“Make some drinks. And take my place until I come back.”

I left the card room. Downstairs I found Abbas. “What woke you up at this hour?” I asked him.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Have you seen Sirhan al-Hilaly?”

“He left the house.”

“When?”

“A while ago. I don’t know exactly when.”

“Did your mother see him?”

“I don’t know?”

Why had he left? Why was the boy looking at me so quietly, with such despair in his eyes? I smelled something fishy. I may be many things, but I’m not a sucker. When there was nothing left in the house but cigarette butts and empty glasses, I gave the woman a long accusing look and then confronted her: “What went on behind my back?” Staring back disdainfully, she ignored my question altogether. “Did Abbas see?” She still didn’t answer, and her silence irritated me all the more. “He’s the one,” I said, “who gave you the job. Everything has its price, that’s what concerns me.” She stamped her feet with fury. “As for you, though,” I went on, “you aren’t worth being jealous over.”

“You’re the lowest kind of vermin,” she snarled, marching off to her room.

I guffawed. “Except for one little worm!”

She’s returned from another outing. I hope you suffer more and go even crazier. Standing facing me in the shop, she says, “Fuad Shalaby is quite sure.”

“Did you see him?”

“In the actors’ coffeehouse.”

“How does he know?”

“He said it’s just an author’s whim and that he’ll show up at the right time with a new play in hand.”

“A few words of comfort to a poor, infantile madwoman.”

She dragged her chair into the farthest corner of the shop and sat there talking to herself “If God had only willed it! He could have given me better luck. But He threw me into the arms of a junkie.”

“That’s what happens to a man when he marries a whore.”

“God have mercy on your mother! When Abbas comes back I’m going to live with him.”

“I hope he returns, then, for my sake.”

“Who’d ever imagine you’re his father?”

“Any boy who’s killed his wife and thrown his own parents in jail is my son and I’m proud of him!”

“He’s an angel. And he’s the product of my upbringing.”

I wish she’d talk herself into a straitjacket.

The karate chop that detective gave me on the neck. The punch that made my nose bleed. The raid was like an earthquake. It flattened everything, even Sirhan al-Hilaly: he was so frightened he just stood there blinking. And the savings we’d sold our souls for—confiscated. My God, it was awful!

What the devil was going on out in the hall?

I left my room to find Tariq and Abbas fighting, and Halima screaming.

“What’s this nonsense?” I roared.