obviously knows about my hatred of Aziz Al-Khalid, and he probably wants me to murder the girl’s father. Has Aziz become an obstacle? He couldn’t buy his loyalty?
Faisal stared through tears at the neck of the driver, remembering the scarred and broken neck of the boy resting on the burial sheets—the innocent face, the closed eyes, the closed lips of his beloved son.
As the car entered the cemetery, Faisal searched the narrow streets. As he had hoped, there were no cars in sight, no people, just littered pavement and pale walls and small buildings shrouded in darkness.
The moment the car stopped and the tall man opened the door, that giant old friend Diab and three others stepped out of the shadows, all holding rifles. A fifth man jumped onto the hood of the car and aimed an Ingram submachinegun at the driver.
Faisal raised his chin and squared his shoulders. He was again a leader of men. He stood directly in front of the tall man, reached up and slapped his face. “You come to my house. You insult me, you filthy pig!” He slapped him again, aware that his men were watching. “You tell your colonel I will be respected! By him! By anyone he sends to me! You tell him that.”
The man glanced at the rifle in Diab’s hands.
“My pistol,” Faisal said.
“I don’t have it. I left it back there. I just do what I’m told.”
“Now you will do what I say!” Faisal yelled. “You will tell me the name of the woman who came here with you.”
“I don’t know her. He doesn’t know her,” tilting his head toward the driver. “We never saw her before. She just showed us how to get here. As God—”
Again Faisal slapped the man’s face.
“You tell your colonel I want my pistol back and I want the name of the woman. I choose to do what he wants. Tell him that. And tell him I’ll contact him when I am ready. And don’t use my pistol. If it is used and it leads the police to me, you will die.”
Faisal was tempted to slap him again, but it wasn’t necessary. He had restored his honor.
“Tell the colonel not to look for me and not to send anyone here to hurt my woman. She is under my protection. Tell him that.” He waited a few moments to enjoy the feeling of being once again in command. “You can go,” he said. He watched the man hurry back inside the car.
When the car was gone, Faisal turned to Diab. “That hyena who was supposed to be guarding me. Where is he?”
“He was badly hurt. He is being treated.”
“Shoot him.”
Diab rested his great hand on Faisal’s shoulder and laughed, his fat cheeks jiggling, his shoulders rising and falling. “No, no, Faisal. It was my fault, not his. I should have relieved him. He was here more than thirteen hours. We can’t blame him.”
“He was supposed to protect me! I want him shot!”
Diab urged Faisal past the gate into Afaf’s enclosure, out of earshot of the men. “It would hurt us to do that. We have lost too many men. We can’t have any more defections, Faisal. We must show our men compassion and loyalty.”
“What about loyalty to me?”
“He was loyal. He stayed here. He tried to stay awake. We need more men, Faisal.”
“How will we get them? We have no money.”
“Look, I will reprimand this boy in front of the men. I will tell them you have spared his life. They will be grateful. It will build loyalty. They will respect you for understanding their difficulties.”
Faisal thought about it awhile. “Do what you will,” he said, grudgingly.
Diab gave him a one-armed hug. “Tell me what happened. I recognized that car, you know. And so did the men. One of them knows the driver. He knows where he lives. They call him Il-Gazzaar.”
“The Butcher?”
“Yes. Did you see Jaradat?”
Faisal told him everything.
“So he wants to keep his hands clean,” Diab said. “He didn’t hint who he wants killed?”
“He says it’s not for that. We’ll talk about it later.”
While Diab was bringing a car around, Faisal went
Faisal stared through tears at the neck of the driver, remembering the scarred and broken neck of the boy resting on the burial sheets—the innocent face, the closed eyes, the closed lips of his beloved son.
As the car entered the cemetery, Faisal searched the narrow streets. As he had hoped, there were no cars in sight, no people, just littered pavement and pale walls and small buildings shrouded in darkness.
The moment the car stopped and the tall man opened the door, that giant old friend Diab and three others stepped out of the shadows, all holding rifles. A fifth man jumped onto the hood of the car and aimed an Ingram submachinegun at the driver.
Faisal raised his chin and squared his shoulders. He was again a leader of men. He stood directly in front of the tall man, reached up and slapped his face. “You come to my house. You insult me, you filthy pig!” He slapped him again, aware that his men were watching. “You tell your colonel I will be respected! By him! By anyone he sends to me! You tell him that.”
The man glanced at the rifle in Diab’s hands.
“My pistol,” Faisal said.
“I don’t have it. I left it back there. I just do what I’m told.”
“Now you will do what I say!” Faisal yelled. “You will tell me the name of the woman who came here with you.”
“I don’t know her. He doesn’t know her,” tilting his head toward the driver. “We never saw her before. She just showed us how to get here. As God—”
Again Faisal slapped the man’s face.
“You tell your colonel I want my pistol back and I want the name of the woman. I choose to do what he wants. Tell him that. And tell him I’ll contact him when I am ready. And don’t use my pistol. If it is used and it leads the police to me, you will die.”
Faisal was tempted to slap him again, but it wasn’t necessary. He had restored his honor.
“Tell the colonel not to look for me and not to send anyone here to hurt my woman. She is under my protection. Tell him that.” He waited a few moments to enjoy the feeling of being once again in command. “You can go,” he said. He watched the man hurry back inside the car.
When the car was gone, Faisal turned to Diab. “That hyena who was supposed to be guarding me. Where is he?”
“He was badly hurt. He is being treated.”
“Shoot him.”
Diab rested his great hand on Faisal’s shoulder and laughed, his fat cheeks jiggling, his shoulders rising and falling. “No, no, Faisal. It was my fault, not his. I should have relieved him. He was here more than thirteen hours. We can’t blame him.”
“He was supposed to protect me! I want him shot!”
Diab urged Faisal past the gate into Afaf’s enclosure, out of earshot of the men. “It would hurt us to do that. We have lost too many men. We can’t have any more defections, Faisal. We must show our men compassion and loyalty.”
“What about loyalty to me?”
“He was loyal. He stayed here. He tried to stay awake. We need more men, Faisal.”
“How will we get them? We have no money.”
“Look, I will reprimand this boy in front of the men. I will tell them you have spared his life. They will be grateful. It will build loyalty. They will respect you for understanding their difficulties.”
Faisal thought about it awhile. “Do what you will,” he said, grudgingly.
Diab gave him a one-armed hug. “Tell me what happened. I recognized that car, you know. And so did the men. One of them knows the driver. He knows where he lives. They call him Il-Gazzaar.”
“The Butcher?”
“Yes. Did you see Jaradat?”
Faisal told him everything.
“So he wants to keep his hands clean,” Diab said. “He didn’t hint who he wants killed?”
“He says it’s not for that. We’ll talk about it later.”
While Diab was bringing a car around, Faisal went
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