“Very good,” said Issa. He was speaking mostly Jordanian Arabic but using English technical terms. “Now observe.” He pointed to an earthenware jar on the table in front of him from which fumes were rising. “The reaction is almost complete and precipitation has begun.”
From where I stood I could smell the fumes. It was not hard to guess what was about to be precipitated.
“What will be the next procedure?” asked Issa.
One of the young men said, “Filtration, sir?”
“Filiation, exactly.” Issa was obviously a natural pedagogue who enjoyed the teaching role. As he droned on I found myself remembering his application to the Ministry people for a post as an instructor, and wishing that they had been less punctilious about checking up on his qualifications. Why did it have to be me who had to deal with this little menace?
I was wondering how to handle the immediate situation, whether to clear my throat before entering or just fling the door open and make them jump, when the two men moved in.
I smelled them before I heard them, and so did Teresa. We both turned at once and she clutched at my arm. Then we saw the carbines in their hands and froze.
The carbines were very clean; but, in their filthy work clothes and faded blue kaffiyehs, the men who held them looked like labourers from a road gang. They were middle-aged, leathery, and tough; they were also tense and, quite clearly, trigger-happy.
They stopped well clear of us, the carbines pointing at our stomachs. The older man motioned with his carbine to the flashlight in my hand.
“Drop it. Quick!” He had a loud, harsh voice and broken teeth.
I obeyed. The glass of the flashlight shattered as it hit the concrete.
“Back! Back!”
We backed against the wall.
By this time Issa, followed by his class, was coming out to see what was going on.
Issa’s face when he saw me was a study in confusion, but before he could say anything the man with the broken teeth started to make his report.
“We saw them come stealthily. We have been watching them for minutes. They were listening, spying. The man had a light. Look, there it is.”
He made the flashlight sound highly incriminating.
I said: “Good evening, Issa.”
He tried to smile. “Good evening, sir. Good evening, Miss Malandra.”
“They were listening, spying,” said Broken Teeth doggedly.
“That’s right, we were,” I said. “And now we'll go inside.”
I had started to move toward the entrance when the man hit me hard in the kidneys with the butt of his carbine. It was agonizing for a moment and I fell to my knees.
When I got up, Teresa was protesting angrily and Issa was muttering under his breath to the two men. I leaned against the wall waiting for the pain to subside. Finally, Issa told the class to wait there on the terrace and the rest of us went into the laboratory. Issa led the way, Teresa and I followed, the armed men brought up the rear.
The watchman had not moved from Issa’s desk chair. As we came in he gave me a vague nod, as if he had been expecting me but could not quite think why. It struck me that he was behaving very oddly; I wondered if he were drank. Then I decided to ignore the watchman; I would deal with him later.
“All right, Issa,” I said briskly, “let’s have your explanation. I take it you have one?”
But he had had time to recover and was ready now to try to bluff his way out “An explanation for what, sir?” He was all injured innocence. “If, as you say, you have been listening, you will know that I was instructing a class of students in the techniques of chemistry. Having had the advantages of higher education, I consider that I also have a duty to pass some of those advantages on, when I can do so, to those less fortunate. I would only do so in my own time, of course. If you think that I should have asked your permission before using the laboratory out of working hours as a classroom, I apologize. It did not occur to me that a man of your character could conceivably refuse.”
He was really quite convincing. If I had not been through those invoices and if my back had not been hurting as it was, I might almost have believed him.
“And these two men behind me?” I asked. “Have you been instructing them also in the techniques of chemistry?”
He tried a deprecating smile. “They are uneducated men, sir, older men from the village where my students live. They come to see that the young men behave themselves.”
“They need guns to do that? No, Issa, don’t bother to answer. You have given your explanation. It is not acceptable.”
There was a flash of anger. “Simply because I wish to teach. .”
I cut him off sharply. “No. Simply because you are lying. You aren’t instructing anyone in the techniques of chemistry, as you so elegantly put it. What you are giving is a do-it-yourself kitchen course in the manufacture of explosives. What is more, you are giving it at my expense.”
“I assure you, sir. .” He tried hard.
“You can’t assure me of anything, Issa. I know what I’m talking about.” I pointed to the jar on the table. “That precipitate you were so lovingly anticipating is fulminate of mercury. How many detonators would that have filled? A hundred? A hundred and fifty? You’re not passing on any advantages, Issa, you’re passing on recipes for amateur bomb-making.”
“My work is not amateur,” he protested hotly.
I had a sudden feeling that I wasn’t handling the situation very well. Now that the truth was out he should have been on the defensive and trying to make excuses, not arguing. I concluded that it was the armed men who were giving him confidence.
“I’m not interested in the quality of your work,” I snapped. “The point is that you’re not doing any more of it here — any work of any kind. As of this moment you are dismissed. You can consider yourself lucky, and so can your bomb-making friends, if I don’t inform the police as well.”
For the first time the watchman spoke. “But why will you not inform the police, Mr. Howell? If this man has stolen from you and is also making explosives illegally, is it not your duty to inform them?”
He had a high, rather thin voice, but it was the voice of an educated man. I suddenly realized that I knew very little about the watchman, and that, except when I had given him his original instructions, I had never spoken with him. There had been no occasion to do so. I looked at him coldly.
I said if I don’t inform the police. If I do decide to inform them, your name will certainly be in the complaint as an accomplice, so don’t tempt me by telling me my duty.”
He rose very slowly to his feet. He was a tall man of about my own age with a long nose, a moustache, and deeply lined cheeks. “Perhaps then,” he said, “I should introduce myself.”
His self-assurance irritated me. “Your name is Salah Yassin,” I told him, “and I engaged you six months ago as a night watchman. I was told that you were an ex-army man with a wound disability and of good character. Obviously, I was misinformed. You, too, are now dismissed. I want the lot of you off these premises within five minutes. After that you will be trespassing on government property and I shall certainly call the police. Now, leave your keys on the table there and get out.”
The watchman looked pained. “It is ill-mannered, Mr. Howell, to refuse to hear a man when he offers politely to introduce himself. Ill-mannered and foolish.” His eyes hardened as he stared into mine. “My name is Salah, yes. But it is Ghaled, not Yassin. Salah Ghaled. I am sure you have heard of it.”
Teresa drew in her breath sharply.
With me shock and disbelief fought a brief battle. Shock won. I daresay I gaped at him stupidly. Anyway our consternation was obvious enough to please him.
He gave us a satisfied nod.