The Mamur Zapt and the Spoils of Egypt by Michael Pearce Page A

there were too many people smoking, carried the drink on through to the restaurant-car.
    It was not yet time for dinner and the place was deserted except for a young Egyptian, Moslem and therefore nonsmoking and non-drinking, sitting alone at a table.
    ‘Mahmoud!’
    The young man sprang up.
    ‘
Cher ami!’
    They embraced, Arab-style.
    ‘But what are you doing here?’
    ‘I’m on my way to Luxor,’ said Owen, ‘and then to Der el Bahari. Something’s happened to a woman there.’
    ‘Der el Bahari? But this is extraordinary! I am on my way to Der el Bahari, too. Though not for the same reason. Tell me about this woman.’
    He listened engrossed.
    ‘It sounds as if it may be coming our way,’ he said.
    Mahmoud el Zaki was a member of the Parquet, the Department of Prosecutions of the Ministry of Justice. The legal system in Egypt followed French rather than English tradition. The law itself was based upon the Code Napoléon and investigation of a potential crime was the responsibility not of the police, as in England, but of an independent prosecution service, as in France.
    When a potential crime was reported, the Parquet would appoint an officer to the case, a lawyer, like Mahmoud, who would assume responsibility not just for the investigation but also for bringing the case to the courts. He would conduct the case in the court, acting as what in England would be known as prosecuting counsel.
    Owen had worked with Mahmoud before and the two got on very well. The young Egyptian had the political skill to operate in a country where the Government was not the Government, where there were four competing systems of jurisdiction and criminals could dodge easily between them, and where religious and ethnic differences continually threatened to pervert the frail legal process. Mahmoud was, not surprisingly, one of the Parquet’s rising stars.
    But what was he doing here?
    ‘I thought you kept to Cairo?’
    Mahmoud grimaced.
    ‘Well, it’s hot,’ he said. ‘It’s nice to get out of the city.’
    ‘It’s a lot hotter in Der el Bahari.’
    ‘That’s probably why they’re sending me there!’ said Mahmoud. ‘The courts are in recess for the summer and they’re fed up of me hanging about the office!’
    ‘Oh yes!’
    ‘Several people are away on holiday,’ Mahmoud explained, ‘so they’ve sent me down to handle this one.’
    ‘What is this one?’
    ‘It’s an industrial case, actually. A workman. Killed in an accident.’
    ‘I didn’t know you got involved in those?’
    ‘We don’t, usually. But this one is different. It’s the second one in the same place.’
    ‘Oh, I see. Criminal neglect on the part of the employer. Something like that?’
    Mahmoud nodded.
    ‘Something like that.’
    The waiters began to serve dinner. Owen chose
ful Sudani
for the soup. Mahmoud went for
bouillon
.
    ‘I didn’t know there was any industry at Der el Bahari,’ said Owen. ‘Apart from the fabrication of antiquities, of course.’
    ‘It’s an excavation site.’
    ‘An excavation?’ said Owen, sitting up.
    ‘You think it might have something to do with your case?’
    ‘Two deaths? And then Miss Skinner? I’m beginning to wonder.’
     
    ‘Really, Captain Owen,’ said Miss Skinner calmly, ‘I don’t think there was any need for you to come all this way. It was just a little accident and, fortunately, not at all serious.’
    ‘You spoke of an attack,’ said Paul quietly.
    ‘Did I? Well, an attack of nerves, perhaps. Or maybe it was the bats. It was all very confusing. But an attack? Oh dear no. A mishap, which I may well have brought upon myself.’
    ‘It was a damned stupid thing to do,’ said Parker harshly. He was the tall, heavy-set American who was directing excavations on the site.
    ‘Perhaps it was,’ said Miss Skinner, looking at him coolly. ‘Perhaps it was.’
    ‘Certainly there was no need to bring anybody down from Cairo,’ said Parker. ‘Complete waste of time. And money.’
    ‘Mr