Tds - An Excerpt

CAIRO ‘Who in Allah's name, just tell me who might trace you down here?’ Who might take the slightest interest in you? Do you know how many millions are crowding the streets of this huge metropolis?’ Declared rather theatrically the stranger, who was seated facing him – raising his eye brows, opening wide a pair of round bulging eyes to express his amazement. ‘What are you afraid of? You of all men, after having done so

much for the organization... Do me a favor, be reasonable!’ Added the stranger extending forth excitedly both his hands – expressing better his highly-strung emotions. They were seated at the Semiramis Hilton's lobby, next to a small rectangular coffee table – opposite each other; their torsos bent forward leaning on their elbows. Samir listened most of the time to that stranger who summoned him down from his suite that morning – about a quarter of an hour earlier, and that stranger was already lecturing him enthusiastically Just last night at about midnight, they had reached that immense edifice. That modern and imperious hotel; and that was the end of their joy trip, of their so called honeymoon… Well Samir couldn't complain, but he couldn't detach himself from her either! He lingered in the parked car while his luggage was unloaded, and carried to the hotel's reception counter. Leila had not uttered a word, since they reached to the outskirts of Cairo. They parted as a pair of strangers who had never laid eyes on each other. There was no need of pretense or role-playing – not in front of that driver in particular. Or was it rather the role she played, as the modest would-be spouse, on her way to her fiancée – and that role of hers begun the moment they left Tabba. Though she was ever so nice and polite to him. Well she is so prudent and so much more experienced than me; and that driver knew too well his course, the fact he had to drive on – and fetch her to the right address…He must have known so well where she was expected... And that depressing change, took place some nine hours earlier! It seems so incredible; it’s so hard to get used to... Why, we were supposed to pass some time together, as much as a month at least – or was I that carried off that I wasn't capable anymore to distinguish between chaff and grain? So here he was at the start of the his second phase, deeply hurt, distressed and longing for Leila – wishing they wouldn't had parted yet. While she in complete contrast to his behavior, did not show any emotions at all! The closer they got to their destination, the more sealed and expressionless her countenance became; eager to reach her waiting fiancée, Samir concluded with envy. It could not be love. He could not have fallen in love with her, could he? But never before did he pass more than half an hour, in a woman's company. As his short previous intimate experience, was based on relations with one kind only – prostitutes. He visited them in their abodes, used them, paid them – and left them right afterwards – without adding a single word to the one usual question: how much? Thus the seven exceptional days and nights, whiich they passed together left their mark deep within his soul. Arousing neglected feelings, which for quite a while he was not conscious of. Some five minutes after nine o’clock this very morning, that bespectacled dwarf, called up his suite – and woke him up. Except his expensive summer suit, he had no external advantages he could impress him with. Though he was no more than thirty years of age, he was already completely bald. His smooth crown glistened, and dazzled him almost with every movement of his head; and this was his contact, his go between man – with the organization's office in Cairo. Samir was not allowed to visit the office openly, or more accurately – he was forbidden to do so. That was the first

thing which Abu what's his name, bothered to tell him, his full ‘Nom de Guerre’ Samir has already forgotten. It was not the man's poor impression, but the state of excitement in which Samir himself was. Anyhow, after that scornful dwarf had identified himself, brandishing his genuine I.D. card – which verified beyond any possible doubt his legitimate membership in the organization; Samir hastened to bring forth all his fears and apprehensions. The Israelis’ long arm of vengeance bothered him. That was his most urgent concern he declared; though in fact he was getting rid of completely different feelings. His disappointment and frustration, caused by parting with Leila, the sudden encounter with that huge metropolis; but above of all the sense of utter loneliness and alienation which beset him, since he crossed the threshold of his suite. The effusive compliments that were bestowed on him by the small stranger, did encourage him at first but soon aroused his suspicions. ‘Abu-razek’ was his alias, he suddenly recalled; a Palestinian exile just as he himself is – and that’s just my ninth day in exile, he recalled with a taste of bitterness. Across the table Abu-razek was fidgeting in his armchair, moving his right hand in the air elaborately with clear unrest. Was he groping mentally for some lost thought – or was it some kind of a show off, to make Samir realize he was carrying a gun? Samir wondered watching his risible fidgety contact man. Finally after a few hesitations, Abu-razek pushed his hand into his jacket's inner pocket, and pulled out a piece of paper. ‘Here is your permit to exist!’ He said smiling cynically, enjoying his own witticism. He handed it over to Samir. ‘I'll have any other document you still own!’ Reluctantly Samir emptied his pockets, and handed Abu-razek his passport plus his driving license and the Israeli ID card. Although the whole lot was nothing but bits of paper, issued by some loathsome hated Jews it represented his own self, and he found it rather hard to part with. His new document, ‘his permit to exist’, was a miserable piece of paper. If he were to compare it with what he already had. A three months temporary passage permit it was, issued by the Tunisian foreign ministry, on his very real name! ‘Samir Mashrawy’. Reading his real name on that poor document – which he was just given was a surprising disappointment, an insult; as he was certain of having to learn some new personal details – to assume his new identity. I must be a wanted person by now, back in my homeland! I managed to scape the "Shabac's" fangs and claws, that's true; but that won't put an end to their inquiries; that won’t stop their efforts to track me down. If I did keep those blood thirsty dogs off my trail; well then, now I'll have to deal with much fiercer beasts eager the hunt me down – ‘Mossad agents, skilled hit-men…! The front pages of the leading European papers were full of stories of such and such various organizations’ senior members, who were blown to pieces, shot, or put to death by endless means and tricks – in the last couple of years! Why, that miserable passage permit isn't a document to rely upon! Shouldn't I too have an alias, to protect my real identity? Don't I merit one? Why should this wretched joke, who sits opposite me have an alias, who is he? What has he done to deserve it? What I need now is a good cover story supported by an alias, and genuine and permanent papers. Such means would help me, would guarantee my safety; and would be a sign of my new status, a moral support – means that would justify my exile and help me to over come its hardships… ‘Well, what bothers you now?’ Asked Abu-razek, who had quite an amount of knowledge of the human soul and its motives. ‘It’s this passage permit and the name I've been given in it – which is not a typical Tunisian name. What I need is a valid passport, with a solid convincing name; a name that would fit that poor document... if one might call it a document!’

What an ambitious type that fellow is! Wondered Abu-razek The shortcuts type, who reaches for the very top. I've seen some of his kind thrown away in deserted ditches and gutters, with their throats cut from ear to ear…‘As for a passport it takes time to prepare one, and that piece of paper, you now own – is a genuine document mind you! What's wrong with your name? Don't you like it, or do you find it hard to get used to? You're over doing it, don't you think? He added emphatically, trying to persuade Samir, for he had no other option to offer him. So there are some details, which are kept away from my efficient contact man, my real name for instance! Samir concluded to himself proudly but kept on that begrudging look on his face, that the exchange of documents and the first night without Leila had caused. ‘Why can't I have an alias, such as you have?’ He asked the small man boldly, getting right to the point that so bothered him. ‘Why should you? You're clean, nobody has the slightest notion who you really are, in terms of the organization's work, of course – as far as any outsider is apt to know, you have nothing to do with us. In that case you don't need a name of such sort, you do agree don't you?’ Samir cleared his throat, but nodded in consent, although he was not satisfied at all. ’You haven't learned the basics of clandestine activity yet.’ Remarked his contact man haughtily. ‘As it isn't still the right time for it enjoy yourself man, have a good time. Don't shut yourself up in your suite. But in any case, keep away from the office and from foreign embassies. As for the other sex, there are no restrictions; local belles or tourists are all fair game. Beware though of those who come from the occupied territories; what I mean is keep away from Palestinians, females and males alike. You might change your identity in a short while, so no friendships nor any sort of relations with Palestinians... You don't wish to meet someone twice, each time under another identity, do you? I don't have to mention the cursed Zionists whose enthusiastic flow into this country, is dwindling at last. They won't dare to trouble you, if that what worries you; they won't dare to jeopardize the delicate relationship, they have with this country. The first Arab country to sign a peace treaty with them.’ He concluded smiling benevolently at Samir. ‘Listen arn't you thirsty?’ He asked. ‘Summon that Sudanese waiter who loafs over there – It’s rather hot in Cairo, at this time of year.’ Without hesitations Samir raised his arm and summoned the waiter to their table. The latter hurried up to them, having reached their table; bent his tall frame obediently. ’At your service ‘ya sidi’ (sir). He declared raising his head expecting their order patiently. ‘Coffee for the two of us, ordered him Abu-razek. ‘Plus a bottle of mineral water and don't go yet! An assortment of today's choice of cakes! He added with a chuckle. The waiter was making his way to carry out their order, and Abu-razek resumed his monologue without delay. He had no intention to waste his precious time or await the coming refreshments in a gloomy silence. ’It’s rather a hasty meeting, out of necessity, the force of circumstances.’ He philosophized in en elaborate prologue, as befits him, a man of the world – which was of course his own opinion on himself. ‘Our future meetings shall take place at a more proper time, during let's say, the late evening and night hours – and thus we would have more time and space for our purpose. Having fun together is the most common motive, for two friends to spend their time. The best cover one can think of, for such activity.’ Quite right! Sure, the only question left to ask is what kind of activity? Thought Samir in bitter irony, it might be the best cover as Abu-razek remarked. But the one, who would cover the expenses, would be me alone! As Abu-razek is my senior! As my

senior of course he deserves to be respected. Besides, he is my one and only link with the real world, with the organization. Without that dwarf and his good services I’m actually lost. Thus although in any other circumstances I wouldn’t have bothered to bestow that ridiculous dwarf with a second look, I can’t ignore him or underestimate his importance, under these circumstances! For as much as I’m concerned, that small man is the most important person in Cairo…! ‘How do I get in touch with you, in case of an emergency?’ He asked backing him up with trust, showing his faith in his senior – and at the same time reminding Abu-razek the grave situation, in which he's still is. The waiter returned with a loaded platter, and nodding his head to Abu- razek with a smile, as if he was an old client of his – laid the platter's contents humbly on their table, bowed to both of them and moved discreetly away. ‘That's a good question!’ remarked Abu-razek, reaching for the cakes assortment, leaving his hand to hang in midair, hesitantly – undecided yet, as to which one should he choose. He made his choice at last and brought the selected cake rapidly towards his speaking mouth – and devoured it with two bites. ‘I'll let you have a phone number.’ He said choosing himself a second one. ‘But remember you'll use it only in clear emergency cases…’ He remarked emphatically, handing Samir a small piece of paper – munching laboriously all that while. ‘Learn that number by heart, and then destroy that piece of paper right afterwards.’ He ordered him gravely, and raised the tiny coffee cup to his lips, emptying its contents in one gulp. Having laid it back on the table Samir hastened to pour him another one, holding the coffee pot well above the tiny cup. ‘I don't think there'll be any need for emergency meetings or phone calls. He added with a note of self-importance, helping himself to another piece of cake. ‘What I mean to say is... Your case is temporarily open; nothing has been decided yet. Well, I wouldn't have complained if I were you. You'll have plenty of time to enjoy yourself, to meet people, women. In short treat yourself to a holiday... When the call would come, when those who have to decide, would have their say – I would let you know their decision. There're no restrictions, as you have been told already – those relationships, which you might develop, should be maintained superficially, as means to satisfy your immediate needs. Sexual needs, women of course, or if it’s men you prefer...’ He broke off in a guffaw, glancing meanwhile at his handsome protégé. ‘Yeah, try the foreigners mostly that's the direction to exploit – it might yield some useful results in the future. ‘I see,’ answered Samir with a forced smile of understanding, he was getting bored and a bit disgusted. But as an outcome of his shaky and obscure position, he would have to treat Abu-razek as his kin – as if he were his own brother. The lobby was coming to life gradually, filling with people, well-dressed people. Some of the hotel guests were coming down, passing a few moments there before going out for their various errands. But most of the newcomers were those who escaped the day's heat, finding a refuge in that modern air conditioned oasis – occupying tables next to theirs, getting closer to them with every passing minute. By now only a few bits and crumbs were left on the plate that was put between them. Abu-razek pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and meticulously wiped his lips. Having cleaned every trace of chocolate, cream and other fat substances, he folded it neatly and put back in its fit place – his breast pocket. ‘Wallahy,’ he muttered aloud, touching with both his hands his breast and his side pockets. ‘I haven't brought my pipe along.’

But before he managed to stir or add another word, Samir hastened to offer him his cigarettes – holding the package open, under his guest's nose. With a satisfied and aloof smile Abu-razek pulled himself a cigarette – and brought it in a close touch with his nostrils; sniffing its delicate aroma; taking a deep breath inhaling its aromatic flavor, he stuck it with a final touch, between his exposed teeth – sending Samir a clear glance of expectancy of a mute request. Samir brought out a lighter and bent forward to his contact man, sending forth his hand with the tiny flame – up to Abu-razek's lips almost. Watching Abu-razek's glistening bald crown, bowed over his lighter, he ventured to ask: ‘Am I to study at ‘Al-azhar’ or some other university? I'd like to complete my studies before I join the organization as an active member.’ Abu-razek straightened up a bit surprised, by the harsh interruption of the tranquil ceremony – and settled back in his armchair thoughtfully, exhaling smoke rings toward the ceiling. Watching his puzzled expression, Samir understood he should not have brought that matter up, neither now nor in the future. In any case not in front such a powerless figure, as the one who was facing him; whose airs of egotism and self-importance could not convince even a novice, as he himself was. But having brought it out already, he'd better pursue it as far as he could; for although Abu-razek might be the last, and least important link in the chain, with hardly any influence at all; he might be able to pass Samir's demands, to a higher echelon – to his seniors. All those men Samir is not allowed to meet yet. ‘I'm a graduate of international law, and my best contribution to our cause to my understanding and belief... is in promoting the organization's interests in international institutions and circles. I'm not endeavoring in the least to evade any risky or hard jobs, of any kind.’ He added, perceiving the hint of a scornful smile flicker across the content countenance of Aburazek. ’So you wish to continue your studies?’ He noted with interest, though both of them knew and were quite aware – that Samir's future did not bother him at all. ‘I'll bring it up before the proper authorities at the first opportunity, We’ll have a serious discussion over the matter, no doubt.’ He promised Samir. ‘As for our future meetings in the days to come...’ He said, pointing out to Samir, he had enough of his problems for one meeting, and wished to leave. ‘You shall have to spend your mornings at your suite up to ten o’clock at least. Let’s make it easier for you, you are expected to be present at the hotel's premises up to ten o’clock, be it the hotel’s restaurant or the hotel's swimming pool; in my own view, it doesn't make any difference at all – as long as you're on the hotel's premises and we're able to reach you, there won't be any complaints. But you'll have to cling to that timetable as long as you're here, in Cairo!’ He rose to his feet, buttoning his light jacket, and send his right hand forth for a parting handshake. Clutching the extended hand Samir rose right after him, he had to, otherwise he would have offended him. ‘Have a good time meanwhile, don't you dare to hesitate, and don't you worry!’ Declared the small man proudly, as if Samir was an old crony of his. ‘We'll take a good care of you!’ It was an encouraging promise and at the same time, a well disguised threat. But before Samir could decide what to make out of that boastful sentence, Abu-razek retracted his clutched hand and turned hurriedly to the hotel's wide entrance.