Read The Prism 2049 Page 23

to frequent the casinos and night clubs that flourished in Medina Hurriya, where the laws of Islam were not those of the country, it was not like in Jeddah or Algiers. On the other hand, perhaps it belong to some kind of local traffickers in sex or drugs, he shivered at the thought.

  With all kinds of explanations churning around in his head he carefully put the bag back in the wardrobe and then went down to the lobby to meet David.

  The Accusation

  The sun shone harshly, in the distance he heard the noise of the traffic, in the hotel room the airconditioning was switched to maximum, emitting a steady breeze that kept the room temperature at an acceptably steady twenty-four degrees. He took his breakfast in the restaurant, coffee, a croissant and a couple of slices of cake. He looked at the fruit, a mixture of dates, prickly Barbary figs and oranges and decided he would give it a miss taking a freshly pressed orange juice instead. He felt better and was ready to start his day with a visit that was more touristy than professional.

  The previous day, following lunch with David, he had returned to his room where to his relief the bag had disappeared from the wardrobe. Obviously its owner had realized his or her mistake and had recovered their belongings. Though he had felt uneasy, he was intrigued by the bag, but he dismissed it as nothing more than a bizarre incident. He had then busied himself delivering an envelope containing a copy of his article on his visit to Algharb to Djellali’s secretary at the ministry.

  He had got out of bed that morning feeling good in the knowledge that his long trip was almost at an end. In a few days he would be back in Boston where it was midsummer. He felt a renewed enthusiasm as he started to put his ideas in order, mentally going over the mass of notes and information he had collected, building the theme for the programme and his book.

  He was pleased with himself, what he had seen had confirmed his views of the gradually drift of Islam into normality after a century of violence, which had seen the progressive independence of the Arab world after WWI, the Israeli wars and other Middle East conflicts, followed by the undeclared war between the Islam and the West.

  His conclusion was that both had had enough of the fruitless war that neither could have won. The two civilizations had entered into to a prolonged conflict because of their overlapping interests in the oil riches that nature had given a mainly Islamic world, a poisoned gift. Ever since the demand of oil had declined, aided by the settlement of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and the establishment of the Turkish-Israeli axis, the involvement of the West had been gradually transformed into a wary indifference. Politically, the protagonists had arrived at a slow acceptance of the unalterable differences between their two worlds and a status quo, not unlike that which had existed during the long Ottoman period.

  The economic consequences of the loss of oil wealth was confirmed by a more than certain impoverishment of the previously rich oil nations, no longer able to afford the acquisition of military arsenals, with their geopolitical role greatly diminished when their American backers were no longer around to encourage and finance their ambitions.

  With those thoughts in mind it was though a burden had been lifted, he now had a clear vision and he headed for the lift with a light step. As he passed in front of the reception the concierge made him a sign, he had a message. Djellali asked him to be at the Ministry as soon as possible concerning an urgent matter. Ennis was surprised by the word ‘urgent’, he had handed over the draft of his report to Djellali the previous afternoon, there was nothing in it that could be considered contentious. In any case, he thought, the procedure was no more than a charade, when he returned to Boston he would write whatever he liked. The convocation no doubt concerned the minister’s comments on his report and was certainly nothing of importance, the Arabs liked to dramatize events.

  “Monsieur Ennis, please take a seat.”

  Djellali had a worried look as he pointed a chair to Ennis. He took a cigarette and lit it with an antique gold Dunhill lighter. “Monsieur Ennis, we have a delicate problem,” he hesitated, “how can I put it, you have been indiscrete,” he said forcing a smile.

  Ennis remained calm anticipating bad news.

  “Do you know a young woman by the name of Saïd, Asma Saïd?”

  It was the name indicated on the identity card in the bag in his hotel room.

  “No...”

  “Strange, the family of this person has accused you of stealing a large sum of money that belongs to her.”

  Ennis suddenly felt his stomach lurch, it was a set up. He swore silently.

  “You really don’t know this person?”

  “No.”

  “You deny this story.”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s strange now. My men have found a bag containing the money in your hotel room together with the identity card of this girl.”

  “Is that so!” he said innocently.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve never heard of this person and I’ve had no contact with any woman here.”

  “Monsieur Ennis, I am responsible for the supervision of your visit in our country, it is clear that there has been an attempt to compromise you. In addition you were observed in a café not far from your hotel with an agent of the Customs Service, making an illegal exchange transaction!”

  At that instant the door opened and Abdelmoumoun entered into the office, his faced was twisted in anger. He saw Ennis and fixed him with a look of rage.

  “Bonjour Monsieur Abdelmoumoun,” Ennis said greeting him in an attempt at normality.

  “No! No! Not Monsieur Abdelmoumoun! Enough of that! Who the hell do you think I am? You know my name? Here facing you, it’s Monsieur le Ministre! You understand? Monsieur le Ministre!”

  “Excuse me Monsieur le Ministre...the President Hassan bin Ibrani said...”

  “Chkoun anta?” screamed Abdelmoumoun, asking him what right he had to invoke the name of the President in his miserable affairs.

  “I’m sorry Monsieur Abdelmoumoun...”

  “Whom do you take me for? I won’t repeat it again, it’s Monsieur le Ministre when you’re addressing me? Now you’ll stop this insolence! Do you realise that you’re addressing a member of the government of this country!”

  “My mission...”

  “You’re mission! Enough! I don’t give a dam about your supposed mission!”

  The violence of Abdelmoumoun transpired from his face, he was in a state of uncontrollable rage.

  “What do you want? Who do you think...you’ll pay for this insult to our hospitality?”

  “I’m really sorry if I’ve done something that...”

  “Enough! You know what authority is? Well I have it and I intend to use it! You’re a dead man, Mister shit reporter Ennis!”

  He fixed Ennis with a look of pure icy hatred mixed with raw power and violence. A surrealistic silence reigned in the room for a long moment. Then Abdelmoumoun continued calmly, it was as though the storm had passed.

  “Mister Ennis, do you take us for fools? You, an American journalist, are the guest of our government, but you are seen in the company of enemies of our country.”

  Ennis remained silent looking at the dangerous man in front of him.

  “In this agreement signed by you, it is expressly forbidden that you engage in acts that could be harmful to our state,” he said raising his voice and tapping on the paper with his finger.

  Shit! Ennis thought to himself fearfully. What a stupid bastard I am, this is not true. I’m really in deep shit now.

  “What do you say to that?” Abdelmoumoun said thrusting the paper under his nose.

  “I was entrapped!”

  “So you admit there is truth in this accusation?”

  “Yes…no.”

  He suddenly realised that he was sweating profusely, he knew what this man was capable of, he knew no limits. Algharb was no different to those countries on the southern shores, where brutality and torture were accepted means for the extraction of a confession.

  The tele
phone rang and Djellali answered it. He handed it to Abdelmoumoun who replied speaking Arabic rapidly. He then left the room giving what seemed like instructions to Djellali. There was a long silence after the door closed, Djellali shook his head slowly and then spoke to Ennis.

  “I warned you at the start to be careful of any contacts here, you know there are many people here hostile to your country, who wanted to provoke an incident.”

  “The money in the hotel room was a trap. Alawi set me up like a fool.”

  “The problem now is what to do?”

  “What to do? Me, I’ve got nothing to do with all of that!”

  “Maybe the police will think otherwise?”

  “The police!”

  “Yes, the police, they said Asma Saïd, was fished out of the port this morning near your hotel, she had your visiting card in a pocket!”

  “Jesus Christ!”

  “Quite right Mister Ennis, you would do well to invoke the help of your Prophet.”

  “Shit!”

  “And you are certainly in the shit.”

  “What am I going to do?”

  “You will leave at once, return home, no scandal.”

  “What!”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve arrange for your things to be collected at your hotel and we shall both leave for the airport immediately.”

  He made a sign to the bewildered Ennis to leave. In the parking they took Djellali’s car and left in the direction of the airport in silence, the only noise came from the telecom screen where the pictures flickered on and off and the sound crackled incomprehensibly on the police frequencies. Ennis was in a trance unable