Street of Thieves

The Sheikh hadn’t changed, he was sitting at a table on the terrace in front of a café, looking noble and well-dressed; a young guy was with him, with a shaved head and a black beard; he got up as I approached and threw himself into my arms: Bassam, Bassam good Lord, I was overcome with joy, Bassam, wow, Bassam, he said Lakhdar my brother, clutched me to his chest and for a little while I forgot to greet Nureddin who laughed at the warmth of our reunion, I said Bassam my friend, even your mother wouldn’t recognize you, he replied and you with your white hair, you look like you’ve become a miller. It does me good to see you, thanks be to God.

Full of emotion, I also embraced the Sheikh — and right away we no longer knew what to say, where to begin. Bassam was sitting down again, he had stopped smiling; he had the disturbing gaze of a blind man or certain animals with frightened, fragile eyes which always seem to be staring off into the distance. Sheikh Nureddin began questioning me about my life in Barcelona; he wanted to know how I had arrived here. I told them a little of my adventures; of course I hid the end of the Cruz episode from them. When I mentioned the fire at the Propagation for Koranic Thought, the Sheikh nodded with a look of disgust: the cowardly revenge of an impious one, a bastard who took advantage of our absence to attack the Book itself, what dishonor. He said this point-blank, with accents of rage in his voice — I suddenly remembered the bookseller, his mute surprise when he had seen me entering his store; maybe he had taken revenge. It was possible. Life is nothing but a series of wrong answers and misunderstandings.

Bassam continued to be silent; he swayed his head from time to time, stared at passersby, looked at girls’ legs, his eyes always just as empty.

I had a slew of questions for Bassam and Nureddin — I dared to ask the first, what had happened, why had they disappeared all of a sudden? The Sheikh looked surprised, but you were the one who was no longer there, son. When we came back from that meeting in Casablanca, I discovered our headquarters had burned down — you hadn’t left an address. We even suspected you for a while. Then I learned through Bassam (who shook himself a little when he heard his name, as if he were waking up) that you had a relationship with a young Spanish woman and you had left without leaving a trace. This in a reproachful tone, before adding but that’s ancient history, we forgave you.

I was so stunned that I searched my memory for this meeting in Casablanca, though without success. But still I apologized for this misunderstanding; I said I had become afraid after the attack in Marrakesh and the fire.

The Sheikh swept it all aside with a motion of his hand.

I realized I wouldn’t learn any more.

I asked Bassam where he had been this whole time; he looked at me with empty eyes, his blind man’s eyes, his dog’s eyes. It was Nureddin who answered for him: he was with me, completing his training.

Bassam nodded.

Then the Sheikh invited us out to lunch at a Lebanese restaurant near University Square. Bassam followed. He was a phantom — maybe he’s exhausted from jet lag, I thought.

He perked up again at the sight of food: at least he hadn’t lost his appetite, that reassured me. He wolfed down a plate of hummus, a salad, and three skewers of meat as if his life depended on it; a vague smile played over his face between mouthfuls.

During the meal, we mostly discussed politics, as was usual, during the days of the Group; a victory for Islam at the elections in Tunisia and Egypt was excellent news; in Syria, he foresaw a defeat of the regime in a little while, inshallah, after a bloody war. Curiously, he didn’t talk about Morocco, as if that terrain had ceased to interest him. I asked him what brought him to Spain — nothing special, he replied. A meeting of charity associations, donors. A gala dinner. In a luxury hotel. With some soccer players from Barça. At the invitation of the Queen of Spain.

I couldn’t believe my ears. Nureddin in a fancy hotel with princes for a charity event.

The foundation I’m working for now runs all kinds of activities, he added, smiling.

I asked Bassam how long he thought he would stay; he shook himself, as if my question surprised him, before replying I don’t know, a few days at least.

That was good news.