For another couple of minutes he sat at his desk, silently contemplating the situation, then he nodded to himself. Decision made. He selected all the photographs of the relic, and sent them to his laser printer. Studying the images of the parchment on his laptop wasn’t really an option: he needed to have the pictures in his hands.
Printing the twenty or so pictures he’d taken would be a lengthy process, so he decided to reply to Angela’s email. When he’d finished the message, he paused, wondering if he was doing the right thing. Then, exhaling rapidly, he added a final short paragraph, and pressed Send.
But almost as soon as the email vanished from his screen, Mohammed had an abrupt change of heart. He muttered to himself, typed rapidly, and sent another message. He knew he really had no choice.
37
Mohammed was just about to gather up the printouts when there was a knock on his door and one of the administrative staff peered in.
‘Dr Mohammed?’
‘Yes. What is it?’
The admin officer appeared slightly perplexed by what he had to say.
‘I have a police officer here who wishes to ask you some questions. Would you like me to witness the interview, or call anyone on your behalf?’
‘What?’ Mohammed realized the man appeared to think he was in some kind of trouble. ‘No, of course not. Send him in.’
The man withdrew, and a moment later a smartly dressed man in a light-coloured suit stepped into the office, smiling apologetically.
‘I’m Inspector Dalani,’ he began, holding out a leather folder containing his identification, ‘and I think I may have given your staff member the wrong impression.’
He glanced back at the door, which was just closing behind him.
‘But I want to ask you some questions,’ Dalani continued, ‘and they relate to the murder of Mahmoud Kassim. May I sit down?’
Mohammed nodded.
‘Of course,’ he replied, gesturing to a chair on the opposite side of his desk.
He stepped over to the printer, pulled out the sheets of paper and put them face-down on the end of his desk before he sat down again.
‘Now, how can I help?’ he asked, studying the man in front of him.
His visitor was apparently middle-aged and of average height and build, dark haired and with a tanned complexion and a thick black moustache: he looked remarkably similar to most Egyptian males. One slight incongruity was his face, which was rounder than Mohammed would have expected for a person of his build, but otherwise he was unremarkable. As he looked at him, the detective took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair, revealing his shoulder holster from which the butt of a pistol protruded. Then he rolled up his sleeves and sat down.
‘It’s really hot out there today,’ Dalani began. ‘Now, you’ve no doubt read about the brutal murder of Mr Kassim in the newspapers?’
Mohammed nodded, but didn’t interrupt.
‘One thing that the newspapers have not reported, simply because we have not released the information to them, is that Mr Kassim was tortured before he was killed. I think most of the news reports have suggested that he was hacked to death, but this is not in fact the case. The killer — and we believe there was only one man involved — used a knife to inflict enormous pain on the man before finally cutting his throat. I’m sorry if these details have alarmed you,’ he added, looking somewhat anxiously at Mohammed, who had noticeably blanched at the matter-of-fact tone and expressions Dalani had used to describe the slaying of the market trader.
‘No, it’s all right. I’m fine. Please continue. How can I help?’
Dalani nodded, took a small notebook out of his pocket and referred to what looked like a list written on one of the pages.
‘It’s fairly clear that Mr Kassim was tortured to make him divulge information — that’s the usual reason for torture, of course — and we think he was attacked because of a specific item he had come across in his dealings. We believe the killer was looking for a relic that Mr Kassim had bought or had found — an ancient piece of parchment.’
Mohammed nodded again. The Cairo police were obviously a lot better informed than either he or Husani had expected them to be. Dalani’s next words confirmed that.
‘We’re quite certain the murderer didn’t take the parchment from Mr Kassim because, according to some of the people we’ve interviewed about this, he had already sold it to another dealer’ — Dalani paused for a moment and glanced down at his notebook, to check the information — ‘a man named Anum Husani. So our concern in this matter is obvious. If the killer was prepared to slaughter Mahmoud Kassim just to obtain this ancient relic, then clearly he would have no hesitation in murdering Husani to achieve the same thing. We’ve had somewhat garbled accounts of shots being fired near Husani’s house, and of a chase through the streets in that part of the city, but no reports of anyone being hurt. However, Mr Husani seems to have completely vanished from sight, and that’s where we think you can help us.’
‘Me?’ Mohammed asked. ‘Why? And how?’
Again Dalani glanced at his notebook.
‘We understand that you are acquainted with Anum Husani?’
Mohammed inclined his head.
‘We aren’t close friends, but I know him, yes.’
‘In a professional capacity?’
Yes, Mohammed thought to himself. They’re very well informed.
‘In a way, I suppose,’ he replied. ‘I’m an expert on ancient documents, and Husani sometimes deals in scrolls and codices and the like, so almost inevitably our paths have crossed. I don’t work with him, because I’m employed by the museum, but I have sometimes advised him in a private capacity about relics he has come across in his trade.’
Dalani smiled slightly.
‘Good. So there are really only two questions I need to ask you. First, because it’s imperative that we find Mr Husani as quickly as possible so that we can protect him, do you have any idea where he is? And, second, did he consult you about this parchment he had obtained? Did he ask your opinion of it or show it to you or anything like that?’
Mohammed didn’t reply for a moment, his thoughts spinning as he tried to decide how much he should admit to. But he could, at least, be truthful in his answer to the detective’s first question.
‘I’ve seen Anum Husani a couple of times in the last few days,’ he admitted, ‘but I have no idea where he is now. You’ve obviously tried his house and the shop he runs in the souk?’
‘Yes, but he’s not at either premises. Obviously we’ve stationed officers at both the locations in case he returns. If he was hiding from this killer, have you any idea where else he might go?’
Again Mohammed could give a truthful answer.
‘I’m sorry, but I’ve no idea. Because of his business he’s acquainted with a lot of the other traders in the souk and elsewhere in Cairo, but I don’t know of any that he works with very closely. I think his family live somewhere on the outskirts of the city — he’s mentioned his brothers and parents to me a few times — but I don’t know where. Presumably you could locate them easily enough?’
Dalani nodded.
‘Other officers are already doing that,’ he said, ‘but I was more interested in any possible hiding places you might know of.’
Again Mohammed decided he could give a truthful answer to this, or at least tell the detective a half-truth.
‘As I said, I don’t know Husani that well, but if he knew he was being chased by this killer, my guess is that he’d try to get out of Cairo as quickly as he could.’
‘Where to? Where would he go?’