every Minister was a British Adviser and behind the Khedive was the British Consul-General himself. Government was a thing of shadows; but which was the substance and which was the shadow?
‘Yes,’ said Owen, ‘so I gather.’
‘Well, then—’
‘I’ll look into it.’
‘Thank you,’ said the Belgian, relieved. ‘That’s all we ask.’
‘However, I must repeat: I don’t reckon to involve myself in labour disputes.’
‘We’re not asking you to look into the labour side—’
I’ll bet, thought Owen.
‘It’s the Nationalist connection that worries us.’
‘The Nationalist Party is usually in favour of development.’
‘Ah, yes, but it’s not in favour of foreigners doing the developing.’
‘True.’
‘The fact is. Captain Owen – Gareth, may I call you—?’
‘Please.’
‘The fact is, we’re not against Nationalism. Far from it. But we’ve been aware for some time that someone is trying to stop this development. And we’ve got a pretty good idea who it is.’
‘I hope you’re going to put something stronger in this lemonade,’ complained the Pasha’s son.
Salah laughed.
‘After we’ve played!’
He clapped his hands and a young girl came out on to the verandah.
‘Some more lemonade, my dear.’
She bowed her head submissively and picked up the jug.
The Pasha’s son watched her depart.
‘Who’s that?’ he said.
‘My daughter.’
Owen was astounded. In all the years he had been in Egypt he had never been allowed to see a host’s womenfolk.
‘We try to bring her up in the modern way – having lived in Europe, you know.’
‘Damned good idea!’ said the Pasha’s son, eyes lingering.
Owen reckoned she was all of fourteen.
She returned with a fresh jug.
‘Fill me up!’ commanded the Pasha’s son, holding out his glass.
The girl walked straight past him and filled Owen’s glass.
‘Amina—’ began Salah-el-Din.
‘Don’t take it out on her,’ said the Pasha’s son. ‘I like a bit of spirit.’
Owen caught the girl’s eye as she went past. Fourteen she might be, but submissive she was not. In fact, from the look she had given him, he was having doubts about the fourteen.
‘I still don’t like it,’ complained Owen. ‘I don’t reckon it’s my job. It sounds like a straight labour dispute to me.’
‘Probably is,’ Paul agreed. ‘All the same, the Old Man would like you to take an interest.’
‘It’s not political.’
‘Listen,’ said Paul, ‘if someone as rich as the Baron asks the Old Man to do him a favour, then it is political.’
‘So you didn’t go there?’ said McPhee, disappointed.
‘Well, no, I’m afraid not,’ said Owen guiltily.
‘A pity. You were so close to it. And it’s a site of considerable religious interest, you know. The Virgin and Child are said to have rested under the tree on their flight into Egypt. In fact, according to some chronicles, Mary hid herself from Herod’s soldiers in its branches. There is a tradition that a spider spun its web over the entrance to her hiding place so as to conceal her.’
‘Really?’
‘Interesting, isn’t it? Echoes of both Robert Bruce and the spider and of King Charles in the oak! Extraordinary!’
‘Fascinating! Well, I must go, I can hear the phone in my office—’
It was from someone on the staff of the Khedive.
‘We understand you’re taking an interest in the progress of the new electric railway?’
‘A certain interest, yes.’
‘Quite a lot of interest, we hope. His Royal Highness is very concerned that the line is not advancing as rapidly as had been anticipated.’
‘I’m sure that the contractors will soon be on top of any problems.’
‘Technical ones, yes; but what about the political ones?’
‘Political ones?’
‘The attempt by certain people to use the Heliopolis project as an occasion to advance their own narrow Nationalist interests.’
‘In what way?’
‘By seeing that the project is never completed. His Highness has asked me to emphasize that he regards the success of the project as a matter of honour, both his own, and the country’s.’
‘I see.’
‘Good. His Highness hoped that you would.’
Owen had hardly put the phone down before it was ringing again. This time it was Muhammed Rabbiki, a veteran member of the National Assembly and an important figure in the Nationalist Party.
‘Ah, Captain Owen, a word with you. We understand that you’re taking an interest in this sad affair at Matariya?’
‘A limited interest, yes.’
‘But why limited? Important issues are at stake.’
‘Are there? All I know is that a man’s body has been found on the line, and that, of course, is a matter chiefly for the Parquet.’
‘Oh, Captain Owen, I’m sure you know more than that! How did the body come to be on the line? Who put it there? And for what reason?’
‘All these are, as I say, questions for the Parquet. My concerns are restricted to the political.’
‘But, Captain Owen, what if the answers to these questions are political?’
‘How could they be?’
‘Suppose the body were a plant? Designed to have a certain effect?’
‘What sort of effect?’
‘I am sure I have no need to tell you, Captain Owen. But one thing I can say with confidence, that it certainly is not intended to be in the interests of the workers, neither the workers on the Heliopolis project nor workers in general in Egypt.’
‘Aren’t you making too much of this, Mr Rabbiki?’
The politician chuckled hoarsely.
‘I’m just making sure that you don’t make too little of it, Captain Owen. And in order to make quite sure, I shall put down a question in the Assembly from time to time. We shall all be following your progress with great interest, Captain Owen.’
McPhee stuck his head in at the door.
‘About the Tree, Owen—’
‘Look, thanks, I’ve got something else on my mind just at the moment.’
‘But it’s to do with the business at Matariya.’
McPhee came worriedly into the room.
‘Apparently, there’s been a development. There’s a rather difficult religious