Michael spoke easily and his apparent calmness clearly irritated Ghaled.
“Let us hope you will continue to be glad,” he snapped and pointed to the airline bag on the table. Pick that up.”
Michael reached out for the bag and his hand was about to touch it when Ghaled spoke again.
“Carefully, comrade. It is not heavy, but handle it as if it were.”
Taleb started to make a protest. “Comrade Salah, we do not know exactly — ”
“No, we do not know exactly,” said Ghaled quickly. “That is why we are making the test.”
“It really is not necessary for the target to move.”
“That is for me to decide.” He turned to Michael, who now had the bag in his hand. “Comrade, you will walk out of here slowly. When you are outside walk in the direction of number one work shed and go past it to the boundary wall. We will follow you as far as the outer door. When you reach the wall, turn and start to walk back toward us, slowly so that we can keep you in sight all the time. You understand?”
“I understand.”
“Then go. Issa, you follow him with your light so that we do not lose sight of him in the shadows. Don’t get too close. Taleb, I will give you the word.”
“Yes, Comrade Salah.”
My heart was thumping and the sweat on my face was ice-cold. I followed them out to the door.
The guards, Ahmad and Musa, had come to see what was going on. Ghaled told them to stand to one side. From the passage just behind Ghaled I could see Michael walking away across the yard with the bag and Issa stalking him with the flashlight. They might have been playing some sort of child’s game.
As he reached the corner of number one work shed Michael stumbled on an uneven patch of ground and Ghaled shouted to him to be more careful. Michael was about a hundred meters away now and nearing the perimeter wall. When he began to turn, Ghaled spoke to Taleb in the storage room behind us.
“Get ready.”
“Ready, comrade.”
“All right Now!”
From the storage room came three notes of the Minuet in G, then that sound was cut off and a whirring noise took its place, a noise that suddenly began rising in pitch to a whine.
Almost at the same moment there was a flash of light across the yard — it seemed to come from Michael’s right hand — and a muffled bang. Then the flight bag burst into flames and Michael flung it away from him.
He was obviously hurt because he was doing something to his right wrist with his left hand, tearing a scorched shirt sleeve away from the skin I know now, but that did not stop him satisfying his curiosity. The bag, still burning, had landed near the wall and Michael immediately went over to look at it.
He and Issa reached the bag at almost the same moment. Ghaled called to Taleb an order to switch off and went to join them. The whole incident had taken only a few seconds, but I noticed that, even before Ghaled’s order to switch off, the pitch of the whining noise had begun to fall.
Taleb came out of the storeroom.
“You saw it work?” he asked.
“I saw it. The bag caught fire.”
He looked across the yard. Issa was stamping out the remaining flames. Ghaled was carefully examining Michael’s wrist
“It was stupid of Mr. Howell to carry it,” said Taleb.
“You’d better tell Comrade Salah that. It was entirely his idea.”
“Oh.” He waited no longer and went out to receive the congratulations and words of praise which were no doubt due to him. From Issa they were effusive, but Ghaled’s were more perfunctory. By then he was more concerned with Michael. Ghaled had for a moment become Sir Galahad, solicitously shepherding a stricken opponent from the field of honour. With me the reaction had set in, and, though I was hating Ghaled totally, I did not find Michael’s brave smile particularly endearing. I made no attempt to return it as they approached.
“Is it bad?” I asked.
“No. Just a bit of a burn.”
“All burns are bad,” said Ghaled severely. “They easily become infected. This must be treated at once.”
You would have thought that I had proposed not treating it at all.
In the storeroom Ghaled ordered Michael to sit down and produced an elaborate first-aid kit. He then proceeded to cut away the scorched shirt sleeve with scissors.
The burn area extended about halfway up the forearm. There was reddening, but it did not look serious to me.
“First degree only,” remarked Ghaled as he examined the arm. “But painful no doubt.”
“Not as bad as it was at first.”
“It must still be treated with care. I did not realize that plastics were so flammable.”
“A lot of substances are if you raise the temperature high enough.”
“Well, I did not realize.”
It was nearly an apology. He busied himself now with pouring water from a jerry can into an enamel washbasin and stirring into it a white powder from the first-aid kit. When it had dissolved he began very gently to swab the bum with the solution.
“Did you know that I was trained as a doctor?” he asked chattily as he worked.
“No, Comrade Salah.”
“Yes, in Cairo. I have practiced as a doctor, too, in my time. And on worse wounds than this, I can tell you.”
“I’m sure of that.”
Taleb came in with Issa and stood watching. Ghaled took no notice of them until he had finished cleaning up the arm. Then he looked at Taleb and nodded toward La Serinette.
“Your masterpiece can be put away now. Comrade Issa knows where it is to be stored. It will be safe there until we conduct the long-range tests.”
“Yes, Comrade Salah.”
The music box was secured in its carrying case and taken away. I saw Michael watching the securing process out of the corner of his eye.
Ghaled had been rummaging in the first-aid box. “The treatment of burns,” he said briskly as he turned again to Michael, “has changed much in recent years. The old remedies, such as tannic acid and gentian violet, are no longer used. In this case penicillin ointment will be the answer.” He looked at me. “Have you an analgesic at home? Codeine, for example?”
“I believe so.”
“Then he may take that. But no alcohol tonight. A warm drink, tea would be suitable, and a barbiturate for sleep. That and the codeine.”
“Very well.”
I watched while he applied the ointment and then strapped on a gauze dressing. It was done neatly and without fuss. I could believe that he had once been trained.
“There,” he said finally. “Is that better?”
“Much, thank you.” Michael dutifully admired the dressing. “What was in the bag, Comrade Salah?” he asked.
“Haven’t you guessed?”
“Some of Issa’s detonators presumably.”
“Of course. With two kilos of high explosive for the detonators to work upon we would have shaken a few windows in Der’a.”
“So I imagine. But what fired the detonators? I heard nothing before they went off.”
Ghaled looked pleased. “No, you would hear nothing. It all worked well, didn’t it?” He considered the arm again. “It should feel easier tomorrow. If it does not, let Issa know. It may be necessary for me to put on a fresh dressing.”
“I’m sure it will be all right.”
“Well, if it is not, you know how to communicate with me.” He paused, and then a strange expression appeared on his lips. It was very like a simper. “I, too, like to play backgammon, Comrade Michael.”
For a moment I could not believe my ears. He was actually asking for an invitation to the villa.
Michael managed to conceal his surprise by beaming fatuously. “I am delighted to hear that, Comrade Salah.”
“And perhaps better than Dr. Hawa. Does he win or do you?”
“I am more lucky than skillful.”
“You would not rely upon luck, I think. Are you a cautious player?”
“Almost never.”
“Good. There is no sport in cautious play. We shall have a good contest. But that is for another day. Now you must go to bed and rest. You have work to do tomorrow.”