Murder Considered As One Of The Fine Arts (7)
He nods at the feyadeen “The one on the right, he's uglier. “ He folds his jackey over the window ledge and lay the barrel of the Luger against it. He wouldn't risk scratching it on the eaw metal of the frame. He aims calmly. And David says “Kill him.” The fat man does. “Welcome to to Iran” “That was murder. It was in cold blood.” She said it to David. That didn't make sense either. She must have had the remark prepared for some time and gave up waitting for the 78 right occasion. “Someone was going to get killed no matter what I choice I made so, I picked the uglier one. It's called 'triage'." "How do you feel aboout that?" "Like an executive." "You're a Fascist!." She was working from a script he hadn't seen. “I'm bored too.” The bus bounces down the road on 2 wheels, sometimes on 1. Street in Tripoli-night- Everyone is getting off the bus. It's night and there's the bulge of a mosque against the sky. The city is new, north of the river, and the streets are wide. David and Leslie and the Walid flag down a cab and get in together. Nobody has anything to say. The streets keep getting narrower until the reach the American bar. They get out in front of a bar called RICK"S CAFE AMERICAN “He saw the movie too.” CAFE-NIGHT- An Arab in black face is playing the piano and singIng “AS TIME GOES BY". A young couple, trying to look American are sitting at a table against the rear wall. They're dressed as vintage 160 hippies. Culture lag, from some place in a different century, like Booklyn Heights only they seem German. The had that look of dopey low cunning, but everyone did east of Suez. Potted palms lean over them intrusively. David and Leslie and the Walid march over. The couple look nervous and mumble to each other in American accents. “I hear American and I'm staying.” “And welcome. Sit down.” They do. He has a Jimmy Stuart up country whine. 79 “I'm David and this is Leslie.” “Hello.” The Walid had seceed from the conversation. He is sitting with his back to the wall and watching the door. “Duane and Cheryl.” “Where you from?” “America.” No expression. Retarded marshmallow. It wasn't going to be much of a conversation. Speech is impossible without desire and these 2 were too drugged to care. “Ah, yeah, I mean, which coast?” “Nebraska.” No expression on him or Cheryl. Double zero. “Yeah, hard to remember there's something in the middle.” “Exact center of the United States.” “Dont you feel trapped in there?” Leslie says brightly. “Yeah. Oh, yeah.” Showing some emotion. It was like watching a squirrel run through an abandoned house. “We were wondering...” Said Leslie “Hush.” Said David “Where do you all hail from?” 80 Says Cheryl. “New York.” “Yeah.” “Same all over, I guess.” “No.” “No. What are you doing here?” “Well, we ran out of money in Istanbul.” “We got deported on a drug bust.” That was Cheryl. She whines. “And we figured to hitchhike as far as we could before we got the consulate to pay our way back.” The man is not up on current events. “Makes sense.” “Next stop, Nepal.” “Very mellow in Nepal.” “You do drugs?” “Well, yes. Do you know here we can get any?” Duane is watching his face, up, down and across, like he was trying to read a road map. “Wait a minute, why do we want more drugs?” “We're American, that's why.” “Nepal.” “I know where” says the Walid in French.which changes the sociology in a hurry. 81 He's still doing his Dodge City routine, back to the wall and watching the door. “How long will it take?” Says David in French “A couple of hours.” “Dynamite. He knows where. I'm going with him. I'll meet all of you back here in 2 hours.” “What do mean?, all of us?” That’s Leslie “You stay here.” “You think that's safer?” “No, not really. Let's go.” They leave with the Walid. There is a an incredible baffling maze of souks dominated by the Great Mosque on one side and the Great Crusader Castle on the other. The streets are absolutely deserted. The buildings look uninhabited and the Mosque and the Castle give all of them the look of monuments. It's a full moon and the streets are flood lit with blue light like the crypt scene in a horror movie. They see dark figures scuttling down an alley or clustered in doorways, whispering furtively to each other and vanishing at they approach. You get the feeling that there is no one out at all except thieves and murderers. David and Leslie are getting scared, really scared. They've been through worse in New York, but this isn't it. They are very far from home. their courage is based on a sense of territory, as it usually is. That didn't make sense either. They'd been through worse in Kuwait. In fact, right now, there's nothing happening at all. That's the problem. Last time, the dangewr had been point blank in sharp focus in front of them, limited and explicitly defined and that made it wasy to organize the emotions to deal with it. Courage had been a parlor trick. This is different. They dont know where it is, they just know it's out there, coming to kill 82 them. They're walking almost back to back and panting. There's the cold calm smell of moss on stone, very old and somehow comforting, the transparent April smell of money. They arrive at a closed shop with a heavy roll down iron gate. The Walid bangs on it with a noise like thunder. A shutter pops open on the 2nd floor and a Farsi, obviously the proprietor, sticks his head out. “Business.” It isn’t Arabic so it must be Farsi. “We're closed.” “It's not that kind of business.” “Tomorrow.” He pops back in and slams the shutter. “We'll try another place.” Leslie nods and they all trudge off. The sky is lit up by an unnecessary flare, but there's no gunfire, no sound at all. The sky goes dark then 2 more flares go off. David and Leslie are holding hands like children. “It's so quiet.” She's right, not even a foot fall to organize the experience and give danger a direction. “There's no war here.” “What about the flares? “I dont know. But they're not trying to light us up. Those flares are a mile away.” “They're waiting for us.” “Why would they be waiting for us?” But the answer is obvious. They're rich, well dressed and pretty. They're going to be robbed raped and murdered. He passes her to his left hand to keep the gun hand free. He should kill Walid 83 right now only he wasn't sure he could find his way back to the bar. Then the real reason occurs to him. That if he ditched Walid, danger would no longer have an address and he'd be back in the head swivelling panic of moments before. David thinks that over. “Just dont let go of may hand, no matter what happens.” We're getting out of here fast. “I'm not getting used to this. I just stay scared.” “That's why we're here, isn't it?” “Is it?, I dont remember.” They reach another shop. The Walid bangs on the gate. “Business! Business! Business!” But there is no reply. he looks at David and shrugs. “Demage, demage. We'll try again tomorrow.” WIDE STREET-NIGHT- There's a lone street lamp 100 feet ahead of them and 100 feet beyond that is a man walking toward with them with blood curdling confidence. As They all close in on the one street lamp, They see that it's an old man in burlap pants, a leather vest, a skull cap and hush puppies. He looks like the Ayatolla Khomeini.. He reaches the street lamp the same time as they do. He drops to a half crouch and circles them very slowly, staring up at them with horror movie menace. They draw themselves unnaturally erect and circle him slowly, staring down their noses at him with alert hauteur. There is nothing subtle about this. They circle each other with the hysterical intensity of alley cats watching for an opening. When they and the old man have exchanged sides of the street lamp. The Walid and the old man turn around and start talking to each other at a distance of 20 feet. "Old man, what is your business in the night?" 84 "I am a seller of teryak." "These Americans wish to buy." David knows they're talking about drugs because Walid is pointing back at him, talking fast in Arabici and making let's-do-business motions with his hands. "They have money?" He couldn't have said anything else. "Look at them." He points at him again, waving his hand up in down in a just-look- at-the-view gesture of a real estate salesman. The old man mumbles something without moving his lips and gets back into his alley cat crouch. They switch to Arabic. "I see what you mean. You wish to rob them?" “He has a gun, the woman has a knife.” The gestures are clear as plains Indian sign language. Walid wants them to know what he's saying. Follow me. He knows. They follow the Old Man into a maze of twisting alleys through the cluster of bazaars. The only landmark is the Great Mosque and, every time They look up, it's coming at them from a different direction. They reach a 6-pointed intersection and the old man tosses a coin. he walks south then tosses the coin again. He turns west and leads them down the south west street. They're weaving through the alleys after him like the Monsters after PacMan. They pass a stone flight of stairs. It's interrupted half way up by a wall of iron lattice work. Beyond the lattice is a stone sarcophagus surrounded by burning candles. For a second, it looks like the lid of the sarcophagus moves slightly. The old man kneels at the foot of the stairs and prays in the Christian style. He lights a candle places it on the stairs in front of the lattice and walks off with renewed confidence. 85 Some dark figures appear at the mouth of a side alley. The old man casually throws something at them. It's the disdainful gesture of throwing coins to a beggar. But it isn't coins. It's a WW1 white phosphorous grenade. It's 80 years old and it doesn't quite explode. It goes off with a vast whoosh and the side alley is lit up by a quick sheet of flame. The complete absence of shadow makes it look 2-dimensional, unreal. The dark figures are gone. About this time, the Walid is getting scared too. he and David and Leslie are all trying to walk back to back to each other. They reach a corner and again The old man tosses a coin to decide which way to go. Leslie frowns. "Does he know where he's going?" "Oh, yeah. But he never takes the same route twice. Too dangerous. If he did, the second time they'd be waiting for him." "But why does he keep tossing a coin?" "It's the only way he can be sure that he's not getting predictable." "No, we're being set up." "He wants us disorientated so we'll think passively,like tourists. When the Watutsis lead you out into the jungle, they blindfold you and spun you around first. Disorientation makes you suggestible" "What are you suggesting?" "That you're right." "Then it's real?" "Oh, dear me, yes." "Who is it?" "For us, it's the Arab and the old man. They'll kill us, if they get the chance." "Why dont we run?" 86 "Run where? This way we know when and where it's going to happen. i like that better." Leslie gives his hand a little extra squeeze. They turn down another narrow street. This one is fronted by walled gardens and some discouraged looking trees leaning on the broken bottles set into the top of the walls. what ever was going to happen was going to do it to them here. The old man stops of a huge riveted steel door set into a blocky stone wall. He bangs the door four times and with incredible strength. It rings like a tuning fork then slowly swings open. There's no one in sight. Then a bald head with a beard sticks itself out at the 2 foot level and pops back in. Then a bald head with a mustache pops out at the 4 foot level and jerks back. Then a huge hairy head with a beard and a mustache pops out and back at the 6 foot level. Then all 3 heads pop out at the same time and pop back. The old man enters, David and Leslie and The Walid follow him in. The two bald headed men are about 5'4". The one with the hairy head is about 7 feet tall. The old man draws them aside and they whisper in 4 part harmony. Then he turns back to Walid. “2 kilos? Says the old man. “2 kilos?” Says the Walid “2 kilos.” Says David. Everyone is nodding agreement at everyone else. Strictly Sesame Street. And then, from out of thin air, the hairy giant comes up with a bulging raw hide sack. The old man takes it and hold it out. The old man and the Walid speak in Arabic. “$10" “They'll never pay that.” 87 “$5.” “$7.” In French. David hands it over and The Old Man hands him the sack. David opens it. Inside are 30 soft leather bags tied with raw hide thongs. David and Leslie start transferring them to their pockets and shoulder bags. Then one of the packets falls to the ground and comes undone. David drops to a squat and looks at it. He rubs some between his fingers. Inside the bag is a black sticky substance “This isn't hash.” “No, it's teryak.” “What's teryak?” “Refined opium.” David and Leslie start putting the packets away at double speed. David gives $10 to the Walid and smiles at the old man, “Salaam Aleicham.” “Take care, Baby.” “Let's go.” The Walid takes Leslie and David each by the arm and leads them off. They get 20 feet, then stop and look back. The old man and the 3 bearded men are still there, standing in the street and staring at them. David, Leslie and Walid walk another 20 feet and look back: Same business, still there and still staring. David & co. turn around and resume walking. Suddenly, an unreasoning terror seizes all of them at the same time and They begin to run wildly through the twisting streets. 2 men in black hoods jump out of a side street and level heavy automatics. David & co. run straight over them and leave them sprawling in the street. David et al are around the corner and gone before the hooded men can recover. 88 They keep running, turning corners at random. The street is cobble stoned and Leslie is wearing stilletto heels, but it doesn't even slow down. She seems to be running without touching the ground, until by luck or a process of elimination they reach the wide main street and, by a miracle, find and flag down a cab. They climbinto the back seat, all of them panting uncontrollably. "Le Cafe Americain." Then, in the rear view mirror, they see the old man running toward them. They go crazy with terror. Walid screams. "GO! Let's go!" "Move it Get us out of here! That was David "Help! Oh, please! I'll do anything!" and that was Leslie. "It is only an old man. We will wait." "Please!" "Yes!" "NO!!!" "We will wait." The old man runs up. He runs in a half crouch, like he was running under a low branch, and pumping his elbows with enthusiasm. He opens the front door, swings himself into the front seat and slams the door with a practiced gesture. He isn't even out of breath. The cab takes off thorough the empty streets and they ride in silence. After a few minutes, The cab driver speaks softly in Arabic to the old man. The old man answers crisply. He says something that makes Walid go white, no small accomplishment. After a few more blocks, the cab stops and the old man gets out without paying or looking back. When the cab is safely away, 89 David turns to Walid. "What did he say?" "The cab driver said: Old Man why are you about in the night when there are only bad men in the streets? And the Old Man said: I am a seller of teryak. I went out to visit 3 of my clients, but I found them dead and so, I am returning home." David and Leslie go white. She's clutching a fashion magazine as she usually is. It's the Paris edition of VOGUE with the word PARIS inside the O of VOGUE, but now the cover has changed. The word inside the O is HELL. She looks at it and throws it out the window. Then she takes David's arm. They sit in the back seat and stare straight ahead. Leslie groans. "Let me do the talking."
Copyright © 1999 Angel Obregon |