Sakina’s face was pale, and her eyes expressed panic. “Let’s get out of the house now!” she shouted, and jumped up to get going.
“Bundle up Ihsan and wrap her in your cloak. Go out as if you have an errand, but go to Qamar’s grave and wait for me there.”
“What about you, sir?”
“I’ll follow along at the right time.”
Her eyes wavered between concern and confusion.
“Hassan will take you to the place where we’ll stay,” he reassured her.
In seconds, she was ready to leave. He kissed Ihsan again and again.
“We entrust you to the safekeeping of Him who never dies,” the woman told him as she headed for the door.
He stood at a crevice in the window blinds to keep an eye on the road, and watched the slave walk toward Gamaliya until she disappeared in the curve of the street. His heart pounded as he gazed at the crook of her arm that contained the precious bundle. His eye moved over the neighborhood, and saw some men who were followers of the gangsters, some sitting in the Dingil Coffeehouse and others standing idle here and there; he could barely make out their features in the steadily falling darkness. All indications were that they were preparing, but were they waiting for him to go out for his nightly excursion, if they had discovered that secret, or would they attack his house when the night was nearly over? Now they were carefully spreading out, lest their mission be discovered. They were creeping through the dusk like insects, their very breath exhaling the smell of crime. Would he meet Gabal’s fate, or Rifaa’s? This was the situation in which Rifaa had found himself that dark night: he had hidden in his house with a heart full of good intentions, while the lower floor was invaded by heavy feet, whose owners’ very skin smelled of blood lust. When will you have shed enough blood, miserable alley? He paced back and forth in the room until he heard a tap at the door and Hassan’s voice calling him.
Hassan entered with his powerful body and eyes reflecting unease. “There are strange, suspicious movements in the alley,” he said.
“Has my Uncle Zachary come home from his walk?” Qassem asked, ignoring his remark.
“No, but I was saying that there’s something suspicious out there. Look out of the window blind.”
“I saw what you’re worried about, and I know what’s going on. Sadeq warned me in time by sending his little sister to me. If he’s right, the gangsters will try to kill me tonight, and that’s why I sent Ihsan away with Sakina. They’re waiting for you at Qamar’s grave. Go get them, and then all of you go to our brothers’ headquarters.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll escape and follow you.”
“I will not leave you alone,” said Hassan resolutely.
“Do what I told you, now,” said Qassem urgently, with a hint of vexation. “I’ll escape using a trick, not force. Your strength won’t help me if we should meet any resistance, and by going, you’ll protect my daughter, and you’ll be able to put some of our men at the beginning of the roads from Gamaliya up to the mountain. They may be able to help me, if I need them when I escape.”
Hassan acceded to his wishes, shook his hand firmly. “No one has a brain like yours. You probably have a good plan,” he said.
He was answered with a smile of reassurance, and Hassan went away gloomily. It was not long before Zachary arrived, panting; Qassem was sure that he was on his way back from Yahya’s with the news. He spoke first. “Sadeq sent me word of the news.”
“I just found out a little while ago, when I passed by Yahya’s, and I was afraid you hadn’t heard,” the man said, plainly upset.
“I’m sorry for being the cause of all these upsets,” said Qassem contritely, and made him sit down.
“I’ve been waiting for something like this. I had noticed a change in how Sawaris was acting toward me, but I deceived myself. Now I see all those devils everywhere, like locusts. And you’re all alone and have no way of escaping.”
Qassem straightened up determinedly and said, “I will try, and if I fail, there are men on the mountain who will not be beaten.”
“What’s that compared to your life or your child?” asked Zachary morosely.
“I’m surprised that you’re not leading my followers!”
“Come with me to Sawaris,” he went on, as though he had not heard. “We’ll negotiate with him, and promise him what he wants,”
Qassem laughed briefly to deride his uncle’s suggestion without answering it. Zachary turned to the window to look out to the street, which seemed dark and dreadful.
“Why did they choose tonight?” Qassem asked him.
“The day before yesterday, one of the Al Gabal announced that your cause would be a good thing for everyone, and it’s said that one of the Al Rifaa said the same thing. Perhaps that’s what made them decide to move quickly.”
“See, uncle? Qassem beamed. “I am the enemy of the overseer and the gangsters, but the friend of our alley, and everyone will see that.”
“Think now of what is in store for you.”
“Here is my plan. I’ll escape over the rooftops as far as your house, leaving my lamp burning to mislead them,” said Qassem earnestly.
“Someone might see you.”
“I won’t go until it’s dark and people aren’t sitting out on their roofs.”
“And if they attack your house before then?”
“They won’t do that until everyone in the alley is asleep.”
“They may have become more reckless than you think.”
“In that case, I’ll die.” Qassem smiled. “Who can postpone his appointed time?”
The man raised a face that bespoke urgency, but it met a calm and confident smile that was like determination personified. “They might search my house,” he said in despair.
“Luckily, they aren’t aware that news of their plots have reached us, and I’ll escape first, God willing.”
They exchanged a long gaze, more eloquent than tears, then embraced. When Qassem found himself alone, he shook off his emotions and went to the window to watch the street. Everything was as usual in the neighborhood, with children playing around the handcart lanterns, the coffeehouse packed and sociable, the roofs resounding with women’s conversations; the coughing of smokers, interspersed with their insults and obscenities, and the rising lament of the rebec. There was Sawaris, in the doorway of the coffeehouse, with the messengers of death occupying the corners. Scions of treachery, thieves of men, ever since Idris’ burst of cold laughter, you have been passing on a legacy of crime and sinking the alley in a sea of darkness. Isn’t it time the captive bird is freed? Time passed slowly and heavily, but it eventually drew the soirees to an end. The roofs were silent, the street was empty except for the carts and the children, the coffeehouses were abandoned and for a time there were the voices of shadowy shapes heading home. Hallucinating drunks came back from Gamaliya and hashish dens put out their fires, leaving only the companions of death out in the dark. “It is time to act,” he told himself. He hurried to the steps and climbed to the roof, then went to the dividing wall between his roof and the roof of the neighboring house, crossed it easily, and was about to run on when a figure stood in his way and said, “Stop.” He realized that the roofs were occupied by killers; that his encirclement was complete. He turned to retreat, but the other man pounced at him and seized him in his powerful arms. Qassem summoned all of his strength, which was redoubled by fear, and surprised him with a punch in the stomach that released the arms around him. A kick in the stomach doubled him over, and then he collapsed, moaning, and did not rise again. There was a muffled cough from the third or fourth roof down, and he changed his mind about advancing. He withdrew, worried, to his roof, and stood at the steps, listening; he could hear footsteps coming up. They were massing at the door of his apartment; they smashed against it. It flew open and was almost ripped from the frame, and they rushed inside. He went down quickly, not losing a second, ending up in the courtyard. He hurried to the door, and saw a figure moving outside the house, jumped on him and grabbed him around the throat, butted him with his head, kicked him in the stomach and shoved him away. He fell on his back, motionless. Qassem headed for Gamaliya, his heart thumping. Now they saw that the house was empty, and they might go up to the roof, where they would find their supine friend; others might be on their way down to follow him. He passed his uncle’s house without stopping, and when he neared the end of the alley he began to run. Where the alley opened into Gamaliya, a figure jumped out into his path and shouted in a voice like thunder to alert others, “Stop, son of a bitch!” He raised a club before Qassem could get out of the way, but a second figure appeared from around the bend, bashed the man over the head with a cane, and he dropped, screaming.
“Let’s run as fast as we can,” the second figure said.
Qassem and Hassan ran through the darkness, paying no attention to rocks or potholes.