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"So, what did you find out?" Mustafa sounded eager to get this done and leave.
"Can I see my check first?"
Tony examined the check, put it in his pocket and started talking, and I was better off in my room because every word he said was like a dagger stuck in my heart.
"So, there was that accident with your deceased friend fourteen years ago. He fled the country with his girlfriend, Pamela Saade. The police never found them and supposedly, they fled the country to Syria and then to Cyprus, but nobody seems to know anything about them, except for your encounter with them in Turkey according to your story. Anyway, Susan, the mother was put in a mental hospital two years after the accident, where she is still a resident today. The kids, John and Elsa, lived with their grandparents, but their grandfather died shortly after that of a heart attack. The poor man did not bear all the talks about his son, and the grandmother died three years ago. I think she stayed alive to be there for those poor kids who were left alone in this world with stories stalking them wherever they went about their father, the murderer. They are still living in their grandparents' house. The only good thing left from their father was the house he had, which they sold to pay for their education. John graduated last year as a civil engineer, and Elsa should graduate this year as a pharmacist." Everything he said ran rivers of sorrow deep in my chest except for his last words about John and Elsa.
"The kids are brilliant. Companies in Dubai already fought over John, but he stayed here in Lebanon and took a lousy job to be with his sister, and Elsa is no less brilliant than her brother. Everybody I asked loved the kids as much as they felt sorry for them for what they had to go through without a father or a mother." Tony continued.
I wished I had been there for them, but it was bitterly foolish pride I felt, for those brilliant kids were mine, and those kids were the same ones I abandoned.
"They are good kids, you know, they visit their mother every week although according to what I heard, the poor woman's mind is completely gone, and she's not in the best physical health, either. What a poor family. In my line of work, I learned that pity was not something that can get you far, so I never carried it around with me as it was a useless tool for what I did, but I pitied those kids and their mother. Off the record, I wouldn't be so sure your friend was innocent as you said. I went to the trouble of looking into the murder case he committed fourteen years ago of the MP's father. It wasn't pretty at all, and from a professional point of view, all the evidence said it was him. That's for sure. Listen, if you are here because of what you said you were here for, do it. This poor family deserves any help you can give them, but if you're just doing it for the memory of that mother fucker, don't bother." These were the last things I could hear from Tony because there was a long silence after that.
Tony left more than half an hour ago, and I was still waiting for Mustafa to come up, I couldn't listen to anything after Tony's last words, and I got worried. I started to think if telling Mustafa about this whole thing was a big mistake. If I kept my mouth shut and figured it out by myself, it would have been much better. If I were in his shoes now, I would have suspected my story. What might he be thinking?
Another half an hour passed, and Mustafa was still not in the room. I had the same feeling I thought I had forgotten. I had this gut feeling that told me to flee. Mustafa could have gone to the police or worse, he might talk to the only man ready to take me down no matter who I was even after a thousand years. After all, I did kill his father.
The feeling was getting stronger with every second passing, and I knew I should move right away. I didn't bother to pack anything. I picked up my coat, made sure my passport was in my pocket and decided to head to the airport and take the first flight anywhere outside this country which was once again burning like hell fitting all those people in except for me.
I opened the door, and there he was standing. He seemed as if he had been standing there for a long time. I went back to the room, but I was so guilty I could not deny I was planning to flee. Mustafa stepped inside the room and closed the door behind him.
"Going somewhere?" Mustafa's shattered voice didn't give me a chance to discern what the man was thinking about or if his job at that moment was to stall me as much as possible.
"Where have you been?"
"It doesn't matter where I have been. What matters is where you would be if I weren't waiting at the door."
"I know there is nothing I can say to you that will make you believe me, but I swear by the lives of my children, all of them, that everything I told you was the truth."
"There is no need to swear. After what you and I heard from Tony, I needed a drink first. The man was so convincing, but I have known you for years, and I have trusted you with my life and business for all these years. It is difficult for me to say that you have been a liar all these years. I don't mind your keeping who you really are a secret all this time, but this story you told me was difficult to believe. I saw what happened in the camp. While I was drinking, I thought if I made a mistake staying your friend when Pam left you, or if I made even a bigger mistake coming here with you, but it is Pam who has saved your life again."
"Did you speak to Pam?"
"I just got off the phone with her. Forgive me for having my doubts, but all this was too much for me to take. I had to ask the only person I trust more than you."
"Do you believe me now?"
"I am sorry. I know the words you heard must have broken your heart. I can never tell you I understand because I don't, but this is the greatest injustice I have heard of in my entire life, and I was there when the war started in Syria, and I saw my brothers and sisters dying for nothing. I don't know, but maybe it's easier to accept people dying when there is a war." Mustafa couldn't help the tears falling and kept asking me to forgive him. It had been a long since we last cried, but I understood how intense it was coming from a man like him. I didn't have to forgive him because I knew how lucky I was to have a person like him as a brother I never had, yet I was not in the mood of forgiving anybody else. Anger crept into my mind like those days back in the camp. It was my anger that earned me the Bulldozer nickname more than my fighting skills. I was not ready to forgive anyone who brought all this misery to my family.
"What we came in here to do turned out to be much bigger than we thought. I can never forgive them for destroying my family like this. This is my war now. You can go back to Germany if you want because things will get ugly here. I will understand if you don't want to stay here anymore." I said that with a look Mustafa should never mistake as he knew me well. He should know I was not going to leave after what I heard.
"You know all the things we have accomplished together, all the dreams that came true for the both of us; if we don't do this, it'll be as if we have done nothing at all. This is my war as much as it is yours." Mustafa held out his hand, and our shaking hands was much more like a promise we made to each other.