She recognized the trap but did not object. A happy silence reigned. The seeds were sown. The search is long and arduous and requires an occasional rest in the shade.

CHAPTER FIVE

Sore eyes from looking, searching, scrutinizing the teeming Cairo streets. The autumn clouds sailing from Alexandria are dispersed long before arriving in Cairo. But the memories of his hometown linger on. The hotel lounge has now become a torture chamber since her return. How often you’ve watched her sitting next to the old man, her husband. Her eyes sparkling with promise and desire. How many times did you attempt, but in vain.

Elham was lost in a dark corner of his mind, enveloped in his all-consuming fire of desire for this woman. The lounge atmosphere, cigarettes, coffee, small talk, would occasionally draw him away from his madly passionate thoughts. Maybe these people are also searching for a hope. Lost in thought, he was abruptly aroused by the doorman, Mohamed el-Sawi. “Mr. Saber…telephone.”

At last! Was it?

“Hello?”

“Are you the person mentioned in the advertisement?”

Breathlessly, he answered, “Yes, who’s calling? Sayed Sayed el-Reheimy?”

“Yes.”

“Is it your photograph?”

“Yes.”

He was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. “Where can I meet you?” he almost whispered.

“Why are you looking for me?”

“Let’s wait until we meet.”

“Just give me an idea.”

“I can’t over the telephone. There’s no harm in waiting till we meet.”

“Can you at least tell me who you are?”

“My name is in the advertisement.”

“What do you do?”

“Nothing; I’ve got private means.”

“Why do you want me?”

“I’ll tell you when we meet, anytime, at your convenience.”

A brief silence at the other end. “Come now. Villa fourteen, Telbana Street in Shubra.”

No one in the hotel had heard of the street. “Go to Shubra and inquire,” suggested Mohamed el-Sawi.

He went to Shubra. No Telbana Street. It didn’t exist. It never had. Perhaps he had heard wrong. Perhaps he was being fooled. The woman, sitting next to her husband, added to his dark mood, driving him almost to a bloodthirsty passion.

Someone had rung several times in his absence. Hope surged again.

“Were you successful?” asked Mr. Khalil.

“Almost,” he replied, trying to sound cheerful. He walked to the lounge, glancing quickly at the woman. The lights had just been switched on, adding a gloomy touch to the atmosphere, which lent itself to his mood. The telephone rang.

“Hello?”

“Saber? I waited all day,” the voice said accusingly.

“I didn’t find the street!”

“Did you really look for it?”

“All day! Telbana, number fourteen.”

“What an ass you are.” A wicked laugh, then the line went dead. The bastard! Back where I started, without hope.