Read Online The Last Cut by Michael Pearce - Free Book Online Page B

him.
    ‘Or the British, perhaps? Come, man, you may say it.’ Owen smiled. ‘There are plenty who are.’
    Babikr shook his head.
    ‘You are not—?’ Owen wondered how to put it. With a more educated man he might have said ‘a Nationalist’. Or if uneducated, in Cairo he might have asked whether he was a member of one of the ‘clubs’. Or even of one of the gangs. But this man was a simple fellah, up, for a while, from the country.
    ‘You are not, perhaps, a follower of Mustapha Kamil?’
    Mustapha Kamil had been for a time the charismatic leader of the Nationalist movement. He was now dead but many national-istically-minded Egyptians still identified with him. At least they would have heard of him. Babikr, however, clearly had not.
    ‘But why did you do it, Babikr? Surely you can say?’
    Babikr, however, could, or would, not. In the end, Owen shrugged and let it rest. The man had confessed. That was all that was needed.
    It would be helpful, though, to have some corroborative evidence. He asked the man about breaking into the stores. On this he was quite prepared to talk. Yes, he had come in one night and cut the hole. He described it so circumstantially as to put it beyond doubt that he had done it. Vague, as all fellahin, about dates, he was not able to specify the day. It had not been the same day as he had blown up the regulator. It would have been too much for one day.
    He had hidden the dynamite for a night or two in a disused gadwal before taking it to the regulator and using it.
    And his tool-kit?
    Here Babikr needed no encouragement to talk. It had been stolen.
    Stolen?
    Yes, that very night. In the Gardens. While he was taking the dynamite to its hiding-place. It had been too much to carry both it and the tool-kit so he had hidden the tool-kit temporarily, intending to come back for it. When he had done so, he had been unable to find it. He had come back again the following morning, thinking he had just made a mistake about the place, and had looked for it thoroughly. In the end he had been forced to realize that somebody had taken it.
    ‘While I was there, Effendi, in the Gardens. In the Gardens! I tell you, Effendi, there are thieves everywhere!’
    There were, indeed, and Owen had a pretty good idea of one of them. He sent for the ghaffir.
    The ghaffir denied it vehemently.
    ‘Would I do a thing like that, Effendi?’
    ‘Almost certainly.’
    The ghaffir still denied it. Owen had his house searched. A small saw was found which Babikr identified as his. He asked after the rest of the tools. After some prevarication the ghaffir admitted he had sold them. Owen sent men to recover them.
    The ghaffir changed tack.
    He had done it, he said, only to punish the intruder.
    ‘You can leave punishment to me,’ said Owen, and detailed the consequences that would follow if he had any more trouble from the ghaffir.
    ‘So,’ said Owen, you were watching all the time?’
    Not all the time, said the ghaffir. The workman had already started when he got there. As he was coming through the trees, quietly, he had heard suspicious noises.
    ‘Then, Effendi, I crept. I feared there might be many, and I, but one. So I went forward with circumspection. And, lo, there was a man crouched at the back of the hut.’
    ‘Crouched? Not lying down? I thought he had made a burrow?’
    ‘No, no, that was the Lizard Man. He came later.’
    ‘Did you see him?’
    ‘No, no, Effendi. That would have been very unwise.’
    ‘But you did see a man crouching?’
    ‘Yes, Effendi. And I lay there and watched him. And after a while he stopped working and crawled through into the store to see that all was well for the Lizard Man. Then he came out and gathered his tools and took them and hid them in a gadwal. And then he went off into the trees.’
    ‘Carrying something?’
    ‘I could not see, Effendi. The night was dark. And I thought, I shall play a trick on him. To punish him. Yes, that’s right. To punish him. So I stole