The Thief and the Dogs

Emotions and instincts told him that much; and that he would never see Nur again. The thought choked him with despair, not merely because he would soon lose a safe hiding place, but because he also knew he'd lost affection and companionship as well. He saw her there in the dark before him — Nur, with all her smiles and fun-making, her love and her unhappiness — and the terrible depression he felt made him aware that she had penetrated much deeper within him than he had imagined, that she had become a part of him, and that she should never have been separated from this life of his which was in shreds and tottering on the brink of an abyss. Closing his eyes in the darkness, he silently acknowledged that he did love her and that he would not hesitate to give his own life to bring her back safe. Then one thought made him growl in anger: "And yet would her destruction cause so much as a single ripple anywhere?"

No, definitely not. Not even a pretence of grief would be made for loss of Nur, who was only a woman with no protector, adrift on a sea of waves either indifferent or hostile. And Sana, too, might well find herself one day with no one who cared to look after her. These thoughts scared and angered him and he gripped his gun and pointed it in front of him in the dark, as though warning the unknown. In deep despair, delirious in the silence and dark, he began to sob; and sobbed until late in the night sleep finally overcame him.

It was daylight when he next opened his eyes, aware that someone's knocking on the door had awakened him. He jumped up in alarm and tip-toed to the front door of the flat, the knocking continuing all the time.

"Madame Nur! Madame Nur!" a woman's voice shouted.

Who was the woman and what could she want? He fetched his revolver from the other room. Now he heard a man's voice: "Well, maybe she's gone out."

"No," he heard the woman reply, "at this time of day she's home. And she's never been late with the rent before."

So it must be the landlady. The woman gave one last angry bang on the door and yelled: "Today's the fifth of the month and I'm not going to wait any longer!"

Then she and the man walked away, grumbling as they went.

Circumstances were after him now, as well as the police. The woman would certainly not wait long and would be sure to break into the flat by one means or the other. The best thing for him was to get out of the flat as soon as he possibly could.

But where was he to go?

SEVENTEEN

Late in the afternoon and then again during the evening the landlady returned, "No, no, Madame Nur," she muttered as she finally left, "everything has to come to an end sometime, you know."

At midnight Said slipped out. Although his confidence in everything had gone, he was careful to walk very naturally and slowly, as if merely taking a stroll. More than once, when the thought struck him that people passing by or standing around might well be informers, he braced himself for one last desperate battle. After the encounter on the previous day, he had no doubts that the police would be in occupation of the whole area near Tarzan's café, so he moved off towards Jabal Road.

Hunger was tearing at his stomach now. On the road, it occurred to him that Sheikh Ali al-Junaydi's house might well provide a temporary place of refuge, while he thought out his next moves. It was only as he slipped into the courtyard of the silent house that he became aware that he had left his uniform in the sitting room of Nur's flat. With that realization infuriating him, Said went on into the old man's room, where the lamplight showed the Sheikh sitting in the corner reserved for prayer, completely engrossed in a whispered monologue.

Said walked over to the wall where he'd left his books and sat down, exhausted.

The Sheikh continued his quiet utterance until Said addressed him: "Good evening then, Sheikh Ali."

The old man raised his hand to his head in response to the greeting, but did not break off his incantations.

"Sheikh, I'm really hungry." Said said.

The old man seemed to interrupt his chant, gazed at him vacantly, then nodded with his chin to a side table nearby where Said saw some bread and figs. He got up at once, went to the table, and consumed it all ravenously, then stood there looking at the Sheikh with unappeased eyes.

"Don't you have any money?" the Sheikh said quietly.

"Oh, yes."

"Why not go and buy yourself something to eat?"

Said then made his way quietly back to his seat. The Sheikh sat contemplating him for a while, then said, "When are you going to settle down, do you think?"

"Not on the face of this earth."

"That's why you're hungry, even though you've got money."

"So be it, then."

"As for me," the Sheikh commented, "I was just reciting some verses about life's sorrows. I was reciting in a joyful frame of mind."

"Yes. Well, you're certainly a happy Sheikh," Said said. "The scoundrels have got away," he went on angrily. "How can I settle down after that?"

"How many of them are there?"

"Three."