“Excellency,” the man implored in a voice that just carried to Amira, “I mention only your promise. You said you would take care of me. But the money hasn’t come.”

To Amira’s astonishment, Ali hit the man with a hard backhanded slap. “How dare you come to my home! I warned you never to set foot here. You know where to meet me. There, and only there!”

“Excellency, please listen. My mother is sick. We need money for a doc- tor, for medicine. I beg you. If I don’t please you any longer, let me send my brother. You’ve seen him, Excellency. He’s only thirteen, very beautiful, very pure. You would be the first, as you were with me.”

In the warm Alexandrian night, Amira felt as if she had turned to ice. Suddenly, it was all clear: Ali’s indifference, his moods and unpredictability. His anger that time when she tried to coax him into making love. Her fingers were tingling, her head light. Don’t faint, she told herself. Not here, not now.

“Please, Excellency, just a few pounds.”

“Listen, dog, you lose everything by coming here. Get to your kennel!” But now the young man’s cringing attitude changed subtly, a hint of threat in it. Amira realized that he was larger and more muscular than Ali. “Excellency, I never meant for it to come to this, but I have pictures. Perhaps some- one would buy them for a few pounds, just enough to pay the doctor. Please don’t force me to do such a thing.”

Ali’s hands actually reached for the man’s throat. Then he let them drop. “You’re lying, of course,” he said in his most aristocratic manner, “but I won’t waste more time on this nonsense. Even such a fool as you must know that I don’t carry money in my swimming trunks. Wait here.” He turned and disappeared from view, into the house. The young man’s eyes followed him— yes, like a dog’s, Amira thought. Dully, she pictured herself sunning by the pool tomorrow, Ali coming down bleary-eyed. What would she say to him?

He reappeared below, and she unconsciously shrank back into a shadow. Ali held out a wad of bills in his left hand—an insult, but the young man was not here to boost his pride. Bubbling gratitude, he reached for the money. Ali hit him again, this time in the chest. The young man grunted, sank to his knees, sprawled on his back. Only then did Amira see the knife. “No!” she screamed, the word tiny in the vast night.

Ali turned to find her, his eyes wild. “You’re there? One more word, Amira. One word—do you understand?’’

There was no need to answer.