The circle is closing. Lies will get you nowhere now. You never expected these questions when you planned all this. “I do have another purpose, apart from tourism.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s family business.”

“Tell me something about the property you own.”

“Just money.”

“No land or buildings?”

“Just money, cash.”

“And your address in Alexandria. Is it what is stated on your identity card?”

Questions. Investigations. His home, the nightclubs. Basima Omran. You will invite suspicion, you cannot escape it.

“Yes, that’s where I live.”

“Which bank do you use?”

“Bank?”

“Yes. Where is your money deposited?”

“I don’t use banks.”

“Where do you keep your money?”

“In…in my pocket.”

“Your pocket? Aren’t you afraid you might lose it?”

“There’s very little left,” he said quietly, with bitterness.

“But your identity card points out that you are wealthy.”

“I was.”

“What are you planning to do?”

Don’t hesitate. I’ll challenge him with the truth, or in spite of it.

“I was searching for my father. That’s my future.”

“You’re looking for your father?”

“Yes. He left us when I was just a baby. I told you I had family problems; they’re of no importance, not worth mentioning. Now that I’ve gone through my money, I’ve no recourse but to look for him.”

“Have you any idea where he might be?”

“No. The advertisement in the newspaper is my last hope.”

“Maybe that’s the real reason why you are here in Cairo.”

“Perhaps.”

“How long will your money last?”

“A month at most.”

“May I?”

With mounting but restrained anger, Saber handed him his wallet. The officer looked through it and then gave it back.

“What are you going to do when the money runs out?”

“I was planning on finding a job.”

“What are your qualifications?”

“None.”

“What kind of a job?”

“Any kind of commercial enterprise.”

“Do you think that’ll be easy?”

“I’ve got friends in Alexandria; they will help me.”

“Do you owe the hotel money?”

“No. I paid this week in advance.”

“How did you find this hotel?”

“Purely by chance. I was looking for a cheap place to stay.”

“Did you know anyone in this hotel before coming?”

“No.”

“But since then? You know many people here, no doubt?

“Mohamed el-Sawi, Aly Seriakous.”

“Mr. Khalil, I mean. The deceased, Khalil Abul Naga?”

“Naturally.”

“What did you think of him?”

“A very old, very kind man.”

“And yet someone saw fit to kill him.”

“That’s very sad.”

“Did you know where he lived?”

“In a flat on the roof, I think.”

“You’re not sure?”

“No.”

“How do you know?”

“Aly Seriakous told me.”

“Or did you ask him?”

“Perhaps.”

“I wonder why.”

“I don’t really remember. I usually chatted with the porter whenever I saw him.”

“Did you ask him any other questions?”