The Mamur Zapt and the Men Behind. Michael Pearce
not got to overreact. If you start thinking they’re all bloody terrorist groups you tend to overreact. But that only makes it worse because it provokes people, and then what starts as a demonstration becomes a bloody riot.’
‘You don’t think demonstrations might grow into terrorism if they’re not put down?’
‘No,’ said Owen.
‘I hope you’re right,’ said Nikos. ‘We’ll soon see, won’t we?’
Keeping a sense of proportion was all very well but it wasn’t only Owen who had to guard against overreacting. The next morning he had a meeting at the Residency and when he came out he found that the Army was building roadblocks in all the neighbouring streets.
‘What the bloody hell is this?’ he asked the sergeant who seemed to be in charge.
‘Defences, sir,’ said the sergeant.
‘Defences? What the hell against?’
‘Search me, sir, I don’t know. All them Arabs, I expect.’
An Egyptian who had been at the meeting with Owen and had followed him out emerged on to the street and turned right, where he walked straight into a roadblock.
‘’Ere, where do you think you’re going?’ asked the corporal manning it.
‘Along to the Ministry.’
‘Not this way, you’re not.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I bloody say so, that’s why not. And because I’ve got this—’ the corporal patted the butt of his rifle—‘to back me up.’
‘But I’m only going to the Ministry!’
‘’Ard luck.’
‘I work there.’
‘You’ll just have to work somewhere else.’
‘But—’
The Egyptian looked around in bewilderment. Owen stepped forward.
‘I must get there at once,’ said the Egyptian. ‘I’ve got an important meeting!’
‘Why don’t you just go away?’ suggested the corporal.
‘Hallo, Mr Fahmy,’ said Owen. ‘Can I help?’
The Egyptian made a bemused gesture.
‘This is the Minister of the Interior,’ said Owen.
The corporal flinched.
‘Sorry, sir,’ he said, as much to Owen as to the Minister. Although Owen was not in uniform—he was, in fact, on secondment from the Indian Army—the corporal knew at once that he was an Army officer.
‘He needs to get to the Ministry,’ said Owen. ‘Obviously.’
The corporal looked troubled.
‘I—I know, sir,’ he said. ‘The trouble is, I’ve been instructed not to let anyone pass along this street. Orders, sir.’
The sergeant, who had followed Owen along when he saw how things were going, intervened.
‘You go and fetch Captain Fenniman,’ he told the corporal. ‘I’ll look after things here.’
Relieved, the corporal took himself off.
‘Sorry, sir,’ said the sergeant, including Fahmy in his ‘sir’. ‘Would you mind waiting a minute?’
‘I’m as much in the dark as you,’ Owen said to Fahmy.
Fahmy shrugged.
The corporal came hurrying back with a young officer in tow.
‘Yes?’ he said sharply.
‘This is Mr Fahmy, Minister of the Interior,’ said Owen. The captain nodded politely. ‘He wants to be allowed to get to the Ministry.’
The captain hesitated.
‘I think he should,’ said Owen.
Fenniman made up his mind.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘Hawley, will you escort this gentleman through our blocks? Bennett, you stay here. Sorry to inconvenience you,’ he said to Fahmy. ‘But you’ll understand that we have to take precautions.’
The Egyptian shrugged again. As he went off with the sergeant he gave Owen a wry smile.
‘I don’t understand why you’ve got to take precautions,’ said Owen.
‘Haven’t you heard? There’s been an attack on a senior member of the Administration. More are on the way, apparently.’
‘Senior member of the Administration?’
‘Apparently.’
‘Fairclough?’
‘I think that’s his name.’
‘Fairclough isn’t a senior member of anything. Except possibly the bridge club.’
‘Oh? Well, that’s what I heard.’
‘There’s been an attack, certainly. But why the hell all this?’ Owen indicated the barricades.
‘Guarding the Residency. The CG could be the next target.’
‘This isn’t your bright idea, is it?’
‘It seems a good idea to me,’ said Fenniman defensively.
‘It’s a stupid idea,’ said Owen.
‘Oh? And what exactly do you know about it, Mr—?’
‘Owen. The Mamur Zapt. Responsible for law and order in this bloody city. Which you are messing up.’
Owen steamed back into the Residency. His friend Paul, the Consul-General’s personal aide, who had been secretarying the meeting, was still packing up. Owen told him about the barricades.
‘Jesus!’ said Paul. ‘All we asked for was an extra couple of guards.’
Owen told him about the Minister.
‘The bloody fools! I’ll get on to him at once and apologize.’
‘Can’t you do something about the barricades?’
‘You think they’re a bit de trop?’
‘I bloody do.’
They went back to Paul’s office. Paul rang up the Commander-in-Chief’s office and asked to speak to one of his aides.
‘John? Is that you? What’s going on? Have you declared war or something?’
‘Not as far as I know. We can’t, anyway, because I’m playing tennis this afternoon.’
‘Who’s responsible for putting these barricades all over the place?’
‘Barricades?’
Paul told him.
‘Sounds like Hardwicke to me. Want me to have a word with him?’
‘Yes. I have a friend of yours here, an old foe from the tennis courts, who thinks they merely add to the already overwhelming difficulties of his life.’
‘If he’d only leave Zeinab alone, he’d have a lot less difficulty in his life.’
‘I’ll tell him that. Oh, I think he’s heard. Oh, and, John, one more thing: it would lessen the difficulties in my life if the Army stopped arresting Ministers of His Royal Highness’s Government.’
‘That the barricades too? OK, I’ll see what I can do. Ring you back.’
Within a few moments he rang back.
‘It was Hardwicke.