Chapter Xxii
When the scuffle sounded down below, the nationalist "judges" had forgotten about Ahmed. With one accord they'd made towards the door of the room and rushed out into the corridor.
Ahmed, momentarily left alone in the room, had understood and also moved towards the door. He'd been about to go out himself into the corridor when the unnecessary risk he would thus run came home to him.
Instead he simply slammed the door and turned the key. Then he drew out his automatic and moved over behind a big wardrobe out of range of the door.
Within seconds came the thudding pushes at the door and then the sound of shots, barking out and resounding within the walls of the building.
Ahmed stayed where he was, staring at the door which received no further battering for several minutes. The shots continued to string out, getting a little farther off, and he heard the heavy, thumping rush of many feet clumping past the room. He heard voices snapping out orders in French and he felt a glow of relief and then a sort of shaken happiness.
It had succeeded, actually succeeded, the whole plan. Here he was quite alone in this room with the sound of battle in which he'd expected to be involved receding. He was unhurt, unscratched. He had won his end of the gamble. The nationalists must be cornered; there was no escape surely from such a building and the police would have it surrounded. Tomorrow he would be free from all anxiety. Tomorrow-no, later today-he would see Frangoise, hold her in his arms, make love to her, all without fear because fear had been surrounded with his help and defeated. His eyes lit up with joy. He remembered the apartment in the 10th Arrondissement which would be his and Frangoise's and the promise of work which had been made to him.
He was still overcome with wonderment at the idea when the battering at the door resumed. Gruff voices called out in French for whoever was in there to open up. Ahmed waited a few seconds until there was no doubt that the voices belonged to the police and then he went to the door and turned the key.
Several black-uniformed police immediately brushed into the room, two of them seizing him, and began a quick search, even opening the wardrobe.
"We've got another of them," a policeman said as an inspector in silver-braided cap came through the door.
"I'm Ahmed ben Lulla," Ahmed said, quickly. "It was I who laid the trap for the terrorists here. I was working with Inspector Raimond."
They eyed him narrowly. These police were not too fond of Algerians.
"Bring him along," the inspector said. "We can check his story. Better take his gun."