The Mamur Zapt and the Donkey-Vous. Michael Pearce

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ but not in one of these shops. Get Andalaft to advise you.’

      ‘I like them because they’re such a beautiful Cambridge blue. Daddy went to Cambridge. Did you, Captain Owen?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Gerald didn’t, either. He’s rather sore about it.’

      ‘Lucy, dear, we must not detain Captain Owen. He has business, I am sure.’

      ‘Business among the bazaars. What is your business, Captain Owen? It’s obviously something to do with the police, but Daddy says you’re not a proper policeman. Gerald says you’re not a proper soldier either. So what are you, Captain Owen?’

      ‘Obviously not proper.’

      ‘He is the Mamur Zapt,’ said their dragoman, who had just followed them out of the shop.

      ‘So I gathered,’ said Lucy. ‘But what exactly, or who exactly, is the Mamur Zapt?’

      Owen hesitated.

      ‘I see,’ she said. ‘You don’t want to tell me.’

      ‘It’s not that,’ he said. ‘It’s just that it would take some time.’

      ‘Which just now you haven’t got.’

      ‘I’m afraid not.’

      ‘Then you must tell me some other time,’ she said. ‘This evening, perhaps?’

      Mrs Colthorpe Hartley turned determinedly away and Lucy was obliged to follow her. She gave Owen a parting wave over the dragoman’s shoulder.

      ‘Tonight at six,’ she called.

      The shop was dark and cool and full of subtle smells from the lacquered boxes, the sandalwood carvings, heavy embroideries and spangled Assiut shawls which lined its walls. As Owen’s eyes became used to the light they picked out more objects: flat, heart-shaped gold and silver boxes set with large turquoises and used to hold verses from the Koran, old Persian arm amulets, Persian boxes with portraits of the famous beauties of Ispahan and Shiraz, old illuminated Korans. The precious stones and jewellery were kept in an inner room, better lighted and down a step. A gentle-faced Copt looked up as Owen entered.

       ‘Où est le propiétaire?’

       ‘Elle est en dedans.’

      Elle? A silver-haired woman came out of an inner recess.

      ‘Madame Tsakatellis?’

       ‘Oui.’

      ‘Are you the owner?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘I was expecting to speak to your husband.’

      ‘He is dead.’

      ‘Dead? I am sorry.’

      ‘It was a long time ago.’

      Light began to dawn.

      ‘Of course! You are the elder Mrs Tsakatellis. I am so sorry. I think the person I am trying to see is your son.’

      ‘My son is dead too.’

      ‘The Monsieur Tsakatellis who owned the shop?’

      ‘Both have owned the shop.’

      ‘The second one stopped owning the shop only a short time ago?’

      ‘That is correct.’

      ‘I am the Mamur Zapt. I have come about your son.’

      ‘It is a little late.’

      Owen acknowledged this with a slight inclination of his head.

      ‘I am sorry. I did not know. Did not the police come?’

      ‘They came,’ said the woman dismissively, ‘and did nothing.’

      ‘I am sorry.’

      ‘Now you have come,’ said the woman. ‘What is it you wish to know?’

      ‘I want to know what happened.’

      ‘Why do you want to know? It is not,’ said the woman bitterly, ‘for Tsakatellis’s sake.’

      ‘It has happened again. And it may be the same people.’

      ‘So now you take an interest. How many people have to be taken,’ the woman asked scornfully, ‘before the Mamur Zapt shows an interest?’

      ‘There are, alas, many such cases in Cairo. I cannot follow them all. I had thought Tsakatellis might have been restored to you.’

      ‘Why should he have been restored?’

      ‘Have you not paid?’

      ‘No.’ The woman looked him straight in the face. ‘I do not pay. Even for my son.’

      ‘Most people pay.’

      ‘If you pay they will come again. If not to you, to another.’

      ‘All the same,’ said Owen gently, ‘it is hard not to pay. When it is one’s own.’

      The woman was silent. Then she said: ‘For the Greeks life is always hard.’

      She called to the Copt.

      ‘You wished to know what happened. Thutmose will tell you.’

      The Copt came down into the room and smiled politely at Owen.

      ‘Tell him!’ the woman directed. ‘Tell him what happened the night your master was taken.’

      ‘I wish to know,’ said Owen, ‘so that I can help others. I am the Mamur Zapt.’

      ‘There is little to tell,’ the Copt said softly. ‘That night was as other nights. We worked late. It was nearly midnight when we closed the shop. There was a little bookkeeping to do so I stayed behind.’

      ‘You have a key?’

      ‘The master left me his key.’

      ‘He must have trusted you.’

      The Copt bowed his head in acknowledgement.

      ‘And then?’

      ‘And then I did not see him again, nor suspected anything till the servant came knocking on my door.’

      Owen looked at Madame Tsakatellis.

      ‘When Tsakatellis did not come home,’ she said, ‘at first we thought СКАЧАТЬ