One of them had a young girl with her, dressed not, however, in the traditional clothes but in something straight from Paris. The dress suggested youthfulness, childishness, almost, but the figure beneath was far from childish. Owen was still trying to work it out when she turned and looked at him.
Like the other women, she wore a veil, only this was neither the traditional one of her mother nor the usual Parisian one, but a Turkish one which covered the lower part of the face and revealed the eyes. Above the veil her eyes looked at Owen warmly and with recognition.
Salah-el-Din came into view, accompanied by the man he had introduced Owen to the other day, the Pashas son.
‘Captain Owen! What a pleasure! You have met Malik, of course.’
They shook hands.
‘We can go there together,’ said Malik.
Where was it that they might be going? The only other engagement that Owen had that day, so far as he could remember, was a routine meeting about an application for a gambling licence, and the only reason why he remembered it was that, unusually for Cairo, it was being held in the afternoon.
‘My wife; my daughter, whom you met, if you remember.’
The mother muttered a polite greeting in Arabic. The daughter advanced on Owen with outstretched hand.
‘ Enchante, monsieur! C’est un tres grand plaisir — ’
‘A charming dress, don’t you think? It’s important to hit the right note-’
‘You could try it a bit shorter,’ said Malik.
Salah laughed, unoffended.
‘You would think that!’ he said.
The mother gave her head a decided shake.
‘How about a drink?’ Malik said to Owen.
‘I’m afraid not,’ said Owen, seeing Zeinab, tall, slim and elegant, sweep down the stairs at the back. ‘I’ve a previous engagement.’
‘Don’t blame you,’ said Malik, following the direction of his eyes.
Zeinab came towards them. Owen was jealously pleased that she wore a veil, a French-style one that covered all her face except for the sharp, rather beaky chin. Zeinab’s father always claimed that there was some Bedouin blood in the family, although he was not entirely sure how it got there.
‘Greek?’ said Malik. ‘Not Circassian, anyway. You ought to try Circassian.’
Zeinab walked on past them. Owen caught up with her just as she went through the doors.
‘I don’t like your friends,’ she said.
‘They’re not exactly my friends. One of them’s the new mamur out at Heliopolis.’
‘Who’s the girl?’
‘His daughter. I can’t figure her out,’ admitted Owen.
‘I can!’
Zeinab was silent for a moment. Then she said:
‘How can a mamur afford to shop at Anton’s?’
‘That’s what I’m wondering,’ said Owen.
‘I shall tell Anton that he needs to be more selective in his clientele. He can start by throwing out that other man.’
‘Malik? He’s a Pasha’s son!’
‘Good!’ said Zeinab gleefully. ‘In that case I shall certainly ask Anton to throw him out!’
Owen was a little taken aback when he returned to his office to find that the venue for his meeting had been changed. It was now to be held at the Savoy Hotel, which was roughly where he had just come from. His meetings were not normally held at the Savoy Hotel, but he had hopes that this might create a precedent.
At the meeting were a representative of the Ministry of Justice, McPhee, the Deputy Commandment of Police, two lawyers and Malik appearing for the appellants, and himself, and the subject of the meeting was an application to open new premises under the licensing laws.
Or, rather, not quite an application.
‘A formal application will be made later,’ said one of the lawyers, smiling. ‘At this stage all we are doing is testing the ground. We are seeking to establish whether there would be any objection in principle to an application such as ours.’
‘The government’s policy is to restrict the number of gambling houses,’ said McPhee severely.
‘And quite rightly, too. There are far too many low dens where the practices are, frankly, far from commendable. Our application is not of that sort. It relates to the opening of a casino in the Palace Hotel at Heliopolis.’
‘Palace Hotel?’ said McPhee, puzzled. ‘There isn’t one!’
‘It’s being built.’
The man from the Ministry of Justice, an Egyptian, looked at his papers.
‘A casino wasn’t mentioned in the original planning application,’ he said.
‘Well, no. It has only recently come home to us how attractive an additional amenity it would be.’
‘It’s the government’s policy not to allow new premises to be opened,’ said McPhee.
‘But surely that only applies to Cairo proper, where there is already too great an abundance of such places? We are talking about the New Heliopolis, where there isn’t even one at the moment!’
‘It is a general restriction,’ said the man from the Ministry of Justice.
‘But how can it apply to a place like the New Heliopolis, which wasn’t even projected when the legislation was framed?’
‘The legislation covers future development.’
‘I put the question because of the special character of the Heliopolis development. It is to be a City of Pleasure. That was stated explicitly at the stage of the initial planning application. I would suggest that approval of the initial concept implies approach of consequent developments.’
‘I would challenge the view that a casino is a consequent development,’ said Owen. ‘Amenities in general, yes, a casino in particular, no.’
‘But I think you have to have regard to other developments: the racetrack-’
‘God, yes!’ said Malik.
‘-which is an important feature of the new sporting complex. You can hardly have a racetrack without gambling!’
‘God, no!’ said Malik.
‘Thank you, Mr Hosnani. I argue firstly, that implicit in the approval of the racetrack was approval of related gambling facilities-’
‘But they’re not related!’ protested Owen.
‘It’s all the same thing,’ said Malik. ‘What you lose on the swings, you lose on the roundabouts.’
‘A casino is quite different!’
‘Not in character, Captain Owen. And that is really my point: the character of Heliopolis as a City of Pleasure.’
‘I’m all for pleasure,’ said Malik.
‘Thank you, Mr Hosnani. We are not talking about some low, vicious den but about a tasteful, discreet, modest development in a major hotel-’
‘Modest?’ said the man from the Ministry of Justice, studying his papers. ‘It’s gigantic!’
‘There’s another point about character,’ said Owen. ‘Have you thought about the proximity to the gathering place for the Mecca caravan?’
‘Ah, Captain Owen!’ said the lawyer, smiling. ‘I think you’re a little out of date, you know. We all go by train now.’
‘Do we?’ said Malik, startled.
‘No,’ said Owen. ‘Not everyone. There’s still a caravan.’
‘For how long? No, Captain Owen-’ the lawyer smiled and shook his head-‘we must look to the future. And Heliopolis is the future.’
‘I think we have to have regard to local religious feeling,’ said Owen.
The other lawyer intervened.
‘With the greatest respect,’ he said, ‘I’m not sure that the Mamur Zapt is the best interpreter of religious feeling.’
‘No?’ said the man from the Ministry of Justice.
‘No. There is, in fact, very considerable local support for the venture. I would go so far as to say that it has captured the imagination of the local populace. As Mr Hosnani, here, is in a position to testify.’
‘You’re damned right,’ said Malik. ‘We’re all in favour. Can’t wait to get started.’
‘With the greatest respect,’ said Owen, ‘I doubt whether Mr Hosnani is in a position to testify; not, at least, as far as the views of the ordinary man are concerned.’