help—once you explain to them what the money is for. Why not consult them? Only do not leave it too long. The market is, as I say, live. As opposed, of course, to the girl.”
     
    “Five thousand pounds!” said the Prince, aghast. “That seems a lot of money.”
    “Yes. That’s what I thought, too.”
    “It must be just a bargaining price. An opening offer. Pouf, man, you’ve let yourself be scared by a figure plucked out of the clouds. Go back and offer him five hundred.”
    “I have. And he wasn’t interested.”
    “He
pretended
not to be interested, I daresay. But five hundred—well, that’s a lot of money, too. For these people.”
    “He just laughed.”
    “A negotiating tactic. I am afraid you’re not used to the ways of the bazaar, Captain Owen. You’ve let yourself be out-negotiated.”
    “I got the impression that the price was not negotiable.”
    “Oh, come! Any price is negotiable. It’s just that you don’t know how we do it here, Captain Owen. An Englishman—”
    “Mr. el Zaki was with me.”
    The Prince looked at Mahmoud. “Was he? Well, he certainly ought to know better. Surely—”
    “Captain Owen is as used to the ways of the bazaar as I am, Your Highness. He does, after all, negotiate