Ninety-four

The muezzin’s call rang out over the silent maze of the Marrakech medina, calling the faithful to remember their duty to God. It was still quite dark, the streets damp with a light dew, the doors and shutters of every home locked for the night.

Dressed in their jelabas, the hoods pulled down over their heads, Ghita and Blaine made their way through the twisting lanes until they reached the goldsmith’s home.

The door opened as they approached, and he ushered them inside.

‘The arrangements have been made,’ he said, his voice heavy. ‘But in order for the guards to look the other way they will need to be paid something.’

‘A bribe?’

The goldsmith nodded.

‘How much?’

He calculated.

‘Two hundred thousand dirhams.’

‘I understand,’ said Ghita.

‘Good. Now, take this paper and follow the map I have drawn. You must be at the liaison point by the dhuhr prayer. If you are late then you will have no hope. And, if you are caught, you must not reveal my identity or that of my cousin. Do you swear it?’

‘I swear,’ said Ghita. ‘On my mother’s grave.’

The goldsmith pulled the curtain from the window and peered out for a moment.

‘Once inside the prison you will only have a few minutes to take your father,’ he said. ‘As soon as you get outside, you are on your own. You must recognize that the entire system will be searching for him... and for you. They will hunt you both, and will stop at nothing until the prisoner and his accomplices have been caught.’

Before setting out for the Atlas, Ghita sat on the balcony of her suite, staring out at the snow-capped mountains in the distance. She had broken down in tears half a dozen times during the night, and now began sobbing again. The sense of despondency came from worrying about her father, as much as it did from self-pity and guilt.

Blaine knocked at the door.

‘All packed and ready,’ he said.

Ghita wiped her eyes. She craved a shoulder to cry on but was too proud to break down in front of the American.

‘I don’t want to be the spectre of doom,’ he said, ‘but you heard what the goldsmith said. Break a prisoner out of jail and they’ll be hunting not only him but you.’

‘I know the risks, but I have no choice.’

‘Do you have a plan?’

‘My father will have one. He always does. But he needs to be free to make it work.’

Blaine touched Ghita on the shoulder. He wanted to hold her but feared that she would lash out.

‘Break him out of jail and neither of you will ever be free,’ he said. ‘You’ll be hunted like vermin. Is that what you want?’

‘It’s a risk, one I have to take,’ Ghita said. She closed her eyes, then blinked. ‘I have to ask you a small favour.’

‘Another one?’

‘Will you teach me to drive?’