His heart beat violently. “Perhaps. I cannot recall any specific questions. It was ordinary conversation, you know.”

He felt the trap closing. The officer asked, “How long are you staying in Cairo?”

“Until I find my father or a job, or until my funds dry up.”

The officer lit a cigarette and took a deep puff, then asked, “Have you anything else to add?”

“No.”

“We might require you later; please don’t leave without informing us.”

“Yes, of course.”

What an idiotic, incomplete scheme it was. Escape now would be madness. You’ll be watched every minute of the day. You’d better think back over every question and try to find out where you stand.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Your position is precarious, obscure, just like death. Most probably they are already investigating you, watching you closely, your every move. You won’t realize it. Just like Khalil before the fatal blow. Weigh your every move. You cannot afford a false one. The hotel is quieter now. The smell of death drove many of the guests away. But others will come. The lounge is cold, cold as the grave. Nothing new in today’s paper. Talk about cotton, currency, and war. The wind howling outside as though chorusing the perpetual chant of the beggar.

He heard footsteps, looked up, and saw Sawi greeting Karima. He felt his stomach turn with emotion. Karima sat down with her old mother and Sawi. Did she come to take over the hotel? Will their eyes meet? He felt much better seeing her. When will we meet? Somehow she’ll contact you. She’s even more beautiful and sensuous in her mourning dress.

You’re in desperate need of her passionate condolences, consoling you in your plight. She was talking quietly to Sawi. He heard him say, “I don’t know when they’ll allow us to enter the flat.”

Where is she staying? It would be insane to follow her. How could you have possibly overlooked asking her mother’s address? She must contact you by phone. She must remember how badly you’re in need of money.

“Telephone, Mr. Saber.”

Damn the telephone. What now? Has Reheimy perfected the art of mocking me? He walked to the telephone and, passing her, offered his hand. “I repeat, Madam, my sincerest condolences.”

She shook his hand without looking up. He kept his eyes on her while speaking on the phone.

“It’s Elham, Saber.”

Why isn’t it Reheimy? Why did I come to Cairo? Why this hotel in particular?

“How are you, Elham?”

“Are you all right?” She sounded anxious.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Why didn’t you come yesterday?”

“I’m sorry. I was rather tired.”

“Well, I won’t reproach you now. You’re coming today?”

“No, not today. As soon as I get rid of my cold.”

“Well, I won’t trouble you. You know where to find me.” She seemed hurt.

“Goodbye.”