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more, I knew very well that, in truth, he couldn’t care less about political Islam. After all, we had fallen into religion when we were little, we’d had enough of it.
    â€œDrop these stories about an attack, come on, we’ll go out. The Sheikh won’t come back before tomorrow.”
    I saw Bassam stare at me as if I were the one who was completely crazy.
    â€œI have to pray to purify myself.”
    I sighed. I wondered what Sheikh Nureddin had done to him, or what he had promised him. Houris in Paradise, maybe. Bassam had a weakness for stories about houris, who were always virgins you could fuck for eternity on the shores of Kawthar, the Lake of Abundance in the hereafter.
    But I too had my houris.
    â€œYou know what, I met two great girls last night, two Spanish students. They’re staying till tomorrow. We smoked a joint together, and I’m supposed to meet up with them soon.”
    â€œStop joking around.”
    But his eyes had lit up.
    That made a big impression, in his head.
    â€œI don’t believe you.”
    â€œThat doesn’t matter. I need you to come with me, to take care of the second one. I won’t lie to you, she’s not as pretty as the first, but she’s still nice. Come on, do this for me.”
    â€œSo, what’re their names?”
    That was it, I had him hooked.
    â€œYours is Inez and mine is Carmen.”
    I could have thought of something more original, but that had come out point-blank, without a second’s hesitation.
    â€œAnd how old are they?”
    â€œI don’t know, twenty-four, twenty-five,” I said.
    â€œOh man, it sucks, but I promised the Sheikh I’d stay here and wait for his orders. And spend the night praying.”
    â€œWe can stay for a little bit with them, and then you can come back and pray, what’s the difference?”
    I thought: if all of Sheikh Nureddin’s recruits were as easy to manipulate as Bassam, the victory of Islam won’t happen very soon.
    He suddenly took on the relieved look of someone who’d made a difficult decision.
    â€œOkay, but just for a little bit, alright? Afterward I’ll come back.”
    â€œWhatever you want.”
    Now I’m committed, I thought. I’ll be mincemeat when he finds out that the fat Inez and the beautiful Carmen stood us up.
    No matter, I’ll improvise.
    And it will still be something that Sheikh Nureddin won’t have, those few hours of prayer. A tiny victory.
    Bassam combed some of my hair gel into his hair, breathed into his hand to check his breath; he was trembling with eagerness.
    â€œLet’s speak Spanish on the way, to practice a little,” he said.
    â€œ Con mucho gusto, hijo de puta ,” I replied.
    And we were off; a warm light rain was beginning to fall.

THE shower didn’t last, but the weather could provide me with an excuse for the absence of our imaginary friends; everyone knows that Spaniards never go out when it rains. We walked for half an hour to reach the center of town. Bassam kept bombarding me with questions in an Iberian mixed with French and Arabic, pretty incomprehensible but delightful; he wanted to know everything, precisely where I had met these young women, what we had said to each other, where they came from, etc. I improvised these details, hoping to remember them so I wouldn’t betray myself later on—Valencia (Madrid or Seville seemed too obvious to me), students, on vacation between semesters, and so on. I wondered if Bassam was really tricked or if the game let him dream, like me. I talked about it so much I was almost disappointed myself not to find them at the meeting place, supposedly in a tearoom near the Place des Nations. I bought a cake for Bassam, who devoured it in a few minutes, nervousness no doubt. We looked sort of foolish, us two, in this pastry shop; all around guys were on dates with their fiancées, they all wore pretty, colorful veils, and were