Luqman persuaded me. I held firm and did not suggest the number I had intended. By then, I found myself maneuvering cleverly, sure of myself, and I added, “If you want, we can go straight to the bank. I’ll give you the money, and we’ll forget everything that happened. I promise, you’ll never hear from us or see us again.”

Mr. Joe nodded. Then he made a sign to the goon holding me to let me go and come close. He stepped forward, and Mr. Joe whispered a brief order in his ear. The goon went out for several seconds before coming back, holding something behind his back that I couldn’t make out. The second goon smiled. He looked as rough and mean as the first. He sat Shaygha on the bed. Her body went limp and she lay back. The goon approached and put into my mouth a small wooden ball he had taken out of his pocket before winding a handkerchief across my mouth and tying it behind my head. I turned my eyes to look for Luqman but couldn’t see him. I tried to call him up again in my mind in case he would recommend what I should do now, having followed his advice, but he did not come forward. I knew that I, as usual, was alone to face whatever was to come, something that appeared for the first time to be too heavy for me to bear.

Working together, the two goons forced me to kneel. They took my hands and spread them on the tiles before pressing my head to the floor. I was no longer able to see anything. I was in the position of someone half-blind, prostrate for prayer. Mr. Joe approached and spat out, “Five thousand, you fucker? Even if you said a hundred thousand, you would still have gotten what’s coming to you!”

Then he swept down with a sharp blow on my right hand. I heard a pop as the bones of my forearm snapped. There was a second blow, even more violent, on my left hand.