Intoxicated with joy and assured of success he crept into the building and climbed the stairs, dreaming of one victory after another. There was no limit to what he could do. He would get away and settle down for a long time, then come back eventually and deal with those scoundrels.
A little out of breath, he came up to the door. I love you, Nur. With all my heart I do love you, twice as much as you have loved me. In your breast I will bury all my misery, the treachery of those scoundrels and my daughter's alarm. He knocked on the door.
It opened to reveal a man he had never seen before, a little man in his underclothes, who stared back at him in astonishment and said, "Yes; what can I do for you?"
The little man's look of inquiry soon gave way to one of confusion and then alarm. Dumbfounded, certain he'd recognized him, Said silenced him instantly, slamming one fist into his mouth and the other into his stomach. As he lowered the body quietly to the threshold, Said thought of entering to search for his uniform, but he couldn't be sure the flat was empty. Then from inside he heard a woman's voice calling, "Who was that at the door, dear?"
It was hopeless. Said turned and raced back down the stairs and out into the street, then made his way up Masani Street to Jabal Road, where he could see suspicious figures moving about. There he crouched at the base of a wall, carefully recommencing his walk only when the street was entirely empty. It was a little before dawn when he once again slipped into the Sheikh's house. The old man was in his corner, awake and waiting for the coming call to prayer. Said took off his outer clothes and stretched out on the mat, turning his head to the wall though he had little hope of falling asleep.
"Go to sleep, for sleep is prayer for people like you," the Sheikh said.
Said made no reply. The Sheikh quickly chanted the name of God, "Allah."
When the dawn prayer was called Said was still awake and later he heard the milkman on his round. He knew he'd fallen asleep only when he was disturbed by a nightmare and opened his eyes to see light from the dim lamp spreading through the room like a fog, which made him suppose he'd slept for an hour at most. He turned towards the Sheikh's bed and found it empty, then noticed near his pile of books some cooked meat, figs, and a pitcher of water. He silently thanked the old man, wondering when he had brought the food.
Voices coming from outside the room surprised him. Creeping on all fours to the partly open door, he peeped through the crack and to his amazement saw a group of men who had come to pray, seated on mats, while a workman was busy lighting up a large oil lamp above the outer door. Suddenly he knew it was sunset, not dawn, as he had imagined.
In that case, he realized, he had slept through the whole day without realizing it, a really deep sleep indeed.
He decided to put off any further thought until after eating. He consumed the food and drank his fill, then dressed in his outdoor clothes and sat on the floor with his back against his books and his legs stretched straight out in front of him. His thoughts turned immediately to the uniform he'd forgotten, to the man who had opened the flat door to him, to Sana and Nur and Rauf and Nabawiyya and Ilish, to the informers, to Tarzan and to the car with which he would break through the cordon. His mind stormed. Clearly neither further patience nor hesitation were now in his interests. No matter what the danger, he had to contact Tarzan that night, even if it meant crawling to him over the desert sands. Tomorrow the police would be busy everywhere and those scoundrels would be out of their wits with fright.
Outside he heard someone clap his hands. The men's voices were suddenly silent and no other sounds could be heard. Sheikh Ali al-Junaydi chanted the word "Allah" three times and the others repeated the call, with a melody that brought the memory of the motion of the mystic dance to his mind once more. "Allah… Allah…
Allah." As the speed grew the chant increased in tempo and pitch like the sound of a train racing ahead, continuing without interruption for a considerable time. Then it began gradually to lose its power, its rhythm slowing, hesitating, and finally sinking into silence. At that point a full, fine voice arose in a chanted melody:
"My time in vain is gone
And I have not succeeded.
For a meeting how I long,
But hope of peace is ended
When life is two days long;
One day of vexation
And one of separation."
Said could hear the other men murmuring sighs in appreciation all around and then another voice began a melody: "Love enough to lay me down enthralled: My passion before me, my fate behind."
This song was followed by more sighs of delight and more singing, until someone clapped hands again and they all began repeating at length the name of God — Allah.
As he listened Said allowed his mind to wander and the evening wore on. Memories came drifting by like clouds. He remembered how his father, Amm Mahran, had swayed with the chanters, while he, then a young boy, had sat near the palm tree observing the scene wide-eyed. From the shadows emerged fancies about the immortal soul, living under the protection of the Most Compassionate.
Memories of hopes once bright shook off the dust of oblivion and flashed with life again: beneath that lone tree at the edge of the field tender words were whispered again in early-morning joy; little Sana sat again in his arms, speaking her first wonderful baby-words. Then hot winds blew from the depths of hell and a succession of blows were struck.
In the background the prayer-leader's chant and the congregation's sighs wailed on. When would peace come, when his time had passed in futility, when he had failed, and fate was on his trail? But that revolver of his lying ready in his pocket, that was something at least. It could still triumph over betrayal and corruption. For the first time the thief would give chase to the dogs.
Suddenly from beneath the window outside he heard an angry voice explode and a conversation: "What a mess! Why, the whole quarter is blocked off!"
"It's worse than in the war!"
"That Said Mahran…!"
Said tensed, electrified, gripping the revolver so tightly that every muscle in his body strained. He stared in every direction. The area was crowded with people and was no doubt full of eager detectives. I mustn't let things get ahead of me. They must now be examining the suit and the dogs will be there too. And meanwhile here I am, exposed. The desert road isn't safe, but the Valley of Death itself is only a few steps away. I can fight them there to the death.
He got up and moved decisively towards the door. They were still engrossed in chanted prayers, the passage to the outer door was clear, and he passed through into the street, then turned off to the left, walking with studied calm, moving into the road to the cemetery.
The night was well-advanced, but there was no moon and the darkness made a black wall across his path. He plunged off among the tombs, into the maze of ruins, with nothing to guide him, stumbling as he walked, not knowing whether he was progressing forwards or backwards. Though no spark of hope glimmered within him, he felt he was bursting with incredible energy. The loud noises which were brought to him now on the warm wind made him wish he could hide inside a grave, but he knew he could not stop. He feared the dogs, but there was nothing at all he could do. There was nothing within his power to stop.
After some minutes he found himself at the last row of graves in front of a familiar scene; the northern entrance to the cemetery, connecting with Najm al-Din Street, which he recognized, and in that, the only building on it, was Nur's flat. He located the window. It was open and light was streaming out. He focussed his gaze on it and saw a woman through the window. The features of her head were indistinct, but the shape of the head reminded him of Nur. His heart pumped hard at the thought. Had Nur returned then? Or were his eyes deceiving him now, as his emotions had done before?
The fact that he had become so completely deceived foretold the end was near. If that were Nur, he told himself, all he wanted was for her to care for Sana, if his time indeed had come. He decided to shout to her disregarding the danger, to
tell her what he wanted, but before a sound could emerge from his mouth he heard dogs beginning to bark in the distance, and the barking went on breaking the silence like a series of explosive shots.
Said started back in fright, darting in again between the tombs while the barking grew louder. He pressed his back against a tomb and took out his gun, staring out into the darkness resignedly. There it was. The dogs had come at last and there was no hope left. The scoundrels were safe, if only for a while. His life had made its last utterance, saying that it had all been in vain.
It was impossible to tell precisely where the barking came from; it was carried in on the air from all around. It was hopeless now to think of fleeing from the dark by running away into the dark. The scoundrels had indeed got away with it; his life was a proven failure. The barking and the commotion were very close now and soon, Said knew, all the malice and revengefulness he'd been running from would be breathed right into his face. He held his gun poised as the barking grew ever louder and closer. And suddenly there was blinding light over the whole area. He shut his eyes and crouched at the base of the tomb.
"Give yourself up," a triumphant voice shouted. "There's no purpose in resisting."
The ground shook now with the thud of heavy feet surrounding him and the light spread all around, like the sun.
"Give yourself up, Said," the voice said firmly.
He crouched closer still to the tomb, ready to open fire, turning his head in all directions.
"Surrender," came another shout, confident, reassuring and dignified, "and I promise you you'll be treated with all humanity."
Like the humanity of Rauf, Nabawiyya, Ilish and the dogs, no doubt? "You're surrounded on all sides. The whole cemetery is surrounded. Think it over carefully, Said. Give yourself up."
Sure that the enormous and irregular multitude of the tombs prevented them from actually seeing him, Said made no movement. He had decided on death.
"Can't you see there's no point in resistance?" the firm voice shouted.
It seemed to be nearer now than before and Said shouted back warningly: "Any closer and I'll shoot."
"Very well, then. What do you want to do?
Make your choice between death and coming to justice."
"Justice indeed!" Said yelled scornfully.
"You're being very stubborn. You've got one minute more."
His fear-tortured eyes could see the phantom of death now, stalking through the dark.
Sana had turned away from him in alarm, hopelessly.
He sensed surreptitious movement near, flared with rage, and opened fire. The bullets showered in, their whistle filling his ears, chips flying from tombs all around. He fired again, oblivious to danger now, and more bullets pelted in. "You dogs, you!" he raved in a frenzy of rage and more shots came in from all sides.
Suddenly the blinding light went out, and the firing stopped; there was darkness again and quiet fell.
He, too, wasn't firing any more. Slowly the silence was spreading, until all the world seemed gripped in some strange stupefaction. He wondered…? But the question and even its subject seemed to dissolve, leaving no traces. Perhaps, he thought, they had retreated, slipped away into the night. Why then he must have won!
The darkness was thicker now and he could see nothing at all, not even the outlines of the tombs, as if nothing wished to be seen. He was slipping away into endless depths, not knowing for himself either position, place or purpose. As hard as he could, he tried to gain control of something, no matter what.
To exert one last act of resistance. To capture one last recalcitrant memory. But finally because he had to succumb and not caring, he surrendered. Not caring at all now.
The End
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The Thief and the Dogs Page 11