Marwan had been completely convinced of that when he went to say good-bye to his father before he left. He did not tell his mother that he was going to Shafiqa’s house, or she would have been beside herself. His father said to him there:
“Marwan, you know that I have had no choice in the matter. It is something that has been decreed for us since the beginning of creation.”
Shafiqa said:
“We suggested to your mother that she should come and live here but she didn’t agree. What more do you want us to do?”
She was sitting on a carpet of goatskin. The stick was lying beside her, and he thought: “I wonder where her thigh ends?” Her face was beautiful, but hard-featured like the faces of all those who are incurably ill, and her lower lip was twisted as though she were about to cry.
His father said:
“Take this. It is ten dinars; you may need them. You will write to us, won’t you?”
When he stood up, Shafiqa raised her arms in the air, praying for his success. Her voice was hoarse, and when he turned to her before going through the door, she broke down and sobbed. His father said to him:
“May God send you success, Marwan, you brave boy.”
And he tried to laugh. He couldn’t, so he began rubbing the boy’s back with his large, hard hand, while Shafiqa picked up her stick and stood up with a quick movement. She had stopped crying.
Marwan shut the door behind him and walked away. He could still hear Shafiqa’s stick tapping the tiles monotonously, but as he turned the corner the sound died away.

THE DEAL

Marwan brought his companion Assad to the meeting with Abul Khaizuran. They arrived a little late and found Abul Khaizuran waiting for them, sitting with Abu Qais on a big concrete seat on the pavement of the street, which ran parallel to the Shatt.
“The whole group’s here together now, isn’t it!” Abul Khaizuran laughed loudly, striking Marwan on the shoulder with one hand and stretching out the other to shake hands with Assad.
“So this is your friend. What’s his name?”
Marwan answered curtly:
“Assad.”
“Let me introduce you to my old friend, Abu Qais. Now the group’s complete. It doesn’t matter if one more comes too, but already we have enough, now.”
Assad said:
“You seem to me to be a Palestinian. Are you the one who’s undertaking to smuggle us?”
“Yes, I am.”
“How?”
“That’s my affair.”
Assad laughed sarcastically and then said slowly, bringing out each word forcefully:
“No. It’s our affair. You must explain all the details to us. We don’t want to have problems from the start.”
Abul Khaizuran said in a decisive tone:
“I’ll explain all the details to you when we’ve come to an agreement, not before.”
Assad replied:
“We can’t agree before we know the details. What do the others think?”
Nobody answered, so Assad repeated the question.
“What does Abu Qais think?”
Abu Qais replied:
“I think as you do.”
“What’s your opinion, Marwan?”
“I’m with you.”
Assad spoke forcefully:
“Very well, let’s be brief. It seems to me that old Abu Qais has no knowledge of this kind of thing, and as for Marwan, it’s his first experience. I’m an old hand at this game. What is your opinion if I negotiate on your behalf?”
Abu Qais raised his hand in the air to show his agreement, and Marwan nodded. Assad turned to Abul Khaizuran:
“You see, they’ve made me responsible. Let me tell you something. We come from the same country. We want to earn money and so do you. Fine. But the whole thing must be quite fair. You must explain every step to us in detail, and tell us exactly how much you want. Of course, we’ll give you the money after we arrive, not before.”
Abu Qais remarked:
“Assad’s quite right. We must be quite clear about things. If you start by making conditions, you end up satisfied, as the saying goes.”
Abul Khaizuran took his hands out of his pockets and put them on his hips. He let his gaze wander slowly and coldly over all their faces, until it settled on Assad.
“First of all, you’ll each pay ten dinars. Agreed?”
Abu Qais said:
“I agree.”
Assad protested:
“Please. You have made me responsible, so let me speak. Ten dinars is a large sum. A professional smuggler takes fifteen. Then—”
Abul Khaizuran interrupted him.
“So we’re disagreeing before we’ve started. That’s what I was afraid of. Ten dinars, and not a penny less. Good-bye.”
He turned his back and took two slow steps before Abu Qais caught up with him, shouting:
“Why have you lost your temper?