by Lilya Myers
Okay, so should I let Aswad think that Omar screwed up on this one? That suspicious bastard, Aswad, will suspect something and try to press him for the truth. Hameer! Jackasses! He was angry with himself for hiring two inexperienced punks. On the other hand, he wanted to throw it up to Aswad that he was the one who ultimately planned it, after all. He stopped short. That mistake would cost him in more ways than one. He’d receive a vicious berating for having been born and that might be enough to unleash his anger on Aswad too soon. The decision to stick to his original plan was best. He really needed to speak to Omar face-to-face to get their story straight before Aswad had a chance to get the truth.
When Saib finally called him back, Aswad was furious. The less contact, the less the control. Saib would describe his father’s normal state as being like that of a constipated camel. Aswad was particularly irate that he had to use one of the phone centers to make and receive the call. It seemed beneath him to be sitting in the shoddy public phone center where he had to be careful of what he said or how he said certain things.
He reeled off a string of cuss words in Arabic before asking Saib, “Where are you? Where is Hashim now? Is your brain so inadequate that you can’t follow the simplest of orders? I’m sure to be wasting my money at that university –” The connection dropped. Aswad slammed the phone against the wall of the booth. He’d have to wait for the operator to signal him that the call could be reconnected again.
Saib marveled at how easy it was to push a little button on the phone, at his will, and silence the bastard. Pointing his index finger, he aimed it at the phone, fired with his thumb, brought it to his lips, and blew on it. It was amazing how much power a simple air gun was capable of wielding.
Sending Saib away to college in the United States was self-serving, on the one hand. For Aswad, it was merely a means of distancing his son from such close access to his personal affairs and his money.
Aswad was a user and an abuser who was powerfully effective in dispensing his wealth to successfully manipulate the outcome he wanted. Saib was very different than his brothers and Aswad knew that the tactics he used to control them might backfire when it came to this son. There was something about Saib that made him wary. Stupid could become lethal. Aswad’s ability to read other people was beginning to fail when it came to his own sons.
Saib sighed and dialed the number again. He didn’t want to give his father a chance to regain any momentum. As soon as Aswad answered, Saib immediately dove into a rant of feigned frustration over the phone service these days. His diversion was effective. Aswad searched for what he had been saying when they were cut off.
Everyone had their own agenda. When Aswad originally threw Saib out of his office and called Omar to take charge of disposing of Hashim’s daughter, Omar immediately called Saib. He had a litany of excuses that would convince Saib to follow through with Aswad’s orders in his place, only Omar didn’t know that he’d gladly take the assignment in spite of the best excuse. As long as Aswad didn’t know it. Saib listened and pretended to give the request careful consideration. Resentment and revenge had always been great motivators for him when it had to do with Aswad. Saib conceded to taking the job off Omar’s hands. This wasn’t about delighting in Aswad’s obsessions. It was all about the satisfaction he’d get from spiting Aswad for reassigning him to shadow Hashim instead. It was about Aswad throwing pennies at him to do what he’d pay Omar forty times as much to do. A healthy recompense from Omar made for a pleasing arrangement that he couldn’t refuse. Saib could easily manage both jobs without having to lift a finger. Aswad was especially consumed with a detailed account of Hashim’s reaction to the death of his only child. If Aswad thought his son was stupid enough to waste his time playing private eye for pittance, then he was stupid enough to believe the phony reports he’d feed him.
Omar’s generous sum to take care of Hashim’s child made it possible for Saib to subcontract the job to a couple of older delinquents. They were street thugs with whom Kafele had once tried to align himself. A mere one hundred in American dollars was a fortune to them. Saib had supplied the two ruffians with all the information they needed to get the job done. Hardly complicated. Girl gone. Hashim devastated. Aswad muzzled.
Maybe not.
Saib also hoped his father’s mind had been too preoccupied with cursing their poor connection than to catch the blunder he made at the beginning of their conversation. He had all but whispered, “It’s taken care of,” referring to the girl, of course. But to mislead Aswad, Saib’s quick thinking followed with, “Hashim left the memorial after they eulogized his daughter. He’s in London as we speak. We’re keeping an eye on him. Nothing’s changed. I will keep you informed.”
Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie.
He certainly wasn’t about to tell Aswad that Hashim dropped off their radar before the memorial and hasn’t been able to track him down since he went off the grid. Again. The thought of where this conversation could go was starting to make him nervous.
Aswad ignored the reference to Hashim. For the moment. He remembered that Saib never told him where he was. This time, he chose to speak exclusively in Arabic. “Where are you?”
“I’m in Los Angeles.”
“Doing what?”
“Look, I only called you back so you wouldn’t be waiting at that damn telephone center… and worried when you couldn’t reach me at my place.” Where you probably called a thousand times already. “There were some activist problems on campus and classes were canceled for a few days so I thought I’d come down to L.A.”
He lied again because he was sure Aswad wouldn’t bother to check that minor detail. He had become so good at lying and covering his ass. If only Aswad knew. Perhaps he’d be proud of Saib’s ability to deceive. If only Omar knew where he really was when they had their conversation earlier.
“Saib, I told you before. I have some business I must attend to on Long Island.” Even when Omar tried his best to sound sincere, it didn’t fool Saib, nor did it matter. Both had passed the threshold of real life and real hell long ago. “I have to leave here Tuesday morning. I couldn’t possibly meet my commitments there, come back to New Haven to meet you, and turn around again to get to the airport in N.Y. by Thursday. You can get a direct flight into JKF, can’t you?” Omar already knew the answer since he had flown into Oakland on a number of occasions, unbeknown to Saib. Omar was never accused of being stupid. Distrust, deceit, and lies were reciprocal.
“Probably so.” Play along. Play dumb, just like Aswad tells everyone you are. “New York is one of the biggest cities and everybody flies into it. I have no doubt that I can find something that works for both of us.”
“Sure,” Omar said. “If you can get a red-eye flight into JFK that arrives on Thursday morning, that would work perfectly. You’ll probably be able to catch a return flight back to Oakland right away.”
Now, why would I do that when there’s so much to do right here? Saib said, “I will make arrangements and call you back. Maybe I can get an earlier flight and meet you at your hotel…Where are you staying…I can catch a cab…”
“No, I meant, we can meet right there at the airport…uh, in the food court. It will be the easiest for both of us, don’t you think? I’m sure you’ll be hungry when your flight gets in and it will be almost lunchtime for me when my flight leaves. It’s too much trouble to deal with taxis and traffic – all that. Don’t you need to get back to school?”
“Actually, I’m able to stay over one night…” He could hear Omar take in air. “You know…just to have a little fun perhaps. And I don’t particularly enjoy the thought of flying for six hours, only to turn around and do it all over again in the same day. I’ll only be missing one class.” Saib knew that Omar wouldn’t pressure him if he thought it was only for a day. Anything more would make Omar suspicious. Saib took far too much interest in Omar’s privacy. “What time did you say your flight leaves for Cairo on Thursday?”
Omar didn’t answer and Saib didn’t wa
nt to arouse suspicion by asking again. “Call me back when you have your flight number and I’ll let you know then where we can meet.” Omar disconnected from the call with a frown. Saib held his phone with a smile on his face with a thought still fresh in his mind. What would Omar think if he knew that I was calling from the next town?
Saib had flown into Connecticut from Oakland, where he had been living and going to school at Cal State Hayward. After a little reconnaissance in New Haven, he’d meet up with Omar in New York. It was imperative that he get square on what to tell Aswad about the plane crash before Omar left for Egypt.
Killing two birds with one stone.
Whenever Saib had a free or extended weekend, he would fly to New Haven. He was determined to find out where Omar lived. His persistence paid off when he researched some information he found in Omar’s room. Public records offered a goldmine of information which finally led him to an address that was the one.
His flight arrived in New Haven late Monday night. He drove about twenty minutes north to Waterbury and got a motel there just to be on the safe side. Didn’t want to bump into Omar accidentally. Omar said that he’d be leaving for Long Island very early on Tuesday morning but one could never be too sure.
It was still dark the next morning when Saib found a parking space that gave him enough angle to watch Omar’s house without being seen. He let the car idle with the heat on to take the bite out of the early morning ocean air. There was no sign of movement that he could see. He wasn’t aware that there was another set of eyes watching him.
It wasn’t Omar’s choice to spend his school break from Yale in Cairo. Aswad bought the ticket and ordered his return to Cairo, no doubt. And he’s always known Omar to obey Aswad. Like a submissive woman.
Saib considered that could have changed since he went to university. All the better, anyway, if it hadn’t. It would leave him free to stick around in the Big Apple for a couple of days without even the slightest chance of accidentally being seen. Otherwise, he could be at a stoplight and look over to see his brother in another car. That was unlikely, but stranger coincidences had happened in New York City.
CHAPTER 12
THE TELEPHONE CONNECTION between Saib and Aswad had suddenly cleared, as if either one was standing in the next room.
“It sounds like you’re in an airport,” Aswad said, not disguising the acrimonious tone in his voice.
“It is. I am.” Check one for the truth. No lie there.
“You said you were in Los Angeles.”
If it sounds like an airport, it is an airport. “Yes, father. The airport is in Los Angeles. So, I am in Los Angeles.” Score one for me. Who’s the fool now?
Aswad was fuming.
Saib looked at his watch. It was getting close to the time to meet Omar. He knew his father wanted to talk about the plane crash but hadn’t brought it up yet. He’s fishing for signs of deception that will end up making me late. Time to end this interrogation. “If it wasn’t for the child, I don’t think Hashim would have been at the memorial for his parents. He’s been estranged from his family and anyone closely connected to them since you removed his wife from the equation.”
He added, “I believe that getting rid of the parents wasn’t in the…your plan, but I imagine that Omar found it convenient at the time. And incidentally, it may have worked more to your favor.” Saib alternated between Arabic and English. A tactical move that had served him well on other occasions in dealing with Aswad.
“Since the other man’s parents were on the plane, and with his connections, it makes sense to me that his agency would have jumped on the remotest opening to get involved. Supposedly, it was certain there were no traceable records.”
Aswad had a good command of American English, quickly picking up on Saib’s choice of words and the fact that he seemed to have more information than he should.
“I don’t think anything you’re telling me makes sense. What do you mean ‘supposedly it was certain?’ Where did you get all this information? Am I hearing you say that you may have heard that not all the records were destroyed?”
Saib felt the fire in Aswad’s voice, throwing flames of doubt and curiosity. Again, he answered in Arabic, attempting to deflect from directly answering any of the string of questions Aswad was throwing out. “Of course not! Really, I am trying to work on my English. Surely, I didn’t say that at all. I’ll keep working on the English. It has gotten better, don’t you think?”
He had to remind himself that he didn’t want to sound too familiar with the assignment that Aswad gave Omar, Omar turned over to Saib, and Saib farmed out to some incompetent thugs. Aswad would be sure to sense that Saib was hiding something. The best thing was to keep the conversation moving, away from the subject of the plane crash and act the ignorant fool his father believed him to be. “One can learn a lot from phone conversations,” Saib said, changing the subject and prepared to embellish on his lie. “Hashim has kept to himself. We’ve tapped his phones, monitored his affiliations, tailed him, and done everything short of sleeping with him. His only contacts have been clients and business associates. Outside of that, he’s had nothing to do with any of his family or friends since his wife died. And not even now, with the exception of having to be in the same room at the memorial with the Somers man. I guarantee you that, even at the memorial, they were never alone to speak.”
Another lie. Saib had better things to do than monitor Hashim every minute of the day. Besides, the pay and the payer weren’t worth it.
“That could very well be an act, “Aswad said disgustedly. His tone was meant for Saib as a reminder of how little he thought of Saib’s aptitude in judging human nature, among other things. “Hashim and that Dan Somers have been friends since they were boys. They have a strong bond. They are brothers in kind, like you and your brothers.”
Saib stifled a contemptuous laugh. Bonds. I doubt there’s a brothers’ bond anywhere on earth that even remotely resembles mine. Another difference between father and this son. Saib had no delusions about conjuring up imaginary relationships as Aswad did, for the sake of his ambitions. The only thing that bonded his brothers had to do with money.
While he still could, it was time to go on the offensive. Aswad was steering the conversation back on a road Saib didn’t want to travel. He intentionally let the next words tumble out and braced himself for Aswad’s reaction.
“It surprises me that you are questioning Omar’s judgment, father. Surely Omar’s word is proof enough for you that the child is dead.” Saib let that sink in but not long enough for him to analyze it too much. Again, he forced the conversation back to the matter of the surveillance they had done on Hashim.
At first, Saib was frantic when it was reported to him that Hashim had disappeared like a ghost after the memorial. Saib soon realized though, that as long as Aswad believed the child was dead, he could ply him with phony reports about Hashim’s movements. There was no doubt that Aswad wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet through his own son’s heart if he knew that any opportunity was left open for error and discovery. The man was just that crazy. The best position to take was to appease him.
“So, Hashim has not figured it out yet but he will. Soon enough. His gut will burn with wonder and then he will let you know that he knows.”
Aswad only grunted. It was the closest thing to admitting agreement without agreeing. Saib’s best defense with Aswad was in knowing how to feed the man’s arrogance. He could hit the mark every once in a while to lighten the onslaught of distrust and insulting remarks.
What did he care what Hashim was up to or, if he turned Egypt inside out and destroyed his father? Saib had gotten a taste of freedom from Aswad when he discovered a new world in the United States. He smiled when he thought how ironic it was that he and Hashim might happen to share a common goal when it came to sending his father to all those virgins in the sky. As long as Aswad was dead and I have the keys to the pot of gold.
Kafele didn’t pose a threat when it cam
e to Aswad’s money. He seemed to be doing quite well on his own, entrenched in whatever he was doing. Legal or illegal, Kafele no longer relied on the father’s money.
Saib believed Kafele had skated through those childhood and teenage years without Aswad’s scrutiny and contempt as he had. Truth, though, was sometimes hidden in the darkest corners. It certainly would be interesting to know exactly what Kafele was doing these days. In some ways, he envied his younger brother’s life. If he only knew, maybe he wouldn’t.
Money was no question where Omar was concerned. Aswad had seen to it that Omar was dependent on the lavish lifestyle his money could provide. Aswad never questioned Omar when he asked for extra money to buy this or that. He assumed his son was enjoying a little hashish now and then, and some other perks, all of which helped to dissolve any dissent that could be brewing in him.
Of course, Aswad didn’t know the one thing about Omar that Saib knew. Early on, he caught Omar squirreling away the money Aswad gave him. He didn’t spend it on the things he said he wanted. Almost always, he sold the things Aswad bought him as bribes. By the time he left for college, Saib imagined that Omar had saved up a small fortune of his own, to which Aswad was still contributing unwittingly. Saib didn’t care so long as it didn’t make a dent in the fortune he discovered his father had hidden away and no one else knew about. Except him.
“Really Father, you didn’t expect me to fly all the way to Cairo and back to California in three days, did you?” Saib loved the fact that going to a university in the U.S. not only put a lot of space between them, but he also knew it would be too much trouble for Aswad to monitor his every move.
Omar and Saib were now attending universities in the United States, enjoying the same bliss that came with the continental divide they now had from their father. Saib thought he could figure out what made Omar tick, some of the time. But Kafele? Neither he nor Omar had ever gotten to know Kafele as they were growing up. While the two older boys were never close either, there was still a connection. Saib remembered Kafele as a whiny, wimpy pain in the ass who he and Omar had shunned and avoided over the years.