Divorce Islamic Style (9781609458942)
Page 17
“I don’t give a shit about your opinion. You do only what I tell you, otherwise it’s your affair.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’ve told you many times that we are at war. You have to decide if you’re with me or against me. I will not allow you to ruin the entire operation.”
“I’m not afraid of you. I’m sure they don’t have a damn thing to do with it.”
“My dear Tunisian, you force me to be more persuasive. You remember that night you spent with the Lebanese girl? The next morning, when you woke up, you found yourself next to a handsome black guy, completely naked. Right? Obviously you don’t remember shit about what happened that night. Is that right? Well, I have a very compromising DVD. You understand me? I could send a copy as a gift to your relatives and all your acquaintances, or simply put it on the Web. What do you say?”
“I say you’re a real son of a bitch.”
“Or we can insert you in the group of terrorists. It’s easy to construct a story for you. For example, you could have been recruited by Al Qaeda during one of your frequent trips to the Arab world. So you would be not only a terrorist but also a traitor. The press would immediately rename you ‘the Italian Taliban.’”
“You nasty son of a bitch.”
“Believe me, I can destroy you and your family in many ways and with minimum effort. And, as we say among ourselves, when a man has his back to the wall he thinks only of saving his own ass!”
“Bastard!”
“You can’t pull out now, you and I are in the same boat: one for all and all for one. Remember that we’re at war. You’ve got to decide which side you’re on.”
“Fucking son of a bitch.”
“Maybe you’ve forgotten Italian. Would you like to speak in Arabic?”
I’m astonished. Judas speaks perfect Arabic! His accent is Middle Eastern; it could be Lebanese, Palestinian, or even Syrian. He tells me briefly his history with the Arab language, and about long periods in Beirut and Damascus. He spent many years in the Arab world as a secret agent.
“You see, Tunisian, you’ve been dishonest with me. You’ve kept a few little things hidden from me . . . for example, that you went and fell in love with a suicide bomber! Do you realize that?”
Judas knew about the thing with Sofia from the start. I was followed and spied on twenty-four hours a day.
I don’t feel like saying anything, maybe because I have nothing to say. Better to listen.
“Tunisian, I repeat for the last time: are you with me or against me?”
“Bastard.”
“Are you with me or not?”
“Yes.”
“Bravo, Tunisian! You’ve made the right choice and you won’t regret it. Now you can read the short document that I’ve prepared for my superiors. I’d like to get your opinion.”
I take the page, which is printed on letterhead. This time nothing is blacked out.
Subject: Operation “Christian Stopped at Viale Marconi.”
I first heard of Christian Mazzari alias Issa from a colleague who was stationed in an Arab country. He told me that there was a Sicilian kid who spoke Arabic better than the Arabs. I was curious and wanted to meet him. I followed him for months both in Sicily and on his trips to the Arab world. I was able to study him from close up, discovering both his strong points and his weaknesses.
Christian Mazzari has some characteristics that make him interesting for us.
First, he has a Mediterranean physiognomy. Second, he speaks Arabic as if it were his mother tongue. Third, he is very bright. Fourth, he has a good memory.
Operation Little Cairo was a test, but also, above all, good training. The purpose was to flush out an Islamic terrorist cell in the area of Viale Marconi, obviously nonexistent. Christian showed a great capacity for adapting, sharing a house with eleven persons and working as a dishwasher and then an assistant pizza maker. He proved that he could manage a double life.
We can therefore conclude that the training went well. The mastery on the part of Christian alias Issa of the Arab language is a trump card that we can use not only on Italian soil but on delicate missions abroad. Now it all depends on him. We await with confidence his response to the offer to work for us.
Rome, 24 June 2005
I finish reading the report with astonishment. I feel like a person who is suffocating and needs air. I have to reverse roles: this time I want to ask Captain Judas the questions.
“So Operation Little Cairo was all staged?”
“Staged? Nooo. You read it: it was a test, a training exercise.”
“A sort of Candid Camera, a Truman Show Italian style!”
“Let’s say you did a tryout at a high level, at the international level. On some things you did well, like the capacity to adapt to rather hard conditions. On others less, like the test of women.”
“The test of women?”
“Tunisian, if you decide to do our job you have to learn a vital rule: never love women, only fuck them.”
“In other words, if I understand you clearly, there’s no trace of terrorists or suicide bombers in Viale Marconi? Is that right?”
“Yes, Tunisian. At least, as far as I know.”
“So no arrests and no press conference.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“And James, the C.I.A. agent?”
“He’s a colleague, one of us.”
“And Antar?”
“The same. They, like you, passed the test as well. The four of us would make a good team. I’m tired of seeing so many incompetent people around. Ours is a difficult job.”
“And the photos of Akram at Mecca?”
“Nothing to do with terrorism. Akram is just a big womanizer. A real whorer Islamic style.”
“Judas, I think I’ve already told you: you’re a real bastard!”
“I know. That’s why I’m called Judas and not Issa, like you. So, what do you say? You want to work with me?”
“I have to think about it.”
“They all say that before they accept. But you’d better be quick, Tunisian. We’re in the middle of the War on Terror.”
“War on terror? Don’t be ridiculous!”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Amara Lakhous was born in Algiers in 1970. He has a degree in philosophy from the University of Algiers and another in cultural anthropology from the University la Sapienza, Rome. Clash of Civilizations Over an Elevator in Piazza Vittorio (Europa Editions, 2008) was awarded Italy’s prestigious Flaiano Prize and was described by the Seattle Times as a “wonderfully offbeat novel.” Lakhous lives in Italy.