The swimming pool was inviting and he dived in and swam a few lengths and tried to focus his mind on tomorrow’s work. The man who was meeting him was a local ‘fixer’ who had been recommended to him by a friend who had worked for one of the television companies; Mr. Haddad would get a foreigner around safely and probably save him a lot of money in the process. He had the contact details for a development not too far down the coast, at Tnen Kalset; the owner of the project was a Lebanese Jew called Ami Yemen, a distant connection of the Mamser family. At least the devil you knew was better than a complete stranger; Tom was still shaken by his encounter with the gunmen in Montenegro.
The swim refreshed him and he headed out to look around the neighbourhood. The area around the hotel was neat and clean and the buildings were mostly new with white plastic windows and doors, but a few blocks away the character changed and the shops and cafes were simpler and had more of an Arab feel, shabbier, older and with thickly-painted metal window frames. Light glowed from a small single-storey café in a side street, and the noise of conversation drifted out through the open windows. The café had its name over the door in large Arabic writing, and two large white menu panels on either side of the door were covered in more of the same script. The place was brightly lit and still had quite a few customers, so he pushed open the door and went inside. The floor was tiled with large terracotta tiles and the cafe was furnished with a mixture of bentwood chairs and plastic garden furniture, but it looked clean. A glass display case held a selection of Arab sweets, and a large stainless steel tray of what he recognised as baklava, the sweet pastry made with nuts and honey.
He ordered a beer and the waiter brought him a cold bottle of Laziza.
‘Is without alcohol monsieur, is this ok?’
Tom wondered whether this might be the rule in the country generally, but he decided not to ask the question. Anyway, the beer looked good and cold in the glass and he wasn’t really bothered whether or not it contained alcohol. He raised the glass to the waiter.
‘That’s fine, thank you.’
He supped the beer for a while, taking in his surroundings. The café was lively with several men in traditional garb enjoying snacks and sipping tea and eating mezzes, small dishes of food that they ate with hot pitta bread. A group of men around one table was playing a noisy game of backgammon. The atmosphere was very welcoming and non-threatening, and Tom relaxed and called for another beer.
He became gradually aware of the woman at the table by the window; she stood out with her western dress. She was engrossed in the book she was reading, pausing every now and then to take a sip from a tall glass filled with a cloudy liquid. The book was an English one and he recognized the cover; he had browsed through it in the airport bookshop a few days earlier.
The woman caught his eye and smiled; he raised his glass in salute. ‘Long way from home, aren’t you?’
‘No further than you.’ He was surprised at the Irish accent; Tom had assumed that she was English. He walked over to her table. ‘Do you mind if I join you?’
‘Feel free. Are you on holidays here?’
Tom shook his head. ‘No, just here for a day or so, small bit of business. You?’
‘I’m on a long holiday, heading through all the holy places from the biblical times. Just taking a month out from the rat race.’
‘Finding yourself?’
‘Something like that.’
She had a nice smile and as he spoke to her he realized that she was not as old as he had first assumed. Her hair was flecked with grey, but her skin looked young and she was probably no more than in her early forties. ‘So that’s why you’re reading ‘the Battersea Park Road to Enlightenment’?’
The woman threw back her head and laughed. ‘In a way, that’s what attracted me to the title, but it’s a good read in any case, it’s very funny.’
‘I looked at it in the airport bookshop last week; I was going to buy it. Its all about tantric sex isn’t it?’
‘Trust a man to take that from it. There’s one chapter on that topic, the rest is about various alternative approaches to life. I’m enjoying it anyway.’
Tom was intrigued by this strange woman and her laid back approach to life. He extended his hand. ‘I’m Tom by the way, would you like another drink?’
‘I’m Pauline. No thanks, I’m fine; I’m heading back to my hotel shortly.’
‘Just out of interest, what’s that stuff you’re drinking?’
‘It’s Arak, it’s a liqueur made from anis, you dilute it with water and it goes cloudy like that.’
‘Is it alcoholic?’
‘Yes.’
‘I wasn’t sure of you could get alcohol in this country.’
‘You can, mostly wine, but a lot of these cafes don’t have it. I think they just keep a bottle of Arak for the foreigners, this is a Muslim neighbourhood and there probably isn’t much demand for alcohol. The hotels do all the imported beers anyway.’
‘Are you in the Monroe?’
‘No, nothing so fancy, I’m in a small place just at the end of the street. It’s cheap and clean but a bit basic.’
‘Trying to stay in touch with the people?’
She laughed again. ‘That sums it up I suppose, I find that big hotels are a bit impersonal, fine if you’re looking for a comfortable bed but a bit isolated from the country and the populace.’
Tom nodded agreement. ‘I know what you mean, sometimes I wake up and I’m not sure what country I’m in. A lot of the big hotels are the same no matter where you are.’
‘So you travel a lot?’
‘Quite a bit, but only for short trips.’
‘So this is a short trip as well?’
‘Just tonight and tomorrow. How about you?’
‘I’ve been here in Beirut for a few days; I came across from Cyprus on the truck ferry. I’m heading down to Tyre tomorrow, then across to Syria for a few days and on down to Israel. I’ll be in Jerusalem in about ten days; I’m really looking forward to that.’
‘What’s the attraction of Tyre, is it a big place?’
‘It’s a small city, but it’s been there for ever and it has the most Roman ruins in the country. There are also a lot of sunken ruins, Roman and Phoenician, just off the coast. I’d love to see those, it would be amazing to float above them and see them that way.’
‘So how do you go about that, do you go scuba diving?’
‘You can, but I’m just going to go snorkeling, apparently you can see them pretty well, the water is clear. It should be fun.’
‘How are you traveling? Have you a car?’
‘No, I don’t think I’d like to drive here, it’s a bit mad. I’m using the buses.’
‘It’s probably simpler, right enough. The buses are ok, are they?’
She smiled. ‘Usually, yes. Sometimes they’re very crowded, but everyone is very nice to me.’
Tom thought for a minute. ‘Tyre is south of here isn’t it?’
‘Yes, about two and a half hours on the bus, not that it’s very far but the bus goes around the houses a bit I think.’
‘We’re going to a place past Az Zahrani in the morning, I think it’s near enough to Tyre, do you want a lift? It might be more comfortable than the bus.’
‘Who’s ‘we’?’
I have a driver who is taking me down to a small place about ten kilometres south of Az Zahrani, I’d be glad of the company if you want to come along.’
She looked Tom up and down and smiled. ‘You look safe enough; I’d be delighted to accept your offer.’
Tom finished his beer and stood up. ‘That’s fine then; we’re leaving at eight, so if you want to drop by the Monroe I’ll meet you in the lobby about then.’
She closed her book and put it in her large handbag. ‘Thanks for that, I’ll see you in the morning. And don’t worry, I’ll be on time.’
Tom slept well and was up early for breakfast in the hotel restaurant. The day seemed to be mercifully cooler; the staff had
the sliding glass door open and the soft tinkle of ropes on hollow aluminium masts drifted in from the marina. It all seemed a long way from Tom’s image of the Lebanon as a country that was recovering from a civil war; this place had all the relaxed atmosphere of any Mediterranean country, but then again maybe the day would tell a wider story.
The Irishwoman was waiting in the lobby when he went to check out. She was dressed for comfort in a long blue summer dress and leather trekking sandals, and she carried a new-looking rucksack.
‘Traveling light?’
‘Yes, I have everything pared down to the minimum. When you have to carry it on your back, you get ruthless about packing.’
Tom picked up the rucksack and carried it outside to the waiting car. It was surprisingly light for a month’s trip. Pauline seemed to read his mind.
‘It’s no problem getting washing done. It would be impossible to pack a month’s supply of clothes, so I only really have enough for a week, but I stop and launder everything when I start to run out.’
Tom was beginning revise his earlier estimate; the morning was warming up quickly and this looked as if it would be another hot day. The Mercedes was cool, almost icy; Haddad believed in keeping the air conditioning turned up to the full. Tom put the bags in the boot and they settled into the back of the big car.
It was farther than it looked on the map; they were on the road for more than an hour even after leaving the city limits of Beirut behind them. The countryside was dry and arid, with little in the way of vegetation but scrub and thorn bushes. Here and there the blue Mediterranean came into view on the right hand side of the road, small towns clustered along the shore nearer the city but even these became less and less as they moved south. A lot of old ruins could be seen in places, it seemed to Tom that the developers had been working here since biblical times.
Where the land was flat the road passed through several large orange groves; the dark green leaves of the citrus trees making a marked contrast to the arid landscape. In a gap between two orange fields a man tended a crop of wavy green fronds, directing irrigation water along the furrows between the plant rows.
Tom wondered aloud as to what type of crop was being cultivated.
‘Its cannabis, marijuana.’
‘As in the drug?’
‘Yes, the same. Apparently they grow a lot of it here, I’m not quite clear if it’s legal or not, but it’s grown openly anyway.’
‘This country is full of surprises.’
He was glad of the company for the journey. Haddad seemed to be a man of few words and was content to drive and listen to the radio, and Pauline’s conversation shortened the road.
‘So what do you do when you’re not finding yourself?’
She laughed again. ‘I’m a saleswoman, I sell insurance. How about you?’
‘Me too, I sell property, overseas property.’
‘Are you good?’
Tom smiled. ‘I’m the best in the country, numero uno. How about you?’
‘I was the top seller in the company last year and I’d probably be top bitch again this year if I hadn’t taken the month off.’
Tom was surprised; this woman didn’t look like she was sharp enough to have that killer touch. ‘So, what’s the trick, how do you do so well?’
She smiled serenely. ‘It’s easy once you know the secret?’
‘The secret?’
‘Yes, it’s simple, it’s staring us in the face. Once you know the secret, you can do anything.’
Tom smiled. ‘So there’s an actual secret? Here’s me thinking that it was something you were born with.’
She turned away from looking out the window and looked Tom in the eyes. ‘It’s so simple really; you just have to tell the truth. Everything else follows on from that. Truth, that’s the secret.’
‘Truth!’ Tom laughed. ‘I thought that the basis of selling was to bend the truth a little, or a lot. Basically I always thought that sales people lied for a living. I mean, we gild the lily all the time, make things look attractive; I would have thought that truth would kill any sale stone dead.’
She shook her head. ‘I found a few years ago that if I told the truth about a product, customers appreciated it and bought from me. There’s always one good product and several bad ones, and if you steer the client away from the rubbish they will not only buy from you but they will recommend you to their friends.’
‘Truth, that’s a novel concept in selling.’
‘I apply it to my life in general. For instance I stopped dying my hair, my hair tells the truth about me, I’m going grey, but why worry? Truth sets you free.’
Tom was dubious. ‘I couldn’t see truth working in my business.’
‘Try it, you’ll be pleasantly surprised. You’ll feel better too, it will take away all that awful pressure of the whole thing falling down around you, the idea in the back of your mind of all your unhappy customers coming looking for you.’
Tom laughed. ‘I know what you mean; it doesn’t bear thinking about sometimes.’
‘So it does bother you, you know, that maybe you’re not always doing what is right?’
‘Sometimes, I suppose. I mean it’s hard to get away from the fact that people don’t always buy what’s in their best interests. But then again that’s their problem, isn’t it?’
‘Is it? If your conscience is constantly niggling at you, it will destroy you eventually; maybe you need to look at what you’re doing.’
The car slowed and turned down an unpaved road towards the sea and pulled up at a rough graveled parking lot beside a rusting metal fence.
‘We won’t be very long if you want to wander a bit, or feel free to stay in the car if you prefer. It’s getting hot out there.’
‘I think I’ll take walk down by the shore, dip my feet in the sea, but I’ll keep an eye out for you and I’ll be back when you’re ready to move.’
Tom got out of the car and walked to meet the businessman. Ami Yemen was small and wiry, his sallow skin tanned almost black by the hot sun. He was friendly enough, but he was all business and dispensed with any small talk. He stood beside his BMW in white shirt sleeves, seemingly oblivious to the sun that was beating down on his bald head. The car was parked by the small harbour; the few dilapidated buildings in the background seemed to lean on each other.
‘Welcome, this is the project that we call Tnen Kalset. Here we will build a marina with three hundred berths, and also a hotel and two hundred apartments. You think you can sell these apartments to Irish investors, Mr. Murphy?’
Tom looked at the surroundings; the inlet was attractive and seemed to be a natural deep harbour; the buildings were prime candidates for demolition, they would fall down themselves if left for much longer. It might have possibilities.
‘Maybe, depends on the price. Nobody has sold Lebanese property in Ireland yet, but there’s always a first time.’
‘Yes, I am told that in Ireland they will buy anything, they are hungry for investment, but not always with too much knowledge, no?’
‘I’d say that that’s a reasonable assessment.’
‘I also hear from the Mamser family that you have a system to encourage them, you make a price that includes the rent for some time, is that true?’
‘Yes, we would need to make allowances for that in the pricing. Do you have a pricing schedule worked out?’
‘Yes, but let us go to the town and find someplace to have a drink in the shade; you are feeling the heat, no?’
‘That’s an understatement. How do you manage to deal with it? It must be well over forty right now.’
‘You get used to it, but for foreigners it is not easy. Follow my car please and we will talk in more comfort.’
‘I have a lady with me who wants to take the bus to Tyre, can she get a bus from there?’
‘No problem, the place we are going is actually at the main bus stop; she can wait in the cafe.’
The café was air conditioned and had several tall glass-
fronted fridges filed with an array of soft drinks and a few shelves of bottled beers. Tom recognized the Laziza brand and ordered one for himself. He bought an orange juice for Pauline and Yemen ordered a coffee. Haddad stayed outside with the cars; the engine of the Mercedes was running and he seemed happy to remain cocooned in his cool environment. Pauline recognized that they wanted to talk business and she took her drink and her book to another table.
The design was very straightforward; there really wasn’t any better way to build this project other than what was on the drawings. All the units made the best use of the view across the marina and out to sea, and it promised to be a very attractive development.
‘We have a customer for the hotel as soon as we find an operator for it, but that is not too much a problem, anyway it is my problem. As soon as we have deposits for approximately half the apartments we can find the project finance for all, for the hotel, the marina, all.’
‘That seems like a pretty good target, are the banks happy to lend on a project here?’
‘Not the banks exactly, but we have big investors who will do it.’
‘Investors from Israel?’
‘Of course.’
Tom took a long draught from his beer. ‘I think that we can sell this project, Mr. Yemen. Of course I’ll have to look at the figures and all that, but in principle I like it. Give me a week and I’ll give you the full picture, the pricing that we need to sell at and all those kinds of details.’
The Lebanese rose to leave. ‘Thank you for your time, Mr. Murphy, and I look forward to talking with you in some days. Would you like another beer before you go?’
Tom had just been considering that possibility. ‘Thank you; yes I wouldn’t mind another one.’
Yemen paid the man behind the counter and brought Tom back his beer. ‘Don’t get up, enjoy your drink, and we will talk soon.’
Tom sat back and savoured the cool beer. It was good to stop moving, to sit for a little while and rest from the heat of the day and enjoy a cold drink in the quietness of the small café. The last few days had been a hectic whirlwind of activity across several countries, and he was glad to just relax for a while. Haddad would wait; he seemed happy enough to sit in the car and listen to the radio.
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