“Well, perhaps there was more new blood than anticipated when my parents met. My father and my uncle were best friends at school here,” Emily said, “They said she was the extra package that sealed the friendship. Sort of, ‘here, take my sister.’ A very chauvinistic business strategy, I’ve been led to believe.”
“So what are you doing here in Egypt?” he asked, looking intently at her as if baiting her to lie.
“I’m staying with my Aunt Yacouta for a few weeks and then I’m going on to meet up with my husband. He’s Afghani and we’re settling in Herat. His father is a diplomat and I’m sure that Ghulam will follow in his footsteps. We’re quite the international family.”
“This is amazing. I’ll be staying with your aunt after I’ve been briefed by the Embassy. I’m going to be here for several months from what I understand. Look, I’ve got to make a few rounds. Can we meet for breakfast tomorrow? If you’d like while you’re with your Aunt you can keep track of my notes. Sort of compile them. You know the routine, I’m sure. The foundation I’m working for would probably pay a small stipend. I’d have to get one of the locals anyway. If you’re as interested in this stuff as you say, you’d be just spot on for the job.”
“We’ve only just met. You know nothing about me!” Emily was astounded.
“Don’t be ridiculous. My family has known yours for years! What else is there to know? I consider this,” he said convincingly, “divine intervention!” And with that, he was gone.
Aunt Yacouta returned with Mr. Formby-Gore, the Regional Attaché, who introduced her to her new tenant Wils de Crecy as he briefly passed her.
“I think that’s probably enough British tawny for a pregnant woman,” she said, taking the glass from Emily’s hand.”
“I see you’ve met our young Mr. de Crecy, Cherie. Not all he claims to be, I think! There’s something very strange about that young man.”
“Oh come on Aunty, he’s totally charming. Rich and nice looking! What’s so wrong with that?”
“Emily, I have lived here all my life. There is nothing here, in Israel or Lebanon, even Greece that escapes me. Do not trust him. There is something going on. I always trust my instincts. Learn to trust yours. Besides that, it’s time for us to leave. How about hot chocolate at home? Much better for soothing the nerves. Although that poached salmon seems to be calling me one last time,” and Yacouta headed towards the delicacies again but not before giving herself sufficient time to chat with one of her Israeli contacts for a little background information on Mr. de Crecy, just in case, and making sure her best regards were proffered to the Prime Minister.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Emily paid no heed to her aunt’s carefully researched and very well worded warning and in the weeks that followed she and Wilfred de Crecy struck up a decent working relationship. She was unaware that every conversation was noted and reported then sent by courier to London’s White Hall via Archie Beresford in Liverpool. During the process discussions concerning her friends in Germany and her husband were evaluated and when necessary also shared with American and Israeli intelligence. At the time she had no way of knowing that everything she did, letters and phone calls from Ghulam and his anecdotes about Mustafa were also being collected and disseminated by three of the world’s most resourceful intelligence services.
Wilfred de Crecy was in the early stages of his diplomatic career. His heritage, family background, and privileged education would take him far, but his predatory instinct suggested to him that Emily Desai could lead him to the inner world of the notorious Baader-Meinhof gang and through them into the terrorist cells and training camps throughout the Arab world. He intuitively picked up far in advance that this young pregnant woman would remain an asset, in intelligence terms, to both the American and British Government for the rest of her life.
Emily made contact with Ghulam shortly after her arrival. Her husband had not wanted to visit Egypt and instead requested that she absorb Egyptian culture, discover her ancestral roots, and reestablish herself as a Muslim woman. She should, he implored, seek instruction in her role as a daughter of Islam. She had chosen for this purpose the Mosque of Al-Hazar which was named for the daughter of the Prophet Mohammed, Fatama al-Zahraa. It was the original Fatimid monument in Egypt and as such was a meeting place for Shi’a students. The oldest university in the world had in fact grown up around the mosque. The first lecture had taken place there in 975 AD. It was the most prestigious of all Muslim schools. Tens of thousands of students studied there. Emily, now known only as Amina, took her religious studies seriously. She discarded her fashionable clothes and dressed simply, as befitted a Muslim woman, traveling to her classes accompanied by Ahmed until prevented by her obvious condition.
Emily studied the theory of Islam and the role of women. It had long been her opinion that for women, Islamic practice and Islamic theory were total opposition. She learned that the ideology of Islam did not determine the role of women as being subservient, but it was often held to be through the ignorance of some who practiced Islam, be it through personal desire or lack of education. Muslim women, although this was virtually unknown in the west, were often victims because of inept interpretation of the word of Allah. Islamic ideology and theory was clear according to the Qur’an and Hadith. By religious tradition, men and women were equal in every aspect of life spiritual and physical.
Furthermore, she learned that women were obligated to the same principles and practices as men and that the exemptions from this were obvious and clear. An example discussed in her classes was abstaining from fasting, if a woman was pregnant, after childbirth, while menstruating, or if a life threatening situation occurred then she would be exempt and should make note of how long a period was involved and make up for it at a more convenient or healthful time. She realized that the social position of Muslim women was not, in reality as it was often portrayed by the western media. Women in Islamic history had been unrestricted economically and politically. She studied the life of Khadija, the Prophet Mohammed’s first wife, who was an important merchant, and read that the prophet himself had worked for her. Ayisha, his other wife was an advisor whose opinions were sought by many important people. These were real women, like her mother or her aunt. In Islamic history, women were also elected to public office. Like the ancient Celtic women of Britain, they could inherit property. The problem, like the Christian absorption of the pagan belief structure, began when other cultures turned to Islam and overlaid their customs and beliefs on the word of Allah. Islam had spread so rapidly that its converts had not been educated to the fullest extent in Islamic thought and culture and so the word of Allah in its less than pure form had spread and the virus of feminine inferiority from alien cultures remained embedded in its core. The discord among the undereducated had created a chasm between men and women, and it was such a disagreement on a subject as petty as Emily’s adherence to a more modest dress code that would even cause a rift between Emily and her beloved aunt.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Yacouta was the widow of a French national who had lived in Cairo. Jean Pierre D’Aboville was from an old established Catholic family. He had received and austere education under Jesuit rule and for most of his adult life until his marriage was eccentric, intellectual and vehemently religious. As a couple the D’Abovilles belonged to no organized religion, choosing instead to be charitable, moral and ethical without any secular affiliation. Yacouta D’Aboville revered her husband’s memory, harmed no one and loved life. She was modest by nature but unwilling to accept any form of restriction. She was also a passionate believer in human rights.
At the end of six weeks, Yacouta questioned her niece’s intentions. Was she going to stay in Cairo? What should she advise Ibrahim, who telephoned constantly? She had received an exorbitant telephone bill with calls to Beirut, presumably to Ghulam. How much contact did she have with him? Should she make arrangements for the baby’s birth and hire help for them when the baby arrived in July, which was onl
y four months away? Yacouta’s questions, much to her annoyance, remained for the most part unanswered. Emily simply did not know, she had made no decision either way and with all due respect to her aunt, she responded, she couldn’t care less.
Emily was now well into her pregnancy, awkward and ungainly with no desire to discuss anything more futuristic than the next day. Moreover, she was becoming tired of her Aunt’s incessant questioning and suspicions about her friendship with Wilfred de Crecy.
In the past few weeks she had worked with de Crecy, or Wils as she now called him, daily, both at the Embassy and the office in her aunt’s home. She had cross-referenced various Coptic translations, assembled his jumbled notes into reports, photocopied and even photographed portions of the codices. She was fascinated by the enormity of the project and horrified at the extent to which it appeared that the Catholic, Orthodox and Anglican churches would go to suppress the findings of the Nag Hammadi scrolls and the completion of the project in general. Wils de Crecy had remained passionate, answering linguistic questions and providing clear interpretation throughout. His knowledge of Aramaic amazed her and she had nothing but respect for him. Their friendship was platonic and she had, in order to further dissuade any possible advances, confided in him that she was ready to commit to her ancestral religion in order to appease her husband’s family and improve her long-distance marriage.
She never tired of talking about Ghulam, his studies of Arabic and his continual contacts with Mustafa who had remained in Germany. She had no inkling that everything she said was committed to memory until de Crecy could be alone and tape his comments or report the information directly to his superiors. He gleaned information from her by what she considered mundane questions and Emily in turn responded openly and honestly as was her nature. Her knowledge of student activism had waned since she had left Germany but this was no longer a primary focus for him. Now she had become a wealth of information on Beirut and the ideals of Ghulam’s newly found friends, all of whom were involved in thought, word and deed with liberating Palestine from its aggressors.
Conversely, her views on Palestine were the subject of hostile debate with her aunt who, while she agreed that the Palestinian situation was tragic, felt a round table peace talk initiative was the only way to bring calm and progress. Emily had by now become involved with the students at the Mosque of Al-Hazar and she had heard disturbing stories about Palestinians losing their rights, their water supplies and access to their religious sites under Israeli rule, all unfortunately backed up by solid facts. She was, encouraged by de Crecy, becoming very interested in liberating Palestine from its aggressors.
She discussed this with Ghulam in their weekly phone calls and for the most part their conversations remained discrete, out of habit more than design. He told her often that he was now ready to become her husband with the blessing of Allah, quoting the Qur’an as always and he now urged her to be ready for his instructions to travel to Beirut. That morning during one of their conversations she had mentioned the envelope she had from Sammi Farouq and he had acted like he had not heard her. Her gut instinct told her not to press the issue and she had gotten the distinct feeling that she should simply drop the subject. Emily at this point decided to open Sammi’s envelope. She had now, after all, considered the matter fully, an unmarked manila envelope of the exact size could always be found!
Alone in the suite she occupied at her aunt’s house she opened the wall safe where her jewelry and cash were kept and finding the envelope, she gently opened it. The firm Arabic strokes read:
My son,
May Allah in his wisdom provide for you.
Remember to study the Qu’ran daily even though you are miles away from me in a place as cold as the snow on the mountains and the hearts of the infidels living there. Do not be afraid. The time will pass quickly. In times of trouble I have found hope and strength in these verses.
Sura 74, Verse 38: Every soul will be in pledge for its deeds.
Sura 16, Verse 97: Whoever works righteousness, man or woman, and has Faith, Verily, to him will We give the new Life, and life that is good and pure. We will bestow on such their reward according to the best of their actions
Sura 4, Verse 124: If any do deeds of righteousness-be they male or female and have faith, they will enter Heaven and not the least injustice will be done to them.
Farouq.
She pondered the message and couldn’t fathom out anything other than a message of kindness and well being to a fellow believer in Islam. But why did he refer to Ghulam as his son? Sammi Farouq had not known Ghulam, although she remembered he was from Beirut and still had relatives there. Then there was the reference to the cold. Was it possible to ski on Beirut’s mountain slopes? Were they snow covered? Or was this another reference to somewhere else. She looked at the letter again. Why would he have picked those particular passages? She cross-referenced them with her copy of the Holy Qur’an. They were not obscure. He had used them appropriately. But if he used the passages, why bother to give the chapter and verse? Unless the numbers themselves were of significance! Emily committed the numbers to memory, in sequences of three making them easier for her to recall. In the vent her memory did fail her, which was unlikely, she wrote them as an alternate telephone number of next of kin inside her passport using Liverpool and Chester telephone exchanges for the first six numbers with each entry. Her passport would be with her constantly. She found another envelope of same size in the desk and placed the letter carefully inside.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The following day Emily told Wils de Crecy that she was leaving Cairo for Beirut. Surprisingly, she thought, he did not show any emotion at what she felt would be a crushing blow to his work. He acted as if it was anticipated. She told him she had made travel arrangements that morning to fly to Beirut on May 20th, only four days away.
Aunt Yacouta, on the other hand became very emotional. Emily was accused of stupidity for leaving all of this to go wandering with a man who obviously didn’t care enough about her or the child to have even visited them in the past two months. “This is a man,” her aunt had said, “who is completely controlling. Why he had even dictated the clothing Emily wore! So much so that,” she berated her niece, “the entire community was discussing how dowdy she looked and that Emily’s obedience to fundamentalist Islamic culture had set her entire gender back a thousand years. Look at yourself,” Aunt Yacouta urged, “look what he has done to you without even being here! Imagine,” she raved even further, “what he will do when you live there with him!” The two women continued to scream at each other, later forgiving but finally agreeing that it was probably time for Emily to go to Lebanon.
Emily decided to leave her things at the house and travel lightly, on the basis that if in two months anything went wrong she could contact her aunt and return to Cairo immediately. If Yacouta did not hear from Emily when she arrived she would travel there herself using any and all diplomatic contacts at her disposal to find her.
Emily did indeed travel lightly, except of course for the 9mm Tokagpyt pistol and the money she had brought from Germany. The following day her aunt provided her with more comfortable clothes that would pass the inspection of any respectable Muslim to travel in and then suggested Ahmed her housekeeper and driver accompany her on the trip. It would at least be more appropriate than traveling alone in her condition and would cause less attention. “Who knows,” she added sarcastically, “whether the CIA, MI5 and Mossad are watching the girl with escaped terrorists as friends?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Andreas Baader broke out of jail yesterday, with a lot of help from your “kleine freundin”, Ulrike Meinhof,” Yacouta said handing her a German language newspaper.
Emily read slowly, not wanting to lose anything in translation.
“14 th May, 1970 Berliner Zeitung
Andreas Baader escaped today from the Central Institute for Social Issues Library outside the Darlem prison where he was serving a fo
ur year sentence for arson endangering human life. The prisoner and his two guards, Sgt. Gunter Wetter and Sgt. Karl-Heinze Wegener were riding to the Institute where Baader, a self-described left-wing revolutionary had received prison permission to research a book relating to, he told his guards, “the organization of young people on the fringes of society”. A police spokesperson stated that “Konkret” journalist and television personality Ulrike Meinhof aided his escape by initially posing as helping him research the project in order to gain access to the building prior to his arrival. Frau Gertrude Lorenz, a library employee stated that Ms. Meinhof, whom she had seen on television, was credible and did request specific items for her research. She was seen to take out books and papers from her brief case and was using the cardex file when Baader, dressed in civilian clothes, arrived accompanied by his guards. Shortly after Baader asked for a cup of coffee, according to Frau Lorenz, the door bell rang and two pretty young women, now identified as co-conspirators, Irene Goergens and Ingrid Schubert, attempted to gain access to the main reading room which is normally closed to the general public. The doorbell rang a second time and when the door was opened by Goergens and Schubert a man in a woolen mask carrying a Beretta pistol ran into the hall. Librarian Georg Linke was disturbed by the commotion outside his office and was shot at when he opened his door. He escaped from the building by climbing out of his office window with two other employees.
The masked gunman, joined by Goergens and Schubert by now also armed kept Frau Lorenze covered while Ulrike Meinhof and Andreas Baader escaped by climbing out of another window. After an unsuccessful attempt by the prison guards to subdue the attackers the masked man fired gas pellets as he and his cohorts escaped the building through the window following Baader and Meinhof. Those remaining in the library were completely overcome by gas fumes. They were seen by onlookers racing to a silver Alfa Romeo that took off at record breaking speed shortly thereafter.
Circle Around the Sun Page 15