Authors: Parker Bilal
‘Deliver him to us and we will show him our own justice!’
‘Typical police corruption, arresting an innocent man!’
It seemed they were not all in agreement with one another. At the top of the steps Sadig was grinning with delight. Nothing he enjoyed more than the sight of people at each other’s throats.
‘What’s all this about?’ asked Makana.
‘We’ve got him.’
‘You’ve got who?’
‘The killer. The one who cut up the Qadi.’ Sadig rearraranged his beret on his head. ‘So lucky for you we won’t be arresting you, and we won’t be needing your help any more,’ he said with undisguised satisfaction. ‘Not that you’ve actually done anything for us.’
Inside, Makana found further pandemonium. What was going on exactly wasn’t clear. The families of the two victims had been let inside and were now busy harassing the officers whose job it was to hold them back. Makana eventually managed to get through. Sergeant Hamama was strutting through the crowd with a grin on his face. He waved magnanimously, trying not to show his delight, but he was clearly a proud man.
‘Who is it?’ Makana asked.
‘Our friend Khalid Luqman. You remember him?’ Hamama ushered Makana into his office and gestured for him to take a seat before sinking down behind his desk with a sigh.
‘I can’t tell you how relieved I feel. I was getting pretty worried there for a time.’
‘You’re sure that he’s the one?’
‘I can smell it on him.’ Sergeant Hamama smiled, and ticked off his fingers. ‘He has motive and there’s no denying he had opportunity. He was perfectly placed.’
‘What is the motive?’
‘He had a grudge against the Qadi.’ Hamama leaned back in his chair. ‘Listen to this. It turns out that Luqman’s great grandfather was a Turkish official back in the days of King Farouk. He was awarded the land. Luqman was short of cash and keen to sell it off, but the Qadi ruled that the land belonged to the government. Luqman was furious, of course, but there was nothing he could do. The law is the law.’
‘What happened to the land?’ Makana asked.
‘It was eventually sold by the state to a private developer. I have the details here, but it was all official and above board.’ He ruffled through the papers on his desk before giving up, eager to get on with the telling of his story. ‘The point is, he thought the land was his on account of some old papers of his great grandfather’s, but he was wrong. Anyway, apparently it hit him hard. Old family fallen on hard times. I mean, there he is selling Coca-Cola to the tourists and him a big landowner. Hah, he never forgave the Qadi. He threatened to kill him only two months ago. We have witnesses.’
‘Witnesses who heard him threaten the Qadi?’ Makana went through his pockets for his Cleopatras and came up with an almost empty packet. ‘Who were they?’
‘There were eight of them. It was outside the Qadi’s office. Luqman didn’t care who heard him.’
Having debated whether to wait, Makana lit his penultimate cigarette and smoked quietly for a time. Sergeant Hamama sniffed but watched without comment.
‘So this means your promotion will go through.’
‘Yes.’ A broad smile arranged itself across the sergeant’s face. ‘I imagine they will be satisfied with this outcome.’
‘So what was his motive for killing Ayman?’
‘Ayman?’ Hamama rocked back and forth a few times in his chair. He didn’t like the question. ‘What about him?’
‘Well, I thought we were agreed that the same person killed both men. So why did Luqman kill Ayman?’
‘That was your theory, Makana. I was never fully convinced of the two being linked.’
‘Then you’re saying that we still have a killer out there?’
Hamama sat forward and his chair came down to earth with a bump. ‘Why do you have to start twisting things around? We don’t know the two deaths are connected. Even if they are, you can’t prove that he didn’t kill both men.’
‘Why?’
‘Why what?’ Sergeant Hamama pulled a face.
‘What is his motive? Why would Luqman kill Ayman?’
‘I told you, I don’t know. We’ve only just started our interrogation.’
‘Did he explain the mutilation?’
‘He will, don’t you worry. Right now we’re leaving him to think things over. They’re sending a superindendent from Mersa Matruh to confirm.’ Sergeant Hamama allowed himself a smile. ‘I think this could be the moment to officially announce my promotion.’
‘
Mabrouk
,’ Makana congratulated him. ‘Will you let me talk to him?’
‘You don’t understand. The case has been closed. We have a suspect and a motive. It’s only a question of time before that becomes a full confession.’ The sergeant pointed a finger. ‘You know what that means? It means thank you very much for your help, and goodbye. I’ll get one of the boys to drive you to the bus station.’
‘I’m not sure my business here is finished,’ said Makana, although from Sergeant Hamama’s tone he suspected that maybe it was, whether he liked it or not. He wouldn’t want any credit for solving the case going to a stranger. If a delegation was on its way from Mersa Matruh, Hamama wouldn’t want anyone else around who might throw a shadow on his moment of glory.
‘I’ll give you twenty-four hours, but then I want you gone.’ Hamama got to his feet and went over to the door. ‘I’m grateful for your help and everything. Don’t take it badly. I know you had your theories, but sometimes these things just don’t work out.’
‘Doctor Medina said that both the Qadi and Ayman were drugged. Luqman has no medical training, does he?’
‘You don’t know that for sure.’ Hamama shook his head in disbelief. ‘And even if that was true, he has motive and opportunity. Don’t forget the body was found out in the lake, just by that coffee shop where he provides tourists with illicit substances for smoking.’
‘Let me talk to him. You’ve got nothing to lose. If I’m wrong you already have someone locked up. Those people out there don’t really care who goes to prison for this. All they want is for someone to be punished.’
Hamama swung the door back and forth, undecided. ‘You’re taking this very personally. What does it matter to you?’
‘It matters because it matters, and you understand that. That’s why they are going to make you captain.’
The sergeant’s eyes were dark, wet stones set in the fleshy mass of his face. He had the bewildered look of a dog faced with a particularly devious cat but Makana had appealed to his vanity. With a curse he threw the door open so hard it slammed into the wall behind it.
The holding cells were below ground. A grubby doorway bore the imprint of countless hands steadying themselves as they stepped through into a stairwell that led downwards. At the bottom another doorway gave onto a short corridor. Here the mantle was low and dotted with brown stains where countless prisoners had not been quick enough to duck their heads. The latest addition to this cartography of pain was fresh and matched a corresponding open wound on Luqman’s forehead. He was clearly in a bad way, eyes wired with fear and already bearing the signs of a man whose mental balance has been shattered. He scuttled away from the door as it swung open and crouched down in the far corner with his hands over his head when they came in.
Luqman raised his arms higher to shield himself as Makana approached. He squatted down in front of him. Several of Luqman’s fingers had been broken. They jutted out like broken twigs, at odds with one another. Makana shook his last cigarette out of the packet and held it up to him. Luqman gave a whimper as Makana placed the cigarette between his lips and lit it for him. The blood from his head wound had run down and congealed around his eyes. He stared at Makana as though he had never seen him before.
‘You remember me?’ Makana asked.
‘Sure,’ Luqman nodded, before spitting blood on the ground. ‘You’re with them.’
Makana glanced over at Hamama who was hovering in the doorway.
‘What happened to him?’
Hamama stared at the ceiling. ‘Regretfully, some of the mob out there managed to get hold of him before we could stop them.’
‘They threw me to them!’ Luqman whispered to Makana. ‘You should get out now, before they do the same to you.’
‘I will,’ said Makana. ‘But first I need you to answer a few questions.’
Luqman stared at the ground, the cigarette smoking between his lips. He seemed to have forgotten it was even there.
‘The only reason I didn’t kill that old fool is that I didn’t have the courage to do so.’ He stared at Makana. ‘I should have done it years ago.’
Behind him, Makana heard a grunt of satisfaction from Sergeant Hamama.
‘Why did you want to kill him?’
‘Why?’ Luqman’s face broke into a garish grin. His teeth painted with blood. ‘How many reasons do you need? I wasn’t the only one either. Go out and ask the crowd.’
‘The same crowd that wants your neck?’ asked Hamama.
‘They are hypocrites, all of them! If they had the courage they could tell you. Everyone hated him.’
‘But you’re the one who killed him,’ said Hamama.
Luqman sucked in the smoke, his eyes on the ground, like a hunted dog.
‘What difference does it make what I say?’
‘Stop these games.’ Hamama stepped forward and Luqman reared back, pulling himself into the corner as the sergeant loomed over him. ‘You had a reason to kill him.’
Luqman’s eyes found Makana. ‘Lots of people had reasons. You think I’m the only person he swindled? That man used his authority to line his own pockets. From the moment he arrived in this town that was all he cared about.’
‘Here he goes,’ muttered Hamama.
‘I know what I am talking about. He cheated people out of their land, sold off the rights to hotel chains and survey companies, some of which don’t even exist. I’m not the only one. The money went straight into his pocket.’ Luqman nodded in the direction of the sergeant. ‘Ask him, if you don’t believe me. Ask him what happened to Captain Mustafa.’
Makana glanced over his shoulder at Hamama. The sergeant shrugged.
‘I told you this was a waste of time. Listen, boy, I tried to help you, but the fact of the matter is that you’re going to have to start helping yourself, and that means telling the truth.’
‘I am telling the truth. Why don’t you tell him? Tell him!’
‘Okay,’ sighed Sergeant Hamama, straightening up. ‘We’re going to leave it there. Now, I want you to be clear about this. I need a full confession from you by morning, and I’m going to get it, one way or another.’
Luqman’s head sank and his body was wracked with sobs.
‘You’re not helping yourself,’ Makana said softly. ‘You need to tell us everything you know.’
‘What’s the point?’
‘Listen to me,’ said Makana. ‘I can’t help you if you don’t tell me everything. You know something, don’t you?’
One of Luqman’s eyes was swollen into a red ruby egg. The other one swivelled away from Makana.
‘What is it you’re not telling me?’
Luqman glanced over at Hamama, who was standing by the door.
‘Who are you trying to protect?’ Makana asked. ‘The German girl said she saw a woman out there by the lake. You saw her too, didn’t you?’ Luqman’s eyes lifted and Makana saw something there. ‘You knew her. Who was she?’
‘Nobody.’ Luqman stared at the floor between his feet. ‘I didn’t see anybody.’
‘I don’t see what any of this proves,’ said the sergeant from the doorway. ‘He saw a woman, or he didn’t. What difference does it make?’
Makana ignored him.
‘Okay, I only have one more question. What did you use to drug the Qadi?’
‘Drug?’ Luqman frowned.
‘Before he was cut up, the Qadi was administered a drug. Doctor Medina found traces in his blood. I’d like you to tell me what the name of that drug was.’
‘I don’t know anything about any drugs!’ Luqman pressed his hands to his ears and began to sob, rocking from side to side against the wall.
‘What did you expect?’ Sergeant Hamama asked as he slammed the door to the cell shut behind them and the guard shot the bolt across. ‘That the great Makana would succeed where the Egyptian police had failed? Do you have such a high opinion of yourself?’
‘Luqman didn’t do it.’ Makana headed for the door.
‘What makes you so special?’ Hamama called after him. He seemed offended.
‘The murderer is still out there,’ said Makana. ‘The longer you waste with Luqman the more chance they have of getting away.’
‘You really think a woman could have cut the Qadi up like that?’
‘Maybe. A woman, or a man covered from head to foot in black.’
‘Here we go again.’
‘Whatever you decide about Luqman, don’t let him out of here.’
‘Why not?’
‘In the first place, because someone is likely to take justice into their own hands, but also because I think he knows who the real killer is.’
‘A man dressed as a woman,’ Sergeant Hamama muttered, as he stood aside and held the door open for Makana. ‘The team from Mersa Matruh will be here in twenty-four hours. You’d better have something better than that by then.’