wouldn’t you, Captain Owen?” said Mohammed Bishari.
Owen guessed this was a reference to his own relationship with Zeinab.
“I just take a look at the facts of the case,” hè said, “and when I see terrorism I don’t try to conceal it.”
There was an awkward little silence. Then Mahmoud said, as if
à propos de
nothing: “I think I have heard of the case.”
Owen knew this was a warning. The Parquet’s policy in the matter would almost certainly have been discussed at high level within the Department, in which case it was quite possible that Mahmoud had been party to the discussion. He was telling Owen to keep off.
Owen knew he had to take the hint. He looked at Mohammed Bishari and smiled.
“I think in any event that Mr. Bishari and I had reached a compromise,” he said. “The strain was obviously telling on Fairclough and Mr. Bishari felt obliged to adjourn his questioning until he was in a better state of health. While Mr. Bishari’s inquiries are interrupted I shall naturally proceed with my own.”
“That seems a very reasonable compromise,” said Mahmoud.
Mohammed Bishari appeared slightly relieved.
“I was hoping that Mr. Bishari might be able to assist me by letting me have a look at his notes.”
“You have received copies of my reports,” said Mohammed Bishari.
“Ah yes.”
Mahmoud grinned. “I am sure we can do better than that,” he said, “in the circumstances.”
“You can have them,” said Bishari, “though I don’t know that you’ll find them very helpful. Frankly, we weren’t getting anywhere.”
“It was help with the identification that I was hoping for.”
Mohammed Bishari shook his head.
“No such luck,” he said. “Truly.”
Mahmoud and Bishari left together, but a few moments later as Owen was walking along the road Mahmoud caught up with him.
“Satisfied?” he asked.
“Reasonably. Thanks anyway. You’ve been a great help.” Owen hesitated. “I’m still puzzled, though. Why is the Parquet taking this line? What’s special about this case?”
After a moment Mahmoud said: “It’s not the case that is special. It’s the circumstances.”
“I can see the political situation is something special. But why should that affect the case? The Parquet doesn’t usually take a purely Nationalist line. Not overtly, that is. Why now?”
“Can’t think,” said Mahmoud. He looked at Owen deadpan. “Perhaps our Minister has aspirations?”
“That
would
make a difference,” said Paul. “He wouldn’t want to be identified with the British. Not just now.”
“Pity about the case.”
“It’s only hanging fire. They’ll pick it up again once the Khedive’s come to a decision.”
“Any sign of that?”
“None.”
“Does he stand a chance?”
“He’d be good. He’s bright.”
“Doesn’t that rule him out?”
“Now, now,” said Paul. “Though it’s certainly true the Khedive’s scared stiff of him. Not just because he’s bright but because the Khedive thinks he’s too radical. The Khedive wants Nationalism without the pain. But Sa’ad is actually in quite a strong position. He’s got a strong following in the Assembly and he’s popular in the country as well.”
“And just at the moment he doesn’t want to risk that popularity?”
“A bit more than that. He wants to capture Nationalist support. Then he can go to the Khedive and say, look, I’ve got the Nationalists in my pocket. Appoint me and you don’t have to worry about them. It’s a strong card.”
“A winning one?”
“The Khedive’s resisting. He’s frightened of Sa’ad and hopes that if he hangs on a bit, Sa’ad’s support will crumble. Sa’ad on the other hand reckons that if he’s seen to be riding the wave then he’ll come in with it.”
“So we just have to sit and wait?”
“That’s it.”
“Oh, good,” said Owen. “That’s just what I need.”
----
Chapter Six
« ^ »
Outside in the yard Owen could hear scuffling.
“God
Owen guessed this was a reference to his own relationship with Zeinab.
“I just take a look at the facts of the case,” hè said, “and when I see terrorism I don’t try to conceal it.”
There was an awkward little silence. Then Mahmoud said, as if
à propos de
nothing: “I think I have heard of the case.”
Owen knew this was a warning. The Parquet’s policy in the matter would almost certainly have been discussed at high level within the Department, in which case it was quite possible that Mahmoud had been party to the discussion. He was telling Owen to keep off.
Owen knew he had to take the hint. He looked at Mohammed Bishari and smiled.
“I think in any event that Mr. Bishari and I had reached a compromise,” he said. “The strain was obviously telling on Fairclough and Mr. Bishari felt obliged to adjourn his questioning until he was in a better state of health. While Mr. Bishari’s inquiries are interrupted I shall naturally proceed with my own.”
“That seems a very reasonable compromise,” said Mahmoud.
Mohammed Bishari appeared slightly relieved.
“I was hoping that Mr. Bishari might be able to assist me by letting me have a look at his notes.”
“You have received copies of my reports,” said Mohammed Bishari.
“Ah yes.”
Mahmoud grinned. “I am sure we can do better than that,” he said, “in the circumstances.”
“You can have them,” said Bishari, “though I don’t know that you’ll find them very helpful. Frankly, we weren’t getting anywhere.”
“It was help with the identification that I was hoping for.”
Mohammed Bishari shook his head.
“No such luck,” he said. “Truly.”
Mahmoud and Bishari left together, but a few moments later as Owen was walking along the road Mahmoud caught up with him.
“Satisfied?” he asked.
“Reasonably. Thanks anyway. You’ve been a great help.” Owen hesitated. “I’m still puzzled, though. Why is the Parquet taking this line? What’s special about this case?”
After a moment Mahmoud said: “It’s not the case that is special. It’s the circumstances.”
“I can see the political situation is something special. But why should that affect the case? The Parquet doesn’t usually take a purely Nationalist line. Not overtly, that is. Why now?”
“Can’t think,” said Mahmoud. He looked at Owen deadpan. “Perhaps our Minister has aspirations?”
“That
would
make a difference,” said Paul. “He wouldn’t want to be identified with the British. Not just now.”
“Pity about the case.”
“It’s only hanging fire. They’ll pick it up again once the Khedive’s come to a decision.”
“Any sign of that?”
“None.”
“Does he stand a chance?”
“He’d be good. He’s bright.”
“Doesn’t that rule him out?”
“Now, now,” said Paul. “Though it’s certainly true the Khedive’s scared stiff of him. Not just because he’s bright but because the Khedive thinks he’s too radical. The Khedive wants Nationalism without the pain. But Sa’ad is actually in quite a strong position. He’s got a strong following in the Assembly and he’s popular in the country as well.”
“And just at the moment he doesn’t want to risk that popularity?”
“A bit more than that. He wants to capture Nationalist support. Then he can go to the Khedive and say, look, I’ve got the Nationalists in my pocket. Appoint me and you don’t have to worry about them. It’s a strong card.”
“A winning one?”
“The Khedive’s resisting. He’s frightened of Sa’ad and hopes that if he hangs on a bit, Sa’ad’s support will crumble. Sa’ad on the other hand reckons that if he’s seen to be riding the wave then he’ll come in with it.”
“So we just have to sit and wait?”
“That’s it.”
“Oh, good,” said Owen. “That’s just what I need.”
----
Chapter Six
« ^ »
Outside in the yard Owen could hear scuffling.
“God
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