Together they waited, the director at his desk, Abraham standing across from him, Huq and the fighter against the wall. On the desk were the pills, and nothing else. After five minutes the director became restless and sent Huq to look, and he returned in a moment preceded by Dr Saad. Sweat shone on Huq’s upper lip; he seemed more nervous than Abraham, who had reached a state of serene resignation. Let them do their worst. He had done what he could.
The director looked from face to face with eyes that bulged and seemed never to blink. For a long moment he said nothing, anxious to display his authority, and with something just short of a sigh Saad let him know that he was used to this sort of performance but had better things to do elsewhere.
‘Do you know what these are?’
The words were meant to sound stern but they slipped dully from his mouth. Saad stepped forward to inspect the pills and then stepped back.
‘Roxanol. Pain relief.’
‘Do you know what they’re doing here?’
Saad looked from the director to Abraham and from him to Huq.
‘I imagine Mounir got them for me.’
Impassive, the director waited for him to explain. Any disappointment didn’t show.
‘I need morphine for two patients. I told him if he ever saw any spare he should bring it to me.’
‘When was this?’
‘I don’t know. Two days ago.’
‘Civilian patients?’
‘Patients.’
The director looked at Abraham, who had come round like a man slapped awake.
‘You took Islamic State medicine to give it to pigs?’
‘It was extra. I saw no harm.’
‘You would have fighters suffer?’
The director looked at him long and hard, a great sage weighing up the appropriate punishment.
‘Then you will suffer. Eighty lashes.’
Abraham hung his head and felt the flesh on his back go tight.
‘I need him,’ said Saad.
‘After the lashes. You –’ the director nodded at the fighter – ‘take him.’
‘I need him now, and I need him able to work.’
‘After he is punished.’
Saad sighed. The pained sigh of a tired man.
‘It will take time to have him lashed. After he is lashed he will try to work but he will tire and make mistakes. And men may die as a result.’
‘God’s retribution is stern.’
‘God would find another way. Would He want His own fighters to suffer?’
The director’s eyes looked ready to pop; Saad had pushed him too hard. It was a mistake to have brought God into it.
‘How dare you predict what God the most high would do? That is blasphemy, Saad.’
But Saad smiled and shook his head.
‘Please. Not that track again. I’m simply wondering what happens when you lose a man because you lashed a good nurse. What his commander might say.’
The director sniffed, eyeing Saad with less confidence, and ran his tongue round the inside of his lips as if checking for undigested food. Finally he turned down the corners of his mouth in grim resolution.
‘You need him?’
‘We need him.’
‘Two weeks’ pay. No more errands.’
‘Fair,’ said Saad, and went to take the drugs from the desk. ‘For the fighters,’ he said, with a thin smile, and left the room.
Out in the corridor Abraham caught up with Saad.
‘Thank you. My God. How did you know what to say?’
‘What were you doing with these?’
‘How did you know?’
‘I knew the moment I came in the room. They think they’re clever but most of them have the brains of flies. Why I bothered is another question. Here. These are yours.’
Abraham shook his head. He wanted Saad to see his eyes but he was walking fast, as he always did.
‘They’re for upstairs.’
‘I don’t want them. Sell them or take them or whatever you want to do with them but keep me the fuck out of it next time.’
Abraham reached out and pulled him back. Everyone else might misjudge him but it was important that Saad knew. Saad of all people.
‘Once, I’d have taken them. In this place, my God, I’d have swallowed them all. But they were for you. They were for everyone upstairs. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have involved you.’
The irritation on Saad’s face cleared, and he shook his head.
‘You’re a strange man.’
‘I don’t know what I am.’
‘Find out soon or you’ll get somebody killed. Understand?’