Chapter 18
Ahmed ben Lulla was nervous. He had refused and they were giving him until today to reconsider. They were coming at any moment.
There was always the possibility that they might not accede to his request to be tried before their court. Everybody knew it was a farce, and although they liked to feign a certain democratic procedure, purely for political reasons, there was nonetheless that slight chance that they might take it into their heads to finish him off there and then.
He was nervous. But at the same time he was resigned. His only regret was that he hadn't been able to see Francoise before the event. Hadn't even told her anything about in in their secret notes. He was afraid she'd react in some way that would make the whole scheme impossible. It was better if she were presented with the fait accompli either of his success-or of his death. His mind had been so involved with the details of this plan that he'd even forgotten to feel sick about the fact that Frangoise was still being mounted and screwed, perhaps even getting an occasional orgasm herself, by other men. They were having her in a long stream, night after night, while he wasn't even able to see her. It was too, too cruel and if it hadn't been for the overwhelming importance of his own imminent activities he'd have been near to committing suicide.
There was a tap on the door. This was it. He steeled himself and crossed to the door, opened it. It was a single man, Mohammed Arab. He came into the room, a sardonic smile on his cruel lips.
He sat on the bed casually, chattily, his appearance belying the true nature of the situation.
"You have the money?"
"I told you I can't pay."
"You have been told before what happens to those who 'can't' pay."
"I want to go before the court to defend myself."
Mohammed Arab's lips curled in a sarcastic smile. He put a hand patronizingly on Ahmed's shoulder.
"If you take my advice you will pay."
"It's impossible-I haven't got the money."
"Why haven't you got the money? What defense have you of your incapacity to help the revolution?"
"I will put my defense to the court."
Mohammed Arab's smile disappeared. You are being very stupid," he said, scowling.
He seemed to hesitate, glaring at Ahmed, as if he were considering taking the law into his own hands as he'd so often done before. And then he stood up and went to the door.
"You are very, very stupid," he repeated. "We shall call to take you in a day or so."
He went out, closing the door softly behind him. And Ahmed sat down with a shiver of apprehension and of relief. So far so good. But the most dangerous was to come.