Felicia was not prepared for the hubbub as they exited the airport. However, Omar had booked a car to pick them up. “You’re staying at the Fairmont,” he said. “It’s not far from here, and the meetings are just down the road.”
The Fairmont was a modern hotel on the outside, but its interior was a cool, reflective of marble, gilt and flowing water.
Omar escorted Felicia to reception. A tall man called Fatboy was there to meet her. “Miss Portman is our guest,” Omar said. “Please do everything to make her stay as comfortable as possible.”
Omar turned to say goodbye.
“Where are you off to?” said Felicia. “Are you not staying in the hotel?”
“I keep an apartment here. Unfortunately, given our culture, I cannot have you as my guest.”
Felicia blushed.
Realising how courteous Omar could be when he felt like it, she said:
“I understand. – Nice to meet you, Mr. Boy.”
“Don’t worry, Miss Portman. You may call me Fat.”
“In which case you must call me Felicia.”
“Yes, Miss Portman.”
They all laughed, including Omar, who seemed to be in a hurry to leave the hotel. He waved from the door and trotted down the steps to the waiting limo.
Hello, thought Felicia, what’s going on there?
Before she could speculate on his haste, Fatboy swept her toward the bar, a refreshing lemon drink and a hand towel.
As the waiter delivered the drink, an elegantly dressed lady sitting with a party nearby recognised Fatboy and called over to him:
“Richard! How are you doing? – Looking after our precious visitors I see.”
“Nadia, how lovely to see you.”
Fatboy turned to Felicia with exaggerated politeness and the graceful sweep of a long arm.
“Let me introduce you to our special guest, Miss Portman,” he said.
“Don’t be silly, Richard. It’s Felicia.”
“Miss Portman is a guest of Omar, and she will be staying in the hotel.”
Nadia got up off her chair and kissed Felicia on both cheeks.
“Lovely to have you to stay, my dear. You’ll find they do look after you in this hotel. Perhaps you would like to join us for dinner?”
Felicia was overwhelmed by the invitation and thanked her profusely.
“Nadia, you are so kind. But I do think I need to go and freshen up first.”
Felicia went up to her room and took a shower. By the time she got down again, Nadia’s party was in full swing. Richard aka Fatboy was sitting at the table along with three of Nadia’s girlfriends whose names Felicia did not quite catch but sounded like Faith, Hope and Charity. Everyone was eating kushari and fava beans.
The waiter asked Felicia if she would like a glass of Chablis.
“Thank you,” she said, winking at Nadia. “It would be rude not to.”
Felicia had initially thought Fatboy was a gofer. Then she found out he was Richard. But this wasn’t his real name either. It was another nickname because he played the piano like Little Richard. There was even a piano in the restaurant, and the girls all wanted him to play, but he was reluctant to turn this particular evening into an out and out party.
Felicia got talking to her new companions. She found out they were all friends. One was a nurse; another was a journalist and a third one was an entrepreneur. Two of them were trying to persuade the nurse to leave her husband. She lived in Cairo and seemed rather depressed. Nadia was drunk, and a tad too flirtatious with Felicia, or so Felicia thought. But she did not mind. The entrepreneur could not get married because she was, by her own admission, too much of a handful. The girls suggested she married Richard because he was now single.
It was all very amusing. The girls teased each other and flirted with Richard, but not overtly. The joke was he had to look after Mr. Saad’s daughter, who was a young tearaway, and they suggested he would end up marrying her. Richard deflected the idea and suggested he might enter a Coptic monastery. The girls laughed and said the mullahs would disapprove.
Felicia was now beginning to feel so relaxed and at home with her new friends that she called for another bottle of Chablis.
“If I wanted to move here,” she said, “which side should I join? The Mullahs or Coptics?”
She spoke with a smile on her face, but her question seemed to flatten the conversation.
“It’s not something you join, it’s something you already are,” said the girl who Felicia decided was called Faith (the journo).
“Absolutely,” said Charity (the nurse). “Are you a Christian?”
“I suppose so. Though, I mostly remember growing up hungry.”
“Do you come from a poor family?”
“I did once, but now I’ve created a better future.”
“What happened to your parents?”
“I left London a long time ago.”
“Do you not go back?”
“Never,” she said, and without thinking. “Everything for me is about moving forward.”
“I quite agree,” said Hope (the entrepreneur).
“That’s very sad,” said Nadia, suddenly becoming serious. “I visit my parents every weekend. We’re really close.”
“You’re very lucky, Nadia. Not everyone has their parents still with him.”
The evening was winding down. The girls called for taxis and said goodnight. Richard promised to pick Felicia up in the morning.
Felicia was sorry to see the party break up, but she went to bed with an unexpected feeling of contentment.
Mr. Saad and Omar were busy at the weekend, so the party decided to escape to the beach. Felicia was expecting to be on her own with Richard and the girls, which she would not have minded, but at the last minute, it turned out Omar was going to come, too. And she was actually relieved. Even pleased. Omar, after all, was more than just a tease. He was the key to her moving forward. Inexorably into a palace.
The Grand Hotel was a total contrast to the Fairmont. It was all terracotta floors and white stucco walls. It was a Bedouin chief had found a book on Spanish architecture and he was planning to live it up in a hacienda.
The beach looked out on the shimmering water of the Red Sea, where huge tankers and container ships dotted on the horizon. The desert was all around the beach, and Felica felt as though she was on a movie set, shaded by palm trees. Perhaps John Mills was going to come over the sand dunes; instead, she saw Omar in his Vilebrequin shorts. And she didn’t like Vilebrequin shorts on a man who claimed to be Egyptian. Nevertheless, everyone greeted him warmly, and Felicia decided to enjoy herself in the water.
There was a DJ by the pool playing soft jazz, and, at some point, Felicia fell asleep. When she woke up, she found Omar had gone swimming with Nadia in the sea. Faith was lying on the divan next to her.
“How do you know Omar?” she asked.
Felicia was unsure what she wanted to say about their relationship, but she took the plunge anyway.
“We go back a long way,” she said. “In fact, we’ve done business in the US. What about all of you?”
“Normally, I’m a journalist, but mostly I am Omar’s guardian angel.”
Felicia gulped inwardly. Now she would have to tread carefully.
“Mostly I save Omar from himself,” Faith continued. “He does things for the right reasons, but they don’t always look like the right reasons from the outside.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Some people disapprove of Omar and make life difficult for him. But I know he is always trying to do the right thing.”
Felicia suddenly felt embarrassed, and Faith must have noticed it.
“Don’t worry,” she said, smiling. “I’m not his girlfriend anymore. But you should know he is married.”
Felicia could have kicked herself for being so stupid. Men were men, and there she was – always with her eye on the main chance, instead of doing basic research.
“Where is his wife this weekend?” she asked naively.
Now Faith laughed.
“Don’t you know? She’s tucked up in the house Omar pays for. And it’s not the only house he pays for.”
Felicia was shocked.
“Oh, my God! He really is a pharaoh. How many wives does he have?”
“Unfortunately, just the one. – The other property is for his daughter, who is unable to lead a normal life on her own.”
Felicia’s mind was now working in over-drive, and she was ready with the next question. Then she saw Faith’s expression and corrected herself:
“I’m so sorry. This is clumsy of me.”
Faith kept her cool.
“Affairs are affairs,” she said, “and wives are wives. That’s in real life, and not religions.”
Just then, the roar of an aero-engine could be heard along the beach.
Felicia looked up and saw a silver bi-plane, climbing and doing a barrel roll before coming down to land on the road next to the hotel.
Felicia did not realise life could be so complicated when she saw who stepped out of the cockpit. It felt like Vegas all over again.
“Omar, if I am coming to Egypt, I want you to do something for me.”
Omar was all ears until Eddy explained; then he sighed heavily.
“What you ask is very hard,” he said.
“There’s gotta be someone in your air force who knows where to find one.”
In spite of the pained tone, Omar had been as good as his word. Now Eddy was stuffed into the cockpit of De Havilland Tiger Moth. Behind him was Colonel Mansour, formerly of the Egyptian Air Force, who spoke English with a very clipped, Limey accent and called him Mr Edward, as they flew, like the English Patient, over the contours of the desert. Eddy was so excited that he could not sit still. He peered over the side of cockpit in all directions and nearly dropped his Go-Pro camera for which he’d paid top dollar in the duty free. His buddies at home were never going to believe that he pulled this one off. Fuck lake fishing, this was much more fun!
“Please sit down, Mr. Edward. I can’t see through you. Not even my wife could see through you, and she see through bloody everything!”
Eddy sat back in the cockpit obediently, and, as they roared over the beach, he thought he could see Felicia. She was a real cracker Harry had found for him, and he could not wait to see how she fitted into a bikini.
The engine throttled back to a burble, and they bounced noisily along the road beside what looked like an oasis.
The Grand Hotel was waiting on Eddy’s expectations. He pulled himself out of the cockpit.
“Colonel, I gotta hand it to you. That was the best Goddamned ride ever.”
He stuck out his hand to shake on it, but at the moment a car pulled up, looking suspiciously like the local Feds, and Eddy’s instincts kicked in.
“I gotta be leaving now,” he said and grabbed his bag as a volley of incomprehensible foreign lingo flew at the Colonel.
“Thank you, Mr. Edward. Enjoy your stay and give my best wishes to Omar. Tell him the crocodile is sleeping.”
“What you say?”
“Tell Omar the crocodile is sleeping.”
Eddy smiled and turned from the gesticulating Feds. The colonel he thought was well capable of handling the situation.
Eddy headed for hotel reception.
“I am a guest of Mr. Omar,” he said in a loud voice. “Omar, the Pharaoh. Captain Biggles at your service.”
“Very good, Mr Biggles.”
“Captain Biggles. Can’t you see I’m wearing the goggles?”
The receptionist looked clueless, but Eddy wasn’t worried because Omar was coming towards him.
“Hey, Mr. Pharaoh!” he beamed. “This is some place you got down here. I can’t tell you what a great guy your Colonel is. By the way, he told me to tell you the crocodile is still sleeping.”
“Is it really?” said Omar.
“Sure, that means it ain’t gonna bite you on the ass.”
Eddy was bubbling over with enthusiasm. As they walked through the pool, he really felt the deal was going to come off. And besides which the babe count was off the scale. They looked like the holy muses, only there were five of them, and they did not seem to be as chaste as their names suggested.
“Ladies, I can’t tell you what fun that was. Being up in that Tiger Moth. Over the desert. You guys are cultured. You must have seen that English film, the one that won all the Oscars. You know the film with what’s name? Ralph Fiennes and some spy. They go on this adventure in the desert.”
Eddy looked round the smiling faces. They seemed to be getting it – his whole vision thing.
“You gotta say biplanes are so raw. Boy, are they an exciting form of transport!”
“Didn’t the plane crash?”
“Not this time. The Colonel had everything under control.”
“Lucky one person in the plane knew what they were doing.”
Eddy looked round. It was Felicia. She really did look good in the bikini.
“Hi, there, Felicia.”
But she chose to ignore him, even if her bikini didn’t.
“Omar,” he said. “I forgot my swim trunks. Can I go in my briefs?”
“Good lord, no! Let me take you to the kiosk in reception. We’ll get you a pair of Vilebrequin’s just like mine.”
“Gee, Mr P, don’t those look fancy!”
“I hate those trunks,” said one of the Egyptian broads. “Why does Omar like them so much?”
“He thinks they make him look like a French playboy,” said one of the other Egyptian babes.
“I’m not a bloody canary,” said Omar with feigned indignation.
They all laughed.
Eddy picked out the most outrageous pair of trunks he could find and changed in the locker room by the pool.
Armed with nothing more than his trunks, he ran along the side of the pool and jumped in.
Just like Muttley. With his hand over his toothy mouth.
When he came up for air, he looked around at them.
“Tell me,” he said, “what does a fella have to do to get a beer around here?”
If Eddy had been able to stop after one beer, then life would have been simpler. On the other hand, he would never have been as successful as he now was. In the early days of his career as a construction foreman, it was his irrepressible enthusiasm for drinking everyone under the table that had landed him on top of the pile. Realtors, lawyers, bankers and tycoons had all thought they were going for just one beer only to find themselves poured into a taxi or the arms of a willing call girl. Eddy did not even need to record the evidence. The knowledge was enough.
He’d steered clear of the blow and some of the nastier people and managed to earn the reputation as a mean sonofabitch who got shit done. He simply was not conscious of his place in society. Mostly he was too busy to think about it. But after one deal too many had slipped through his fingers, he began to wonder why. He remembered his mother watching old Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers films in the hovel where they lived in Trenton, New Jersey. “Gee, Eddy,” his mother would say as she downed an endless stream of Bourbon, “she’s a classy dame. We’ll never be classy like that, Eddy. But it doesn’t matter. We have each other.”
Eddy had not really thought about that moment until he met Harry in the long bar in Vegas. Harry did not have class either, but he did know how to attract the right sort of women.
“I’m telling you, Harry. These Egyptian babes are out of this world.”
“What better than Vegas?”
“Yeh, real friendly, and they’re not after my money the whole time.”
“Quick, you better marry one before you lose it all.”
“Fuck you, Harry. It’s going into the deal, anyway.”
“Hey, don’t forget my cut.”
“You’ve had your cut already.”
“Like hell, I have. I gave you that Felicia babe. Tell you what. Why don’t you marry her and you can pay me double?”
Harry laughed at his own joke. Then he went on:
“Seriously, though, how are you getting on?”
“I don’t know really. I just got here in a bi-plane. You know what I’m saying a fuckin’ bi-plane.”
“You mean it’s better than your Shelby Cobra?”
“If you put one mark on that car, I’ll kick your fuckin’ ass!”
“Does lipstick count?”
Dinner that evening at the hotel. The bonhomie continued to flow with champagne until Felicia discovered there was another guest.
Felicia could not put her finger on what had changed, but all her new-found friends suddenly had their guard up.
Farid was from Algeria, and while he was very prettily attired, he had an edge to him. Eddy missed it completely, and within minutes he and Farid were in deep conversation.
“Who is he?” she asked Nadia.
“He’s our… friend.”
“Really,” said Felicia, not buying any of it. “You don’t look very pleased to see him.”
“We’re not. In fact, he’s not really a friend. He’s an acquaintance, but we have to tolerate him.”
Felicia was overcome with western naivety.
“You don’t have to tolerate anyone surely?” she said.
“He’s very rich, and his family are very powerful. It gives him entry into society.”
“It still shouldn’t mean you have to talk to him.”
“We are polite to him, but each of us has our own scars.”
“Felicia, how very nice to meet you?” said Farid, leaning over to shake her by the hand.
The unwanted guest looked at her with menace, like a crocodile might contemplate its lunch.
“How come I’ve never met you before?” he said.
“This is my first time to Egypt,” she replied.
“Well, in that case, since it’s your first time, I must show you around.”
“Oh, come now, let’s not spoil the evening this early,” retorted Felicia without really thinking about it.
Farid did not reply. He blinked at her and continued to look at her hungrily.
“My dear, that was most unwise,” said Faith, later in the evening. “He will come for you once he’s finished with Nadia.”
“What do you mean? Finished with Nadia? – She doesn’t even like him.”
“Trust me. He’s a nasty piece of work. He will find a way to make you pay.”
Felicia was left to contemplate this remark when Richard slipped into the chair beside her.
“How’s it all going?” he said.
“Everything’s lovely,” she said. “But I am curious about Farid. Why don’t our friends like him?”
Richard was silent for a moment.
“Frankly, I don’t like him either,” he said. “But I never allow my feelings to get in the way of business.”
“What do you mean by business?”
“Farid’s family have been partners with Mr. Saad’s family for generations. We all have to respect that.”
Felicia did not really understand until much later – in fact, as she told me, beyond the scope of this part of the story, how delicate Richard’s role in the family was. She discovered that, although not a relative, Mr. Saad treated him like his long, lost son, despite Richard’s own upbringing being troubled by debt and poverty of a kind Mr. Saad had no experience. His mother was a dear friend of Mr. Saad’s sister, and Mr. Saad had taken took pity on their circumstances.
A day had gone by. Everyone had been swept up in Eddy’s energy, including Felicia, who was feeling less antagonistic towards him. Especially when he kept trying to splash everyone in the pool. Everyone, except Omar, who would try to ignore his juvenile behaviour, but there was always a little water in his squiffy eye. If the Vilebrequin playboy never exactly lost his cool, Felicia found his discomfort amusing. And as she was still feeling indisposed to him, it satisfied some weird sense of schadenfreude that was cooking in her vengeful brain.
All of a sudden, something domestic had come up, and Omar was now busy again, so Felicia volunteered to accompany Richard to the airport to pick up Danny Feinstein. When they got there, however, there was no sign of him.
“Where’s he got to?” said Felicia, as she and Richard stood waiting by the barrier.
“Maybe he took taxi?”
“No, his email said he was going to wait here. In fact, and I quote, “I will not move from the barrier until you arrive.”
“Perhaps I can go and see,” said Richard. “There may have been a problem at passport control. Our bureaucrats often latch onto something.”
Felicia was suddenly worried.
“Oh, really, you think so? – After all, he is Jewish.”
Richard smiled.
“That’s not a problem. Just don’t talk about it here.”
“Oh, sorry. Mum’s the word!”
They walked up and down the arrivals hall, feeling useless. Barring the odd cabin staff in a designer hijab, the hall had emptied out. And Felicia was wondering if Daniel had taken a rain check and never got on the plane. She texted him several times, but to no avail.
A bearded man in full robes, headdress and ray-bans shuffled sideways towards them. Felicia did not like the look of him. She too shuffled sideways.
She tried to hide behind Richard, but the Arab man was remarkably persistent.
Richard looked baffled.
“Is anything wrong?”
“Felicia,” said the Arab, “it’s me.”
“Who is you?”
“Daniel.”
He lifted his ray-bans.
It was the expected Danny Feinstein. Looking, as Felicia later told me, like Le Clerc in ‘Allo ‘Allo by which I think she meant, if not like an airman in a comedic occupied France, at the very least, rather paranoid and foolish.
“Daniel, where have you been?”
“I’m in disguise.”
“It’s not fancy dress, it’s formal.”
But Daniel did not seem to understand.
“It’s not safe,” he said. “I’m under cover.”
“What’s the point in coming if you’re under cover?”
“They’ll find me out.”
“Who will find you out?”
“I don’t know yet. I just thought it would be safer like this.”
He sneezed violently as the false beard tickled his nose.
“How on earth did you get through customs?”
“I’m sorry. I should have texted you. I went to change as I got through customs.”
They went outside and got in the Land Cruiser.
Felicia could tell Daniel was still nervous. They took him to the hotel, so he could shower and change into something more appropriate. But when he re-joined them, he still had the full paraphernalia on.
“What’s wrong with you?” said Felicia. “You supposed to meet Mr. Saad tonight. We’re negotiating tomorrow. You can’t turn up like that. He’ll think you’re mad.”
“What am I going to do now? – I’ll tell you what, I’ll change in the car.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Go back to your room and change.”
This time Daniel seemed willing to comply. When he came back, he was dressed in a suit, but he still had the ray-bans on.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“Never mind,” said Felicia. “We all behave strangely when we are out of our comfort zone.”
The reception was on the other side of Cairo. They had to drive through town. The traffic was chaotic. They moved at a snails’ pace. Even their driver seemed to lose his patience beeping his horn continuously at people straddling the roads, cars cutting them up, scooters brushing the Land Cruiser and kicking the side of it, road side traders knocking on the windows and shouting about their wares whenever they stopped.
Felicia loved it, but Daniel was still on edge.
“Honestly, this place – the Egyptians are crazy.”
Richard smiled and said:
“Not crazy, just normal. Like New York and Tel Aviv.”
“I’ve never been to Tel Aviv.”
“What are you so worried about then?”
“This is going to sound crazy, but I had nightmares before I came on this trip. I kept seeing my grandfather in the Sinai desert.”
Neither Richard nor Felicia said anything.
That was the moment when there was a huge crash.
The driver slammed on the breaks.
Too late, it seemed. They’d hit something.
The driver got out, followed by Richard, who urged them to stay in the car.
Felicia’s curiosity got the better of her.
There was a huge crowd around the Land Cruiser.
A street vendor was waving his arms and shouting.
The driver and Richard stood there impassively.
Felicia began to see what had happened. There was a brown and white goat lying on the ground, half rolled over and apparently dead. Its eyes were closed.
“What’s going on?”
“He wants us to buy his goat,” said Richard.
“But it wasn’t our fault.”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Richard. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”
He turned to the driver and issued some instructions.
The driver shook his head and went to open the rear door of the Land Cruiser.
Richard stepped towards the vendor and took out some money from his pocket.
“You’re going to pay him?” said Felicia.
“It’s his livelihood,” said Richard. “It’s the right way to deal with it.”
Richard paid the street vendor, and they went round the side of the car only to find the goat had vanished.
“Well, I never!” said Felicia.
“That was a very well-trained goat,” said Richard with a straight face.
At which point Daniel started to laugh.
“That goat is smart enough to be a government minister.”
“Especially in Tel Aviv,” said Richard.
Omar left the hospital in a funk. The doctor was vague and unhelpful. And, as he went to the car, Omar could sense vestiges of the familiar dream. He was on the Nile searching for the body. As he thought this, tears of helplessness welled up in his eyes. But this evening there could be no time for self-absorption. He took out his mobile and called the usual number, but there was no answer. Angrily he told the driver to step on it. He was already late, and he still had to go back and change.
By the time he got to the party, he was still late and flustered because of it. It’s hard for most people to be late for a party, and especially not Omar. He hated to be late. He liked to be there to meet and greet everyone. It had also been one of his father’s house rules. “How is everyone going to remember you, Omar, unless you go and talk to them?” – “But, father,” he would say, “why is it important for me to remember everyone?” His father would reply: “In life you must remember two things about everyone you meet, and then, most importantly, they will remember you for having asked.”
He walked through the door of the reception and took a drink off a waiter.
He need not have worried. Felicia saw him straight away and came to welcome him.
“You missed the goat.”
“No,” said Daniel, who came up behind her, “we hit the goat.”
“It’s now in heaven,” said Richard. “Along with the Minister of Tourism for Israel.”
“Correction,” said Daniel, “along with the Minister of Tourism for Egypt.”
“Are you sure about that?” re-joined Omar. “I saw him only yesterday, and he looked alive and well to me.”
Omar listened, amused, as they explained to him the story. But inside he was still not quite himself.
“One has to watch out in the market places. Everyone always has an angle.”
He said this for Felicia’s benefit, but Richard wanted to carry on the joke.
“The goat may have vanished,” he said, “but at least one family will get fed tonight.”
At that moment Mr. Saad came over with Ali. Everyone shook hands.
Eddy waltzed up with Nadia on his arm. Omar was faintly annoyed. Not with Eddy, but Nadia, who should have known better. He could tell there was too much hope in her eyes.
“What do you know? Nadia knows how to lindy hop. My mom taught me when I was growing up. We gotta find somewhere to lindy hop.”
“You can do it right here at the party. Richard will play, won’t you, Richard?”
Richard shrugged amiably.
“However,” went on Mr. Saad, “before we get down to serious business, I need to say a few words.”
Mr. Saad called for a microphone. Omar began to listen. Omar thought it was a warm speech, and all of sudden, and quite unexpectedly, he began to feel more optimistic than he had in months. Richard sat down at the piano, and Nadia and the increasingly enthusiastic Eddy began to lindy hop. It was a surprisingly exuberant show, and all the guests gathered around to watch them. In fact, Omar was really beginning to feel very warmly about Eddy, who initially he had found far too abrasive and vulgar. He thought he began to understand his personality, and his annoyance towards Nadia began to lift. Then, suddenly, there was a commotion at the far end of the room.
The crowds parted, and a goat ran onto the dance floor, pursued by two of the waiters.
The goat bleated as the waiters tried to tackle it. It stepped out of the way and jumped onto a table.
People started laughing. But Eddy and Nadia carried on dancing, and Richard carried on playing.
“I don’t believe it!” cried Felicia. “That fucking goat has come back to life again.”
Omar smiled and thought to himself: if the goat could come back to life, maybe so could he.
Omar had texted her. Felicia was to meet him at the office of Mr. Saad’s Empire at ten a.m. Felicia had wanted to meet for breakfast, but Omar was already with Mr. Saad.
Felicia hurried to get ready – more annoyed than flustered. What was going on?
She picked up her phone and dialled Omar’s number.
“Do you want me to bring Daniel?”
“No,” said Omar. “He’s already here, too.”
“Then, why am I not with you already?”
“You will be. At ten.”
When Felicia arrived at the top floor of Mr. Saad’s building, she hardly noticed the view across the Nile, which was spectacular, or the opulence of the décor, which was Parisian. There was what appeared to be a country scene by a well-known impressionist, and some Egyptian statuettes of a god with a dog’s head. But she did not care; she was still annoyed by what she felt were Omar’s boys’ games.
Felicia’s irritation translated to cold fury when she realised the meeting had not only started without her, but they had been ambushed by Ali, who it now appeared was trying to get a completely different deal done.
There was a short break; Mr. Saad and Ali disappeared. Felicia was left alone with Omar and Daniel.
“Fucking hell,” said Daniel. “I come all this way, and they are low-balling us.”
“What do you expect?” said Omar. “You were in the meeting with Ali in Nevada. You know what he’s like.”
“I don’t think they are serious.”
“You must be patient,” said Omar, “This is how it always works.”
“Anyway,” said Daniel, “that’s chicken feed for them. They’re fucking loaded.”
“Daniel, I think you are being very ungracious.”
“I don’t know,” said Daniel. “I feel like I want to go back to the hotel.”
“That’s exactly what Ali’s trying to do to you. He wants you to be off balance. Wouldn’t you say I’m right, Felicia?”
Felicia was suddenly intrigued.
“What exactly are they offering?”
“It’s easy. They’re offering considerably less than we need.”
“What about the Egypt project?”
“That’s not in the deal.”
“Why not? I thought that was what it was all about? That makes no sense. As far as I see it, that’s exactly what it’s all about.”
“They won’t fucking budge on it.”
“Well, do they have a site?”
“I have no idea.”
Felicia shook her head.
“Park the money. We have to find out how ready they are. Omar, I thought this was your job.”
“We have discussed some sites, but there are no firm decisions yet.”
“Great,” said Felicia. “Let’s tell them we’ll consider their offer. In the meantime, we want to see the sites.”
Felicia came back to the hotel in better spirits than she left it. She knew the deal wasn’t done, but she felt like they were finally making some progress.
She picked up her key from reception and headed for the elevator, humming a few bars of Bert Bacharach:
“I’ve been away so long
I may go wrong and lose my way”
Suddenly she felt a presence behind her.
She turned around.
There was Eddy, looking a bit demonic.
“Where’ve you been?”
“Are you taking the elevator?” she said absently.
They both stepped into the elevator as two rather portly Arabs stepped out.
Eddy was suddenly a bit too close to her – breathing a little bit too heavily.
“I said, where you been, Miss Portman?”
“What’s got your goat, today?”
“I’ll tell you what’s got my goat, today. I call everyone and nobody answers. You all vanish. It’s like a ghost town around here.”
At that point the elevator doors opened. It was Felicia’s floor.
She stepped out nonchalantly, and Eddy stepped out with her.
“Where are you going?”
“Thought you wanted to know where I’ve been.”
“Let me guess. To the ghost town.”
“As a matter of fact, things are moving on…”
Reaching the door to her room; she rummaged in her bag for her key card.
Eddy followed her into the room.
She put her bag down on the table and turned to him:
“I don’t recall inviting you in.”
“I don’t need an invitation when you owe me.”
Eddy’s eyes bulged.
“What the fuck is going on, Felicia?”
There was an ashtray on the table, he threw it across the room.
She watched it as it landed feebly on the bed, next to the pillow.
Mr. Biggles was in a huff.
“Listen here, Biggles.”
Felicia stepped forward and stared into his eyes.
Eddy jumped.
Felicia went in for the kill.
She jabbed him with her finger, and he jumped again.
“Don’t you think you can come in here and start throwing around ashtrays. I’ve always been taught when one’s abroad, one should behave impeccably, and not like a demented skunk.”
“I’m really fucking pissed at you, Felicia. What the fuck do you mean by impeccably? You’re either a demented skunk or not.”
Felicia started to laugh, and so did Eddy.
Eddy sat down on the bed.
“Jeez,” he said, “I spent so much of my life being an asshole, it’s hard to know when to switch off.”
Felicia was amused as well as relieved that she wasn’t going to have to deal with another overly physical member of the male sex.
“Honestly,” she said, “never mind a demented skunk, you’re not even a very good loan shark.”
“You don’t think so? Harry’s still frightened of me.”
“Well, I guess he must be your little brother then.”
“Maybe… I did have a little brother once.”
Felicia pouted.
Now she almost felt sorry for him. “Anyway,” she said, “you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’m pinning the Egyptians down on a site, and I’m going to see one option this afternoon. Tomorrow we are all going to look at another site. In fact, why don’t you go and play with Daniel and Omar while I’m out this afternoon.”
“Is it just you with that Ali guy?”
She tapped her nose.
“Relax, Mr Biggles. It’s all part of the plan.”
Felicia was in an irresistible situation. She had four options. Omar, it was true, looked interminably occupied. Did she want to don the goggles and join the loan shark? Or would she leave him high and dry in the desert? Or would she slip into the arms of the polished Egyptian with Georgetown credentials? Alternatively, there was always the fourth option…
As Ali drove her down the palm-lined roads along the Nile, she soon forgot about all the options and started to enjoy the scenery. The trees and green pastures were punctuated by incongruous piles of tractor tyres and concrete blocks. It was as if the Gardener to the Pharaohs had not quite tidied up properly. For one moment she had this urge to get a broom or was it a truck, then she thought better of it.
The car pulled into the stables, and they got out.
“Remember it has been a while,” said Felicia, as they rode out in the desert.
Filled with pride, Ali sat well on his favourite horse named Philip after the Pharaoh.
Felicia clung to the mane of the chestnut mare and tried to be as ladylike as possible, but she could feel a boarding school backstory unravelling on the sands. “How far are we going to go?”
Ali laughed:
“All the way back to Roedean.”
He took his riding crop to the horse to engage it in a brisk trot. Philip became startled by the unaccustomed urgency of his favourite rider, threw up his head and shot off in response. Ali was so unprepared for this that he fell off before the first hurdle.
Felicia could scarcely stifle her giggles.
Ali got up, brushing himself down.
The dust of the desert was all over his clothes, and he looked no longer honed but rugged.
“I’m sorry,” she said, unable to resist. “But pride comes before a fall.”
Ali grimaced.
“Well,” he said, patting his thigh with his riding crop, “at least you still have a horse.”
Felicia was contrite.
“Really,” she said, “I have a confession to make. I’ve never been much of a rider. All the other girls used to tease me.”
Ali got back onto Philip, who eyed him balefully, and they set off again more slowly. The truth was, she could sense his skill and indeed patience with his mount, who seemed to be somewhat frisky that evening.
“Really,” he said, “I should have shown him more respect.”
“I agree,” said Felicia. “Daniel is such a clever fellow.”
Ali laughed.
“You are right. He’s just a bit nervous in our country, and we like it like that.”
“Well,” said Felicia, “I think you are being quite unfair.”
“In what way am I being unfair?”
“He’s done everything you’ve asked of him, and now you are stalling on the sites.”
“We’re not stalling. He just wants too much money. And given his background, I know he can do what’s needed for less.”
“Probably, but it will take longer and it might not work as you need it to.”
“That’s hardly my problem,” said Ali. “It’s in his interests to work.”
“Omar tells me you want to build a plant here as the first phase of the project. So really it’s in all our interests to get it right.”
But before Ali could respond, they came over the ridge and saw the Pyramids of Saqqara.
Felicia was more impressed than all her books had led her to believe. The pyramids had been there, thousands of years as a pinnacle of another civilisation.
They rode up to the pyramid Djoser, and, as they rode around it, the sun dipped.
“People say this is one of the greatest achievements of our civilisation,” said Ali.
“Don’t you mean an achievement of their civilisation, not your civilisation?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Forget your ancestors. What do you personally want to be remembered for?”
“Many things, but not necessarily to do with business.”
“You surprise me. I would have thought you would see your name in condominiums.”
“Now you are being mean. Anyway, what about you, Felicia? Do you have something in mind for your immortality?”
Felicia laughed. The truth was, she was far too canny to give answer to such a question.
She tapped her horse’s flank with her riding crop and cried:
“Tally-ho! See you at the next pyramid!”
Felicia’s back was against the wall, and her heart was pounding.
Think, you silly bitch, she said to herself.
Stealth?
She put her head down and took off her heels.
She peered down the corridor to see if the coast was clear and set off padding silently along the marble floor.
How the fuck had she brought this on?
Then she remembered the warning.
She came to the elevator. Which was it to be? Elevator or stairs?
The ping of the elevator alerted him. He ran down the corridor furiously.
The elevator door was open.
No one.
He dived back up the stairs.
Where was she?
He took the elevator down to the lobby.
The lobby was deserted.
Or was it?
The door to the pool was open.
But no one was there.
He walked slowly right round the pool and sighed to himself.
Pity.
He slipped something back into his jacket pocket and walked through the hotel lobby and out into the night.
The following day, Felicia tells me she was all ready to get the deal done. When I asked her how she managed to turn it around, she said:
“It really wasn’t that simple. When I turned up in the office, that fucker Farid was there, and he was talking to Omar. I thought: Fucking hell, all the chess pieces are here, and it’s like a snake has got onto the board. I couldn’t believe it. Omar seemed to want him there. Sometimes men stick together for stupid reasons. I told Omar in no uncertain terms if Farid was in, I would break the deal, and I would tell Mr. Saad exactly why. I’m not sure if Omar truly believed me, but he did what I asked. “Felicia,” he said, “you are a tough negotiator. I respect your point of view. Don’t worry. I will deal with it.” Well, I thought, I’ll believe it when I see it, after all his shenanigans. But for once, a gentleman proved to be a gentleman, and not just a wolf. But what about Eddy and his sidekick, Harry, I hear you cry? – Funnily enough, Harry was there when we signed the deal. He’d come over with some Savile Row suits for Eddy. At least he’d listened to some of my advice, although I’m not sure I like the look of the skunk in a suit. He looked more fetching in a pair of goggles. As he said to me afterwards, there is no point in being on the Felucca Ride unless you’re dressed for the occasion, which I thought was the first time Eddy had ever made any sense.”
Speaking of which, and in case you are still wondering why, there was in the end a Felucca Ride. All the players were invited except that poor gate-crashing goat who still had not been caught.
“I can’t believe we got this thing done,” said Felicia, as they drove towards the river.
“I have to thank you,” said Omar. “A big part of it is down to you.”
“I did my part, Omar, but it was your deal. You brought everyone together.”
“That’s what I do,” said Omar. “I bring people together, but really you made it happen.”
“I was just being myself,” she said.
“On the contrary,” said Omar, “you have become the self you needed to be.”
“I don’t know about that. What do we do next?”
“I meant what I said,” said Omar. “You are now the CEO.”
Felicia was flattered, but she sensed there was something more to come as Omar fiddled with something in his pocket.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “We have so much more to do together.”
Omar smiled.
“I don’t think so,” he said. “It’s not me who has more to do. It’s you. And I am sure you will do it very well.”
“What do you mean? How am I going to get all this done on my own?”
Omar put his hand gently on Felicia’s knee.
“You have everyone here to help you,” he said. “It will be fine.”
“What about Daniel?”
“I have spoken to Daniel, and he has assured me he will honour the agreement. I have also assigned the agreements over to you.”
Omar handed her something. It was a little box.
“It’s my signet ring,” he said. “You just have to show them this, and they will understand.”
“Why on earth did he give you his signet ring?” I asked. “Was it a marriage proposal?
Felicia thought I was being silly. “Mary,” she said, “you of all people should understand the symbolism. It means you have now become the pharaoh.”
At that moment the car pulled up at the dock. They got out, and the driver came round to open the door.
Omar was standing slightly apart, apparently oblivious to the noise and chaos of the dock where several porters were furiously at work loading and unloading boats and wheeling handcarts around him.
Felicia called over to him, and he came, smiling wanly towards her, as she stood with her own bag in her hands.
“Haven’t you packed your overnight bag?” she said.
“No,” he said, “I’m coming to say goodbye.”
She leaned towards him, and he leaned down to kiss her.
“Oh, Omar,” she said, “I was so looking forward to our Felucca Ride.”
“The others are waiting for you, I think.”
“You’re not coming?”
“It’s time for me to deal with something that I cannot avoid.”
“Come on, Omar. Come with us. It will be fun. All the girls are here, and Richard is going to play on the piano.”
Omar shook his head. He touched her fondly on the arm. Then, he turned and walked away.
As she went up the gangway, emotions were swirling around in her head. One of the girls called over to her.
“Felicia, do you want a glass of champagne?”
Felicia turned round and looked back at the dock.
The last thing she saw was Omar waving from the car. Had she continued watching she would have seen a woman joining Omar on the quayside, and the pair of them climbing aboard a different Felucca.
But Felicia missed all this because she had already turned back to the party, the champagne and that preposterous skunk strutting beside the piano.
Then, a cold dread came over her.
What, she wondered, had happened to the snake?
Markets have always held an attraction to me. I’ve been to the Puces de Saint Ouen in Paris, the Feria Tristan Narvaja in Montevideo and the Campo de’ Fiori in Rome. As some readers will know, I have had more than a nodding acquaintance with London market. Once I baby-sat Mario’s stall in Ibiza; I’ve been to markets in Hong Kong and Guangzhou; I’ve been enticed into drinking tea in the Istanbul bazaar and placing a bet on West Bromwich Albion (Istanbul marketeers are, for their sins, far too knowledgeable about the state of the English Premiership). But all this is mundane in comparison with the time I was chased around a Moroccan souk. The chaser wanted to wrap me up in a magic carpet, but as I had no wish to be Mrs Ben, I managed to avoid that fate by disappearing into a snake charmer’s basket.
Although I have never personally been to the souk in Cairo, Felicia says it was carefully organised chaos. Chaos in the sense she didn’t know what was going on, but organised in the sense everyone else did. And as she was accompanied by Mr. Saad, who wished to thank her for her kindness in oiling the wheels of the deal, she felt quite at home. “Just like the Old North End Road,” as she put it. “Full of Arthur Daleys in Kufi hats.”
She and her host stopped to admire an enormously over-sized teapot. Felicia wanted to buy some spices to take home, but the dealer insisted she could only buy them in one kilo bags, which was rather more than her luggage could easily accommodate. They also took a tour of the Mosque, and Felicia marvelled at the intricacy and artistry of the tiling. “Darling,” she said to me, “those poor monks lived in tiny little cells. You couldn’t really let yourself go in one of them.”
Finally, to show his gratitude, Mr. Saad bought her two Bastet Cat statues made of Rosa Kali granite from one of those little nick-knack shops that have everything in it from a paddywhack to a dog’s bone. One he said to protect her front door and the other to protect her back door, but as Felicia lives in a flat, she says she only needs one. The other has ended up on my mantelpiece (here in the study where I now write) before the El Greco print (which for some reason the Sheik dislikes (he describes it as almost indecent, though personally I cannot see what is indecent about the disrobing of Christ), but to return to Felicia’s story; everything seemed almost wrapped up, but for one last thing.