Through all this darkness only your face, Sana, smiles. When we meet I'll know how I stand. In a little while, as soon as I've covered the length of this road, gone past all these gloomy arcades, where people used to have fun. Onward and upward. But not to glory. I swear I hate you all.
The bars have shut down and only the side streets are open, where plots are hatched. From time to time he has to cross over a hole in the pavement set there like a snare and the wheels of tramcars growl and shriek like abuse. Confused cries seem to seep from the curbside garbage. (I swear I hate you all). Houses of temptation, their windows beckoning even when eyeless, walls scowling where plaster has fallen.
And that strange lane, al-Sayrafi Lane, which brings back dark memories. Where the thief stole, then vanished, whisked away. (woe to the traitors). Where police who'd staked out the area had slithered in to surround you.
The same little street where a year before you'd been carrying home flour to make sweetmeats for the Feast, that woman walking in front of you, carrying Sana in her swaddling clothes. Glorious days — how real they were, no one knows — the Feast, love, parenthood, crime. All mixed up with this spot.
The great mosques and, beyond them, the Citadel against the clear sky, then the road flowing into the square, where the green park lies under the hot sun and a dry breeze blows, refreshing despite the heat — the Citadel square, with all its burning recollections.
What's important now is to make your face relax, to pour a little cold water over your feelings, to appear friendly and conciliatory, to play the planned role well. He crossed the middle of the square, entered Imam Way, and walked along it until he came close to the three-storey house at the end, where two little streets joined the main road. This social visit will tell you what they've got up their sleeves. So study the road carefully, and what's on it. Those shops, for instance, where the men are staring at you, cowering like mice.
"Said Mahran!" said a voice behind him.
"How marvelous!"
He let the man catch up with him; they said hello to each other, hiding their real feelings under mutual grins. So the bastard has friends.
He'll know right away what all these greetings are about. You're probably peeking at us through the shutters now, Ilish, hiding like a woman.
"I thank you, Mr. Bayaza."
People came up to them from the shops on both sides of the street; voices were loud and warm in congratulation and Said found himself surrounded by a crowd — his enemy's friends, no doubt — who tried to outdo one another in cordiality: "Thank God you're back safe and sound."
"We congratulate ourselves, being your close friends!"
"We all said we wished you'd be released on the anniversary of the Revolution."
"I thank God and you, gentlemen," he said, staring at them with his brown, almond-shaped eyes.
Bayaza patted him on the shoulder. "Come into the shop and have a cold drink to celebrate."
"Later," he said quietly. "When I'm back."
"Back?"
One man shouts, directing his voice to the second storey of the house: "Mr. Ilish!
Mr. Ilish, come down and congratulate Said Mahran!" No need to warn him, you black beetle! I've come in broad daylight. I know you've been watching.
"Back from what?" said Bayaza.
"There's some business I have to settle."
"With whom?" said Bayaza.
"Have you forgotten I'm a father? And that my little girl's with Ilish?"
"No. But there's a solution to every disagreement.
In the sacred law."
"And it's best to reach an understanding," said someone else.
"Said, you're fresh out of prison," a third man added in a conciliatory tone. "A wise man learns his lesson."
"Who said I'm here for anything other than to reach an understanding?"
In the second storey of the building a window opened, Ilish leaned out, and they all looked up at him tensely. Before a word could be said, a big man wearing a striped garment and police boots came from the front door of the house. Said recognized Hasaballah, the detective, and pretended to be surprised.
"You shouldn't have disturbed yourself. I have only come to reach an amicable settlement," he said with feeling.
The detective came up and patted him all over, searching with practiced speed and skill.
"Shut up, you cunning bastard. What did you say you wanted?"
"I've come to reach an understanding about the future of my daughter."
"As if you knew what understanding meant!"
"I do indeed, for my daughter's sake."
"You can always go to court."
Ilish shouted from above: "Let him come up.
Come up all of you. You're all welcome."
Rally them round you, coward. I've only come to test the strength of your fortifications. When your hour arrives neither detective nor walls will do you any good.
They all crowded into a sitting room and planted themselves in sofas and chairs. The windows were opened: flies rushed in with the light. Cigarette burns had made black spots in the sky-blue carpet and from a large photograph on the wall Ilish was staring, holding a thick stick with both his hands. The detective sat next to Said and began to play with his worry-beads.
Ilish Sidra came into the room, a loose garment swelling round his barrel-like body, his fat round face buttressed by a square chin. His huge nose had a broken bridge. "Thank the Lord you're back safe and sound!" he said, as if he had nothing to fear. But no one spoke, anxious looks passed back and forth, and the atmosphere was tense until Ilish went on talking: "What's over is done with, such things happen every day; unhappiness can occur, and long-established friendships often break up. But only shameful deeds can shame a man."
Conscious that his eyes were glittering, that he was slim and strong, Said felt like a tiger crouched to spring on an elephant. He found himself repeating Ilish's words: "Only shameful deeds can shame a man." Many eyes stared back at him; the detective's fingers stopped playing with his beads; realizing what was passing in their minds, he added as an afterthought, "I agree with every word you say."
"Come to the point," the detective broke in, "and stop beating about the bush."
"Which point?" Said said innocently.
"There's only one point to discuss, and that's your daughter."
And what about my wife and my fortune, you mangy dogs! I'll show you. Just wait. How I'd like to see now the look you'll have in your eyes. It would give me respect for beetles, scorpions, and worms, you vermin. Damn the man who lets himself be carried away by the melodious voice of woman. But Said nodded in agreement.
One of the sycophants said, "Your daughter is in safe hands with her mother. According to the law a six-year-old girl should stay with her mother. If you like, I could bring her to visit you every week."
Said raised his voice deliberately, so that he could be heard outside the room: "According to the law she should be in my custody. In view of the various circumstances."
"What do you mean?" Ilish said, suddenly angry.
"Arguing will only give you a headache," said the detective, trying to placate him.
"I have committed no crime. It was partly fate and circumstances, partly my sense of duty and decency that drove me to do what I did. And I did it partly for the sake of the little girl."
"A sense of duty and decency, indeed, you snake! Double treachery, betrayal, and infidelity! O, for the sledge hammer and the axe and the gallows rope! I wonder how Sana looks now. "I did not leave her in need," Said said, as calmly as he could, "She had my money, and plenty of it."