Stopping at the first junction to wait for a gap in the bicycle traffic, I turned and looked back at the Fort. The security man was banging on the door. I saw it open. He went inside.
I passed Christmas in Egypt on the way. The proprietor was outside in the street supervising some loading or off-loading from a cart. I greeted him.
“I was here last night,” I told him. “Do you remember me?” “Of course,” he replied. “Didn’t I mix you a dry martini? Was it OK?”
“Fine,” I said. “Were you told that there was almost a fight after you left the bar?”
He didn’t look surprised.
“It happens,” he said.
“The man who caused the trouble was pretty drunk. Do you know who I mean?”
“I think so,” he replied.
“Do you know who he is and where I can find him?” I asked.
“Sorry,” he replied. “He’s not a r
