The Mingrelian Conspiracy. Michael Pearce

you, indeed, sir? I’m from Caerphilly.’

      ‘And I’m from Llanbradach, sir,’ put in another of the Fusiliers.

      ‘I know it well,’ said Owen.

      ‘And I know Machen, sir. My aunt is Mrs Roberts, of the Post Office, sir.’

      ‘Mrs Roberts?’ It was a hundred years since Owen had been in Wales. But vague memories of his childhood began to stir. ‘I remember her, I think. How is she?’

      ‘Not very well, sir. She’s getting on a bit now. She’s more or less given up the Post Office. She leaves it mostly to Blodwen now.’

      ‘Blodwen?’

      ‘Her daughter, sir. You remember her?’

      ‘I think I do. A tiny little thing?’

      ‘Not so tiny, now, sir.’

      ‘She’s married, sir,’ said another of the Fusiliers.

      ‘Heavens! Well, it was a while ago. I left for India when I was eighteen.’

      ‘We thought you’d been in the Army, sir. It was the way you spoke.’

      The corporal came up.

      ‘All right, you lot,’ he said. ‘On your way!’

      ‘Sorry about the bother, sir,’ said one of the Fusiliers as they left. Those English bastards called us Welsh bastards!’

      ‘Well, there’s no need for you to rise like a fish!’

      ‘No, sir.’ They sounded, however, unconvinced.

      ‘Nice fishing at Machen, sir!’ one of them called out as they left.

      The Egyptian came across to Owen as soon as they were gone.

      ‘Have I got it right?’ he said. ‘They are also from the Pays de Galles?’

      Professional Egyptians, as well as upper-class Egyptians, tended to speak French more readily than they did English. Many of them had been to France for their education. Mahmoud El Zaki had not. He had done all his training in the Khedivial School of Law. The Egyptian legal system, however, was heavily based on the French and the whole legal culture was strongly French.

      ‘That’s right,’ said Owen. ‘It’s a Welsh regiment.’

      ‘I’m surprised you keep them together,’ said the Egyptian. ‘Isn’t there the risk of rebellion?’

      ‘No, no, no. It’s not like that. The English conquest of Wales was so long ago that most people have forgotten it. Well, almost.’

      The Egyptian was not entirely convinced.

      ‘There seemed to me to be animosity,’ he said. ‘Those other men were English, yes? An English regiment?’

      ‘Some Cornishmen might dispute it, but yes. The conquest of Cornwall was even longer ago than the conquest of Wales.’

      The Egyptian shook his head in wonderment.

      ‘I thought the British were all the same,’ he said. ‘Of course, I knew that you were from the Pays de Galles. You had told me. But I had thought that you were an exception. British is not English, then?’

      ‘Oh, no. It is Welsh and Scottish and Irish and –’

      ‘Cornish?’

      ‘If you go far enough back. And other things as well.’

      The Egyptian looked thoughtful.

      ‘It sounds like Cairo to me.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I won’t take up your time now. Why don’t we have a coffee somewhere? Sidi Hassim’s, in an hour’s time?’

      The trouble with the Cairo late-night café culture was that after the evening came the morning. Sleeping outside in the garden, because of the heat, Owen habitually awoke with the sun, no matter what time he’d gone to bed the night before. The result was that he’d normally passed his peak for the day by about nine, which was, of course, when the committees usually began, and after that it was all downhill. This morning he was present in the flesh but fragile in the spirit.

      ‘We’re always having meetings,’ he complained to Paul.

      ‘Yes, I know,’ said Paul, ‘and we could do without this one. However, a formal request has come in, or is about to come in, from Captain Shearer which, I think, needs discussion.’

      ‘Hasn’t it come in yet?’ said the major, equally fed up at having to be present. ‘If it’s not come in, why not wait until it does?’

      ‘Because that would rule out some of the options open to us.’

      ‘Such as?’

      ‘Not putting in a formal request.’

      ‘The Army does not change its mind,’ said Shearer stiffly.

      ‘Keeping it informal, you mean?’ asked the major. ‘Well, that’s usually best. Keep things off paper.’

      ‘I agree with you in principle, sir,’ said Shearer. ‘In fact, that’s exactly what I tried to do last night. Only this other Johnny said that things had already got past that stage.’

      ‘Who is the other Johnny?’ asked Paul.

      ‘Mahmoud,’ said Owen.

      ‘Mahmoud El Zaki? The Parquet’s already involved? This makes it more difficult.’

      ‘Presumably there was a complaint,’ said Owen.

      ‘Actually,’ said McPhee, Deputy Commandant of the Cairo Police, present this morning, ‘there were two.’

      ‘And they’ve assigned an officer already? That’s pretty quick off the mark!’

      ‘I think they’ve got a duty-officer system,’ said Owen, ‘and Mahmoud was probably the lawyer on duty. Anyone else would have left it till morning.’

      ‘It had to be Mahmoud!’ said Paul, vexed.

      ‘Difficult man, eh?’ said the major.

      ‘That was certainly my impression last night, sir,’ said Shearer.

      ‘Difficult?’ said Paul. ‘No. Conscientious.’ He turned to Owen. ‘You know Mahmoud,’ he said. ‘It was only last night. They can hardly have got started. Do you think that there’s any chance – ?’

      ‘No,’ said Owen. ‘He’ll see it as a matter of principle.’

      ‘Well, it is a matter of principle,’ said Shearer. ‘Does the Army come under Egyptian law?’

      ‘Can’t have that!’ said the major, aghast.

      ‘I absolutely agree, sir,’ said Shearer. ‘And therefore I think the issue must be faced. Settle it once and for all. That was exactly my thinking last night. If the Johnnies want it formal, then let them have it formal; and see if they like the consequences!’

      ‘Hear, hear!’ said the major.

      ‘Look,’ said Paul, ‘the only way we get by in Egypt is by not facing issues. We take damned good care to see that issues are not faced.’

      ‘Chickening out!’ said Shearer contemptuously.

      ‘Damned shillyshallying!’ said the major.

      ‘And this is for a very good reason,’ said Paul; ‘the ground we stand on is shaky.’

      ‘Not while the Army’s here!’ said Shearer.

      ‘By God, no!’ said the major.

      ‘I’m thinking of the formal, legal grounds by which we justify our presence here.’

      ‘Well,’ said Shearer,