Read Online The Mamur Zapt and the Return of the Carpet by Michael Pearce - Free Book Online Page A

now,” he said sarcastically. “And just who the hell are you?”
    “I’m
the Mamur Zapt,” said Owen. “And I’ve got authorization to interrogate, and I’d
like to bloody get on with it.”
    The
major looked at him hard. Then he went across to his desk and sat down.
    “You’re the
Mamur Zapt, are you?” He spoke with distaste. “That’s right,” said Owen.
“OK?”
    “You
can question him,” said the major, with a stress on the “you.” “He can’t.”
    “I
don’t want him to question. I want him to listen.”
    “He
can’t.”
    “I
want facilities made available for him to listen in.”
    The
major looked at the papers on his desk.
    “It
doesn’t say anything about that here,” he said.
    “It
doesn’t have to.”
    “For
something like this,” said the major, “I’d need authorization.” “You don’t
usually.”
    “I
do this time,” said the major. He thought for a moment and then smiled. “Yes,”
he said, “that’s right. For something like this I’d need special authorization. In writing.”
    “That would
be too late. The man’s coming out on Thursday.” “Pity!”
    Owen
considered going over the major’s head, directly to the commander-in-chief. He
knew one of the Sirdar’s aides-de-camp.
    The
major must have seen him look at the telephone, for he said: “I’d need it in
writing. From the Sirdar. Personally.”
    It
would take too long. Even if he got through to John, John would need time to
clear it.
    The
major was watching him. “OK?” he said.
    “Not
OK,” said Owen.
    “Dear, dear!”
    “There’s
a certain amount of rush on.”
    “Difficult.”
    “Could
be,” said Owen. “For you.”
    “Why me?” The major raised
eyebrows.
    “If things go wrong.”
    “Why
should they?”
    Owen
carried on as if he hadn’t heard.
    “Especially if it came out why they went
wrong.”
    “I’ll
risk that.”
    All
the same the major must have felt a little uneasy, for he said: “You won’t get
anything out of him. Not if he’s coming out on Thursday.”
    “I’ll
risk that,” said Owen. “It’s just that I’d like el Zaki to listen in.”
    “Didn’t
you hear?” asked the major. “In writing. From the Sirdar. Personally.”
    Owen
sighed.
    “Anything
else I can do for you?” asked the major.
    “No,”
said Owen. “Not yet.”
    He
turned to go, then stopped.
    “Oh,
just one thing—”
    “Yes?”
    “Major … ?”
    “Brooker,”
said the major. “Major Brooker.”
    “Thank
you,” said Owen. “That was it.”
    “It
wasn’t my fault, sir,” the ex-sergeant said. “I trusted those bloody Gyppies. That bloody ’Assan. He’d got it all figured out. He had his
mates outside. ’Course, I was wrong to trust him. That was my mistake.”
    Ingenuous
blue eyes met Owen’s. Owen, who did not believe a word of it, decided to play
along.
    “Tell
me about this Hassan,” he said.
    “Bloody orderly, sir. Used
to run messages. ’Ere, there and everywhere. Kept his eyes open. Didn’t miss much.”
    “You
think he tipped somebody off?”
    “Or let them in, sir. There was a skylight
found open. You know, I’d been looking at that bloody skylight a couple of days
before. There was only a simple catch on it and I thought to myself: Anyone
could open that. But I didn’t bother much because it was so small. I thought:
Nobody can get in there. But do you know what I think, sir? The way it was
done?”
    He leaned forward confidentially.
    “They slipped in one of those walads. A boy. Probably stripped him naked and greased him all over. Seen it done. At Ismailia. Bloody gang of kids. Went all through the
mess. Watches, cash, even your bloody handkerchief. The
little bastards. But they got too cocky and the guards caught one of
them. Brought the little bugger to me. I caught hold
of him and was going to teach him a thing or two but he slipped through my
hands. That’s how I knew he was greased. Didn’t do him much
good. The guard caught him with the rifle