\;I

YASM

INAKHADRA

TRANSLA

TED

BY

AUBREY

BOTSFO

RD

'

an,a1oncrossing~•

·,

,.·.,.

The

charactersandeventsportrayed

inthis

bookare

fictitious.Any

similarity

torealpersons,living

ordead,is

coincidentalandnotintended

bythe

author.

ISB>l-13:

9781611091052ISB

N-10:

1611091055

Booksby

Yasm

inaKhadra

TheAttack

Autum

nefthe

Phantom

sDouble

Blank

Inthe

Nam

eefGod

Morituri

The

SirensefBaghdad

TheSw

allowsofKabul

WolfD

reams

Publishedby

AmazonC

rossingP.O

.Box

400818Las

Vegas,l\i"'\'89140

Textcopyright©

1994by

Yasm

inaKhadra

Englishtranslation

copyright©Aubrey

Botsford

Allrightsreserved.

Printedin

theUnited

StatesofA

merica.

Nopart

ofthisbook

mar

bereproduced,or

storedin

aretrieval

system,or

transmitted

inany

formorbf

anymeans,

electronic,mechanical,

photocopying,recording,

orotherwise,

without

expresswritten

permission

ofthepublisher.

Dead

Man's

Sharewas

firstpublishedin

1994by

Editions

Jul.liard,ParisasLa

Partd11Mor:

Translated

fromFrench

byAubrey

Botsford.PublishedinEnglish

by:\m

azonCrossing

in2011.

vii

PART

ONE

Eleventh

commandm

ent:If

theten

comm

andments

haven'tsucceeded

insaving

yoursoul,

ifyou

persistinhaving

norespect

foranything,

tellyourselfyou're

notworth

much.

·,

CHAPTER

ONE

1

You'd

thinkthe

world

hadstopped

turning.IfeelasifI'm

fallingapart

bythe

minute,as

ifevery

secondthat

passestakes

away

someofmyessence.

Adispiriting

calmweighs

onthe

city.Everything'sfine.

Peoplego

abouttheir

business,grandm

asare

inno

danger;there's

nodram

ain

thestreets.

Foran

energeticcop,

it'slike

beingin

drydock.

Eversince

theScalpel

Psycho"was

neutralized,Algiers

hasbreathed

again.People

gotobed

lateand

seldomget

upearly.T

heprovidence-state

savorsits

idlenesswith

asmuch

detachment

asits

decision-makers.

Fromdaw

ntill

dusk,the

common

folkmove

idlyfrom

hereto

there,picking

theirnoses

andstaring

intospace.

Everyoneknow

ssom

.ethingterrible

ison

theway,but

theydon't

care.WeAlgerians

reactonly

towhat

happensto

us,never

toforestall

something

thatmight

happentous.

While

waiting

torthe

storm,wecarry

onwith

ourrituals.

Our

patronsaints

takegood

careofus,our

garbagecans

areoverflow

ingwithfood,and

theplanet's

impending

economic

crisisisasdistant

asacom

ee+-tous.

*The

ScalpelPsycho:

areference

toYasm

inaKhadra's

novelLe

dingueaubistouri(A

lgiers:Laphom

icAlger,

1990),Superintendent

Llob

'sfirstouting.

--

-~

.~-

~I~~

~-~~

~

·,

·------

···--------·-------··

---

-------~

-------'.

23

\;

Yasmina

Kliadra

Dead

Man's

Share

Inshort,

lifeisgood.

Yesterday,it

rainedallnight.

The

wind

blewits

heartout

tillmorning.T

hen,from

dawnon,

thesky

clearedand

asun

worthy

ofRem

brandtstripped

offitsclothes

abovethe

city'sbuildings.

Winter

hasn'teven

packedaw

ayits

graycanvases

andsum

mer

ishere,

supplantingspring

andeverything

else.In

thefreshly

cleansedstreets,

girlsenter

youraw

arenesslike

shootingstars,

theirfacesjoyfuland

theirbuttocks

quivering.Arealfeast.IfIw

eretw

entyyearsyounger,I'd

marry

themall.

Itry

tocatch

thewall

doingsom

ethingwrong,

soIcan

investigateit.I've

beentw

iddling1ny

thumbs

formonths.

Not

asingle

burglary,not

eventhe

most

trivialdognapping.

It'sas

ifAlgiers

isrefusing

tocooperate.

I'velicked

thebottom

ofmycoffee

cupclean,

oneby

oneI've

decipheredthe

countlessarabesques

I'veaim

lesslydoodled

onmyblotter,

andIstillcan't

getthe

handson

thewall

clocktomove.It's

threefifteen,

andtim

eisbeginning

todrag.

The

president'sserious

eyesmock

mefrom

thegiltfram

ein

frontofm

e.Athousand

times

I'vegotup

totake

itoff

thewall,but

athousand

times

I'vebeen

afraidtounleash

athun­

derboltfrom

heaven.I'm

resignednow

,and

patientlyendure

mysuffering

while

Iwait

forthenext

revolutiontobring

usan

Aeolian

godwho

isless

searing.And

then,suddenly,Lino

burstsinto

mycubbyhole

without

evenbothering

toannounce

himself.

"Hey,

Super,what

doyou

think?"he

exclaims,

showing

himself

offbackand

front,delighted

with

hislook.

The

lieutenantisdressed

uplike

aprince

ofMonaco.

Radiant,

hestops

givingmevertigo,

positionshim

selfin

thedead

centerofthe

roomand

casuallytakes

offhiscolonial

eyeglasses."T

d"h

"I'l

d.

"o

ay,esays,

mon

cou

nine.

"Good

going:yesterdayyou

were

onlyin

seventhheaven."

This

crackshirn

up,butthen

helooks

atmeand

frowns.

"Don't

youlike

me?"

Ishowhim

mywedding

ring.Hegiggles,

turnstoface

thefrench

window

andexam

ineshim

selfin

it.Satisfied,

heputs

hisglasses

backon,runs

afin­

gerdelicately

throughhis

brilliantinedhair,

which

isparted

severelyin

thecenter,

andthen,

toput

mefully

inthe

picture,show

smethe

liningofhisjacket

andrecites,

"Pierre

Cardin:

ninegrand.N

oreduction

forgoodbehavior.Lacoste

trousers:five

grand.Kenzo

shirt,pure

silk:tw

ogrand.

Dodoni

shoes,real

alligatorskin,

kho:"ten

grand.""N

owIsee

why

somerebellions

founderforlackofw

eap­ons.

Was

itthe

lottery?Orblackm

ail?""Payslip

andpiggy-bank

lockedand

bolted.Harem

moneys

notmything,

kho....What

doyou

think?""W

.d"e1r

."Y

oucan

bearealkilljoy,

youknow

,boss.Anyw

ay,guesswhere

I'n1eating

tonight.""N

oidea."

"Atthe

Blue

Sultanate,the

most

exclusivejoint

inthe

bay.The

food'sso

refineditcan

passthrough

yourguts

andbe

turnedinto

fastfood

without

treatment."

"You

must

havewon

thelottery."

"Wrong.Y

es,I'vedraw

nagood

number,

butwe're

talk­ing

female

companionship.

I'vegot

adate

with

herin

thirtyminutes.""I

don'tsee

yourgun."

Linosees

what

I'mgetting

at..Hewrinkles

hisnose,

gri­maces

andsays,

irritably,"There's

noneed

forthat,

Super.She's

notsorn

etart.

This

timeit's

thereal

thing."

*Kho:brother.

.--

~~---~-

-~---~--~~

---

~-

-~~

~~~~-~-

~

I--~

~--~

--

'.

5»,

4

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhadra

"Inthat

caseitm

ustbe

atransvestite."

I'vew

oundedhim

.H

isgood

humor

vanishesabruptly

andhis

previouslypink

complexion

darkens.H

eslips

hisfinger

underthe

collarof

hisshirt,

straightensup

and,disgusted

bym

ygrinning

face,turns

andleaves.

Linodoesn't

takehisshadow

away

with

him.The

bright-ness

thatw

asbathing

my

officesuddenly

becomes

gloomy,

Three

nineteen,the

sluggishclock

insists.Ipick

upthe

telephoneand

calltheboss

onthe

thirdfloor.

InspectorBliss

answers,

andm

yhem

orrhoidsflare

up."Y

es?""Superintendent

Llob

here."H

esighs,

thelittle

bastard.For

thosew

hodon't

yetknowBliss,

Imight

asw

ellwarn

themnow

:he'sa

shameless

weasel,

thekind

who

willbite

offyour

fingerif

yougive

hima

helpinghand.

"What

doyou

want?"

hew

hines."W

hatthe

hellareyou

doingin

theboss's

office?""W

orking.""C

utthe

crapand

givem

ethe

bigm

an.""W

hatdidyou

callThe

Director?"

Iwantto

reachdow

nthe

receiverand

grabhim

bythe

throat."Listen,

Llob.I've

gotw

orkto

do.The

Director

ison

atw

o-daytour

ofinspection.Ifyou

havea

message

forhim,hand

itover."

"Ididn't

knowyou

worked

asanansw

eringm

achinetoo."

He

hangsup

inm

yface,despite

my

ageand

my

stripes.Iboil

fora

coupleof

secondsand

then,putting

abrave

faceon

it,pull

myself

together.But

hangingabout

inthe

officeforone

more

minute

isout

ofthe

question.Especially

when

aGM

T*

istem

porarilyin

charge.

Thebossisa,vay,and

likeany

good,self-respectingA

lgerianIget

my

jacket,stand

upstraight

andblow

offw

ork.

Wandering

asm

yfancy

takesm

e,I

endup

atM

.ohand'sbookshop.Ideduce

thatFatehas

anidea

inher

headand

decideto

playalong.

Monique

isarranginga

pileofbooks

onthe

shelves.Sheis

wobbling

abouton

astepladder,

herskirt

indiscreet.I

cansee

rightaw

aythat

herhabits

haven'tchanged

inthe

slightest:she

persistsin

wearing

men's

underwear.

Icoughinto

my

fistto

calmm

yselfM

oniquealm

ostfalls

intom

yarm

s,she'sso

happyatm

yvisit.

Shecom

esdow

nto

floorlevelim

.mediately,

flingsher

arms

aroundm

yneck

andgivesm

eakiss

thatwould

arouseatree

trunk."It's

beenages,

Iswear!

What

brin.gsyou

here?""A

hunch.Bookshops

havealw

aysharbored

subversivem

eetings.Since

I'vebeen

unemployed

lately,I've

come

tonose

aboutbehind

thecurtains."

"And

haveyou

gota

searchw

arrant?""W

hydo

peoplekeep

askingrne

questionsI

don'tunderstand?"

Even

thoughshe's

aproud

Alsacienne,

Monique

hasN

orman

cousins.She's

two

headstaller

thanm

e.W

hichis

why

Iavoidposing

nextto

heratall

costs.She

holdsm

eout

atarm's

lengthand

examines

me

asif

Iw

ereapair

ofboxershorts,

tiltsher

headright

andleft,squint­

ing.Satisfied,

shesays,

"You're

lookinggood."

"That's

becauseI'm

shallow."

"Don't

startthat,

please.Since

you'renot

beingtedious

foronce,allow

usto

rejoicein

it."I

resolvenot

tospoil

herhappiness

andcobble

togethera

smile.

*GM1:

Genetically

modified

turd.

"' I

a

..,

:•.

Yasmina

Khaâra

6

Dead

Man's

Share

Shescolds

me:

"Did

youlose

yourw

ay?""M

yreadersthink

therearen't

enoughw

omen

inm

yw

ork."She

rubsm

yshoulders

with

herhands-

tocom

fortm

e,Isuppose.

"Now

you'rejust

tryingto

getm

eexcited."

"Ileft

my

night-stickat

theoffice."

Monique

burstsoutlaughing,

andit's

thesound

ofaw

holestable

whinnying

asthe

sungoes

down

overgreen

pastures."R

eallyreally

really?Y

ou'regoing

totalk

aboutm

ein

vournextbook?"

'"I'Il

haveaw

ordabout

itwith

my

ghostw

riter,Iprornise.""Y

oucould

havew

arnedm

e.Iw

ouldhave

brushedm

y

Ilean

toward

Monique

andsay,

"He

needsto

disinfecthis

moustache."

Shelets

offanother

ofherancestral

buglecalls.

There's

nothinglike

aw

oman's

laughto

getyou

backon

aneven

keel.A

curtainparts,

andM

ohandem

ergesfrom

hisrathole.H

e'salittle

man,a

hundredand

tenpounds

includingtax,

with

anarrogant

noseand

roundglasses.

Ifnature

hadnot

burdenedhim

with

suchstartling

baldness,you

might

betem

ptedto

adopthim

."B

rahirnLlob,

asI

liveand

breathe,"he

says,looking

me

upand

down.

"So,justlike

that,you

forgetaboutyour

childhoodfriends."

"I'ma

bigheadnow

.""H

e'sgoing

touse

mein

hisnext

book,"M

oniqueinform

shim

,quiveringw

ithexcitem

ent."Lot

ofgoodthat'll

dous."

Mohand

pretendsto

bean

oldcurm

udgeon.Iknow

he'sfond

ofme

andis

veryupset

thatIneglect

him.E

ruditeand

bilingual,he

isaform

idableencyclopedia

ofknowledge.

No

authorleaves

himindifferent,

nonew

spasses

himby.

He

knowsby

heartEl

Mounfalouti,

Confucius,

them

usingsof

Rousseau

andthe

controversialprophecies

ofN

ostradamus.

Iused

togo

tohis

shopregularly;

heput

hisentire

stockof

booksat

my

disposal.E

verythingIhave

read,I

owe

tohim

,as

well

asa

goodpart

ofm

yow

nliterary

output.A

ndit's

thanksto

himthat

Ilovea

folktale

fromevery

cultureand

agod

fromevery

mythology.

"Have

youcom

eto

renewyour

subscription?""T

hat'sright.

I'vebeen

shortof

inspirationlately,

andI

thoughtIm

ightbe

ableto

turnup

something

toplagiarize

ifIrum

maged

throughyour

oldbooks."

hair."Ifirst

knewM

oniquein

1959,atIghider,

where

shew

asteaching

historyand

geography.H

erfather

wasa

teachertoo.

After

thew

ar,and

thew

avesofhorrific

reprisalsthatfollow

edit,the

family

wentinto

exilein

France.M

oniquestayed

behind.She

married

Mohand,

ad'E

rguez*from

thehigh

mountains

who

lovedbooks.

On

theirw

eddingnight,

apparently,w

hiletheir

friendskept

watch

forthe

telltaleundergarm

entfrom

theterrace,

thet,vo

lovebirdstranslated

Kabyle

poems

untildaw

n.Later,

when

thedouar**

was

nolonger

bigenough

fortheir

passion,they

boughta

smallbookshop

atBab

ElO

uedthat

hadfallen

onhard

times,

andever

sincethen

theyhave

spentm

oretim

ereading

thanfooling

around."C

orneand

seew

ho'shere,M

ohand,"M

oniquecalls

outto

theback

ofthe

shop."T

here'sonly

oneperson

who

stinkslike

that,"replies

anasal

voicefrom

offstage.

*D'Erguez

(Kabyle

dialect):"real"

man.T

heK

abylesare

thelargest

ofthe

indigenousA

rab(B

erber)groups

ofA

lgeria.**

Douar:nom

adencam

pment;

later,the

name

foran

administrarive

region.

7

a...

·-

·-

~~

~~--~

8

Dead

Man's

ShareYasmina

Khaâra

"What

areyou

talkingabout?

You

haven'teven

flickedthrough

it.""T

here'sno

need.I

knowthe

mold

hew

asm

adein."

Mohandis

shockedby

my

poortaste.

Idon't

givein.

Intruth,

I'mjust

doingw

hatany

writer

from1n

ycountry

doesw

henfaced

with

afellow

country­m

an'ssuccess,

especiallyif

thejackpot

hehits

isin

France.If

I,Brahim

Llob,incorruptible

publicservant

anddisinfected

genius,w

ereone

dayto

shineam

ongthe

starsin

thefum

a­m

ent,I

would

nodoubt

belabeled

ascribbler

inthe

payof

theregim

e-just

becauseI'm

acop-

oran

Arab

Uncle

Tom

,if

praisecarne

fromthe

overseasm

edia.T

hat'show

itw

orksin

Algeria,

noother'"'ªY·W

etake

asortofm

aliciouspleasure

inm

issingthe

distinctionbetw

eenother

people'ssuccess

andheresy

orfelony.T

hisprejudice

servesas

anitch

thatisboth

painfuland

pleasurable;we

would

ratherscratch

ourselvestill

we

bleedthan

giveitup.W

hatdoyou

expect?Som

epeople

arem

adelike

that:deviousbecause

theycan't

bestraight,

wicked

becausethey've

losttheir

faith,unhappybecause,deep

down,

theylove

it.We

havenever,in

livingA

lgerianm

emory,

reallybeen

ableto

imagine

areconciliation

with

ourow

nreality.

And

what

canyou

prescribefor

anation

when

thecream

ofher

youth,the

partthat's

supposedto

rouseher

conscience,starts

offbytraducing

itsow

n?A

nyway....

After

abit

ofa

comm

otion,Ichoose

aO

rissC

hraïbiand

hurryto

leavethe

place,because

itsfustiness

isbeginning

toharm

them

ostim

portanttool

ofmy

trade.M

inahas

puton

some

lipstickand

ahint

ofeyeliner

onhereyes.

It'sher

way

ofmaking

amends.T

hingsdidn't

gow

ellbetw

eenus

yesterday.O

vernothing.

Iw

asin

abad

mood,

andIw

enta

bitfar.

He

glaresatm

efora

coupleofseconds,

theninvites

me

tofollow

himinto

theback

oftheshop.Inside,

thereare

enoughvolum

esto

sustaina

carnpfulof

vandalsfor

aw

holew

inter.W

eare

forcedto

walk

insingle

fileso

asnot

tounleash

anavalanche.

Mohand

pushesa

small

step-stoolup

toa

rowof

tomes

with

moldering

covers,m

ovesa

spiderw

ebaside,

searches,searches,andcom

esdow

nagain

tappinghis

temple

with

hisfinger.

"Ihad

anA

kkadhere

somew

here.""T

akeit

easy.I'mnot

a.trapezeartist,"

Iremind

him.

"Sow

hat?""Y

oum

ustn'tset

thebar

toohigh."

He

raisesaneyebrow

andheadsfor

astackofnovelspacked

upin

acorner.

"They

were

dueto

bepulped,"

hetells

me

indignantly."M

onique'sbrotherpicked

themup

forme.C

anyou

imagine?

Thousands

ofw

orksare

thrown

onthe

trash-heapbecause

noone

willbuy

them,

when

youcould

make

aw

holenation

happyby

donatingthem

toa

libraryin

the'South.'"

"They

sendsacks

ofricelike

thattoo."

"Lifeisn'tjust

aboutyourbelly....

Look,here's

something

interesting,"he

goeson,holding

outam

assivevolum

e."T

hisR

achidO

uladj,he's

notvery

well

known

here,but

itw

on'tbe

longbefore

he'sbeing

talkedabout."

"Not

theguy

who

criticizedthe

FLN

?"*

"Let'ssay

he'sa

bithardon

thesystem

."Ipush

thebook

away

with

my

hand,disgusted."Y

oucan

keepit.

These

pettylittle

cookie-cutterreactionaries

who

suddenlydiscover

theirtalent

assoon

asthey

getto

theH

eSaint-L

ouis,I've

known

afew

,and

letm

etell

you,they're

f"

notun

....

*PLN

:Frontde

LiberationNationale

(National

LiberationFront).

9

-~.

••

~~

~~-~~

·

.-.

..

·,

Yas111i11aKhadra

10

Dea.d

Man's

Share

Sherew

ardsmewith

hermadonna's

smile

andhurries

torein

ovemyjacket.

Inreturn,

Ibehavelike

anoaf

Iknow

I'mbeing

crass,butIcan'tstop

myself

When

Iwasakid,Igreatly

admired

myfather.Idon'trem

ember

everseeinghim

smile.H

ewasareald'Ei;guez,strict

andperpetually

constipated.Hewould

tiphis

soupinto

mymother's

lapfornothing

andthen

fetchhis

stick.And

ni.ymother,w

howasso

afraidofhim

thatshewould

gopale

atthe

soundofhis

stepsinthe

street,only

veneratedhim

the.more

asaresult.So

onthe

rareoccasions

when

hesaid

thankyou,

itwaslike

hearingan

angeltrillinginparadise.

Ithink

that'swhere

mymachism

ocorn

esfrom

.T,¥0

ofmyoffspring

areinthe

livingroom

.Mourad

hasdozed

off,overcomeby

aprogram

onnational

television.He's

snoring,with

hismouth

wide

openand

hishead

slumped

overthe

armofthe

chair.Beside

him,his

olderbrotherMoham

edis

stretchedout

onthe

paddedbench,

hishands

behindhis

head,looking

upatthe

ceiling.Ican

tellfrom

hisbehavior

thathe's

ahair's

breadthavvay

fromimploding.

Ifitwere

uptohim

,he'd

packhisbags

andset

sailforsom

eimprobable

landofmilk

andhoney.

"Didyou

seethe

boss?"Iask

him.

"Yeah,"

heansw

ers,disgustedthat

hehas

tospill

hisbit-

ternessoutonto

thecarpet.

"Did

hetreatyou

badly?""Hewaspolite,

buthe

didn'thave

much

toofferm

e.""For

example?"

"Office

junior.""You

shouldhave

accepted,while

youlook

forsomething

better."Hescratches

hisnose

soasnot

tohave

tolook

meinthe

eye."Ididn't

spendfour

yearsworking

mytailoffatuniversity

toend

upwith

nothing,Dad.

Igraduatedfrom

BenAknoun,

afterall,topofmyclass."

Isitdowninfrontofhim

,sothatIcan

seeintohis

thoughts."Doyou

thinkI'm

notmaking

enoughofan

efforttosee

youwellplaced,

son?""Ididn'tsay

that.""Butyou

thinkit."

"Iknow

it'snotyour

fault,Dad,"

hegrum

bles,exasper­

ated."It's

thiscountry

that'smaking

meill."

"It'sthe

onlyone

youhave."

Heheaves

himself

upinto

asitting

positionand

staresatthe

palmsofhis

hands.With

asigh,

hegives

upand

goesback

uptohis

room,muttering,

"You

can'tunderstand,

Dad."M

inainterjects,

"whatcan't

yourfather

understand?I

forbidyouto

speaktohim

likethat,do

youhear?"

Iseen1y

son'ssilhouette

make

aweary

gestureinthe

cor­ridor

andthen

disappear.Salim

,theyoungest,appearsin

thedoorw

ay,aschoolbook

heldtohis

chest.''Ah!

You're

back,Dad.

I'vebeen

waiting

foryoufor

hours,"he

adds,slappingthe

bookonto

mylap.

"This

time

theteacher's

gonetoo

far.He'sasked

ustodescribe

anoasis,

ifyou

canbelieve

it.I'venever

setfoot

inthe

Sahara."Making

surethere's

nochance

hismother

canhear

him,hew

hispers,"W

hatdo

youthink,

canwemake

adeal?

You

polishitup

abit

andIw

ashthe

carthis

weekend?"

"Not

achance.

It'syour

homework,

andit's

uptoyou

tohandle

it.""In

thatcase,

takemeinto

thedesert

rightaway.I'll

dothe

essaytom

orrow."

11

12

YasminaKhadra

"Goback

toyour

roomand

finishyour

homework,

andstop

botheringyour

father,"Mina

intervenesagain,extrem

elyprotective.

Salinidoesn'tmake

hersayittw

ice.Hepicks

uphisbook

andbeats

aretreat,

cursingthe

heavensforsaddling

hirnwith

parentswho

arenot

onlyselfish

butalso

failtonotice

hissuffering.

Istand

upand

goand

getinNadia's

wayinthe

kitchen.Nadia

ismyvery

owndaughter.She's

nineteen,and

sheturns

theheads

ofallthe

youngbucks

inthe

neighborhood.True,

hershoesare

alwaysone

stepbehind

thefashion

andshe

dressesherself

fromthe

secondhandshop

onthe

corner,but

shehas

onlytobather

eyelidsand

shecan

takeCinderella's

placefor

afairytale

evening.She

wipes

herhands

onher

apronand

givesmeahug.

"What

areyou

cookingupfor

dinner?""Beans."

"Whataboutm

yonion

soup?"She

pointsatm

yowncas­

serolesimmering

awayon

thestove.

"Youknow

what

I'dlike?"

Iwhisper.

CHAPTER

TWO

''No."

Good

morning,

Superintendent."Istart.

Asusual,I'm

havingasnooze,as

Idoevery

timethe

cityforgets

ithas

policestations

andthat

there'snowayacop

cangetahead

bytwiddling

histhum

bs.Butnomatter

howhard

Itry,Ican't

getthe

bigmantosee

thathehas

toinventsuspects

andsetup

phonycasesto

keepusonour

toes.There's

noway

to1nake

himwise

up.Inspector

Serdjisstanding

inthe

doorway,

waiting

formetoinvite

himin.

"I'vefinished

thereport,"

hernurnbles

apologetically,having

violatedmysolitude

without

theslightest

warning.

Iwave

himcondescendingly

toachair.

Heputs

afolder

downonmydesk

anddeposits

hisbony

backsideonthe

chair.He'skilling

himselfby

degrees,Serdj.H

ischeeksare

abouttobutt

upagainst

hissubconscious

thoughts.Withhiswhite

hairand

hispathetic

moustache,

he'slike

aghost,

lostinan

outfitthat

would

make

ahom

elessbum

feelpity.Sym

pathetically,Isay,"Youdidn't

havetospend

allnight

"Alittle

tripover

toTaghit,

orperhaps

tothe

Hoggar

Mountains,

justyou

andme."

"Andmom?"

"Mom

will

stayathom

e.Som

eone'sgottoreceive

ourpostcards."

Sh.eroarswithlaughter.

When

mydaughter

burstsout

laughing,I'm

willing

toforgive

everything.Butherjoy

isso

short-livedthat

Idon't

evenhave

timetogain

inspirationfrom

it..

,,at

it,"Ithought

itwasurgent."

"There's

norush."

13

----=--

-=--

-----~~----

-~

~~~~~

~~~~~

~~~~

~~

--

----

~.~

·~

Yasmina

Kliadra

"H"

mm....

"Ifyou

like,Ican

paditoutsom

em

ore.""Y

ourreports

havealw

aysbeen

fine.T

heproblem

lieselsew

here.""W

hatdo

youm

ean?"Ilook

himin

theeye.

"Who

isthis

addressedto?"

"The

directorof

theSlA

...."

"And

who's

that?""W

ell,he's

asuperior."

Ishakem

yhead,like

ateacherw

hoisdisappointed

bythe

gapsin

hisdunces'm

emories.

"You

see?You

neverlearn.'Superior,'that's

fornuns.Inour

hierarchy,ateverystep,

we

havea

small

butperfectly

formed

god.T

heseare

ultra-sensitivetypes,

sticklersfor

protocol.T

hey'reso

fondoflittle

giftsthey

thinkeverything

thatlandsin

theiroffice

isone.

And

areport,

ifit's

tobe

an'offering,'

mustbe

perfumed,

neatlyw

rapped,and

tiedup

with

aribbon.

And

whatdo

youdo,Serdj?

You

typeyour

blah-blahon

flimsy

paperthat's

unpleasantto

thetouch

andleaves

athin

filmon

yourfingers.T

hat'snot

clever.The

directorw

illinterpret

itasa

lackofrespect.

Do

youw

anttobe

labeleda

reactionary?""N

o,Superintendent."

"Then

takeyour

draftand

tryto

retypeit

onthe

rightkind

ofpaper.';

"Yes,Superintendent."

He

gathersup

hispaperwork

andstands

upstoically.

Justasheteaches

thedoor,Isay

tohirn

,"Findsorne

top­quality

'extrastrong'

paper,pure

white,

with

razor-sharpcreases..ju

stin

casethe

bigcheese

decides.tow

ipehis

assw

ithit."

He

nodsanddisappears,

furtiveasa

shadow.

Inthe

cubiclenext

door,my

secretary,Baya,ispurring

likethe

catthatgot

thecream

.Ican

visualizehersquirm

inglike

am

aggot,with

thetelephone

jamm

edbetw

eenhershoulder

andher

chin.The

guyon

theline

hasprobablyheard

itallbefore.A

virginat

thirty-five,B

ayahas

givenup

onsuitors

andseem

sto

begetting

byon

telephonesex

more

andm

ore.N

aturally,to

saveface,she

letsitbe

understoodthatit's

herchoice

notto

betied

down,

inthe

firstplace

becauseher

independenceisim

portantto

her,andthen,m

ainly,becauseshe

findsithum

iliatingfora

wom

anto

playthe

partofasock

everynight

incase

monsieur

decidesto

takehis

pleasurein

her.W

hateverthe

reason,every

time

thetelephone

rings,B

ayatouchesup

herm

ake-upbefore

answering.

Ifit'sthe

sexm

aniacon

theline,herm

oanssoon

merge

with

thecreaking

ofher

chairand

thesilky

rustlingofher

robe.T

heconversation

goeson

forever.W

hilew

aitingforthe

sexm

aniacto

losehis

hard-on,she

forgetsto

bringm

eletters

tosign.

My

patienceatan

end,I

ringfor

her.B

ayatakesher

time

beforeappearing

with

hernotebook,

backstraight

andnose

inthe

air,stepsm

easuredto

thenearest

rnillimerer,w

alkinglike

anair

hostessadvertising

theserious­

nessofher

airline."Y

oucalled,

Superintendent?""I

certainlydid!"

Shesin

iles."I'm

listening,Superintendent."

14

Dead

Man's

Share

His

headsags.

Isinkfurther

intom

ychair,pull

thefile

overtow

ardm

eand

leafthroughthe

report.Serdj

noticesm

egrim

acing."Is

therea

problem,

Superintendent?"

15

a

.'

..._____.

·-

1716

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhaâra

Shehasput

toomuch

crimson

onherlips,w

hichgivesher

mouth

anobscene

shape;and

herhair,w

hichwas

raven-blackyesterday,

isnow

dyedplatinum

blonde."W

hatan

inflammatory

look!"Iexclaim

."D

on'tpay

anyattention

torne

,Superintendent,"

shecoos,

swinging

herhips.

Then,

lookinginto

myeyes,

"You

reallythink

so?""W

iththat

lookitwon't

belong

beforeHeadquarters

is

onfire."She

hasto

clenchher

buttocksto

containherself.

Baya

usedto

bepretty.

Shedressed

simply

anddid

herbest

tobe

discreet.In

thosedays,

"men"

hadaweakness

fordiscreet

wom

en.They

were

probablywell-brought-up

girls,and

thereforebred

tothe

estateofbeast

ofburden,which,

inasociety

thattraditionally

owned

slaves,was

ashrew

dinvest­

ment.

Then

thementality

changed.Today,emancipated

girlsare

preferred,girlswho

canshout

with

laughterand

swing

theirhips

enoughto

challengeboth

taboosand

rivals.In

Algiers,

noone

believesinliving

within

himself

anymore.It's

toomuch

likecolonialtim

es.Ostentation

isinfashion.Since

peopleare

onlyworth

whatthey

exciteinothers,everyone

doeshis

bestnot

topassunnoticed,

evento

thepointofstripping

offinthe

heartofa

mosque.B

ayajoinsin

thegam

ewillingly.N

owthat

sheismore

orless

sureto

endup

aspinster,she

triesto

saveface

bychanging

herlook

accordingto

theorder

ofthe

day."W

hat'son

theschedule

today?"She

goesback

tobeing

seriousand

pullsher

dressdow

nover

herknees.

Butthe

slitisso

deepthat

evenamole

couldmake

outthe

patternon

herpetticoat.

"SyAbbas

hascancelled

hisappointm

ent,Superintendent.I-le

asksyou

toexcuse

himand

promises

tocontinue

yourdiscussion

assoon

aspossible,"

shereads

outof

hercalendar,

punctiliously."Inspector

Redouane

arrivedathisdestination

without

anyproblem

s.He'll

beback

attheend

oftheweek....

Your

wifeasks

younot

toforget

togo

andpick

herup

atsixo'clock

...and,finally,Irem

indyou

thatyouhave

anappoint­

ment

with

ProfessorAllouche

ateleveno'clock."

Ilookatm

ywatch.

"What

timeis

it?""T

wenty

pastnine,

Superintendent.""A

sadvertized

by1ny

watch.

Lino

seemsto

thinktoday

isapublic

holiday."Baya

clapsherhand

toher

forehead."It'smyfault.

Iforgotto

tellyouthat

thelieutenant

calledin

thismorning.H

esays

he'ssick.

Astinking

cold."Igrit

myteeth.

"Ifhe

callsagain,

tellhim

tobring

ina

doctor'scertificate

when

hecom

esback.

Heand

hisconstant

feversarebeginning

toget

onmynerves.

Ihope

hehasn't

keptthe

car."Baya

looksdow

nin

confusion."T

heson

ofabitch!

How

amIsupposed

toget

around?MyZastava's

beenat

themechanic's

forthree

days.""T

akeInspector

Serdj'scar,"

shesuggests.

Baya

hasalways

hadabit

ofasoft

spotforLino.A

naffec­

tionthatissom

etimesfriendly

andsom

etimes,

when

myback

isturned,

daring.rforgive

herbecause

itfosters

teamspirit.

But

ifthis

solidarityisgoing

toturn

intocom

plicityat

theexpense

of1ny

authority,then

I'mno

longerin

favor.That's

why

Ipoint

outto

my

secretarythat

herdress

ismissing

abutton

atthe

neckline,to

showher

shewould

dowellto

paysom

.eattention

toherprivate

gardeninstead

oftryingto

courtan

embittered

oldgarden

er.***

--

---

----

--

--

~~

.~

~

18

Dead

Man's

ShareYasmina

Khadra

Professor

Allouche

isan

eminent

psychoanalyst.Frantz

Fanonw

asa

friendof

his.B

utw

hatcan

aneducated

man

doin

arevolutionary

countryw

herecharism

asw

earsenm

ityto

talent,w

heregenius

isoutlaw

ed?H

eisthe

authorof

alarge

number

ofbooks,allpublished

inFrance,

forw

antof

interestin

hisow

ncountry

(atthe

time-as

indeedtoday,

andno

doubttom

orrow-

the"elite"

ofthe

seraglioconscientiously

made

surethat

theaverage

Algerians

row

askept

atthe

same

levelas

thatof

hiskeepers,

which

isto

saysom

ewhere

aroundthe

crotch),and

assuch

hehas

hadno

endof

harassment

fromthe

authorities,w

hosaw

subversivem

aneuveringsin

hisscientific

works.

Itis,after

all,difficult

toexplain

toadonkey

trainerthata

bookisnot

nec­essarily

aninstrum

entof

counter-revolution;nevertheless,

inan

Algeria

peopledw

ithsnake-oil

salesmen,

anexcess

ofzeal

was

seenas

thebest

outward

signof

vigilance,and

aninsult

asthe

descantto

everyoath;

itwas

always

comforting

tosit

invillas

ofquestionable

provenanceand

hearthe

soundofboots

echoingin

theunderground

jails.Like

allpeopleofgood

will

handedover

tothe

tenderm

erciesof

abunch

ofm

essianicthugs,

ProfessorA

llouchew

assubjected

toseveral

abductions,im

prisonments,

harassments

andsim

ulatedexecutions,

andw

aseven

forcedinto

exile.H

issojourn

inEurope,

eventhough

itbrought

himw

orldwide

recognitionand

earnedhim

count­less

honors,didn't

goto

hishead.

Ifno

man

isa

prophetin

hisow

ncountry,

noinan

ism

asterin

another'seither.

Our

eminent

savantquickly

realizedthatthe

respectofhis

western

colleaguesw

asajuicy

trap,that

theprizes

hew

asaw

ardedleftan

aftertasteof

payment

againstfuture

favors,andthat

hisscholarly

work

tookon

politicalovertones

thelonger

hespent

hangingabout

inN

GO

S'editorial

officesor

seminar

rooms

insteadof

universitylecture

theatres.N

oone

applaudedhis

researchany

more;

peoplesaluted

hispronouncem

entsagainst

thedictatorship

flourishingin

hiscountry.

The

peoplew

hocam

eto

listento

himhad

brutishfeatures

andleft

atrail

ofdocum

entsw

ithofficial

sealsin

theirw

akes.ln

short,he

was

beingm

anipulated,like

acom

mon-or-garden

puppet.This

affectedhim

greatly.Intellectual

honestyor

thegestures

ofa

politician,sw

indlednation

orw

ell-stockedw

allet:the

ques­tion

hadto

beresolved

definitivelyand

precisely.Sitting

onthe

fencew

asnot

anoption,

especiallyw

henyou

hadspent

thebest

partof

yourlife

gettingshafted.

There

were

nohalf

measures

fortheprofessor.H

erendered

untoClovis

thatwhich

belongedto

Gaul

and,like

thesalm

onthat

will

neversuffer

theintoxication

ofthe

ocean,he

came

backto

comm

unew

iththe

riverof

hisbirth,

where

thepebbles

lackthe

majesty

ofcoral

butthe

reedscan

hintat

nobilityeven

among

stragglyoleanders.

He

taughtat

theuniversity

rightup

tothe

dayknow

ledgew

asthrow

non

thescrapheap.

Credits

beganto

betraded

onstrictly

pornographicterm

s,while

degreescam

eby

\.vayof

thelove

hotel.H

orrified,Professor

Allouche

triedto

salvagesom

esticks

offurniture

fromthe

wreckage,

butthis

greatlydispleased

hiscolleagues,

who

balkedatjum

pingtheir

studentson

thebare

floor....Tosum

up,theage

ofgangrenew

astaking

overfrom

thatofthe

computer.

Somew

here,in

ahigh

place,the

firstm

arkersw

erebeing

laidout

forthe

"drift"that

ProfessorA

llouchedenounced

ina

Frenchnew

spaper.R

esult:six

months

inprison

forassociation

with

theform

eroccupant.W

henhe

came

outofjail,

theprofessor

was

nolonger

infull

possessionof

hisfaculties.

He

was

"transferred"to

theasylum

andthere

forgotten.N

owadays,

ProfessorA

llouchedoesn't

reallyknow

whether

heisstill

underobservation

orbeing

consulted.H

ehas

anoffice

19

a

-·

20

Dead

Man's

ShareYasmina

Khaâra

atone

endof

asqualid

hut,with

aroom

onthe

floorabove,

andhe

dedicateshim

selfcompletely

tohis

patients,anyother

activitybeing

risky,ifnot

more

orless

suicidal.Ifind

himwaiting

forme

inthe

parkinglot

ofthe

psy­chiatric

ward,

hishandsbehind

hisback

andhis

headlost

inworries.H

iswhite

coatlendsaghostly

airto

hislanky

frame.

He

isso

tall,perched

onhis

wading-bird

legs,that

hisback

isbeginning

toslope

more

andmore

alarmingly.

His

wispy

hairfloats

abouthis

headlike

apuff

ofsm

oke.Helooks

likeaphantom

emerging

fromthe

mist,A

ndkeeping

histroubles

tohim

selfis

awaste

oftim

e:his

distressis

soblatant

itmakes

hisreticence

absurd."O

nemore

minute

andI'd

havecaughtsunstroke,"

hesays.

"Bad

news,for

ahothead."

Hew

ipesthe

sweat

fromhisbrow

with

afinger

andflicks

itaway,then

liftshis

thumb

upto

thesun,w

hichis

bleedingthe

skywhite.

"You'd

thinkitw

asJuly.""T

hefifth

orthe

fourteenth?"*"I'm

talkingabout

thetim

eofyear."

"Ah

...."Hesquints

oneeye

at111eand

looksat

meside-on.

"Well,

aren'tyou

inabad

mood."

"It'sin

mynature."

"Am

Ito

understandthat

you'renot

delightedto

seem

eagain?"

"On

thecontrary.

Ifeellessoutofplace

inan

asylumthan

anywhere

else.""In

thatcase,

I'dbe

gladto

putyou

up."Iopen

myjacket

toshow

thestrap

ofmyshoulder-holster.

"I'vealready

gotastraitjacket."

He

smiles

atlast,

andoffersm

eahand

thatis

soclean

Ihesitate

totake

it.He

asksme

tofollow

hirn,Having

learnednever

toturn

myback

onan

enemy,

Ilethim

goahead

ofme,even

thoughthe

professorisnoton

myblacklist.H

eshrugs

andleads

on,the

backof

hisneck

brightred,

hissteps

slowin

theintense

heat.The

asylumis

vast,like

anem

ptybuilding

site.A

goodplace

togo

roundthe

bend.Anold

man

ispickinghis

nosein

theshade

ofatree.T

hereis

decayin

alldirections.Unsavory­

lookinghuts,m

ournfulastom

bs,try

tom

akethem

selvesvisible

amid

theram

pantvegetation.Their

padlockeddoorsare

shock­ing,

thebars

ontheir

window

sdistressing.

Notw

ithstandingthe

unrulinessof

theirtenants,

theyseem

uninhabited.H

ere,society's

rejectedbeings

goto

groundand

wait

tobe

buried.Ican

imagine

them.behind

thebars,

theireyes

elsewhere

andtheir

handsgrasping

atshadows,

keepingw

atch,betw

eentw

oover-generous

dosesof

sedatives,for

thisgravedigger

who

thinksit's

beneathhim

todig

themahole.

Ihave

always

beenillat

easein

cemeteries,

butalunatic

asylumgrieves

memore

thanacharnel

house.There's

nohell

worse

thanam

orguehaunted

bythe

living."T

hey'reunpredictable,

notwicked,"

saysthe

professor,as

ifreading

my

thoughts."Som

eof

themw

eresuccessful

*5July:A

lgeria'sIndependenceDay;

14July:

France'sBastille

Day.

."

executives."Som

etimes,

tobe

mad

isto

betoo

gifted.""D

oyou

remem

berChérifW

adah?""T

heAfrican

Che

Guevara?"

"Well,

he'shere;

himtoo."

"Idon't

believeit!"

"It'strue,

Iprom

iseyou.

He

hada

fewdisagreem

entsw

iththe

revolutionaryFam

ily.Questions

ofprinciple.

They

ostracizedhirn,

thenthey

startedpersecuting

hisfam

ily,One

21

-~-

-

·~~-~~

~~

·-·

'_..,_

2322

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhadra

morning,

heleft

hishouse

andcouldn't

findhis

way

backagain.H

ew

asfoundnear

Staoueli,dressed

inragsand

with

aclub

inhis

hand,cursingboth

godsand

men

atthetop

ofhislungs.H

edoesn't

remem

beranyone.H

isw

ifeand

kidscorne

andvisithim

.He

refusestosee

them.Som

etimes

hegoes

fordays

without

sayinga

word.

Other

times,

helaunches

intoincom

prehensiblediatribes

untilhe

passesout."

"That's

sosad."

"Can

youim

agine;an

iconlike

him."

"Algiers

doesn'tbelieve

inheroes,

Professor.She

prefers

"He's

proclaimed

himself

theking

ofthe

bigcats,"

theprofessor

explains."E

veryday,

atexactly

eleventhirty,

hecom

esand

marks

outhisterritory."

"He's

right.""C

offee?""N

othanks."

"Teathen?"

"An1

Ihere

asafriend

orin

1nyprofessional

capacity?""B

oth."

"m

artyrs.H

estops

andraises

hisindex

fingerto

showhisagreem

ent."I

hopeyou

haven'tcalledm

ein

tom

essw

ithrrry

mind,"

Iadd."I'vegotkids;

itwould

betedious

ifIcouldn'trem

em­

berthem

."H

enods.

We

enterasm

allgraveledcourtyard

oppositea

grimbuild­

ing.Am

anis

sittingcross-legged

atthe

entrance,w

earinga

paperhatlike

acircum

flexaccent

onhis

head.When

hesees

us,hesits

up,joinshis

handsbeneath

hischin

andsalutes

uslike

aB

uddhistmonk.

The

professor'soffice

would

fitina

pockethandkerchief.

It'snot

much

biggerthan

acloset,and

itreminds

me

ofthoseobscure

littleroom

sin

thebasem

entsofpolice

stationsw

here

yougrillthe

hardnuts.A

formica

table,aw

orn-outarmchair,a

metal

chairand,

onthe

wall,a

child'spicture

ofadog

with

two

heads.At

theback,

ona

shelf,anold

taperecorder

ofRussian

manufacture,

grotesquew

ithits

hugereels

andcardboard

lid.T

hecurtainless

window

looksoutovera

crackedirrigation

tank.In

thedistance,

afeeble-m

indedinm

atebelieves

heis

afountain.

With

histrousers

aroundhis

ankles,he

isurinating

while

rotatingon

thespot.

"Inthat

case,a

glassofw

aterw

illbefine."

The

professortakes

n1yorder

butdoesn't

ringforanyone.

Iunderstandthat

hisbudgetislim

itedand

thatthecustom

aryniceties

arepurely

symbolic.

Besides,

there'sno

cupor

jugto

beseen

anywhere,

noteven

anashtray.A

partfrom

afew

crumpled

sheetsof

paper,a

prescriptionand

anunused

exitperm

it,the

placew

ouldpass

foranirreproachably

cleanurinal.

"Here,"

hesays,

openinga

filein

frontofrne

andtaking

outaphotograph

ofanapparently

ratherwell-bred

youngm

an.H

eim

mediately

settlesdow

nin

hisarm

chairand

foldshisarm

sacross

hischest,like

am

anw

hohasfinished

hispresentation.

First,Ifiddle

with

thepicture.

On

theback,

aleaky

penhas

addeda

date,aserial

number

andsom

enotes.

Ifishout

afew

slipsofpaperfrom

thefile.T

hereare

reportson

consulta­tions,recom

mendations

addressedto

thegovernor

ofaprison,

anidentifying

coversheet-

allirreconcilable

with

theheat

burningup

my

skull."I

supposeit's

upto

me

tow

orkout

what

thehell

thisis

about.""N

otnecessarily."

Outside,

thepatient

hasfinished

urinating.Now

heisfac­

ingthe

window

anddisplaying

hissexas

anotherm

anm

ightdisplay

asw

ord.

i~

_--_-

s.~~

~~

---=--=---

~~

24

Deadli/Ian's

ShareYasm

inaKhaâra

The

professorrevertstohisprevious,

more

cheerful,mood,

restshiselbow

son

thetable

andconsents

toexplain:

"Nobody

knowswhere

he'sfrom

.One

morning,he

woke

upand

he'dcom

pletelylost

it.Everything

between

suckinghis

thumb

andlosing

hischerry

wasacom

pleteblank.

Nonam

e,no

relatives,no

address.Wethought

itwasamnesia:the

man

hasthe

memory

ofanelephant.W

ethought

he'dgone

mad:the

patientturns

outtobe

ascleverasaconjurar.

Sowhat's

goingon?

Nobody

cancom

eup

with

atheory.

One

evening,our

frienddecided

tohand

himself

into

thecops.

Atthat

time,

which

istosay

more

thanten

yearsago,

hewasquite

hand­som

e,just

overtwenty

yearsold,

anintelligent

lookabout

him.A

ssoon

astheybrought

himtome,

Isaidtomyselfthat

thisman

wasfrom

agood

family.V

eryclassy,very

smooth.

Abit

toomuch

so.Butplausible.

Auniversity

graduate?We

looked,but

wedidn't

find.Ayoung

executive?Welooked,

butwedidn't

find.Onthe

report,wewrote

anote:

Refuses

toreveal

hisidentity.Later

on,wewrote

SNP.*

Hedidn't

object.What

doeshewant?

Tobe

lockedup

inafortress

sothat

hedoesn't

commit

anyrnore

atrocities.Hestates

thathehaskilled

alot

ofpeople,

buthedoesn't

remember

where

heburied

orleft

thebodies.

Hisfirst

victimswere

t\"10old

peoplethat

hedidn't

knowfrom

Adam

andEve.H

iscar

hadbroken

downatthe

entrancetoasmall

village.Itwasdark.

Heknocked

onadoor

andasked

forhelp.They

puthim

upfor

thenight.H

eleftvery

earlythe

nextmorning,

leavingthe

carbehind.A

stolencar.Tw

odays

later,aneighbor

noticedthe

smell

ofdecom

position.The

policefound

theold

coupleinthe

outhouse.This

wasin

1970....

Twomonths

later,he'shitch

-hikingon

arem

oteroad.

Twomonths

afterthat,

a

forestrangerfinds

avan

hiddenunder

atree

inthe

woods.

Inside,the

corpseofalivestock

dealer.Then,

oneevening,

hegoes

tothe

nearestpolice

stationand

giveshimself

up.He

confesses

toseven

murders.

Then

ten,and

thentwenty-odd.

Apartfrom

theold

coupleand

thelivestock

dealer,no

detailsofhis

othervictim

s."The

rnaninthe

photosuddenly

seemsto

snicker.Ihur­

riedlycover

itupwith

afolder.

"Ifyou'vebrought

mehere

thinkingyou're

goingtoimpress

me,you're

mistaken,"

Iwarn

him."I've

gotfar

more

fright­ening

filesatthe

backofmydesk

drawer.

Serialkillers

we

don'ttalk

aboutbecausewedon't

want

toinconvenience

ourzaim

s"but

ourtaboos

don'tmake

themproliferate

anymore

slowlyormake

chemany

lessofanuisance.

I'veseen

many

gothrough

ourprem

ises.Each

onemore

unhingedthan

thelast.

I'veeven

hadconversations

with

someofthem

;asaresult,

Ihave

nightmares

everyother

night.""This

one'sdifferent!"

The

professorisshouting.

Hisfist

hasstruck

thetable.

Wh.atIread

inhis

eyestellsmeIshould

calmthings

down.I

drawhim

intoadiscussion:

"What's

thisallabout,

exactly?"Herelaxes

hisfist,

slipsitunder

thetable

andrubs

itdiscreetly.

After

aconsiderable

while,he

confesses,hoarsely,

"The

shockof111yprofessional

life.""Isuppose

that'smeant

toterrify

metoo."

"Certainly."

"Isitthe

storythat's

strange,or

isitjust

youshitting

yourself?""Both."

"And

ourfriend?"

*SN

P(sansnom

patronymique):

nofam

ilynam

e.Theseinitials

were

usedtoidentify

orphansofthe

warofindependence

inche1960s.

*Zaim

:originallyaTurkish

chiefheading

amounted

militia

alsocalled

azaïm

.Byextension,aleader.

25

2726

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhadra

"Hekeeps

meawake

atnight.""Doyou

thinkheenjoys

it?""Ifhedoes,

hehides

itwell."

Iexamine

myfingernails,

tolook

likeamanwhoiscon­

sideringthe

matter

seriously,and

continuethe

discussion."W

hereishenow

?""In

prison.""Andwhere

doIcom

ein?"

Theprofessor

wrings

hishands

toshow

hisdiscom

fort.Hegets

upand

switches

onthe

taperecorder.

"Listentothis

forme,B

rahim."

Thereels

creak.Suddenly,acavernous

voiceechoes

aroundthe

room:

"Thewheel

hascom

efullcircle.

Here

Iam,back

atsquareone.

Ishouldhave

known.T

herewasnothing

forit,

Ihadto

move

around.That's

beenobvious

sincethe

beginning.The

fellagha*whobutchered

myfam

ilywanted

toprove

something

tome,that's

forsure.

What

exactly?Hedidn't

know.He

couldn'tofferm

eany

explanation.Having

aparticular

reasontokill

isn'tnecessarilyenough

tojustify

murder.Ishould

haveheeded

mychildish

inertia;ifIdidn't

understandthe

signifi­cance

ofthehorror

thatwashappening

tome,perhaps

itwas

becausethere

wasnothing

toexplain.

Tooeasy.I

absolutelyhad

tounderstand.

Tohave

aclear

conscience,togoback

toanorm

allife?Canyou

regainyour

zestforlife

afterwitness­

ingthe

massacre

ofyour

family?

Maybe.

Itwasn't

for1ne.

Something

wasn't

right.So

Idecidedtosee

thingsclearly.

Iwanted

tounderstand.

Now

Ido.

It'sbeen

longand

hellish,but

I'vemade

it:Iunderstands!"

Theprofessor:

''Andwhat

doyou

understand?''

The

cavernousvoice:

"That

therewasnothing

tounder­

stand.Nothing....

Allthose

killingswerejust

somany

redherrings.

I'dbeen

had.Iwasw

earingmyself

outtrying

tofind

theansw

ertoaquestion

thatdidn't

evenneed

tobe

asked.Whydopeople

kill?When

youkill,you

don'task

questions;you

act.Action

becomesthe

onlyexpression.

Thekilling

beginsatthe

pointwhere

younolonger

expectanexplana­

tion.Otherw

ise,you'd

dowithout.

Don't

youthink?

You

killsoasnot

totrytounderstand.

It'saproduct

offailure,

asigned

abdication.Murder

isthe

killer'sinability

toreason,

thepoint

where

amanrediscovers

hisatavistic

reflex,where

hestops

beingathinking

entity.The

wolfkills

byinstinct.

Mankills

asavocation.

However

many

possiblemotives

heprofesses,he

won'tjustify

hisaction.

Lifeisn'twithin

hissphere

ofresponsibility,

sohow

doeshe

daretodispose

ofitashe

seesfit?

Hisdecision

isn'tbased

onany

admissible

argument;

it'sborn

ofhis

insignificance.Anyone

whodoesn't

respectthe

livesofothers

hasn'tunderstood

hisown.Nothing.

Fromnothingness

tonothingness,

fromthe

opaquetothe

shad­owy,helooks

forhim

selfand

can'tfind

himself

Don't

we

say,'Silence!There's

killingtobedone'?

Whyask

forsilence

when

theuniverse

isabout

toecho

with

intolerablehow

ls?I've

oftenthought

Ihad

thepow

erofthe

gods,tothe

pointthat

Iwasconvinced

Iwasthemaster

of1nyvictim

s'destiny.The

result?Thevictim

dies,and

everythingdeparts

fromme.I'd

findmyself

asalone

inthe

world

asHeaven

onthe

dayafter

theapocalypse

....What

goodhas

thisdone

me,ultirnarely?

EvenifI've

understood,where

haveIgot

to?Precisely

backtowhere

itallstarted.Somuch

waste,

suchadisaster.

I'1nmy

ownfailure

incarnate.I'n1notw

orthanv

more

thanthe

bod-,

*Fellagha:partisan

whofought

forindependence

fromFrance,

especiallybetw

een1954

and1962.

iesthat

havepaved

myway.A

complete

nobody,amurderer

who,

havinglost

hisbearings,

will

soonlose

hissoul,

that's

',}

----....__--=--'.::....._

2928

Dead

¡\fan'sShare

YasminaKltadra

where

I'vegot

to.Idespise

myself,

nowthat

there'snothing

tohold

meback.

Idon'texistany

more.I'm

adead

rat,apieceofrotting

garbage.I'n1the

abyssthat'ssucking

medow

nand

tearingmeapartatthe

sametim

e."Theprofessor

stopsthe

taperecorder

andsits

downagain.

Heclasps

hischin

inhishands

again."Hesaid

thatafter

hisfirst

staybehind

bars.Theprison

authoritieshanded

himover

torne

tosee

whether

hehad

recoveredhismemory

andwhether

hehad

calmeddow

n.Itsee1ns

hehad

suddenlystopped

wreaking

havoc.""Youdidn't

agree?""No."

"Washeraving?"

"Inasense."

"Didyou

sendhim

backtojail?"

"Not

achance.

Heinterested

me.Hespent

sevenyears

inn1y

asylum.Every

timeIthought

Iwaswithin

aninch

ofunderstanding

hispersonality,

hewould

manage

toretreat

behindanother,

more

complex,

more

terrifyingone....Listen

tothis

onetoo.T

heseare

hiswords,three

yearsaftertheones

you'vejust

heard."Thereels

startup

againand

thevoice,

clearthis

time,

..

gnpsusagain:

"Doyou

knowwhyGoddoesn't

letangels

anddem

onskill

eachother?

Because

iftheydeclare

waroneach

otherhe

won't

beable

totell

which

sideiswhich

ortell

themapart.

Once

hatredhas

takenupresidence

somewhere,

everythingisdernonized,thejust

aswellas

thebase.W

arisn'tagam

eof

chess.It'scheckm

ate.Amomentthatcan

neverbeunderstood

bypeople

livinginpeacetim

e.It's

allvery

finetocondem

nviolence

frombehind

aMartini

orfrom

thedepths

ofacom

­fortable

livingroom

.Butwhat

dowereally

knowabout

it?

Nothing.

Wecan

becomeindignant,

wecan

protest,wecan

holdour

headsinour

hands-the

hellwecan!

Violence

hasitsownlogic.

It'sjustasrational

asdesertion.

lthasitsvalues

andeven

itsownmorality;

valuesthat

havenothing

todowith

conventionalvalues,

andamorality

thatdoesn'tconform

atalltoMorality,butw

hichare

nonethelessvaluable

andconstant.

Atthe

verymoment

thatthe

desiretokill

becomesthe

onlyroute

tosalvation,

thewildest

animalswillbeat

aretreat

intheface

ofman's

savagery.Because,

ofall

thehydra-headed

monsters,

man

isthe

onlyone

thatknow

show

tocross

theline

intoanim

alismwhile

remaining

lucid.There

isnothing

more

monstrous

thanhum

anrage.

It'sperfectly

aware

ofits

ignominious

nature,which

makes

itmore

horrifyingthan

thesuffering

itinflicts.

It'scalled

barbarism,which

isto

saysom

ethingneither

hyenasnorogres

arecapable

ofimagining,

letalonecarrying

out.Andyou

ask111ewhythemouth,

which

usedtokiss,suddenly

startsbiting;and

whythehand,

which

usedtocaress,

startsdestroying?

It'sprecisely

becauseIdon't

knowthe

answerthat

Ikill.Ikilltounderstand.

And

I'llgo

onkilling

aslongasIdon't

understandwhat

pushesahum

anbeing

toexcel

inthe

artoflavishing

themost

excruciatingtorm

entsonhis

fellowmen.

I'dlike

toknow,

knowwhatpre­

ventsamanfrom

resistingthe

demands

ofhismadn

ess,howhen1anages

tobring

ittolife

soadm

irably."Theprofessor

switches

offthetape

recorderand

staresinto

myeyes.

Hesees

veryquickly

thatI'm

notfollow

ing,purseshislips

andsitsback

inhis

chair."After

that,Iwasafraid

tokeep

him.Mypatients

weren't

safeany

more,

and1nywarders

weren't

uptoguarding

him.

Ihanded

himback

tothe

penalauthorities....

Inprison,

heisolates

himself

Completely.

Notaword

formonths

onend.

Then,one

morning,

theyhand

himback

tome,A

ndIdiscover

aD

eadl'vlan's

ShareYasmina

Khaâra

astranger.

Asaint

filledw

ithfervent

piety,hands

pressedtogether

beneathhis

chin,kneeling

irifrontof

theskylight,

prayingto

thepoint

ofexhaustion.Frantz

Fanonhim

selfw

ouldhave

handedin

hisnotice."

«Had

hedescended

intoIslam

ism?"

"I-ledoesn't

knoww

hatitis."

"Could

somebody

haveindoctrinated

him?"

"Itellyou

thisis

nothingto

dow

iththe

Islamist

move­

ment.

His

isan

exceptionalcase."

"Do

youhave

atheory?"

"I'vehad

several.R

ightnow

,I'1n

freshout.

My

trapsare

child'splay

toSN

P,now

orsethan

slipknots."

"And

thenw

hat?""B

ackto

prison.Five

yearsof

piety.D

ocile.But

taci­turn.

Clean.

Alw

aysperforming

hisablutions....H

e'sgot

me

completely

turnedupside-dow

n,Itellyou.

The

mom

enthe's

standingin

frontofme,m

yguts

turnto

water....T

hatm

an,"he

adds,gatheringup

thefile,"is

convincedthathe

came

intothe

world

justto

make

hisfellowm

ensuffer."

"Istilldon't

seew

hatyou

expectfrom

me."

"Isuggest

youstart

drinkingtw

oliters

ofcoffeea

day.Because

youw

on'tw

antto

closeyour

eyesfromnow

on.Our

friendhas

beengranted

apresidential

pardon.H

e'llbe

freeon

thefirst

ofN

ovember,

When

Iheard

thenew

s,I

gotin

touchw

iththe

governorof

theprison

imm

ediately.The

111.antold

me

thatthe

listhad

beendraw

nup

bya

comm

itteeof

experts,w

hichhad

declaredthat

thesubject

couldbe

freed.Iw

roteto

thecom

mittee

inquestion.

Igot

theM

inistryof

Justiceinvolved.

The

comm

itteeis

completely

independent,they

toldm

e.Ialertedthe

Ministry

oftheInterior.N

othing.I

evenin

formed

thepress.

Aw

oman

journalistcam

eto

see

me.N

ofollow

-up,Titne

passes,and

SNP

isalready

dream­

ingabout

hisnext

victims.

That'sw

hyIcalled

you,Brahirn

.""IfI

understandcorrectly,I'm

supposedto

goto

thepresi­

dentand

askhim

torevoke

hisdecree?"

"It'svery

serious,B

rahim."

"What

canalow

lycop

likem

edo

onceapresidential

decreehas

beensigned,Professor;

when

them

inistersresponsible

won't

liftafinger;

when

thew

holew

orlddoesn'tgive

adam

n?Pick

himup

ashe

leavesthe

prison,book

himforsom

ethingand

throwhim

backin

theslam

mer?

Idon't

seehow

Icanstand

inthe

way

ofso1neonew

ho'sbeen

rehabilitatedby

justice.""W

atchhim

.""W

ithw

hat?For

howlong?

Inw

hosenam

e?H

onestly,Professor,

doyou

thinkit's

worth

it?""Because

Itellyouhe'll

startup

again.""D

oyou

haveany

evidence?""I'm

apsychiatrist,

forcrying

outloud.

This

man

ism

ypatient.

He's

extremely

dangerous.""D

idhe

make

troublein

theslam

mer?"

"Ahaw

kin

acage

isno

betterthan

acrippled

sparrow.

SNP

isclever.

He's

waiting

forhis

prey.Once

he'sbreathing

freeair,he'll

gorgehim

selfH

e'sapredator.

Hetakespleasure

inhovering

overthe

flocklike

abad

ornen,choosing

hisprey,preferably

without

anyselection

criteria,and

swooping

down

onit.Y

ouhave

tohear

himdescribe

howhe

decided,on

thespur

ofthem

oment,justlike

that,howthe

man

onthe

road,the

childor

theold

peasantw

oman

hem

etby

chanceat

thecorner

ofapath,had

todisappear.N

otbecause

theyhad

sorne

sortofdeplorable

attitude,butjustbecause

hehad

decidedthat

thatw

asthe

way

thingsstood.

His

happiness,all

hishappi­

ness,liesin

catchingthe

world

offguard,w

ithoutthe

slightest

3031

32

CHAPTER

THREE

Yasmina

Khadra

motive,

merely

sothat

hecan

beaw

areofhis

utterfreedo1n,thekind

offreedom

thatputs

himbeyond

thereach

ofthe

most

basicdoubt.

It'saunique

case,the

most

seriousand

themost

worrying

Ihave

everhad

tostudy,B

rahim."

SoIleft

ProfessorAllouche

with

afew

butterfliesinmy

stomach.

Ifeelcolddespite

theheat,and

Iamgoing

numb

fromhead

tofoot.Idrive

allthewaytoBen

Aknoun

inthird

gear,with

theaccelerator

pressedtothe

floor.Atno

pointdo

Inotice

theshrill

screaming

ofthe

valves.Idon't

haveany

particularreason

toget

myself

intosuch

astate,

andyet

something

isferm

entinginthe

pitofmystom

ach,spreading

itsaftertaste

intothe

backofmythroat.

The

problemisthat

everytim

eaprem

onitionlike

thishits

me,

Icanbe

surethat

misfortune

will

strike.When

Igetback

toHeadquarters,

lbum

pinto

InspectorBliss.

Seeinghim

givesmegoosebum

ps.IfBliss

welcom

esyou

atthe

gatesofParadise,

youcan

besure

thatHell

hastaken

upresidence."Lino

calJed,"heannounces.

"Hewanesthree

days'leave."",'Viet""Hesays

hehas

aproblem

,""Ithought

hewassick."

"Maybe

it'sahealth

problem."

"Idon't

giveadam

n.Iw

anttosee

himtom

orrow,inmy

office."

33

'.

34

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhadra

Blisswrinkles

hissnout

andconfides,

"Idon't

thinkLino

willbeintom

orrow.Lino's

askingperm

issiontobe

awayis

justaprofessional

reflex.He'sbeen

goingwhere

hismind

takeshim

,that's

ifhe's

gotany

left."Hecasually

raisesafinger

tohis

temple,

runsdow

nthe

stepsand

headsforhis

car."Andwhere

areyou

going?""The

bossasked

metotake

careofamatter

ofsom

edelicacy,"

hesays.

"Hiswayoftelling

metopiss

off."Then,

spreadinghis

arms:

"Cestla

vie.Somepeople

work

theirbutts

offtornake

endsmeet,

atthe

riskofelectrocuting

themselves.

And

somemilk

cowswiththeir

gloveson."

"Careful,you

pygmy,som

ecow

shave

onlyone

teat.""Ialways

testthe

groundbefore

Icornrnit

myself."

He

snapshisfingers

suddenly:"In

fact,that

reminds

me.From

nowon,

ifyouneed

me,ask

theboss

first.Heinsists."

Andhevanishes,

likeamalign

geniesum

moned

byaspell.

Thenext

day,firstthing

inthe

morning,

Ifind

Linoin

hisoffice,hunched

self-importantly

oversom

epapers,

editingsom

ething.He'strying

tofoolm

ycunning

Kabyle

braininto

thinkinghe's

working

non-stop,butaglance

atthechaos

sur­rounding

himisenough

tosee

thathe'sabsorbed

inrecopying,

word

forword,

anold

reportthat

wasfound

unacceptable.Naturally,

Linopersists

inthis

sillyplay-acting:

hepokes

outhis

tongueasheform

sthe

capitals,leans

intohis

commas,

scratcheshis

eartoflush

outthe

rightword,

sointent

thathe

nearlyhits

theceiling

when

he"notices"

meinfront

ofhim.

"Isiteight

o'clockalready?"

heexclaim

s,with

astraight

face."AmIto

concludethatyou've

spentallnighton

yourdraft?"

"Youknow

Ileave

nothingtochance

when

itcom

esto

mywork,

Super."

Ilookhitn

upand

down."Ithought

youweredow

nwith

something.""Yes,som

ethingserious.

Iasked

forleave.

Baya

toldme

yourefused.

Okay,so

Ireturnedtomypost.1'1n

nomutineer."

"How

touching."Helooks

down.

"Tidy

upthat

lead-swinging

paperwork

ofyoursand

fol-low

111e.We've

gotwork

todo."

Linostarts.

"Willittake

long?""That

depends.Why?"

''Well,

Super,Ihave

anemergenc-ythis

afternoon.""Idon't

care."Reluctantly,he

putshisjacket

onand

hurriestocatch

me

upinthe

corridor.Once

we're

inthe

car,Iask

him,"Will

youletmehave

therecipe

foryourpotion?"

"What

potion?""Theone

thatcuredyour

stinkingcold

fasterthan

ases­

sionofhypnotherapy."

Hesmiles.

Lino

always

smiles

when

Icatchhim

out.It'sa

nervousreflex.

Ipointmyfinger

athim

.Heraiseshis

handsin

surrender,engages

firstgearand

takesoff

attop

speed.Theprison

atSerkadji

reminds

meofa

timeIprefernot

todwellon.

SoI'll

spareyou

thedetails.

Aghastly

institution,period.

Thejailer-

who

seemstohave

beencreated

bythe

Lordpurely

assupport

foratangled

bunchofkeys-

throws

backseverallatches,

opensthe

grilleand

leadsusdow

naseries

ofgrimcorridors

likeatale

within

atale.

Heisasbig

assin,

tallasthree

innertubes

setatop

oneanother

-his

ugly1nug,

hisbellyand

hisbehind-

threereasons

whyhis

self-important

movem

entsare

wasted

onus.

Every

nowand

then,helooks

backtoseewhether

we're

following

himand

scowlsw

henhe

seesvvehaven't

turnedback.

35

a..

.--

------

~-

36

Dead

Man's

ShareYasmina

Khaâra

Finally,hestops

infrontofam

assivedoor,bangs

onitand

stepsaside

toavoid

beingblow

naw

ayby

avoice

fitto

bringa

shroudedm

umm

yback

tolife.

"Y-e-e-e-e-s?"

The

jailerannounces

us.The

voicecalm

sdow

n,and

we

aregreeted

bya

mam

mal

ofsome

kindbarricaded

behindan

unconstitutionalm

oustache.T

hereare

peoplew

hoinsist

onbelieving

thata

man's

virilitydepends

onthe

strengthof

hishandshake.

Our

hostis

oneof

them,H

isgrip

isintended

tobe

ebullient;mine

israther

sensitive."W

ell?"he

says,briskly.

Inotice

thatthe

onlychair

inthe

roomis

hispadded

leatherthrone.

Ideduce

thatour

friendhas

nom

oreregard

forhis

visitorsthan

hehasforthe

galley-slavesinhiscustody,

who

obviouslyhave

ahardtim

eofitathis

insatiablepleasure.

"Can't

we

relaxsom

ewhere

andhave

alittle

chat?"Iask

him."T

'hisis

ahouse

ofcorrection,

Superintendent,not

ah

"tea-

ouse."A

h."T

akenaback

bythis

reception,Lino's

eyesflick

leftand

rightw

hilehe

digestshis

indignation.T

hegovernor

putshis

handson

hiships

ina

signof

boredom.

"You

want

totalk

to111.eaboutw

hat?""If

you'retoo

busy,we

cancom

eback

anothertim

e.""I'm

always

busy.Let'sget

itoverw

ith.""V

eryw

ell,Kong,"

Imutter,

ahair's

breadthaw

ayfrom

punchinghim

."M

ynam

eisM

r.Boualem

."

"Well,

Mr.B

oualem.I've

heardthatsom

eofyourresidents

may

bereleased

asofth

efirst

ofNovem

ber.""D

oyou

havesom

ethingagainst

thepresident'sdecisions?"

He

istrying

toput

words

inn1y

mouth.

Tow

rong-footm

e.Itakea

deepbreath,take

inspirationfrom

theexplosions

poundingin

1nytem

ples,screw

upm

yeyes

todistill

my

bile,and

confidein

him:"Strictly

between

youand

me,M

r.B

oualern,Idon't

givea

shitaboutthe

president,his

eunuchsor

anyoneelse

who

thinksa

copdoesn't

havethe

rightto

beatup

allthe

littlebastards

who'd

liketo

thinkthey're

theguardians

oftheT

emple."

I-lestepsback,w

hichallow

sm

eto

gainsom

eground.

"True,

you'rethe

master

ofthisparticular

fairgroundark,

butI'm

ananim

alof

adifferentstripe,

andr

hateapprentice

lion-tamers.

Soyou

cankeep

yourover-zealous

actforyour

menagerie,

okay?I'm

hereon

business."T

hegorilla'sbackw

ardstep

was

only,itturnsout,

atactical

retreat,because

henow

turnsit

intoa

run-upand

charges:"T

hehellyou

are!"Lino,standing

besidem

e,isdisoriented.N

otbythe

gorilla'saggression

butby

them

oderationofm

yresponse-

normally,

when

my

yellingis

unpersuasive,Igive

itanescort

ofblows.

But

Lino

isn'tone

tostrain

hisneurons.

He

needsa

diagram.

Ifhe

hadcast

aneye

overthe

fileinstead

ofcopying

outold

reportsto

impress

me,he

would

haveknow

nthatM

r.Boualem

isthe

brother-in-lawof

apoisonous

nabob,"and

thathe

isonly

thegovernor

ofajail

sothat

hecan

followhis

family's

vocation,w

hichis

tobring

recalcitrantsouls

toheel

soas

tohave

cowed

onesat

theirdisposal.

Isay,w

itha

sang-froidI

wasn't

aware

Ipossessed,

"It'sabout

SNP

...."

37

"Again?"

*N

abob:business

leader,mem

berofthe

elite.

\

------~---

~

--~~

~

·-

38

Dead

Man's

ShareYasmina

Khadra

"ProfessorAllouche..."

"Professor

Allouche

isadegenerate.

He's

111ad,he's

offhis

head,he's

hallucinating.A

committee

ofexperts

studiedthe

whole

listofinm

atesproposed

forrelease

bypresidential

pardon,case

bycase.

SNP

was

interviewed,

probed,chal­

lenged,subm

ittedto

variouschem

icaltests,

anddeclared

Fitfor

Release.B

yan

officialcom

mittee,

competent

andcredible,

made

upofem

inentpsychologistsand

respectedofficials.T

hat'sgood

enoughfor

me.A

presidentialdecree

hasbeen

signed,Superintendent.

You're

acivilservant,

surelyyou

understandwhat

adecree

likethat

means."

"Very

well...m

ayone

seethis

man

who

isFitforRelease?"

"Doyou

haveawarrant?"

"Only

acredit

card.""Sorry,

Superintendent.Jailers

don'thave

thesam

eoptions

ascashiers.""I'n1

preparedto

mortgage

my

shirt.Iwon't

belong.

Iwant

tosee

him."

Heshakes

hishead

contemptuously.

"Out

ofthequestion."

And

heturns

hisback

onus.

Linosees

myrage

welling

up.Hegrabs

meby

theelbow

andtries

tosteer

meaw

ayfrom

anirreparable

mistake.

Iallowhim

todo

it.It's

notthat

Ilackthe

desireto

kickthis

boorishlout's

ass,but

Idon't

reallysee

thepoint.

Sometim

esyou

canright

awrong,

butyou

cannever

curewrong-headedness.

It'saquestion

ofmenrality,

"Yes?"

***

"I'vebeen

tryingtoreach

youatyour

officeallday.Y

oursecretary

saidyou

were

out."Iunderstand

thatthis

ishis

way

ofaskingwhether

itwas

downto

me

shakingrny

headatB

aya."She

wasn't

lyingto

you,Professor.

Iwasfrightening

myself,as

yourecom

mended."

His

tonehardens:

"You

went

tosee

theprisoner?"

"The

governorprevented

me."

"Why?"

"My

shirtwasn't

sufficientcollateral."

The

professormutters

something

thatis

coveredby

thesound

offrying,

sniffs,goeson

thinkingaloud

forfive

seconds."Furtherm

ore,"Ireassure

him,"I

hadaword

with

alaw

yerfriend

ofmine.

Helistened

carefullyand

politely,buthe

was

absolutelyclear."

"Meaning?"

"SNP

willbe

setfreein

fivedays."

"What

doyou

mean?"

theprofessor

cries,with

alum

pin

histhroat.

"It'spretty

clear:our

allegedmadm

anwillgo

homeand

leadanorm

allife

again."The

professorspits

outanother

stringof

cursesand

concludeswith

abaffled

sigh,"T

hisis

terrible.They're

making

adreadful

mistake.

Nobody

hasthe

rightto

treatsuch

anexplosive

caselightly.

Why

won't

theylisten

tome?"

ProfessorAllouche

callsmejust

asIamgetting

readyto

goto

bed.Mina

handsmethe

receiverand

disappears.Iw

aituntilshe

hasclosed

thedoor

behindher

beforeIstart

theconversation:

"You

would

havedone

usabig

favorifyou'd

justgiven

himan

injection.""Y

ou'renot

serious.""M

bb

I'.

J"

ayenot,

utm

tired.39

40

CHAPTER

FOUR

Yasmina

Khadra

Aglance

atthe

clockon

thewall

tellsmethat

I'n1ten

secondsaw

ayfrom

passingout.

After

astream

ofindignant

protestations,the

professorinquires,

"What

doyou

intendto

do,Brahim

?""Sleep."

Iam

atthe

endof

thecorridor,

andafter

awhile

Inotice

Linochatting

uphisreflection

inthe

bathroommirror.H

e'sinspecting

himself

fromevery

angle,pressing

downahair

here,checking

thecreases

inhisjacket

there,sofascinated

bythe

Olym

piangeom

etryofhis

profilethat

hedoesn't

noticeme.

Eventually,forfearofbeing

stuckthere

forthe

restofthe

day,Islip

inbehind

himand

cooin

hisear,"M

irrormirror

onthe

wall,

which

Algerian

flatfootisthe

biggestturkey

ofthem

all?"Lino

looksmeup

anddow

n.He's

nothappy

aboutmy

intrusionand

isbeginningto

findmemeddlesom

e."W

hat'syour

problem,Super?"

"You're

theone

with

aproblem

,son."

"Sowhat

businessisitofyours?"

"Let'ssay

Ihave

aninterest."

Hestares

atmein

themirror.

"You

haven'tgot

enoughworries

ofyourow

n,Super?"

"We're

noneof

usalone

inthis

world.

Whether

welike

itornot,

everythingaround

usinvolves

us.""Idon

tfollowyou."

"There's

arum

orgoing

roundthe

town

..."

"Letit,"

heinterrupts

mecoldly."T

hat'swhat

it'sfor."

41

'-·

a

42

Dead

Ai[c111'sShare

YasminaKiiaâra

"Yes,

butit's

draggingyou

alonglike

ascandal."

He

clencheshis

jaw.

He's

readyto

explode.I'm

notintim

idated.Lino

seesclearly

thathe

can'tw

inagainst

111e.Likeagood

subordinate,he

throws

inthe

towel,

stepsaside

soas

notto

stainhis

tieon

my

belt,and

headsfor

theexit.

"Try

notto

forgeteverything

between

thesheets."

He

considersm

yw

ords,then

comes

backand

placesthe

silkof

hisburgundy

shirta

fewcentim

etersfrom

my

thread­bare

jacket."C

anIask

youa

question,Superintendent?"

It'snot

thefirst

time

he'scalled

me

that,butnever

inthis

toneof

voice.Ispread

my

arms:

"Why

not?""W

ouldit

betoo

much

toask

youto

letme

standon

n1.yow

ntw

ofeet?"

"You'd

tripover

yourshoelaces."

He

nods,grounddow

nby

my

abuseofauthority,runs

hishands

throughhis

hair,and

leaves.Lino

isnot

ingood

form.N

ormally,w

henIw

indhim

up,he

givesas

goodas

hegets.

Forthe

lastfewdays,it's

asif

hecan't

bearanyone.

He

comes

inin

them

orningw

ithhis

nosein

theair,

plantshim

selfbehind

hisdesk

andlocks

himself

away

with

histhoughts.

It'snotSunni.

Anotorious

skirt-chaser,Lino

spendsm

ostof

histim

elurking

indubious

alleyways

insearch

ofa

well-padded

andnot

tooexpensive

whore.

Occasionally,

hem

anagesto

flauntone

ofhis

lessdesperate

conquestsin

agrill-room

beforeinvesting

ina

quicksession

upstairsor

atum

blein

thebushes

inthe

forestofB

aïnem.T

henext

day,hespends

them

orningdescribing

hiscoital

prow­

ess,andseem

sproud

ofcausingthe

overexcitedcops

clusteredaround

himto

salivate.It

neverlasts

long.ln

theafternoon,

I

findm

ylieutenant

buriedin

hisfiles

again,conscientious

andm

ethodical,so

worthy

thatIw

ouldw

illinglyentrust

my

own

sisterto

hirnfor

thew

eekend,But

Lino

haschanged.

He

paysm

oreattention

tohis

centerparting

thanto

theconsistency

ofthe

times

inhis

reports.Besides,

he'spractically

neverhere.

We

seehim

rollup

two

hourslate,

riflethrough

hisdraw

ersw

ithouttheslightest

conviction,knock

backacoffeeand,

them

oment

my

backis

turned,puff!

Vanished.

Iwatch

himgo.T

here'ssom

ethingin

hism

annerIdon't

like.Ifhe

thinkshe's

oldenough

tosteer

hisow

nship

where

hepleases,

he'sfree

totake

thew

heelin

hisow

nw

ay,After

all,what

businessisit

ofmine?

It'sjust

that,w

ell,my

instinctsasLino's

Little

BigB

rother,forged

inthe

purestFLN

tradition,tell

me

thatm

yapprentice

helmsm

an'scom

passis

off-kilterand,

ifIdon'tkeep

aclose

eyeon

him,there's

agood

chancehe'll

founderon

hiddenrocks.

My

suspicionbecom

esstronger

when

InspectorBliss

comes

overto

spoilmy

lunchin

theH

eadquarterscanteen.

He

putshis

traydow

non

thetable

andsits

oppositem

ew

ithan

abjectsm

ile."Ihope

I'm.not

disturbingyou?"

"You'd

disturbam

umm

yin

hissarcophagus,"Itellhim

.The

bastardignores

thedisgust

heinspires

inm

e,looks

rightand

left,as

befitsthose

who

always

havesom

eghost

orother

ontheir

tails,andleans

overmy

dessertto

murm

ur,"The

fishisn't

fresh.Isaw

acat

coming

outofthe

kitchenjust

now.

He

wasn't

feelingw

ell.""M

aybehe

didn'tlike

thelook

ofyourface."

He

removes

hisem

eticvisage

fromits

positionover

my

yogurt.The

directorw

orshipshim

,and

heiscapable

ofshow­

inginsufficient

respectto

me,

soI

havehalf

am

indto

sink111y

fistinto

hispathetic

jaw

-Iw

hohave

managed

tokeep

43

44

Dead

Man's

ShareYasmina

Khadra

my

handsclean

despitethe

poolofshit

Istirallday

long.H

isfingers

fiddlew

ithhis

fork,toyingw

itha

pieceof

whiting,

goback

toa

dubious-lookingbone,

thendislodge

anolive

lurkingunder

alettuce

leafI

understandthat

he'schoosing

hisw

ordsand

starttapping

theside

ofmy

platew

ithm

yknife

toput

himoff

"Llob,

my

brother,"he

sighs,"if

I'vechosen

tositw

ithyou

it'sin

now

aybecause

yourcom

panystim

ulatesm

yappetite.

Iknoww

hatyouthink

of111e,andyou

knoww

hatIthink

ofyou;

there'sno

pointgoingover

that.Ijustcam

eover

todraw

yourattention

tothatidiotLino

ofyours....1'111notin

thehabit

ofplaying

thelast-m

inutesavior,

andnor

amI

disinclinedto

reportto

thebo

ss-Go

dalone

knows

howm

uchI

enjoyopportunities

ofthat

kind-and

yet,ifIprefer

tospeak

firstto

you,111y

imm

ediatesuperior,

it'sbecause

you'rethe

onlyone

ina

positionto

wake

himup-"

"Can't

youcutto

thechase?

My

soleisbeginning

tosm

ellbad."B

lisschuckles.

Apack

ofhyenas

couldn'tdo

halfas

well.

His

two-facedness

sendsshiversup

anddow

nm

yspine.

The

pieceof

tomato

I'vebeen

savoringsuddenly

fillsm

ym

outhw

itha

bilioussecretion.

"How

stupidcan

yoube?"

hem

utters.H

epicks

uphis

trayand

getsup.

lnhis

opinion,he

hasdone

hisduty;

hedoesn't

careabout

anythingelse.H

eeven

takesm

aliciouspleasure

inthe

ideaofholding

me

responsiblefor

thefuture

ofm

yprincipal

team-m

ate,To

rubit

in,he

adds,loud

enoughforeveryone

elseto

hear,"I

thoughtyou

hadm

oreconsideration

foryourm

en...."

Then,

hisexpression

ascutting

asaknife,he

goesandjoinsa

groupofofficersw

hoare

obviouslydisgusted

bym

yattitude.

"You

oughttolisten

tohim

,"som

eonebehind

me

whispers.

Iturnround.Lieutenant

Chater,head

oftheSpecialSection,

winksatm

e.The

twinkle

inhis

eyeleads

rneto

putrn

yarm

overthe

backofm

ychair.

"You

seemto

knowsom

ethingabout

ittoo."

Chater,

who

hasfinished

hism

ealandisgetting

readyto

returnto

duty,hesitatesfora

mom

ent,w

eighingup

thepros

andcons."W

hat'sgoing

on?""It

would

bebest

totalk

tohim

aboutit,Superintendent.

Linoneeds

someone

totake

aninterest

inhim

.""M

.?"

ean1ng....C

hater'sem

barrassment

isobvious,

butthe

seriousnessof

thesituation

gainsthe

upperhand

overother

considerations."N

oone

inthe

farmyard

wants

himto

endup

inthe

soup,you

understand?"''W

hatis

itthat'sgotyou

allstirredup?"

"The

guysat

Headquarters

aregossiping.

They

thinkLin

o'sgoing

abit

farfora

minor

functionaryw

hosesalary

isjustenough

tokeep

himfrom

starvation.H

echanges

hisoutfits

rnoreoften

thana

filmstar."

"Sow

hat?""So

Idon'tknow

whatto

tellyou.Linoisfree

toflirt

with

Queen

Elizabeth,

ifhe

thinkshe

hasa

chanceofgetting

pasther

praetorianguard.

Unfortunately,

thew

oman

he'sseeing

doesn'thave

apraetorianguard,

andLino

doesn'thavea

chanceofbeing

slowed

down

onhis

way

upshit

creek."U

ponw

hich,he

saysgoodbye.

Once

Iamalone,

IrealizeIno

longerhave

anydesire

toeat,from

which

Ideduce

thatthe

fishm

ustin

factnothave

beenfresh.

45

a

46

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKliaâra

That

afternoon,Icatch

Linotelling

InspectorSerdjto

m.ind

hisow

nbusiness.

They're

inBaya's

office,and

theargum

entis

gettingm

oreand

more

venornous,am

ida

stormof

flyingpaper

andcreaking

chairs.Serdj

istrying

tocalm

thingsdow

nw

ithsw

eet-talk.H

e'sstandingagainst

thew

all,his

handsheld

outin

frontand

hisneck

swallow

edup

inhis

shoulders.Lino

hashim

corneredand

isw

avinga

furiousfinger

aboutin

alldirections.

Baya,for

herpart,can't

getaw

ordin.She

cansee

thatthe

situationis

aboutto

degeneratebut,

beinga

female

relegatedto

therank

ofless

thannobody,

there'snothing

leftfor

herto

dobut

watch

them

enw

ithim

ploringeyes.

She'srelieved

tosee

n1ein

thedoorw

ay."W

hatthe

hellisall

thisracket?"

Iroar.Serdj

gulpsconvulsively.

His

respectform

e,incom

bina­tion

with

thecoarseness

thathasjust

pouredoutof

my

mouth,

isalm

ostsuffocating.

Lino,on

theother

hand,continues

totreat

hisfinger

likeam

achete,notgiving

aroyaldam

nform

ycom

manding

yell.H

isburning

eyesarefixed

onthe

inspector'sas

ifto

killhim

,Ihave

tograb

hisshoulder

tohold

himback.

"That's

enough,four-eyes!

When

theboss

says'D

own!'

youhit

thedirt,

understand?This

ism

ypatch,

andI

don'tallow

anyoneto

raisehis

voicelouder

thanm

ine."Lino

finallysteps

back,w

ithouttaking

hiseyes

offthe

inspector.H

ew

ipeshis

throbbinglips

with

hisfist,

quiversfor

fiveseconds,

sniffsfit

toburst

hisnostrils,

andreturns

tothe

attack:"I'm

anadult,

fullygrow

n,"he

screams

atSerdj."Idon't

needany

lessons,leastofallfrom

abumpkin

likeyou.M

ylife

ism

ybusiness.

I'llgo

outw

ithanyone

Iplease

andI'll

dressaccording

tom

ytaste.

Ain

Igettingthrough

yourthick

skull?""O

kay,"Serdj

concedes."I

takeback

whatIsaid.

Ididn'tm

eanto

beoffensive."

"You

were

beingw

orsethan

offensive,kho,

youw

erebeing

anasshole.

Did

Isom

uchas

askyou

thetim

eof

day?""N

o.""T

henw

hatbusiness

isitofyours?"

Lino

remem

bersm

yhand

onhis

shoulder.U

singtw

ofingers,

herem

ovesit

asif

itw

erea

detonator.The

rudenessofhis

gesturestaggers

me,butIhold

back.The

lieutenantis

acom

ma

away

fromim

ploding,and

Ihaveno

desireto

pickup

thepieces.

His

laboredbreathing

machine-guns

my

face,while

am

ilkyfroth

ferments

atthe

cornersof

hism

outh.It's

trueto

saythat,

likeall

hiskind,

Linoís

adrop

ofnitroglycerine

insearch

ofthe

slightestjolt,and

yetthis

isthe

firsttim

ehe's

worked

himself

upinto

arage

likethis.

"Can

Ispeakto

you?"Iask

him.

"About

what?"

"Com

einto

my

office.""I

don'thave

time."

"Don't

behavelike

afool,

followm

e.Itwon't

takelong."

"I'mnot

inthe

mood,

Superintendent.I'd

ratherbring

thisto

ad

oseright

now.

I'mtired

andI

needto

gohom

e.""It's

notclosing

time

yet."Lino

persists.H

iseyes

rakefiercely

overSerdj,

headjusts

thecollar

ofhisshirt,

almost

pushespast

me

andheads

fortheexit

fromH

eadquarters."I

saidit's

notclosing

timeyet."

"I'mnot

deaf,"he

growls,telling

me

totake

aw

alk.W

henthe

lieutenanthas

gone,I

askSerdj

toenlighten

me.

The

inspectortries

tom

akelight

ofthe

incident.Ibang

onthe

table;heraises

thew

hiteflag.It's

asthough

hew

asjustw

aitingforthis,so

thathecould

pourout

everythinghe

hadtrouble

digesting.H

estarts

byexplaining

thatLinohas

been

47

4948

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhadro

actingstrangely

lately-to

beprecise,

eversince

hefell

foracertain

upper-classlady.

"He's

askedrneform

oney,"he

tellsme."I'll

giveitback

tomorrow

,firstthing,'

that'swhat

heprom

ised.Fatchance

...twodays

later,he

hoodwinks

Baya

intogiving

himhalf

herpaycheck.

'I'vegotplans,'that's

whathe

toldher.Fertile

plans,because

Linodoesn'tknow

thedifference

between

acolleague

andamoney-lender

anymore.H

e'lllatch

ontoanyone.W

ithinthree

weeks,he'sinto

halftheguysatH

eadquartersform

oney,and

itdoesn'tseem

toslow

himdow

n....This

wom

an'sbeyond

hismeans.Ithought

she'drealize,and

dumphim

.Lino's

bury­ing

hishead

inthe

sand.He's

gettingmore

andmore

ofataste

forluxury

andextravagance.

Hiscolleagues

areworried

sickabout

him.They're

certainthat,

atthis

rate,the

lieutenantis

boundtomake

amistake,

aserious

one,ifyou

knowwhat

Imean.

SoIcam

etohave

achat

with

him,hoping

tomake

himsee

reason.Youjust

sawthe

result.Lino's

goneoff

the

rails."Ipinch

mychin

between

mythum

band

forefingerand

thinkabout

thisstory,

while

Baya

studiesmyfrow

n,After

mymeditation,

Isay

toSerdj,"W

hatgives

youthe

rightto

claimLino

isbeingtaken

foraride

byagold-digger?

Doyou

knowthe

lady?Hasshe

corneamong

usasatrainer,

doyou

haveproof

thatshe's

stringinghim

along?"Serdjpuffs

outhis

cheeks."Not

really.""In

thatcase,

why

thedram

a?""It's

thegeneral

feelingatH

eadquarters,Superintendent.

Linoisliving

beyondhis

means.A

ndbecause

hecan'tkeep

upwith

thepace

ofthis

wom

anhe's

alreadyout

ofbreath.He's

onedge

frommorning

tillnight.

It'snot

normal."

"Idon't

thinkit's

acrisis,"

Isuggest.

"Idon't

shareyour

opinion,"Serdj

insists,stubbornly.

"Lino'sfeethave

comeoff

thepedals.

Iknowhim

.When

hereacts

theway

hejust

did,it'sbecause

he'slost

hiswav."

With

agesture,

Iaskthe

inspectortokeep

hiscool.

"Serdj,poor

Serdj,don'tyou

seethatLino

isfinallygoing

throughpuberty?

It'splain

andobvious:

he'sin

love,that's

11L

.'

.1

"a

...1no

S1n

ove."You

thinkso?"

"Itstands

toreason."

Serdjisskeptical.

Iexplain:"Love

isadelightful

improbability,

awonderful

upheaval;it's

afabulous

catastrophe.And

Linoisright

inthe

middle

ofit.He's

beingborn

again,do

yousee?

He's

findinghim

self,becoming

aware

ofhis

truecapacity

and,rejoicing

inhis

goodfortune,

making

acom

pletefoolof

himself

Likealllovers,

sincethe

dawnoftim

e.""It's

happenedsoquickly,

Superintendent.There's

hasteinthe

air,and

Linoisclum

sy.""It's

loveatfirst

sight.ltdoesn't

giveyou

timeto

adjustyour

aim.And

there'snothing

youcan

doabout

it.""Love

atfirst

sight?"Serdj

frowns.

Serdj,who

can'tpos­

siblyknow

what

itisbecause

hewasmarried

atseventeen,to

agirl

hedidn't

knowfrom

Adam

orEve,

asiscustom

aryin

conservativefam

ilies.

.And

nowIfeelqueasy.

Loveatfirsts(i¿ht!

The

resonanceofsuch

aphrase,within

acubicle

with

aboutasm

uchrom

anceasadentist's

office,catapultsmethrough

athousand

fairytales.

Unbeknow

nsttome,myvoice

softens,mysoulbends

likeaweeping

willow

,andIhear

myself

tellingastory:

"Iexperienced

loveatfirst

sighttoo.

It'sworse

thansunstroke.

Iremem

ber:the

countryhad

won

itsindependence

·-

'.

50

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhadra

andAlgiers

wasgetting

itslastfix

ofthestruggle.

Welaughed,

wepranced

about,,vedrank

ourselvesstupid

between

lynch­ings;

inshort,

wewere

beingdragged

backinto

theworld

withforceps.

Itwas

intolerableand

amazing

atthesam

etime.

Andinthemidst

ofthedelirium

andthe

dazzlingcolors

therewasasuburban

trainstation,

grayasan

island,lost

among

allthe

shipwrecks.

Astation

thatwaskeeping

itspeace.

Other,

lessfortunate

peoplewere

gettingready

toleave

thecountry

andgo

intothe

unknown.Among

thefam

iliesclustered

among

theirbundles,am

idthe

vacantstares

andthe

shadows

ofsilence,thereshe

was,sittingonabench

inacorner,

alittle

apart,suspended

between

thejubilation

inthe

streetsand

thedespair

ofthe

platforms.Thelight

fromthe

window

sclothed

berin

aglow

thatI've

neverbeen

abletorationalize.She

was

French,twenty-three,

twenty-five

yearsold,

asbeautiful

asyou

like,with

eyesbigger

thanthe

Mediterranean.

Shewas

wearing

asad

littlehatand

noearrings.

Hercardboard

suitcasewasprobably

theextent

ofher

wealth.

Herlong

blackdress

went

allthe

vvaydow

ntoher

ankles,and

hershort

jacketwasalm

osthidden

byitsbig

paddedbuttons.

Thefabric

leftsom

ethingtobedesired,

butthe

cutwasimpeccable.

Only

arefined

andcalm

hand,such

ashers,

couldhave

married

suchmodesty

tosuch

perfection....That

day,Ithought

Iwasthe

happiestofm

en.Ihad

dancedinallthe

boulevardsand

drunkinallthe

bistros,and

thencarne

searchingfor

something

attheend

ofthatsuburbanstation

where

Ihadnoreason

tobe.

Maybe

itwasbecause

ofher

thatIwasthere,

frozenbyher

slightsmile,

unableto

seestraight

onthat

greatday

ofvic­

tory.Outside,

thesun

refusedtogodow

n.Inthe

station,it

wasalready

night.Suddenly,

shelooked

upatm

e;itw

aslike

beinghitbyawave...."

Ifallsilent.

Brutally.

Alurnp

in1ny

throat.Serdjlooks

down,moved.

Bayawhim

persimperceptibly,

withher

noseinherhandkerchief

Youcould

haveheard

amosquito's

whine

aroundus.

Shakenbythe

reappearanceof

suchamemory,

Itake

refugeincontem

plating111y

hands."Andwhat

happenednext?"

asksSerdj,

inafaltering

voice."Next,"

Itold

him,raising

myhead

...."Next,

Mina

dugher

elbowinmyback

andIwoke

up."

51

CHAPTER

FIVE

Dead

Man's

Share

The

road,long

sinceorphaned

bythe

lossof

itspaving

stones,hasbecome

atrack

fitonlyforgoats,their

progresspartly

haltedby

adead

endin

theform

ofapileofdebris.O

nboth

sides,tired

buildings

await

thenext

earthquakeso

theycan

burythe

poltergeiststhat

hauntthem

onceand

forall.

Asergeant

spotsm

eas

Itry

anacrobatic

maneuver

among

theheaps

ofgarbage.H

esignals

tometo

parkto

oneside.

Inod

andleave

my

oldwreck

atthefootofa

decapitatedlam

ppost.

"Over

here,Superintendent."Heleads

methrough

theruts

untilwereach

alargebuilding,

thenstarts

shoutingat

therubberneckers

who

havegathered

atground

level:"M

akeway

forthe

superintendent!"A

fathousew

ifeturns

tosee

what

the"loca]

authorities"look

like.Mygut

andjow

lsreassure

her.Shejoinsin

andstarts

shoutingatthe

othersto

make

,vay.The

assembled

company

partsbefore

me,

likethe

courtbefore

itsmonarch,

andIclim

bthe

protestingsteps

ofthe

staircase.The

flooron

thelandings

isinsuch

astate

thatyou

couldsee

what

isgoing

ondow

nstairsby

simply

strikinga

match.

Igrope

my

way

forward,

onehand

onthe

wall,

theother

tomynostrils

becauseof

thestench.

There's

nopoint

lookingfor

alight

switch;

thereisn't

evenapiece

ofwire

tobring

youto

yoursenses.

Acop

isstanding

guardoutside

theapartm

entatthe

endofthe

corridor,fingers

pinchinghis

nose;Ihave

topush

pasthim

toget

in.Inside

theroom

,which

iscluttered

with

thebundles

offirewood

sobeloved

ofthe

poor,aw

oman

sitson

amattress

with

threefrightened

childrenagainst

herchest.

Her

wild

hairand

empty

gazefreeze

myentrails.

Serdjliftsafilthy

curtainandjoins

mein

thehallw

ay,I'n1surprised

tosee

himthere.N

ormally,L

inohandles

thiskind

ofsituation.

But

eversince

hediscovered

certainaffinities

with

Narcissus,

Linois

nowhere

tobe

found.Serdjnotices

my

irritationand

shrugsdiscreetly,

tellingme

thatwhen

acolleague

makes

himselfscarce

there'snothing

wrong

with

keepinghis

seatwarm

,evenif

itburnsyouup.

"The

lieutenanthad

anotherengagem

ent,"he

lies."W

hatkind

ofengagem

ent?"Serdj

deducesthat

Iamnotin

agood

mood.

Hegulps,

toget

ridof

thelum

ptrying

toreplace

hisAdam

'sapple.

"To

tellthe

truth,"he

says,"I

couldn'tget

holdofhim

.""H

ewas

supposedto

beon

call.""I

don'tknow

where

he'sgot

to.""Y

·h.h

"ea

,ng

t....

Serdjlooksdow

n."So

what's

thesituation

here?"Helooks

upagain

andleads

me

tothe

backofthe

apart­m

ent,where

someofficers

aretrying,

without

conviction,to

reasonwith

someone

who

isbarricadedbehind

alocked

door."H

isnaine

isRachid

Harnrelaine,

forty-sixyears

old,fivekids,

ofwhich

t\>VOhave

gonem

issing.The

neighbors

sayhe's

arespectable

guy,discreet,no

record.He'sbeen

lockedup

inhis

roomfor

more

thanfive

hours.Atfirst,he

was

yellingat

5253

5554

Dead

lÌIÍ.an'sShare

YasminaKliadra

everyonetoleave

himinpeace.'N

owhe'sgone

quiet.Ithink

hehasn't

gotthe

strengthtoyell."

"Howishe?"

"Ihadalook

throughthekeyhole.I-Ie'slosing

alotofblood.""Isuppose

vrecan'tjust

kickthedoor

ín?""Hethreatened

tothrow

himself

outofthe

window

.""Maybe

he'sbluffing."

"Maybe,

butwhowould

dareputitto

thetest?"

Ilook

roundatawindow

withsmashed

panes,consider

thecylinder

ofbutanegas

stuckany

oldhow

inanalcove

thatserves

asakitchen,

thebattered

saucepansandthethick

layersofdirtmoldering

onthewalls.There's

notmuchtochoose

between

thisaparnn

entandastable.Poverty

hasmadeitself

athom

ehere,

andhaseven

alloweditselfto

showexcessive

zeal."It's

notdom

esticbliss,

Igrant

you,butwhychoose

toend

itall?"

Serdjasks

metofollow

himinto

adism

allaundry

room,

sothat

wewon't

beoverheard

bythechildren.

"Heused

towork

inastate-ow

nedenterprise,

doingdeliveries.

Hehad

acaraccident

onthejob

andlost

aleg.

Ineight

years,hehasn't

beenable

tosort

outhis

situationwith

thesocialsecurity

department

athisministry.

They

haven'teven

awarded

himaprovisional

pension.From

oneday

tothe

next,they

stoppedpaying

hissalary.A

ccordingtotheneigh­

bors,he'stried

everything,including

severalhunger

strikes;nogood.A

fewdays

agohegotan

evictionorder.

Itwastoo

much.T

hismorning

hespoke

tohiswifeand

childrenand

toldthem

thatsince

noone

downhere

would

listentohim

,there

wasnothing

foritbuttotake

hiscase

toGod.Hewent

intohisroom

andopened

hisveins.

Hewasalready

bleddry

when

wearrived.

We'vetried

toreason

withhim

.Herefuses

tolisten

tous."

"Hashetaken

anything?""Hiswifeconfirm

sthathe'snever

toucheddrink

ordrugs.He'sapious

man."

"Have

youcalled

anambulance?"

"It'sonitsway,"

"Okay,I'll

talktohim.Just

sowekeep

himawakeuntil

thestretcher-bearers

gethere."Suddenly,a

commotion.

Shoutsechoing

inthe

street.We

rushtothebalcony.T

hepoor

wretch

hasthrow

nhimselfinto

thevoid.H

e'slying

there,three

storeysdown,withhisarm

sfolded

andhisface

totheground,

hisartificial

legtwisted

upbeside

him.Ilie

awakethewhole

night.Inthemorning,

Iarrive

attheoffice

beforethesecurity

guard.Iwander

upand

downthe

corridorsforagood

tenminutes,

insearch

ofwhoknow

swhat.Then,

asthefirst

ofmyunderlings

beginstoarrive,

Iclose

anddouble-lock

thedoor

tomycubicle

andtrytodecom

press,mymindempty.

Baya

arrivesindue

course,madeuplike

aChinese

dragon.She

sayssomething

Idon't

quitecatch

andthen,faced

with

111ymoody

expression,chooses

totake

upherusual

positionand

pretendnot

tobethere.

Afteran

interrniriablehiatus,

Iresurface

andtrytopull

myselftogether.

Nothing

tobedone.

Thepoor

wretch's

contortedbody

onthe

groundpulls

me

downagain.

Iclose

myeyes

anddive

downinto

themireof

myobsessions

oncemore.

Thetelephone

intrudes.It'sthe

boss."Brahim

?""Director."

"Doyou

haveaminute?"

"Ofcourse."

·--

·-·

1

56

Dead

Man's

ShareYasmina

Kbadra

"Then

shiftyour

fatass

andget

yourselfup

tothe

thirdfl

',,oor,

now.

When

thedirector

getson

hishigh

horselike

this,

itm

eansthere's

awindm

illon

thehorizon.

I'n1notw

rong.The

directorhas

everyreason

toabuse

hisprerogatives:he

hasH

ajT

hobaneh

imself

asa

guest,w

hichis

tosay,an

inexhaustiblesupply

offree

drinksand

otherincidentals.

HajT

hobane

isaninfluentialperson

inG

reaterA

lgiers.A

pieceofhistory.A

ccordingto

him,he

wasthe

onew

hokicked

De

Gaulle

upthe

backside.In111y

country,ofcourse,alegend

likethis

hassucha

thickhide

thatarhinocerosw

ouldn'trub

upagainst

it.And

yet,despitethe

strikingim

plausibilityofhisfeats

ofarms,

HajT

hobanehasatleasttw

om

erits,onephilosophical,

theother

alchemical.

First,he

blows

topieces

Darw

in'sfam

oustheory

thatman

isdescendedfrom

theapes.H

ajT

hobanecam

edow

ndirectly

fromhis

own

personaltree.Second,

inorder

notto

besw

eptaw

ayw

henthe

wind

changesdirection,

heconcentrates

twenty-four

hoursa

dayon

keepinghis

pocketsfull,neverproducing

aw

adofbanknotes

fromthem

unlesshe

canìm

mediately

replaceitw

itha

bentcop;

ifhe

clinksafew

coinstogether,

thew

holecity

salivates,like

goodlittle

dogs.W

ithhim

,nothing

islost,everything

iswon

back;men

aswell

ashistory,including

thehand

Irefuseto

holdout

tohim

.A

ndyet,

despitethe

disgustin

spiredin

111.ebyhis

type,I'm

almost

gladto

seehim

there,inthe

boss'soffice,

ascomfortable

onhis

sofaas

acobra

inafakir'sturban.T

heym

ayflop

stageleft,but

largefortunes

make

itbig

time

stageright,

which

doeshave

oneadvantage:

fromtim

eto

rime-e-revolutionary

principlesw

atchout-

vvearelifted

outofthe

prevailinggloom

.T

heboss

introducesm

e:"T

hisis

ourB

rahirn."

Haj

Thobane,

attempting

tobe

charming,

throws

me

asm

ile.Since

Ileft

my

glasseson

my

blotter,this

leavesm

eas

coldasa

sliceofsausage.H

o\Vm

anytim

eshave

we

met,

Haj

Thobane

andI?

Five,tentim

es?M

aybeafew

more.W

heneverthere'sthe

slightestproblem

heturns

upatour

place,becausehe's

agood

friendof

theboss.

And

yet,every

time,

hepre­

tendsnot

torem

ember

where

hehas

"seenm

ebefore."

Incom

parisonw

iththisspecies

ofshark,w

e'rejustsm

allfry,it's

true,but

there'sno

needto

exaggerate.T

heboss

offersrne

anarm

chair.H

issolicitude

worries

me.Isitdow

nopposite

thenabob

andhold

111.ylegstogether

warily,

likea

pioushypocrite

who

won'tbelieve

thatallgyne­cologists

areim

potent."Y

ou'relooking

well,"

saysthe

bossingratiatingly

ashe

J0111SU

S.

"Thank

you,Director."

"Would

youbelieve

he'sfifty-five

yearsold,H

aj?"H

ajT

hobanepretends

hecan't

getover

hissurprise.

"No

kidding!""I

promise

you.O

urB

rahirncelebrated

hisfifty-fifth

birthdayless

thana

week

ago."H

ajT

hobaneleans

backin

stunnedadm

iration.I,on

theother

hand,keepm

yguard

up,continuingto

playthe

gaineso

asnot

torub

theboss

upthe

wrong

way.E

versinceIapplied

formy

firstm

ortgage,I've

triedto

liveup

toit.

"He's

aw

riter,too,"

theboss

adds."M

eaningw

hat?""W

ell,he

writes

books.""N

o!""It'strue.

He's

evenhad

sorneglow

ingreview

sinthe

press."H

ajT

hobane'seyes

axenow

asw

ideopen

asa

hippo'snostrils

asitsinks

intothe

mud.

His

esteemdrives

himto

getup

andshake

my

hand."A

copw

how

rites:how

revolutionary!"

57

'--

·-

--.''

5958

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaK

hadra

"Speakingofrevolutions,"

thedirector

notesjudiciously,"Sy

Brahirn

isaform

erm

ujahid.,r1<

This

istoo

much

forHajThobane.

Literallycaptivated,

hepraises

metothe

heavens.Ifhecould

doiton

demand,

hewould

willingly

shedatear

ortwotoshow

howproud

andhappy

heistoclasp

am

aquisard"tohis

bosom-a

hero,that

is,areal

one,even

ifhehasn't

beenassuccessful

inbusiness

astheAllSaints?"

pensioners.Itry

totake

hisadoration

with

apinch

ofsalt

ashebruises

myback

with

hisenthusiastic

back-slapping.Every

nowand

then,ofcourse,

Ifind

myself

flirtingwith

comfortable

illusions,but

nevertothe

pointof

believingthata

zaimofH

ajThobane's

calibermight

holdme

inhis

armspurely

tocongratulate

me.O

rrather,

Iamcertain

heisweighing

meuptoseewhich

pocket-hisjacket

pocketorhis

pantspocket-he

willhave

toput

mein.

"It'swonderful,"

hebreathes.

"Themiracle

ofourglorious

revolutionisbrought

tolife

inthis

man,

who

hasmanaged,

despitetheincom

patibilityofthe

twovocations,

tocom

binehisjob

asacop

withhis

talentforpoetry.

It'scertainly

thefirst

timeI've

witnessed

analignm

entofthis

kind.Idon't

thinkit

couldpossibly

happenanyw

hereelse.A

novelistsuperinten­

dent!Really,it's...it's-

"

*M

ujahid(plural

niujahideen}:freedom

fighter,usually

with

religious(Islam

ic)connotations.

**M

aquisard:inem

berofthem

aquis,theunderground

resistanceagainst

Frenchcolonial

rule.***

OnINovem

ber1934(AllSaints'D

ay),theFLN

organizedaseries

ofcoordinated

attacksacrossAlgeria.T

heFLNmilirias

were

fewinnum

berand

poorlyarm

ed,and

onlyseven

peoplewere

killed,but

theseattacks

(sometim

escalled

Toussaintroug«,orR

edAllSaints'D

ay)marked

chebegin­

ningofthe

warofindependence.

(Summarized

fromMartin

Evans

andJohn

Phillips,A

lgeria:A1wer

qftheD

ispossessed,New

Haven

andLondon:

YaleUniversity

Press,2007.)

"Unnatural?"

Isuggest.Thedirector

burstsout

laughing,partly

tocover

upmy

gaffeand

partlytobeg

menot

tospoil

thesolem

nityofthe

moment.

Iknowthe

veryimportant

factthathehas

encoun­tered

anum

beroffinancial

obstaclesinthe

constructionofhis

villa,and

I'mguessing

thatthebillionaire's

charityisentirely

dependenton

n1ycourtesy.

HajT

hobaneruns

outofbreath

atlast,tomygreat

relief.Hefalls

backinto

thesofa,

crosseshis

legsand

restshishands

onhis

knees.Hiseyes,

which

havebeen

sparkling,godead

andhis

featuresreassum

etheir

usualrapacious

cast.Iunder­

standthat

theoverture

isfinished,

andthat

itistimetomove

onto

seriousmatters.

"Well,here's

thething,"

hebegins,

hismethodicalapproach

reminiscent

ofakiller

whale

circlingitsprey.

"I'1nsorry

todisturb

yousoearly

inthe

day,Mr.Brahim

,but

it'sabout

anofficer

ofyouracquaintance-"

"Idon't

knowany

armyofficers,"

Itellhimwithout

beat­ing

aboutthe

bush,"in

caseyou're

hopingI'll

intervenein

favorofsorne

protégéofyours,

norany

Custom

sofficers,

incase

you'vegot

somecontainers

heldupinport...."

Myexcessive

zealshocks

theboss,

who

almost

swallow

shis

falseteeth.

HajThobane,

forhispart,

isflabbergasted

bymyinappropriate

behavior.Helooks

questioninglyatthe

boss,asiftoaskwhether

I'mperhaps

notquite

rightinthe

head,and

thenheputs

onhisdem

i-godexpression

again,withthe

aimofcrushing

111ewith

hisdispleasure.

"Ifind

yourather

impulsive,

Mr.Brahirn

Llob.That's

unwise,

insom

eoneasinexperienced

asyou.

Doyou

seri­ously

thinkIwould

cometoamere

superintendentofpolice

likeyou

ifIhadaproblem

inthe

armyorCustom

s?Iam

Haj

Thobane;

Ican

summon

anygovernm

entminister

Iwant,

I.

~-~~

.

.~

6160

Dead

Man's

ShareYasmina

Khadra

my

littlefriend,and

he'llcom

e,in

hispajamas,

Imm

ediately,Justby

snapping1ny

fingers...."

When

youattach

alot

ofweight

tofigures,

Isupposeyou

arenot

obligedto

weigh

yourw

ords.H

epoints

hisindex

fingeratm

e:"Y

ouhave

am

isguidedview

ofyour

own

importance,

Mr.L

lob.Your

wine

needsto

bew

atereda

little.""I'n1

aM

uslim."

"Inthat

case,youneed

some

ambergris

inthe

water

youuse

foryour

ablutions.I

haven'tcorne

hereto

askfor

yourservices.

Strictlybetw

eenyou

andm

e,I'd

needa

micro­

scopeto

findyou.

It'sjustthat

acertain

officerinyour

servicekeeps

wreaking

havocin

my

restaurants...."H

epulls

inhis

hornsa

little."If

itw

ereup

tom

e,I'd

havetaken

himby

theear

andthrow

nhirn

inthe

trash,m

akingsure

Ididn't

getm

yhands

dirty.W

edid

sorneresearch,

andfound

outthat

he'sa

policelieutenant

working

outof

Headquarters.

Since1'111a

goodfriend

ofyour

director's,M

r.Llob,

andsince

Iw

ouldn'tw

antsom

ew

retchedpolice

officerto

spoila

ten-yearfriendship,

Ithought

itbest

tocom

eover

hereto

clearup

them

isunderstandingin

afriendly

anddiscreet

manner."

The

bossisasred

asapeony.He's

beencaughton

thehop,

andhe

doesn'tknow

whether

tothrow

himself

atm

eor

athis

guest'sfeet

tobeg

himto

staya

littlelonger.H

ajThobane

won't

stayone

more

minute.

He

pushesthe

armchair

backand,

with

theveins

inhis

neckbulging

andw

rithing

likeearthw

orms,

stridesover

tothe

door.O

ncein

thecentre

oftheroom

,heturns

onhis

heelandpoints

hisindex

fingeratm

eagain.

"Tellyour

lieutenantnot

tocom

ew

ithinspitting

distanceof

me,

SuperintendentLlob.

Ican

dissolvecockroaches

like

himfaster

thangrains

ofsalt.A

boveall,tell

himthathis

pig'sbadge

countsfornothing

inm

yestablishm

entsand

that,nexttim

e,I'll

useitto

shoothim

down

inflam

es."T

hebosstries

toretrieve

thesituation.T

oolate:

thenabob

goesout

intothe

corridorand

isswallow

edup

bythe

eleva­tor,still

waving

athisboot-licker

tosignal

thatheshould

notaccon1pany

him,T

hegrilles

slideshut

andthe

cabinethides

himfrom

view,T

heboss

standsthere

lookingsick

forsornetim

e,hishead

inhis

handsandhisjaw

juttingout.

He

mutters

astring

ofcurses

andturns

tom

e.Suddenly,his

nostrilsand

eyebrows

combine

torecreate

thehow

lofaw

oundedanim

al:"It's

unspeakable,w

hatyoujust

did."W

hodoes

hethink

he'stalking

to?B

utI

tryto

keepm

ycool.H

egulps

tocontrol

hisbreathing,cornes

backtow

ardm

eand

startsm

urmuring,

hisvoice

risinggradually,

syllableby

syllable,until

it'sa

frightfulyapping

sound:"I

shouldhave

trustedm

yinstincts

andkept

youout

ofour

conversation.I

knewyou

were

fullofyourself,but

Ididn't

knowyou

were

theking

oftheassholes.

What'sgotinto

you,Superintendent?Y

oushow

edthe

most

deplorablestupidity.

Silence!I

don'tw

antyou

toutter

onem

orepig-headed

word.

Ifyou

thinkyou're

goingto

spoilthings

with

my

friends,you're

barkingup

thew

rongtree.

My

friendshave

goodsense.

That's

thefirst

thing.Second:

you'regoing

tocall

thatsim

pletonL

inointo

youroffice

andyou're

goingto

pullhisears

untilhisnose

disappearsinto

hisface.I've

beenhearing

theechoes

ofhis

scandalousgoings-on

forquitesom

etim

e.W

hat'sw

orse,he

useshis

policelieutenant's

stripesto

callattentionto

hisrnis­

chiefwherever

heshow

sup

and,consequently,he's

draggingthe

force,theentire

force,through

them

ud.""D

irector-"

~~=---~

--

--

~~

----~

---'-··-

~~~~

~...

~~~~.~·

~~~

6362

DeadMan's

ShareYasmina

Khadra

"Stopright

there!Iknow

whatgoes

onatH

eadquarters,Superintendent,

andwhat

getscooked

upoutside

thesewalls

too.Igetdiscreet

reportsonevery

action,every

gesture.That

cretinLino's

problemsare

ontheir

waytobecom

ingamajor

scandal.Idon't

intendtoenterinto

thedetails.

Instead,Iorder

youtoshut

himdow

n,im-rned-iate-Iy."

"An1Itounderstand

thatI'm

responsibleforhisextra­

curricularactivities?"

"Certainly."

"Idon't

agree.Lieutenant

Linoisanadult.

Hisprivate

lifeishis

business.""Notwhen

hewaves

hispolicem

an'sbadge

aboutthe

place."Ilow

er1ny

head,drained."I'll

seewhatIcan

do,Director,"

Igrowl,just

sothat

Icantake

myleave.

"Andanother

thing:tellyour

youngpigeon

thattheturtle

dovehe's

showing

offmight

helphim

playtothe

gallery,but

ifIwere

inhis

shoesI'd

becareful

ofthe

songI'm

singing.She's

goingtopluck

himbare.A

fterthat,

hewon't

beable

topuffout

hischest

without

coveringhimself

inridicule."

"Iunderstand,

Director."

"Asforyou,

Superintendent,the

nexttimeyou

make

aspectacle

ofyourself

infront

ofaguest

ofmine,

Iswear

I'll...I'll..."Afitofcoughing

rackshisthroat

andhebends

double.With

hisface

flushedand

onehand

tohisneck,

hedism

issesn1ew

ithagesture

andstaggers

overtoward

aflask

ofmineral

water.Imake

myself

scarcebefore

hegrabs

1newith

hispaw

s.Fiveminutes

later,Blissinvades

n1yofficewiththebogus

levityofamagic

spellhunting

forasusceptible

spirit.He

scratcheshis

chin,pretending

tobeinterested

inthe

ceiling,

andstates,

disingenuously,''Ithought

Iheard

acertain

Mr.

Hyde

prowling

aroundonthethird

floor.""Who's

thisMr.H

yde?""Som

eonewhomakes

peopleyellw

hereverheappears.

Iwaswiththe

boss'ssecretary

when

Iheard

shouting.Iasked

thesecretary

iftherewasa

crisissomewhere;

sheansw

eredthat

shedidn'tknow

ofone.Iglancedinto

thecorridor

andsaw

Haj

Thobane

losingit.H

ewasscream

inglike

youseldom

hear.""Maybe

hecaught

apubic

hairinhiszipper."

"Hewouldn't

havescream

edso

loud.Besides,

therewas

around

guyinfront

ofhim

.I'msure

Hajhad

itinforhim."

"Inwhat

vvaywasheround,

thisguy?"

"Well,

enoughtostop

goodcops

maintaining

goodrela­

tionswith

thebetter

classofpeople."Now

Iseewhat

he'sgetting

at.Iput

mypencil

downonmyblotter

andgrow

l,"What

doyou

want,

youmaggot?"

Hepinches

hischin

withhisfingers,

lookingforthe

rightwords,

thenlooks

meinthe

eye,hopingI'lllook

away.

"It'snot

oftenthat

manna

fromheaven

comesand

visitsus,Llob.

Ithink

it'sunfair

thatamalcontent

shouldblow

hiscolleagues'

ambitions

skyhigh

justbecause

hegot

outofbed

onthewrong

side.We're

sittingpretty,here

atHeadquarters.

Welook

good,and

thathelps

keepour

slatesclear.

Ifyou're

diabetic,you're

entitledtoyour

quotaofinsulin

freeofcharge.

But,

ifyou

don'tmind,

letthe

restofusenjoy

oursugar

inpeace."

Wehave

violatedtheterritorial

integrityofevery

cabareton

thewaterfront,

causingapoplexy

among

thesleek

herdsinthe

cattlemarkers

ofGreater

Algiers.

Atabout

eleveno'clock

inthe

eveningwegettothe

Blue

Sultanate,aprotected

hunting

---=

----

~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~

~-~·

~

64

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKkadra

groundbuilt

ona

bluffoverlooking

thesea.

Iask

InspectorSerdj

tow

aitfor

me

inthe

carand

climb

thestreaked

marble

staircaseleading

tothis

prestigiousestablishm

ent.T

hedolled-up

eunuchon

dutyat

theentrance

isa

hairsbreadth

freinkeeling

overw

ithindignation.

Eachstep

Iclimb

seems

asthough

itw

illdeliver

thefatal

blow.W

henI

arriveat

hislevel,

hetries

toblock

my

way

likea

halberdier:"A

reyou

sureyou

knowthe

way,m

onsieur?""N

otexactly,

Boo-B

oo,but

I'llgetthere."

Ishow

himthe

holsterfor

my

nine-millim

eterBeretta,

thrusthirn

asidelike

acurtain

andcross

thelobby

with

thecourage

ofabearprow

lingthrough

acam

pfullofboy

scouts.A

fewpainted

tartsgulp

with

terrorand

rushfor

shelter.Iignore

themand

continueon

my

trajectoryuntil

Ireacha

heavenlycourtyard

peopledw

ithm

agnificentcouples

paradingtheir

charms

arounda

swim

ming

pool.A

patricianturd

startsw

henhe

findsm

ebeside

him.

He

looksatnie,

thenat

thesky,

tryingto

work

outw

hichplanet

I'vedropped

from.

"Lovelyevening,"

Ipurrat

him.

"Isn'titjust?"

hesays,

choking,ashe

escapes,probably

toalert

thedecontam

inationunit.

Iadjust

anim

aginarytie

andglance

aroundat

thisrich

man's

milieu,

Our

turtledoves

arethere,

cuddlingin

acozy

corner,w

iththeir

backsto

thew

orld.I've

con1eacross

afew

sirensw

ithinthe

bordersof

my

country,I've

beendazzled

severaltim

esby

Kabylia's

muses,but

thehourism

ilingthere

onthe

terraceof

theB

lueSultanate

seems

toillum

inatethe

belvedereall

byherself,

betterthan

anysacred

fìame.

Sheis

sobeautiful,

with

herm

aneof

midnight-black

hairand

hersparkling

eyes,that

Idon't

understandw

hythe

chairshe's

occupyinglike

athrone

doesn'tburst

intofl.am

es.

No!

Iwon'tdisturb

them.T

hey'reso

delightful,and

seemso

happy.EvenifLino

doeslook

likea

shadowpuppet

besidehis

companion,

Ican'trem

ember

seeinghi111

sofresh,relaxed

andcontented.

Iwatch

themfor

am

oment,

surprisedto

findm

yselfsmiling

when

theylaugh

andcrossing

my

fingersw

hentheir

handsjoin,

moved,alm

ostasham

edathaving

sulliedthe

realmof

theiridyllw

ithm

yunclean

shoes.C

arefulto

avoidbeing

noticed,Iretrace

my

stepsw

ithouta

soundand

hurryto

getback

toSerdj

inthe

car.

65

66

Dead

Man's

Share

CHAPTER

SIX

us.We

digup

thedead

years,the

epictales

ofthe

maquis,the

napalmbom

bsand

theburied

towns;

we

praisethe

charisma

ofthis

mujahid,

thepatriorism

ofthat

tribe;w

erem

ember

thosew

hopaid

with

theirlives

forthe

freedomour

leadersare

nowtrying

tousurp;

we

sighas

we

recallthe

idealsw

ehave

dumped

onthe

scrap-heap,at

theprom

isesw

ehave

hurriedly

forgotten;w

etake

stockof

theaffronts

thathave

become

oursilence,

ourresignation;

we

complain

aboutour

offspring,who

havebeen

leftatthem

ercyofuncertainty

andthen,just

asw

estart

flirtingw

ithapostasy,w

egeta

gripon

ourselves.Together,

handin

hand,w

egive

eachother

sup­port

andprom

iseto

"carryon

thestruggle"

tothe

end.In

thisw

ay,the

tribereconnects

with

itsancestralcom

rnitrnentsand

isborn

againfrom

itsashes,

likea

magnificent

salamander.

Within

twenty-four

hours,I

regainm

yd(i¿níty.

That's

why

Ineverm

issthis

rendezvous,this

indispensableabsolution.

That's

also,andabove

all,why

I'1non

thepointofim

plod­ing

onthis

morning

ofNovem

berr"

inthe

yearofour

presi­dentialgrace,as

Isitfretfully

inm

ycar

infront

oftheprison

atSerkadji,

waiting

fora

sick,m

urderouspiece

ofgarbage

tore-enter

societybecause

acom

mittee

ofsonsofbitches

ofquestionable

competence

believesindulgenceand

dernagogu­ery

arethe

trump

cardsw

henit

comes

toreintegration,

thatthe

kinderyou

areto

analligator,the

more

likelyyou

areto

tame

him.

Alight

rainw

eepsonto

thecity,

andalim

pingw

indbat­

tersits

faceagainstthe

wailing

walls

thatour

ramparts

havebecom

e.Athin

mist

hangsitsdirty

laundryout

atthecorner

ofthestreet.

It'sasifallthe

world's

depressionhas

arrangedto

gatherin

ourcountry,

todrain

ourm

orale.Since

it'sa

publicholiday,

feware

tempted

tosw

apthe

fetidw

armth

oftheir

bedsforthe

soberingcold

ofthesidew

alksw

iththeir

closed-up

E. ve~y

October

3~"'forthe

last.t~odecades,

conïerain

orshine,Ipack

Mina

andthe

kidsintom

ycar

andhead

form

yvillage.

Even

when

I'mon

call,I

arrangefor

areplace­

ment.

Nothing

onearth

would

make

me

missthe

chanceto

mark

theanniversary

oftheoutbreak

oftherevolution

among

n1yow

npeople.

Every

Novem

ber1",

Im

eetup

with

my

oldcom

panionsin

arrnsat

Ighider.They

arrivefrein

thefour

cornersof

thew

orld,sorneofthem

atthew

heelsofbig

cars,som

eof

themaboard

clapped-outjalopies,

andgather

inthe

courtyardofthe

villagepatriarch.A

fterthe

Hom

ericem

bracesand

thetraditional

glassesof

tea,vre

filethrough

thevillage

andacross

thefields

toplace

ahuge

wreath

atthe

footofthe

martyrs'

mem

orial,There

we

observea

minute's

silencein

mem

oryofthose

who

arenotw

ithus,

afterw

hichseveral

ofus

finditdifficult

toraise

ourheads.

Then

theim

amraises

the-fatíha,*and

everyonereturns

tothe

patriarchshom

eto

honoraroasted

sheep.Ithink

Novem

berr"

isstill

them

ostedifying

dayof

theyear

forthe

village.Even

Da

Achour,w

hohardly

everleaveshis

littlebackw

aterbecause

heis

tooobese,

manages

tojoin

*Suraal-fatiha;

openingchapter

oftheQ

ur'an,recited

acche

starrofeach

unieofprayer.

67

68

Dead

Man's

Share

69

Yasmina

Kliaâra

shopsand

theirmutinous

potholes.Apart

fromthe

warder

onduty

infront

ofthe

gateof

theprison,

pitifullysolem

nand

stillas

alam

ppostwaiting

foradog

toliftits

legagainst

it,there

isn'teven

theshadow

ofasoul

about.It's

only6:42,

andthe

morning

isalready

regrettingits

decisionto

ventureinto

thissqualid

neighborhood,where

eventhe

alleycats

areobserving

atruce.

Ifitweren't

forthecrackling

ofthedrizzle

onthe

burstgarbage

bags,you

would

hearthe

devilsnoring.

Lulled

bysuch

monotony,

myvision

beginsto

blur,andsoon

Ican't

distinguishthe

condensationon

mywindshield

fromthe

mistoutside,

which

isovercoming

n1ythoughts.

Littleby

little,myeyelids

wind

downlike

steelshuttersand

mylim

bsgo

numb.

Somew

herebetw

eenMina

andMorpheus,

Inodoff.

The

throbbingof

amotor

makes

mesitup;

Inoticethat

mycigarette

hasspread

itsash

allover

my

crotchand

thatInspector

Serdjhas

worn

outhis

fingersdrum

ming

onthe

steeringwheel.

According

tothe

officialstatement,

thelucky

beneficiariesof

thepresident's

amnesty

arefree

frommidnight

on.Itwill

soonbe

seveno'clock,

andthe

gateof

thefortress

refusesto

spitanything

out.Serdjisnothappy.T

henightw

asharsh,

icy.Since

hisseat

isall

cavedin,

Serdjendedup

slumped

againstthe

door,hismouth

biggerthan

hissnores.Ifeltsorry

forhim.

Icouldhave

sparedhim

thisordeal,

butIw

ouldn'thave

beenable

totrack

Lino

onn1y

own.

"I'mgoing

toget

somecoffee,

Superintendent.Would

youlike

yourswith

acroissant

orsorne

breadand

butter?""T

helittle

birdieswill

comeout

soon."Serdjchecks

hiswatch

andpurses

hislipsshiftily,"W

e'vegot

agood

hourahead

ofus."

"Why's

that?""T

heprisoners

will

bereleased

ateight

o'clocksharp."

Istart.

"I-lowdo

youknow

?""I

calledthe

dutyofficeryesterday.

They

saiditw

asunwise

toopen

theprison

floodgatesduring

peakcrim

ehours,

thatthey

hadto

wait

untilmorning."

"What

areyou

talkingabout?

And

why

didn'tyou

sayanything?"

"Ithought

youknew

.""Y

outhink

spendingthe

entirenight

inadisgusting

crocklike

thisismyidea

offun?"Serdjisem

barrassed.Hewrinkles

hisnose

andwhim

pers,"Ithought

youhad

something

inmind,

Superintendent.""Y

outhink

toomuch,

Inspector.ln

acop,

that'sworrying."

The

coffeetastes

ofdishw

ater,but

ithelps

meorder

my

thoughts.The

warder

onduty

oppositeus

hasvanished.

Agroup

ofghostsappearsfromsom

ewhere,

wreathed

inveilsthat

might

oncehave

beenwhite.T

heseare

thewom

en:mothers

orwives

who

havecorne

tothe

prisongate

tocollect

theirbeloved

inmates.

Sorneofthem

havebrought

theirkids,

puffy­eyed

with

sleep.They

stayclose

tothe

walls,looking

nowhere

inparticular,

andend

upsquatting

down

oneither

sideofthe

sentry-box.Som

emen

arrivetoo;

theycluster

togetheras

faraspossible

fromthe

wom

enand

watch

forshe

firstof

thefreed

men,

eachwith

onefoot

proppedagainst

therailing,

chinspinched

between

thumb

andforefinger.

Astrange

silence,the

productofdeep

shame,

fallson

thestreet.

Then,less

thanthirty

minutes

later,amonstrous

caravaninvades

thesquare.

Avan

triestomake

itsway

throughthe

crush,maneuvering

fittotw

istits

chassis;thisisthe

televisioncrew

,hereto

coverthe

occasion.Astrong-looking

individualjum

psdow

nonto

thetarm

ac,cam

eraon

hisshoulder,

andissw

iftlyfollow

edby

adisheveled

amazon,

complete

with

visiblem

icrophoneto

showthatshe's

thereto

work,

notto

bebeaten

upby

thejailers.

----~~~~~

--

---

-~~~

~.

Yasmina

Khadra

Dead

Man's

Share

The

strongindividual

switches

onhis

carneraand

sweeps

overthe

assembly

ofpoorbastards,

pausingonanold

manwhom

thepresenter

cornerswith

stupidquestions

aboutthe

presidentialamnesty.

The

oldmanlooks

around,not

knowing

whatto

say.Anold

womanpushes

himaside

toget

intothe

picture,grabs

themicrophone

fromthereporter

andlaunches

intoa

longdiatribe.

Shetalks

aboutthe

yearsshe

hashad

tospend

without

herkid,

thelow

lyand

ignominious

jobsshe

hashad

todoinorder

nottostarve

todeath,

andher

awarinvalid.

Thereporter

pointsout

thatthepresident

hasbeenasgenerous

asapharaoh.

The

oldwoman

concedesthis

onthe

spotand

immediately,

handsjoined

inprayer,

begsGod

todirect

thetotality

ofhisbeneficence

toward

theFather

ofthe

Nation.

Nodding

delightedly,thejournalist

encouragesher

tocontinue

inthe

samevein.

Behind

her,thereisaloud

creak;everyone

freezes.Thegate

yawnsopen,

closesagain,

thenopens

with

abang.

Thefirst

ofthefreed

menappear.Strangely,

noone

goestomeet

them.Thereporter

takesadvantage

ofthis

hesitationtopounce

onone

oftheex-prisoners,

amanwith

thecow

l­like

beardofan

ascetic,who

ishappy

toplay

thequestion

andansw

ergam

elike

atrue

scholar.Hedeclares

thathe

isrelieved

onceagain

tosee

hisrelatives,

hisfriends,

thestreets

ofhis

town,the

mosque,

thatGodhas

answered

hisprayers,

thatfrom

nowonhewillserve

Him

andnever

disappointHim

.Asforthe

presidentialamnesty,

headds

thatitisGodthat

placesgoodness

inthe

heartofrnen,

andthat

thepresident

hasnomerit

exceptthat

hedoes

notinsist

onstraying

fromthe

truepath.

Thereporter

doesn'tappreciate

this;she

tellsthe

cameram

antostop

recording.Assoon

astheinterview

isover,

thefam

iliesfallupon

theirloved

ones.Children

throwthem

selvesonto

theirfathers'necks,

oldpeople

intothearm

softheir

hooligans;the

women

aremore

restrainedand

justsob.

Serdjwatches

thefreed

men,

hiseyesjum

pingfrom

thephoto

ProfessorAllouche

gaveustotheunkem

ptfaces

paradinginthe

prisonforecourt.

SNPappears,

finally,wrapped

upina

spotlesskam

is.Heisthe

sizeofafairground

strongman,

with

asolid

facepierced

bytwoexpressionless

eyes.Hepositions

himself

toone

side,soasnot

toblock

thegate,

andwaits

with

hisarm

sfolded

overhis

chest.The

crowdbegins

todisperse;

thepotholes

inthe

roadare

exposedagain.T

hetelevision

vanleaves,follow

edbyclusters

ofjournalists.Soon,allthatrem

ainsisasmallgroup

ofsom

ewhat

disorientedfreed

men

onthe

sidewalk.

Ablack

cardraw

supinfront

ofthe

prisongate;

adoor

opens.SNPjum

psinto

theback

seat,where

someone

iswaiting

forhim

."Follow

them,"

Ishoutto

Serdj.Standing

infrontofthe

window

,Iam

pretendingtolook

atthesmog-covered

city.lnfact,Iam

spyingonLino's

reflec­tion

inthe

glass.The

1ieutenant,whohas

hishands

inhis

pocketsand

hismouth

twisted

inascow

l,seem

suncom

fort­able.

Heiswearing

agenuine

suedejacket

andasatin

shirt,unbuttoned

enoughtoshow

animpressive

gigolo-typechain

gleaming

onthe

cushionofhis

chest.Histight

trousersare

heldupbyagold

belt,and

hisfreshly

polishedshoes

sparklelike

athousand

stars.Even

with

myblocked

nose,Iknow

hehas

emptied

abottle

ofcologne

overhisbody.

Eversince

hetook

upwith

hissiren,

Linohas

beenmore

andmore

irritating.Whatreally

getsmygoat

isthat

Ihave

noticeablylost

authorityatH

eadquartersbecause

Ican'timpose

iton

n1yclosest

collaborator.Itake

adeliberate

interestinthe

decayingalleyw

aysto

seehow

longmylittle

sca111pcan

holdout.

Iknow

him;his

convictionshave

nodepth,

andnoamount

ofstrutting

aboutlike

aturkey-cock

willconvince

mehe

isready

forafight.

7071

72

Dead

Man'sShare

YasminaKhadra

Linocan

feelmew

atchinghim

.Hetries

tokeep

hismouth

scowling

andhiseyebrow

sraised.

Indifferencehaving

failed,he

decidesto

remove

hispaw

sfrom

hispocketsand

putsthem

onhis

hips."W

ouldyou

mind

tellingmewhy

Ihaveto

hangaround

inthis

zoo,Superintendent?"

Irun

my

fingerround

my

shirt-collarto

showhim

howunim

portanthe

is.The

lieutenantsh

akeshis

head,puffs

outhis

cheeksand

sighs.He

putshis

handsin

hispockets

again.Defeated,

hecom

esall

theway

upto

ni.y

desk."A

mI

allowed

toknow

whatyou've

gotagainstme,Superintendent

Brahim

Llob?"

Atlength,

Iturn

toface

him,an

admonishing

fingerin

theair:"Y

oucan

saveth

epretentious

country-bumpkin

actfor

themaitre

d',okay?W

hen

you'rein

thewrong,

ifyouhave

theslightest

senseofduty,you

askforgiveness."

"What

have

Idonenow

?"he

asks,the

hypocrite.M

yfinger

trembles

inthe

faceofsuch

exasperatingirnbe­

cility,butIhold

back."I

knowI'm

absentfromtim

eto

time,"

headm

its,"but

it'sno

bigdeal.

Nobody

atHeadquarters

works

normal

hours."In

aneffortto

keepmyternper,

Ipullasheet

ofpaperout

fromunder

theblotter

andpush

ittow

ardhim

."ln

thelast

twenty-five

daysyou'vebeen

absentseventeen

times;

you'vehad

someone

standinforyou

ondesk

dutyfive

times;

you'vegone

AWOLfive

tunes

while

onduty;

you'venever

accountedforyour

absencesand

youhaven't

onceseen

fittoprovide

anexcuse

foryourlateness.

True,

Headquarters

isn'taprison.

But

Headquarters

hasadirector,

andit's

notme.

Irun

aninvestigation

division,and

Ihave

nointention

ofbeing

treatedlike

anornam

ent,Iam

yoursuperior,

yourboss,your

bigcheese."

Linosniggers

audiblyatthis.

"And

Iexpectyou

toaccountforyour

absencesand

letme

knowwhere

youare

atalltimes

when

you'retaking

iteasy.Ifyou

thinkthat's

toomuch

toask,you

knowwhatyou

cando."

"And

what

canIdo?"

"One

sheetofA

4and

aballpoint

pen:you

write

aletter

ofresignation.""I

don'tplan

oninterrupting

mycareer

when

thingsare

goingso

well."

"Inthat

case,follow

therules."

Lino

shakeshis

head.Sm

oothas

ever,he

makes

topress

hisfingersto

histem

ples,asifharassed,

usingthe

opportunityto

searchfor

aplausible

excuse,and

groans,"W

hythe

helldoesn't

anyonemake

theeffort

tounderstand

me?"

Helooks

upatm

epitiably."I

canunderstand

otherpeople

givingmeahard

time.B

utnotyou,Super....Don'tyou

under­stand

thatI'n1

experiencingthe

mostw

onderfulperiod

inmy

whole

crappylife?

I'1nentitled

toabit

ofIeeway,

ifonly

forthat

reason.""T

hat'sno

excuse.You're

acop,

you'vegot

obligations.""It'U

pass,Super.

I'llgo

backto

normal

life.Right

now,

it'slike

I'vebeen

catapultedinto

afairy

tale.Ifeelas

ifI'm

walking

among

theclouds."

"There

areholes

inthe

clouds.''"So

whar?"

"Inthat

case,youcan

choose:the

cloudsor

thestreet."

The

lieutenantis

aghast.His

nostrilsare

dilatedand

hiseyes

areblazing.

"I'msuffering

here,Super."

"Ican't

helpthat."

73

74

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhadra

Facedwith

n1yobduracy,

hepersists,

pleading,"I'n1

inlove,for

cryingoutloud!

I'vemet

mysoulm

ate.lfeelfulfilled,

happy;1'111

livingin

adream

,awonderfuldream

.""So

wonderful

youcan't

seethe

lineof

yourcreditors

stretchingout

likeatapew

orm."

Atthat,

hestiffens.

Rage

fillshis

suddenlydistorted

fea­tures.

Hetrem

blesfrom

headtofoot,fingers

twitching,

andsurnrnons

allhis

strengthso

asnot

toexplode

inmyface.

"Isee

thegossip-m

ongershave

foundanice

topicofcon­

versation.You

want

tohear

my

sideof

it,Super?

They're

justjealous.

They

envyme

1nyhappiness.

They

can'tstand

it.Asfor

thecreditors,

I'llpay

themback

soon.And

anotherthing:

I'mno

sucker.Yes,I'm

spendingabitofcash,but

that'sju

stso

Ican

lookgood.I

don'tpay

athing,

notasingle

bill.The

restaurants,the

clubs,the

outings,she's

theone

who

pays.She's

loaded,mygirl

is.It's

notthe

shittycop's

salaryshe's

after;it's

noteven

thecop;

it'sthe

man

behindit.

She'sfound

herMr.R

ight.And

sheattends

tohis

everyneed.Y

ousee

thissignet

ring?Know

howmuch

itcost?

An

armand

aleg.

Shegave

itto

me.And

thissolid

goldchain,

bigParis

designer;know

howmuch

thatcost?The

skinoffyour

ass.She

gaveitto

me.

And

thisRolex

watch:

knowhow

much

thatcost-

""It

couldcost

thehairs

offmyass

andIwouldn't

geta

hard-on.This

isn'tabout

bills,notat

all;thisisabout

apolice

lieutenantwho's

showing

lamentably

poorjudgment.

Soyou're

following

yourperfectlove,

I'1nhappy

foryou.But

togo

fromthat

tothinking

you'rethe

onlyperson

inthe

world,

that'sunforgivable.Y

ouhave

anoffice,w

orkto

do;you

carryout

yourduties,period,

endofstory.A

sforthe

rest,youhave

yourfree

tirne;you

canuse

itany

way

youlike."

"I-"

"That's

enough,Lieutenant

Lino.From

nowon,

Iwant

tofind

youin

youroffice

duringworking

hours.Asfor

now,

getout!"Lino

standsthere

lookingsick

foraminute,

atwhich

pointhe

realizeshow

futilehis

appealhasbeen.

Hewipes

backhis

forelock,turns

onhis

heeland

leavesthe

office,slam

ming

thedoor

sohard

behindhim

thatBaya

screamsin

theroom

nextdoor.

InspectorSerdjarrives

justasLinoisleaving.

The

turbulencehas

disarrangedhis

hair,and

hestaysin

thedoorw

aywith

hisnotebook

againsthis

chest,not

surewhether

tocom

ein

nowor

comeback

later.Iw

aitlong

enoughto

digestthe

lieuten­ant's

effrontery,andthen

Iofferhimachair.

The

inspectorsits

down,

making

himselfas

smallaspossible.

Hisrespect

forme

issoclose

tofearthat

Ican'talw

ayswork

himout.H

einoves

hischair

forward

with

ascreech

thatmakes

hisnose

pucker,puts

hispad

onthe

tableand

startschecking

hisnotes

togive

metim

eto

calmdow

n."W

ell?"Iburst

out.Hescratches

histem

ple,disoriented,

forfiveseconds,

thensays,"W

e'reshort

ofmen,

Superintendent.Lieutenant

Chater's

sectionison

atraining

course.We've

drawnon

othersections,

includingTraffic

andsom

eof

thenew

recruits.It's

abigjob.

Wecan't

manage

nonstopsurveillance

ofSNP's

house.I've

putthree

ofour

informers

onthe

case,of

course.They

pretendto

beselling

peanutsor

cigarettes,but

oncenight

fallsthey

haveto

make

themselves

scarceso

asnot

toarouse

suspicion.Our

surveillanceteam

sconsist

often

men,

twoofw

hichare

detectives.After

aweek,

they'reexhausted.

The

normal

shiftiseighthours,

andthere's

norestperiod

becausethey

goback

totheir

postsas

soonas

they'vefinished

theirguard

duty.""W

hatdoes

thisall

mean?

Wedrop

it?"

75

7776

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhaâra

"I'n1just

tellingyou

ourproblem

s,Superintendent,

inbroad

outline.""I'n1

notsatisfied.

You

canfind

more

men.

You

haveonly

toglance

downthe

corridorsofthattow

erofassholes

atHeadquarters.

They're

alltwiddling

theirthum

bswhile

we

can'teven

pullinafew

streetpeddlers."

"The

othersection

headswon't

cooperate.They

saythey

needawritteri

order,signedby

thedirector."

"Fine,we'll

justget

alongwithout

theirdam

nhelp."

"With

what?"

"That's

yourproblem

,Inspector."

Serdjbow

shis

head.Isee

hisdefeated

neck,with

itsmat

ofwrithing

white

hairs.It's

themost

patheticneck

Ihaveever

hadto

examine.

"I'Ilsee

what

Ican

do,Superintendent."

Igrunt

inapproval

andrequest

acom

pletestatus

reporton

themaniac.

"Hehasn't

comeout

ofhishole

once,"the

inspectorsays,

"noteven

intothe

courtyard.Ever

sincehe

double-lockedhim

selfin,

heavoids

goingnear

thewindow

s.""Is

thereanyone

with

him?"

"Wehaven't

seenanyone."

"I-lowdoes

helive,

forcrying

outloud?

Hehas

toeat,

buyfood

somew

here.Are

yousure

he'salive?

Maybe

he'scroaked

while

yourmen

were

contemplating

theirnavels."

"He's

notdead,

Superintendent.Hedoesn't

gonear

thewindow

s,but

we've

seenhim

praying,through

ourbinocu­

lars.One

time,

thesecond

dayofhis

release,the

bigblack

carturned

up.Itdidn't

stayin

theroad.

It"vent

intothe

garageand

cameoutagain

thirtyminutes

later.There

were

twomen

inside.W

ecouldn't

seemuch."

"That's

why

youhave

toget

offyourass

andcollect

asmuch

information

asyoucan

aboutthis

psychopathicbastard."

"Imanaged

toget

acopy

ofhisfile.

The

tabloidsused

tocall

himThe

Derrnatologisr."

"Washe

reallyaderm

atologist?""Literally

andfiguratively:

hebum

psoffhis

victims,

thenhe

skinsthem

likerabbits.

And

notwith

aknife

orawire

brush;with

hishands,

with

hisbare

hands!Apart

fromthat,

theguy's

an.enigma.

Norelatives,

nofriends,

nothing.""A

ndyet

hewas

triedand

convicted...."

"Itlooks

likeeverything

was

rushed.Onthe

faceof

it,neither

thepolice

northe

courtswanted

tospend

anytim

eon

thecase.

Aman

turnshim

selfin

andconfesses

tosom

emurders

thatnobody

checks.He's

immediately

hauledup

incourt.

Condem

nedtolife,locked

up.Case

closed.Good

work

was

patchyin

thosedays,

butin

thiscase

theyreally

went

toofar.T

hereare

onlyafew

sheetscollected

inthe

file,with

unusuallyworthless

statements.

They

didn'teven

botherto

checkthe

defendant'sreal

identity.""A

ndthe

house?""It

belongsto

acertain

Khaled

Bachir,

arich

livestockdealer

who's

alsoaprofessional

altruist.Before

ithousedSN

P,itw

asaguest-house

forthecity's

imam

s.The

owner

placedit

atthe

mosque's

disposal."Ilean

myhead

againstthe

backof

1nychair

andtry

toorder

myideas.

Iwonder

whether

ProfessorAllouche

hasn'tmade

amountain

outof

amolehill.

Idrawacircle

on1ny

blotterwith

thestum

pofa

pencil,then

twotiny

circlesinside

it,thentwosem

i-circleson

eitherside

ofthefirst

circle.Irealize

I'n1notgetting

anywhere,put

thepencil

down,

putmyfingers

togetherunder

mychin

andlook

atthe

inspector.

7776

Dead

Man's

ShareYasmina

Khadra

"I'n1just

tellingyou

ourproblem

s,Superintendent,

inbroad

outline.""I'm

notsatisfied.

You

canfind

rnoremen.

You

haveonly

toglance

downthe

corridorsofthat

tower

ofassholesat

Headquarters.

They're

alltwiddling

theirthum

bswhile

we

can'teven

pullin

afew

streetpeddlers."

"The

othersection

headswon't

cooperate.They

saythey

needawritten

order,signed

bythe

director.""Fine,

we'lljust

getalong

without

theirdam

nhelp."

"With

what?"

"That's

yourproblem

,Inspector."

Serdjbowshis

head.Isee

hisdefeated

neck,with

itsmat

ofwrithing

white

hairs.It'sthe

mostpathetic

neckIhave

everhad

toexam

ine."I'll

seewhat

Icando,

Superintendent."Igrunt

inapproval

andrequest

acom

pletestatus

reporton

themaniac.

"Hehasn't

corneout

ofhishole

once,"the

inspectorsays,

"noteven

intothe

courtyard.Ever

sincehe

double-lockedhim

selfin,

heavoids

goingnear

thewindow

s.""Is

thereanyone

with

him

?""W

ehaven't

seenanyone."

"How

doeshe

live,for

cryingout

loud?Hehas

toeat,

buyfood

somew

here.Are

yousure

he'salive?

Maybe

he'scroaked

while

yourmen

were

contemplating

theirnavels."

"He's

notdead,

Superintendent.Hedoesn't

gonear

thewindow

s,butwe've

seenhim

praying,through

ourbinocu­

lars.One

tirne,the

secondday

ofhisrelease,the

bigblack

carturned

up.Itdidn't

stayin

theroad.

Itwent

intothe

garageand

carneoutagain

thirtyminutes

later.There

were

two

n1e11inside.

Wecouldn't

seemuch."

"That's

why

youhave

toget

offyourass

andcollect

asmuch

information

asyoucan

aboutthispsychopathic

bastard.""Imanaged

toget

acopy

ofhis

file.The

tabloidsused

tocall

himThe

Derm

atologist.""W

ashe

reallyaderm

atologist?""L

iterallyand

figuratively:he

bumps

offhisvictim

s,then

heskins

themlike

rabbits.And

notwith

aknife

orawire

brush;with

hishands,

with

hisbare

hands!Apart

fromthat,

theguy's

anenigm

a.Norelatives,

nofriends,

nothing.""A

ndyethe

was

triedand

convicted...."

"Itlooks

likeeverything

was

rushed.Onthe

faceof

it,neither

thepolice

northe

courtswanted

tospend

anytim

eon

thecase.

Aman

turnshim

selfin

andconfesses

tosom

emurders

thatnobody

checks.He's

immediately

hauledup

incourt.

Condem

nedto

life,lockedup.C

aseclosed.G

oodwork

was

patchyin

thosedays,

butin

thiscase

theyreally

went

toofar.T

hereare

onlyafew

sheetscollected

inthe

file,with

unusuallyworthless

statements.

They

didn'teven

botherto

checkthe

defendant'sreal

identity.""A

ndthe

house?""It

belongsto

acertain

Khaled

Bachir,

arich

livestockdealer

who's

alsoaprofessional

altruist.Before

ithousedSN

P,itw

asaguest-house

forthe

city'simam

s.The

owner

placedit

atthe

mosque's

disposal."Ilean

myhead

againstthe

backof

mychair

andtry

toorder

myideas.I

wonder

whether

ProfessorAllouche

hasn'tmade

amountain

outofa

molehill.

Idraw

acircle

onmyblotter

with

thestu1n

pofa

pencil,then

twotiny

circlesinside

it,then

twosem

i-circleson

eitherside

ofthe

firstcircle.

Irealize

I'mnotgetting

anywhere,

putthe

pencildow

n,put

myfingers

togetherunder

mychin

andlook

atthe

inspector.

ï8

CHAPTER

SEVEN

ï9

Yasmina

Khadra

"What

dovou

thinkof

allthis,Serdj?"

,"I

don'tknow

,Superintendent."Ireach

outwith

1nyarn1,

unhookmyjacket

fromits

nailand

hurryto

setsail.

Athom

e,it'sbusiness

asusual.

Moham

edwent

tobed

beforesundow

n.Apparently

heran

aroundallday

lookingfor

adecentjob.

Myother

kidsare

sulkingin

theirbedroom

s.Mina

andNadia

areabsorbed

ingluey

emanations

fromsom

ecook­

ingpots.

Istroll

asfar

asthe

livingroorn,

undomyshoelaces

andtake

offmy

shoes.The

smell

ofsufferingbig

toesquickly

fillsthe

room.

Isinkinto

thesofa

andclick

therem

ote.My

oldSonelec

televisiontakes

anage

towarm

up.Itoffersm

ea

fatuousdocum

entaryon

thesteelw

orksatElH

adjar,flagship

ofthe

socialistproject,

Algerian-style,

builton

afoundation

oftriumphalist

slogansand

kickbacksfrom

allsides.Mychil­

drenresent

thefactthat

Irefuseto

installasatellite

dish.The

foreignchannels

arecertainly

tempting,

butwhat

with

thegratuitous

obscenitiesthat

spewout

fromthe

studiosand

thenudity

thatseems

centraltothe

film-m

aker'sart,it's

impossible

towatch

themas

afam

ily.SinceIcan't

affordtobuy

asecondtelevision,

Iplaythe

rigidand

stubbornzealot.

Mina

comes

inwith

coffeeandaplate

loadedwith

cakes.She

servesm

e,then

sitsdow

non

athreadbare

footstoolin

frontof

me;

shegazes

at1neprotectively,

with

theeyes

ofa

devotedwife.

"Would

youlike

meto

runyou

abath?''

8180

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhadra

"Isthere

water

inthe

tap?""No,but

Isettwocanisters

asideforyou."

"It'snot

worth

wasting

oursupply

ofdrinking

water.

Besides,Ihad

ashow

erlast

week."

Then,

pricklyasarash,

Itraceher

thoughtsback

totheir

sourceand

demand,

"Why

doyou

want

rnetotake

abath?

Doyou

thinkl'm

startingtosmell?"

Shebeats

herbreast,

offended:"Brahirn

,where

doyou

getthese

ideas?"She

seemssincere.

Inorder

togetmyself

outofahole,

Imake

asuggestion:

"What

doyou

saywegoout

thisevening?

Wecould

godow

ntothe

waterfront

andlook

atthe

boats,ortoRueLarbi

Ben

M'hidi

todroolatthe

shopwindow

s.Ineed

achange

ofscene.""Just

youand

me?"

"The

childrenare

oldenough

tolook

afterthem

selves.It

won't

befor

long.Iwant

tobuy

youamerg

uezsandw

ich,or

abig

sorbetatIce

Krim

."Mina

grabsmyhands.

"Justgive

metimetoput

onmy

faceand

changemydress,

andI'n1

allyours.""Trynot

toput

ontoo

much

lipstick.Youknow

howI

behavewhen

peoplelook

atyoutoo

closely.""You

oldflatterer,

I'mtoo

oldtocatch

apasserby's

eye."She

standsup

andgoes

offtomake

herselfinto

abeauty

onceagain.

Ihave

justswallow

edmycoffee

when

someone

knocksatthe

door.It's

Fouroulou,akid

wholives

onthe

sixthfloor.

Heflicks

histhum

bover

hisshoulder

andtells

methat

sornefat,

gray-hairedtow

elheadwants

tospeak

meinfront

ofthe

building.The

gentleman

awaiting

meinhis

carisone

ofaspecies

ofgiant

toadthat

isvery

fashionableinour

countryinthese

leantimes.T

hekind

thatshits

outten

kilosofgreen

stutTfor

everykilo

heswallow

s.Unlike

Jeande

LaFontaine's

frog,hehas

managed

histransform

ationinto

anoxvery

well.

He

startswith

ahuge

calf-likehead,

white

andhairless,

likethe

onesFrench

butchersdisplay

intheir

window

sand

proceeds,via

agoiter,

toagut

thatcould

accommodate

twoairbags,

amedicine-ball

and,with

abit

ofgood

will,

abig

packof

fìoorrnats.Despite

thedark

glasseshiding

hisface

likethe

windshield

ofan

officialcar,

despitehis

brandnew

Italiansuit

andthe

gleaming

Mercedes

thathedrives

withthe

graceofahippopotam

usjammed

intoafishtank,

despitethe

smil­

inglovely

inthe

passengerseat,

hecan't

helplooking

likea

malodorous

nouveau-richeclod.

Buthe's

loaded,the

bastard,and

hedoesn't

hideit.

Without

gettingout

ofthe

car,hewinds

theelectric

window

downand

offersmehisjew

el-encrustedhand

likea

sultanreceiving

theallegiance

ofhis

court."Ihope

I'n1not

disturbingyou,"

hebellow

s,hypocritically.

"Youwould

disturbarat

initstom

b."Hisfatbelly

shakeswith

ashort

laugh,which

leaveshim

outofbrea.th."Dear

Brahim

,alw

aysaspolite

a.safart

mayoga

class.""That

provesthe

world

hasn'tchanged."

"Areyou

sure?""You're

notgoingtomake

mebelieve

you'renotinterested

inslim

eany

more."

Heturns

tohiscom

paniontomake

sureshe

isn'tshocked

bymywords,

saysafew

words

toher,opens

thedoor

andgets

out,moving

meawayfrom

hisinam

orata."Youshould

watch

yourlanguage,

Brahim."

YasminaKhaâra

"SocialSecurity

doesn'tcover

thatkind

oftherapy.Why

haveyou

cornehere

tospoil

myevening,

Hadj

Salem?You

don'tthink

yourfriend

thedirector

persecutesmeenough?"

Hadj

Salemand

Iwere

partofthe

sameintake.

Hehad

chosentobeacop

soastobebehind

thelaw

,wellplaced

toscrew

itupthe

ass.Buthewasworse

thanuseless

when

itcarne

tostudying,

andatthe

endofour

trainingatthe

policeacadem

y,his

pitifulgrades

andhis

questionableproclivities

onthejob

hadmade

itimpossible

forhimtobeput

onactive

servicewithout

causingadisaster.

Hewasposted

toasub­

office,and

hisduties

were

restrictedtofiling

invoicesand

hugedepositions

inthe

basement

archives.Andthere,in

theapt

shadowsofthe

box-rooms,which

soonwrought

theirinfluence

onhis

murky

plans,helearned

tofiddle

thebooks,

thentowork

onagrander

scale,and

discoveredavocation

thatseduced

everycorrupt

bossand

everybent

traineeinhis

section:hebecam

ethe

go-tomanfor

trickysituations.

His

talentsasafailed

copsteered

himawayfrom

trackingcrim

inalsand

toward

keepingtrack

ofpersonal

appetites.Hisinspec­

tor'sstripes

rnadehisinfluence-peddling

easier.Hewasmuch

more

oftenseen

inthe

homesofcrooked

mayors

orindubious

barsthan

hunchedover

hismagnifying

glass,following

thetracks

ofalow

life.Bitbybit,

hebegan

toknow

interestingpeople,

topenetrate

theirlittle

secretsand

tointervene,

hereand

there,tofile

awayanexplosive

dossierorarrange

fora

pieceofevidence

todisappear.

Once

hehad

builtupalittle

capital,hegot

intoreal

estatetolaunder

hisdirty

money.

When

hewasarrested

forthe

firsttime,hegot

thebenefit

ofthe

doubt.Inreturn,he

begangreasing

hissuperiors'

palms,

who,w

hetherthrough

gratitudeorvenality,

turnedablind

eyetohisactivities.

Hisreputation

asaMidas

reachedthe

earsof

theupper

echelons.Themovers

andshakers

inthe

policeforce

82

Dead

Man's

Share

foundhim

discreetand

effective,anexcellent

negotiator,and

entrustedhim

withtheir

littlesidelines.

Within

adecade,

hehad

managed

toenrich

everysingle

influentialmember

ofthe

Ministry

ofthe

Interior,and

climbed

theladder

asquick

asarat.H

ewas

rnadesuperintendent,

thenchief

superintendent;when

hejoined

theministers

privatestaff

itwasasawide­

rangingadviser,an

expertinskullduggery

ofallkinds.Today,

Hadj

Salemcontrols

asecurity

set-uplike

anervous

system,

andaspraw

lingfortune

withtentacles

spreadingbeyond

theborders

ofthe

country.Hetakes

outapack

ofAmerican

cigarettesand

offersme

one."They're

genuineMarlboros,

boughtinParis."

"No,thanks.

They

seriouslydam

ageyour

health.''"Have

yougiven

upsmoking?"

"Notnecessarily,but

myAlgerian

cigarettesdon't

carryahealth

warning."

Amused,

hebarks

outalaugh,lights

asolid-gold

lighterand

blowssmoke

in111y

face.Then

heputs

onasolem

nand

embar­

rassedface:"B

rahirn,I've

cometotalk

toyou

asabrother."

"Ididn't

knowmymother

hadother

lovers.""Put

yoursarcasm

awayalongside

yourfalse

teeth,please,and

trytobeagreeable.

Ihaveafriend

who's

worried.

He'son

thehorns

ofadilem

ma.Heloves

cops,andhewould

hateto

wreck

anyoftheir

careersforatrifle.

He'sarem

arkableguy,

verygenerous,

veryobjective.

He'svery

friendlywith

ourbosses.

Andhedoesn't

understandwhysom

ewretched

suck­ing

pigletiscreating

troubleforhim

.Hecarne

tosee

mein

myoffice

thismorning.

Hisstory

brokemyheart,

Itellyou.Ifeltso

badforhim

,and

soasham

edofour

institutionthatif

theearth

hadopened

upinfront

ofmeIwould

havethrow

nmyself

rightin.W

hilewe,the

seniorofficers

oftheforce,do

everythingwecan

torestore

theprestige

ofour

profession,

83

84

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhadra

certainlittle

flatfeet,only

justprom

otedoff

thebeat,spit

inour

soupand

dragthe

rninister

throughthe

mud.

Iaskedmy

friendwhy

hedidn't

gostraight

tothe

minister,

who's

afriend

ofhis.

Listentothis:thisspecial

mantold

mehedidn't

want

toblow

ayoung

officer'scareer

skyhigh

justbecausehegot

alittle

abovehis

station.Itbrought

tearstomyeyes,

wallah

laadim"Andyet

he'savery

powerful

person.I-le

hasonly

tosnap

hisfingers

forthetoughest

among

ustobe

reducedto

apulp.

Butno!

Hewon't

abusehis

notoriety.Hejust

wants

so1neonetohave

aword

with

theblack

sheep...."

''Isuppose

yourGood

Samaritan

isHajT

hobane."''Bullseye."

"Andthe

indiscreetofficer

isLino.""Ican't

hideanything

fromyou."

"That's

becausesham

edoesn't

offendanyone

anymore,

Hadj.""T

hat'sexactly

what

Itold

ourfriend

HajThobane."

Slipperyasan

eel!"Have

Isaidsom

ethingwrong,

Brahim

?"

Inod,

despairingly."The

fatinyour

bellyhas

invadedyour

brain."Hereddens.

Hisjow

lsflaplike

anelephant's

ears.Hesighs

hardenough

tofill

asail

androars,

"You

see?You

refuseto

listentoreason.

With

you,there's

always

acatch.

Icom

eas

afriend,

yougreet

melike

anundesirable.

Itellyou

abouta

misunderstanding,

youturn

itinto

adialogue

ofthe

dea£I

trytobe

civilized,you

exploititto

beunpleasant."

?"

"May

Iknowwhyyou

cameto

seeme.

"Toput

anend

toyour

lieutenant'sindiscretions...if

youstillcare

abouthim

.""Isethim

straightthis

afternoon."

Herem

oveshis

glassestolook

atme,looks

forthe

trap,doesn'tsee

oneanyw

here.Hisjow

lsaresuffused

with

suddenhappiness.

"You've

talkedtohim

?""Iwasfirm

with

him."

"Andwhat's

hegoing

todo?

Irnean

,doesheintend

togive

Nedjm

aup?"

"Nedjm

awho?"

"The

girlhe'sgoing

outwith."

"Hernam

eisNedjm

a?""That's

ofnoimportance.

The

main

thingisthat

yourlieutenant

turnsover

anew

leafand

goessniffing

aroundelsew

here.We're

certainlynot

goingto

letsubordinatescom

­prom

iseour

integrity."Igesture

tohim

tomove

hisimperialist

cigaretteaway,

becauseit's

botheringmyeyes,and

explaintohim

calmly,

"Itold

thelieutenant

thatfromnow

onhewould

beinhis

officeontim

e,that

Iwouldn't

tolerateany

unauthorizedabsences

andthat

Irefused

tolet

himstep

onmytoes."

"Excellent.

Doyou

thinkheheard

you?""Certainly!"

"That's

wonderful.

I'llgoand

reassureHajT

hobaneright

"away."W

ait,Hadj.Isetthe

lieutenantstraight,

nottheloverboy."

Hefrow

nsand

stubsout

hiscigarette

onthe

wall

ofmy

building.Hishand

isshaking;

hislips

arequivering

inadis­

agreeablemanner.

"What

doesthis

nonsensemean?"

"The

lieutenantwillbe

atwork

ontim

e.The

rest,his

evenings,hisweekends,

hiswhores,that's

hisprivate

life.He's

oldenough

totake

cateofhim

self."

*Wall,,1/1laadim

:Iswear

toAllah.

85

86

Dead

Man'sShare

YasminaK

hadra

"Ifear

yourlittle

runtm

aynot

bem

anenough.

Hajw

illsw

athim

likeafly."

"That's

notm

yproblem

.""Y

esit

is:it

will

beyour

fault.Y

ouw

on'thave

doneanything

todissuade

youryoung

pup.A

ndit

will

reboundon

you:one

way

oranother,

you'llbe

taintedby

thescandal.

Irem

indyou

thatH

ajT

hobane'sreach

islong.

He's

agreat

revolutionary.""L

ethim

make

anice

sugarloafout

ofhis

revolutionand

sitonit.T

hisisbetw

eenhim

andL

ino.Iw

antnothingm

oreto

dow

ithit."

"How

dareyou

speaklike

thatabout

oneof

ourbravest

mujahedint?"

"He's

yours,not

mine.

As

faras

I'mconcerned,

he'sjust

afat,stupid,

hypocriticalzealot

who

findsstealing

aseasy

asbreathing

anddoesn't

deserveany

more

considerationthan

agoat-fucker

with

hisdick

caughtin

aram

'steeth."

"Oh!"

saysH

adji,indignantly.

He

retreatsto

hisM

ercedes,his

facedistorted,

staresat

me

hardfor

tenseconds,

thenjum

psinto

hiscar

andleaves

with

ascreech

oftires.

"That's

right,you

fatbastard,"I

gro,¥1."Get

outof

hereand

don'tcom

eand

pollutethe

oxygenin

n1yhom

eagain."

Mina

isresplendent.

Shehas

donnedthe

dressI

boughther

recently,w

hichis

tosay

threeyears

ago,a

touchof

mas­

carato

tame

herbew

itchingeyes

andan

imperceptible

coatofpow

deron

hercheeks.She's

asbeautiful

ascanbe.B

utthe

mom

entIcorne

inand

shesees

n1yface,sheunderstands

thatthe

eveninghas

beenspoiled.

Sheturns

offher

enthusiasmphilosophically,just

asyoum

ightwithdraw

acom

plaint,turns

onher

heeland

goesback

intoher

roomto

puton

herapron.

"Where

areyou

going?"Iask.

"Er,I'm

gettingchanged."

"Why?"

"Someone's

gotyou

annoyedagain

....""Som

eonegot

me

annoyed,that's

forsure.

But

we're

notgoing

tolet

someone

socontem

ptiblebother

us."I

offerherm

yarm

.StillM

inahesitates.

Then,w

henshe

seesm

ysm

ilebeing

reborn,like

abeatific

baby,she

slipsher

handaround

my

elbowand

follows

me

outside.T

onight,M

inaand

Iaregoing

tohave

agood

time

likethere's

notom

orrow,

Igetto

theoffice

atabout

eightfifteen.L

inois

alreadythere,

shirtsleevesrolled

upto

hisshouldersand

pencilin

hand.He

ishunched

overa

pileof

pendingfiles

andties

"working."

When

hesees

me

showup,

helooks

ostentatiouslyup

atthe

clockon

thew

all."It's

always

fast,"Igrow

l,so

heknow

sw

hatIthink

ofhim.

Linochuckles,

goesback

tohis

paperwork

andpretends

toignore

me.H

ehas

astill-steaming

cupofcoffeenext

tohis

typewriter,

am

agnificenttortoise-shell

ashtrayw

ithinreach

anda

cigarette-endin

theprocess

ofgivingup

theghost

inchby

inch.Which

proveshe'sbeen

thereatleast

twenty

minutes,

Linosm

okesthree

cigarettesan

hour.Ichuckle

back,andsend

thew

atchman

offtoget

me

acoffee.

The

lieutenantand

Iplay

afirst

set,then

another,then

athird.

He

refusesto

lookup

fromhis

files;Iforbid

myselfto

make

thefirst

move.

When

thew

atchman

comes

back,and

afteragood

brown

cigarettethat

tastesofcat

hairs,I

ringfor

Baya

andhave

hersitdow

nin

frontofm

e.She

obeys,open­

ingher

diaryto

today."T

k"

Ia

ea

rnerno,say.

"Ready

when

youare,

Superintendent."

87

8988

Dead

lvlan'sShare

Yasm

inaKhaâra

"Subject:absences."

My

blowhits

home:

itm

akesLino's

forelockquiver.

He

recoversquickly

andburies

himselfin

hispapers.

Idictate

them

e1110to

my

secretary,speaking

clearlyand

insistingon

correctw

ording.Satisfied

with

thearrangem

entof

my

briefand

to-the-pointphrases,

myjudicious

comm

asand

thefirm

nessof

my

summ

ing-up,Iconclude:

"I'dlike

thism

emo

pinnedup

everywhere,

evenin

thetoilets.

That

way

noone

cansay

hedidn't

knowabout

it."B

ayaglances

atthelieutenant.

He

returnsthe

look,to

tellher

Idon't

scarehim

andthat

he'llrespect

111.ym

emo

aboutas

much

asa

Kleenex.

Isignalto

Baya

thatI'm

alreadytired

ofherpresence;

shescrunches

upher

noseand

standsup

with

thediary

pressedto

herbreasts.

Lino

deliberatelyslam

shis

filesdow

non

thetable,

oneafter

theother.H

e'stelling

me

thatthe

casesthey

containare

nowsolved.

Icantell,

fromthe

speedw

ithw

hichhe's

turningthe

pages,that

hism

indis

elsewhere,

At

aboutnine

o'clock,he

pushesthe

rernain

ingpaperw

orkto

oneside

andpresses

histhum

bsto

histem

ples.Twice,

hishand

reachesover

tothe

telephoneand

thenbeats

aretreat.H

esighs,

coughs,gets

outa

newspaper,

triesthe

crossword,

hasa

goat

acartoon,

alter­ing

thedraw

ingand

thenscratching

itout;hisjaw

sgrind

likepulleys

inhis

tenseface.In

orderto

wind

himup

evenm

ore,I

putm

yfeeton

my

deskand

pointthe

solesof

my

ancientshoes

inhis

direction.The

silencein

theroom

isreplete

with

suppressedhatred.

Acar

passesby

onthe

road,and

itinspires

thekind

ofidiotic

ideathat

entersthe

headofa

mayor

who

can'tw

aitto

pileyet

anotherirritation

ontohis

rudderlesscitizens'

plates.Lino

surrenders;he

grabsthe

receiverand

dialsa

number,

hidingthe

telephonew

ithhis

arm.H

isface

tensesup

evenm

ore,then

glows

with

pleasurew

hensom

eonepicks

upat

theother

end."Y

ou'renot

missing

me

anym

ore,darling?

...Well,

youhaven't

calledm

e....''(H

elooks

athisw

atch.)"N

inethirty­

two

exactly....O

h!Icom

pletelyforgot

thatyou

neverget

upbefore

noon."Lino,

intrying

toim

pressm

eby

callinghis

sweetheart,

realizeshe

hasputhisfoot

init.Even

ifIcalledM

inaat

threeo'clock

inthe

morning,

shew

ouldnever

hangup

onm

ein

am

illionyears.

I-leputs

down

thereceiver,

picksup

hispen

andstarts

mutilating

thepictures

inthe

paper,one

byone.

Suddenly,the

furiousclacking

ofapair

ofstilettosechoes

down

thecorridor.

The

lieutenantpricks

uphis

earslike

ananim

alin

heat,sensingthe

presenceofa

female.

The

clatter­ing

getslouder

andnearer,

veersoff

andenters

Baya's

office.M

etalchairs

arepushed

roughlyaside.

Ihear

my

secretaryshouting,

"Hey!

This

isa

privateoffice."

Apenetrating

voicereplies,

"Iknow

!"A

ndm

ydoor

isabruptly

thrown

open,despite

Baya'sbravado.

Aw

oman

stridestow

ardrne

andsullies

hercheerleader's

fiston

1nyfiles.

"Are

youSuperintendent

Llob?"Idon't

likeher

mariners

much,

andyet

Irestrain

myself.

The

wom

aninterests

me.

She'sa

typethat

setsm

eon

my

mettle.

Sherem

indsm

eof

rnyyoung

daysas

am

ilitantFLN

mem

ber.Cybernetic

energyw

hirlsaround

her.The

strengthof

herhands,

thesteeliness

ofher

gaze,the

severityof

herhairdo

fascinatem

e.This

littleslip

ofa

wom

an,cinched

upin

anaustere

businesssuit,

with

hersyndicalistglassesand

herhigh

forehead,isaveritablebom

bin

disguise.IknowA

lgerianw

omen;

they'recom

plicated.So

when

oneof

themm

akesit

crystalclear

thatshe

intendsto

blowa

gasket,it's

foolishto

---

-"

90

CHAPT

EREIGHT

Yasmina

Khaâra

standin

herw

ay.SoIrelax

in1n

ychair,

restm

yhands

onn1y

bellyand

justlook

ather.

Sheism

agnificent:and

herfury

isenchanting

inits

ownright.Lino

isunderherspelltoo,

exceptthat

hecan't

helplooking

down.

"Are

you?"she

demands,

pointingher

fingerat

me.

"Towhorn

doIhave

thehonor...?"

"Justice.""I

don'tsee

herblindfold.".

..

'"Y

ou'reobviously

theone

weanng

it,sinceyou

cantsee

where

you'reputting

yourfeet.

Iwon't

beatabout

thebush.

This

isyourlast

warning.

Ifyoudon't,

within

thenext

thirtyminutes,

callofftheludicrous

harassment

operationyou've

setup

aroundrny

client,I'll

haveyou

upbefore

thecourt

sofast

yourbelly

will

bangup

againstyour

spine.Irem

indyou

thatM

r.SN

P,vas

thesubject

ofapresidential

pardon.N

othinggives

youthe

authorityto

contestor

undermine

thatorder,

Superintendent.For

themom

ent,I've

decidedto

come

toyou

directly,to

warn

youto

guardagainst

overzealousness.Next

time

1'11skip

thatstep,

andyou'll

behearing

fromM

aîtreW

ahiba."Upon

which

sheturns

roundand

leavesas

shecam

e.In

agust

ofwind.

"Well,

well,

well!"

saysLino.

Monique

hasinvited

usto

dinner.Shew

asverypersist­

ent.rtoldher

sheneedn't

goto

thetrouble.

The

truthisthat

Iwas

exhaustedand

wanted

toplant

myselfin

frontof

thetelevision

towatch

the]SK-O

lympique

ElKhroub

match,

oneof

thequalifying

roundsin

theAlgerian

Cup.

Monique

reminded

rnethat

therew

asatelevision

atherhouse

andthat

itwould

make

Mohand

happyto

beable

totalk

with

me.

ldithered

indecisivelyfor

aminute

andthen,once

myAlsatian

friendstarted

listingthe

provincialspecialties

shewas

cookingup,lgave

into

temptation.

Mina

didn'twant

togo

outeither.

Shepretended

tohave

amigraine

inorder

toescape.

Ipointed

outto

herthat

ifshe

wanted

toput

alittle

money

aside,this

would

beagood

opportunity.The

lasttim

ewe

shookout

ourpiggy

bank,we

firsthad

torem

oveallthe

cobwebs

encasingit.M

inaweighed

upthe

prosand

consand

then,sensibly,

puton

herdress

andhurried

tocatch

meup

onthe

stairs.W

ejum

pedinto

ourrustbucket

andw

entto

buysom

epastries

fromthe

cheapestbaker

inthe

areaso

thatwewouldn't

arriveat

ourhosts'

empty-handed.

Itwas

stilldaylight,

sowe

decidedto

gofor

awalk

inthe

cityto

buildup

anappetite

91

92

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhadra

and,in

oneevening,

storeup

something

todigest

untilthe

nextelections.Algiers

takeseach

dayasitcom

es.She

isacity

without

much

coherencetoher

ideas,but,

likeatortured

rrianon

theday

beforehis

execution,she

triesto

takeadvantage

ofthe

raremom

entsof

respitegranted

byher

jinns.

Sheseem

sto

avoidlooking

herselfinthe

face.Perhaps

becausethere's

nothingtosee.

Inany

case,people

don'tcare.R

ueLarbi

Ben

M'hidi

isteem

ingwith

peasantswho

havetraveled

fromdis­

tantparts

tobribe

wicked

andgreedy

clerks.Young

toughsstrut

upand

downthe

sidewalks,

theirshirts

opentoshow

offsolid

goldchains;

theythink

ofthem

selvesas

shopwindow

sand

areunhappy

ifyoungwom

endon't

stoptoadm

irethem

.Others,

lessrich,

showoff

theirdow

nychests,

forgettingthat

thebones

protrudingvisibly

freintheir

starvedbellies

considerablvreduce

theirchances

ofseducing

son1efortune-

,teller

inneed

oflubrication.

Mina

smiles,

amused

bytheir

performance.

Itmust

bringback

aflood

ofmem

oriesfor

her.When

Iwastwenty,

Iwasmore

daring.Ifyou

wanted

toget

intothe

pantsofasupposedly

virtuouswom

aninthose

days,you

hadfirst

toput

upwith

herprayers,

becausethe

honorofthe

tribewasatstake.

Iremember

thatthe

firstneighbor

Iattem

ptedin

myaunt's

laundrywastwenty-five

yearsolder

thanme.

Shewas

sohairy

shecouldn't

stopsneezing

everytim

e1ny

fingermanaged

tobreak

throughto

solidflesh.

And

bythe

timeIbad

pulleddow

nmyunderw

earshe

hadperked

upsofastI

didn'tknow

where

Istoodany

more.

When

Itell

Mina

thisstory,

itmakes

herso

sadthat

sheregrets

havinghesitated

forsolong

beforeaccepting

measher

husband.But

thosedaysare

longgone.Passions

aremisdirected

anddream

sare

manufactured

elsewhere.

Algiers

hasn'tcom

pletelylost

hersoul;

andyet,w

hereveryour

gazewashes

up,yousee

that

thingsaren't

goingwell.Y

oucan't

waitto

getdowntothe

seafront;

oncethere,you

haveonly

onefixed

idea:toget

homeas

quicklyaspossible.

The

sparklethat

usedtoinspire

youonce

uponatim

enow

suddenlyworries

you.Allthe

littledetails

thatused

toadd

ashine

tothe

city'scharm

havefled.

The

cafésare

likeanim

als'dens,the

movie

theatersare

sealedshut,

theparks

andesplanades

arefalling

apartunder

theburden

oftheir

humiliation;

there'snothing

forapoor

man

todo

butpace

upand

downthe

pittedroadw

aysall

daylong,

hisears

assailedby

vulgarobscenities,

hisnostrils

tormented

bythe

stenchofcheap

eateries.You

can'tsitdow

natatable

without

somemalcontent

drowning

youinhis

shadow;you

can'tleanover

aseaw

allwithout

beingtem

ptedtothrow

yourselfinto

theabyss.ElB

ahja"is

sick.She

nolonger

botherstohide

thewithering

ofher

senseof

decency.Herpain

isblatant,

hersuffering

knowsno

bounds.Everyw

here,slovenly

copsharass

theirpeople,

exceptwhen

there'sariot

andimmense

crowds

gatherinpublic

places.Aninexplicable

sicknessisperverting

people'sminds.

Invectivepasses

forbravery,

andblasphem

yseem

sseism

icallysignificant.

These

symptom

sare

unmistak­

able;warning

signsthat

tellyounothing

ofvalue.Noone

hasyet

touchedon

theessential,

that'sfor

sure;and

yetno

one,university

graduateor

railroadworker,

psychicor

pigstub­

born,clever

orcretinous,

understandswhy,in

acountry

where

thereisenough

toeat

anddrink

foreveryone,

greator

small,

thepeople

arestarving;

noone

canexplain

why,beneath

thetorrent

oflightpouringdow

nfrom

Algeria's

goodold

sun,the

fundamentalists

areinching

ahead,good

peopleare

pullingdow

nwalls

andthe

youngare

seekingthe

terribledarkness

ofdespairin

shadowydoorw

ays.

*ElB

ahja(The

White):

nicknamefor

Algiers,

becauseofher

white

buildings.

93

94

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhaâra

Mina

considersallthis

without

sayingaword.

Hergaze

isveiled.

There's

nodoubt

aboutit:the

countryiswell

andtruly

cavinginonitself

Good

willisbeing

shatteredonthe

ramparts

ofderangedappetites,

asceticismistaking

holdamong

themilitants,

andthe

most

recentgraduates

aredem

anding,loud

andclear,

aslice

ofthe

cakethey're

noteven

closeto

catchingaglim

pseofany

daysoon.

Oneofthese

days,with­

outwarning,

thepow

derkegwilltake

eventhe

most

alertby

surprise.The

collapseislikely

tobeonagrand

scale,the

damage

irreversible.Tocheer

n1ycom

panionup,Inudge

heraffectionately

inthe

sideand

whisper,

"Doyou

remember

Algiers

duringthe

baraka"years?"

"Itry

notto

stirup

thepasttoo

much,"

shesighs.

"These

arethe

samestreets,

thesarne

people,the

sainelight.

What

isitthat's

changed?""People's

mentality."

"Mentality?"

"Before,

peopleshared

everything.""They

didn'thave

much,

though.""Butthere

waslove."

"You

thinkwe're

unhappybecause

there'sno

loveany

more?""That's

what

Ithink.

When

thecolonizers

left,vve

lostsight

ofone

another.Wetried

sohard

toreach

forthe

stars,and

hangthe

cost,thatw

egave

upthe

most

important

thing:generosity.

Men

arelike

elephants,Brahim

.One

stepoutside

thegroup,

andthey're

lost.We've

becomeselfish.

We've

lostout

moorings.

Wethink

we're

keepingour

distancefrom

otherpeople;

infact,

we're

drifting.Asweisolate

ourselves,

*Baratea:

inArabic:

theblessing

ofAllah,

chegreater

good;inFrench:

arisingfrom

cheFrench

colonizationofA

lgeria,good

luck.

weexpose

ourflanks

sothat

theslightestbuffetgoes

throughuslike

afatal

thrust.Because

we've

chosentoact

alone,we're

fallingapart.W

e'llshoutourselves

hoarse,but

noone

willcom

etoour

aidbecause

everyone'slistening

tohis

ownsiren

song.""W

ell,you've

gotmore

onyour

mind

thanhousehold

worries,

Where

didyou

learntotalk

likethat?"

"Darning

yoursocks."

"Youshould

havetried

yourluck

atuniversitywhile

youstill

could.""Im

possible.While

I"vas

stillinhigh

school,there

was

thiscool

youngmanwho

usedtowait

formeonthe

sidewalk

when

classlet

outevery

day.Hewould

stickclose

besideme

andwhisper

sweet

nothingsallthe

wayto1ny

home.B

ecausehe

"vasinthe

policeforce,

hethought

hecould

dowhathe

liked.Heused

totell

meabout

anapartm

enthehad

alltohim

selfonthe

thirdfloor,

with

lotsofw

indows,any

number

ofrugs

andanice

fridge.Hesaid

itwasalittle

bitofparadise;that

thesun,before

givingup

theghost

inthe

evening,would

throwitsrays

intothe

roomatthe

endofthe

corridor,abedr'oorn

asbig

asanempire,

with

abrand-new

mirrored

wardrobe,

abed

decoratedwith

embroidered

pillowsand

coveredwith

silksheets,beneath

which

themost

beautifulchildren

inthe

world

would

beconceived."

"He"vas

quitethe

charmer,

thiscop,

youmust

admit,

becauseyou

usedtorecite

hispatter

byheart

insteadofrevis­

ingyour

coursework

theday

beforeyour

exams."

"Hewasn't

acharm

ersomuch

asafakir,

butmyfather,

whowasdeafin

oneear,w

ashappy

tolend

himthe

otherone

ratherthan

listentome."

Islapmyknee

andburst

outlaughing.

Ioften

wonder

what

would

havebecom

eofm

eifM

inahadn'tm

arriedme.She's

more

than1nyw

ife;she's1nypersonal

95

96

Dead

li/Ian'sShare

YasminaKliaâra

guidingstar.Just

havingher

besidemefills

mewithincred­

ibleconfidence.

Iloveher

likecrazy

but,inaland

where

theforbidden

isincontention

with

theharem

forthe

palpitationsofour

hearts,Iwould

beeven

craziertotell

herso.

Mina

goesfirst.

I'mbeside

her.The

insideofthe

placelooks

likeabookshop.B

ookseveryw

here,on

shelves,on

chairs,incorners.

Over

thefireplace,a

portraitofthe

writer

Kateb

Yacine

flirtswith

apainting

byIssiakhem

:then,am

idasham

blesofstatues

andavague

airofdilapidation:

books,manuscripts

andmore

books.Mohand

takesour

boxofcakes

offour

handsand

offersusathreadbare

sofabeneath

thewindow

."The

march

hasn'tstartedyet,"

hereassures

111e."So

much

thebetter.W

here'syour

bigcow

?""1'1n

inhere,"

Monique

bellowsfi:001

thekitchen."I'll

bewith

youinacouple

ofminutes."

Mina

glancesatm

edisapprovingly

beforesitting

down.

Iwink

athertotellherto

puthercom

plexesback

intheir

box.I've

cometoMonique's

mainly

torelax,

afterall.

Mohand

comesback

with

awicker

chair,sits

himselfin

acorner

andfolds

hisarm

sacrosshis

chest,likeawell-behaved

schoolboywaiting

forhismeal.T

here'sno

chanceoffun

with

himaround.

Hecan

spendhours

insilence,

slumped

inachair,

with

hiseyes

staringinto

spaceand

hismind

elsewhere.

Iwouldn'tw

anttoend

upon

adesertisland

withhim

forany­

thing.Hecan't

gotobed

without

something

toread

infront

ofhisnose,and

spitefulgossip

hasitthathe

onlyputs

hishandonMonique's

pussytowethis

fingersohecan

turnthe

pages."Areyou

reallyinterested

infootball?"

Iaskhim

."Wbat

doyou

think?""Is

thereanything

elseyou've

beenkeeping

fromme?"

"That

dependswhatyou

want

tosee,"

hesays,w

ithoutirony,"H

aveIever

toldyou

thestory

ofthe

gravediggerwho

wanted

tobecom

eacaver?"

"Idon't

thinkso."

Theold

buildingMonique

livesinisatthe

backof

asquare

furnishedwith

ruinedbenches.

Onone

side,aggressively

uglybuildings

blockits

viewofthe

sea.Onthe

other,the

austerewalls

ofaschool

lookatitrespectfully.

Caught

ina

visebetw

eenthe

wretchedness

ofone

andthe

hullabalooof

theother,

ittriestokeep

acoolhead.U

nlikethe

surroundingslum

s,ithas

beengiven

acoat

ofpaint

onthe

frontfaçade,

hasanentrance

thatinspires

trustand

staircaseswith

lightingand

astill-functioning

elevator,allofwhich,

amidthe

generaldecay,is

something

ofamiracle.

The

stairsare

cleanand

thewalls,

thoughtouched

with

damp,have

nograffiti.

Weare

among

well-brought-up

people.Weget

tothe

fifthfloor

without

difficulty.Monique's

apartrnentison

theleft.

There

isadoorm

atfor

theuse

ofyokels.M

ina,with

aslight

moue,

takesinthe

respectabilityof

thelanding,

becausethe

neighborswhere

shelives

don'tleave

anythinglying

around:they

grabeverything,

eventrashcans

andhalf-crushed

cigaretteends.

Iringthe

doorbell.Alock

clicksand

thedoor

openstorevealM

ohand,look­

ingpathetic

inhisworking-class

scholar'ssuit.

"Didyou

getlost?"hegulps,looking

athiswatch.

"Justaflat

tire.Unfortunately,

therepair

manhad

hisarm

inplaster."

"Very

inconvenient,Idon't

doubt.""Areyou

goingtolet

usin?"

"Oh!I'n1.sorry,"

heblurts

out,turning

aside.

97

98

Decid

Man's

ShareYasmina

Khadra

"Withyour

wife's

agreement,

I'llsave

itfordessert."

"Great."

Ilookhim

overfora

moment.

Hislips

arelike

healed-upwounds,

hisenthusiasm

liketheflu.

It'sgoing

tobehard

tosupport

myteam

withhim

around.Idon't

evenhave

timetotake

offmycardigan

beforethe

telephoneintervenes.

Mohand

answers.Hesayshello

asyoumight

say"YourLordship,"

listens,forcesouta

commonplace

courtesyand

looksupatme."Verywell,

monsieur,

I'llhand

youover

tohim."

Fíepassesnie

thereceiver.

When

IrecognizeInspector

Serdj'sshrill

voiceattheend

oftheline,

myheart

misses

abeat.

"Can't

Ibreathe

easyforone

miriute

anymore?"

"I'n1very

sorry,Superintendent.

Icalledyour

homefirst.

Your

songave

methisnumber."

"What's

itabout

thistime?"

"Oneofourmen,w

howaswatching

ourfriend's

house,hasbeen

attacked.I've

calledanambulance

andit'llbethere

"Duty

calls.""Can't

yougetanyone

totake

yourplace?

LookwhatI've

donetomyface

foryour

ghost-writer's

sake.''"It's

imperative

thatIbeonthespot

tostop

thismatter

leakingout.

It'svery

serious.Iprom

isetobeback

beforehalf-tim

e.''

***

intenminutes."

"Isitserious?"

"Ipreferred

nottotake

anychances."

"Okay,

I'monmyway."

Minatries

toobject.

Mysomber

expressionfreezes

her.Mohand

isupset,but

keepshisfeelings

tohimself.

"Ihave

togo,"

Iexplaintothem

."Oneofmymenhasbeen

roughedup.Im

ountedthis

operationwithout

thebacking

ofmysuperiors.

Aninitiative

thatmight

turnnasty."

Monique

comesback

in.She

hastidied

upherhair

andputonsomelipstick.

Herbreastsjiggle

franticallybeneath

herbouncer's

shirt."Leaving

already?"

Theambulance

isalready

there.Theflashing

lightsmachine­

gunthenarrow

streetwith

splashesofbluish

light.Itisdark,

andtheonly

streetlight

intheplace

gaveuptheghostlong

ago.T-v.10

policecars

areparked

arrogantlyonthe

sidewalkwhile

theambulance

attendantsfinish

strappingupthewounded

rnan.Inspector

Serdjseem

sembarrassed:"It's

bad,"he

says,without

beatingabout

thebush.

Ilean

overthe

stretcher.Theunfortunate

victimseem

scompletely

rigid.Although

hiseyes

areopen,

hedoesn't

seemtoknow

what's

goingon.A

bracehasbeen

placedaround

hisneck

andhishead

hasbeen

wrapped

upinathick,

turban­like

bandage."Which

one'sthedoctor?"

Iask.

"Me,"ayoungster

replies,fiddling

withhis

stethoscope."How'shedoing?"

"Ineed

todosomex-rays.

Firstoff,the

blowtothe

headisnasty.

Thecom

pressionofhis

vertebraewascertainly

causedbytheimpact.T

here'sno

seriousbleeding,

butthere

ismajor

swelling.""Hashesaid

anything?""No.MayItake

himawaySuperintendent?

Thequicker

wegethim

tothehospital

thebetter

ourchances

offixing

himup.Ican't

ruleoutinternal

hemorrhage."

99

100

Dead

Man's

Share

101

Yasmina

Khadra

"Thank

you,Doctor.

I'mrelying

onyou

roget

himback

onhis

feet."T

heam

bulanceleaves

imm

ediately,sirens

wailing,

Iturn

toSerdj.

"Itold

youto

putt'\VO

men

onw

atchat

atim

e,"Ibegin,

playingthe

blame

game.

"There

weretw

oof

them."

The

coldnessof

histone

bringsm

eup

short.I

changetack:

"Talk

ton1e...."

"They

hadbeen

onduty

aboutfour

hours.O

neof

themw

entto

getsome

coffeenearby.W

henhe

gotback,he

foundthe

dooropen

andhis

partnerslum

pedover

thesteering

wheel

with

hisneck

twisted."

"Iw

asn'tgone

Jong,"the

survivorsays.

"Five,m

aybeten

minutes.T

hecafé's

rightthere,at

thebend

inthe

road.Icam

eback

quicklyand

foundM

ouradw

ithhis

faceon

thedashboard.

Iasked

thelady

inthe

houseopposite

ifshe'd

seenanything.

Shedidn't

noticeanything.

Iran

tothe

corner,over

there;no

one.I

checkedw

hetheranything

hadbeen

stolenfrom

thevehicle.

Nothing

hadbeen

touched.N

oteven

Mourad's

piece,w

hichw

asin

theglove

compartm

ent.""A

llright,"Isay

tocalm

himdow

n."Let's

getoutof

here.W

e'lltalk

aboutthis

firstthing

tomorrow

,in

111yoffice.

You

too,Serdj,

goback

with

yourteam

,It

goesw

ithoutsaying

thatthisnever

happened.A

sfortheinjured

inan,sendone

ofhis

friendsto

guardhim

atthehospital."

Serdjw

aitsuntil

thefirst

policecar

hasgone

beforehe

saysconfidingly,

"IfH

eadquartersever

findsout

aboutthis,

we've

hadit."

"I'vehad

it.Istarted

thisand

I'mnot

inthe

habitoflying

loww

henthe

shitstarts

tofly."

"That's

notwhat

Imeant,

Superintendent.""G

ohom

e,Serdj.''"W

hatare

yougoing

todo?"

"I'mgoing

tohave

achat

with

ourassault

ghost.""T

hat'sa

verybad

idea.T

here'snothing

toprove

itw

ashim

.Besides,

hem

ightlodge

acom

plaintagainst

us,and

theneveryone

would

knoww

hatw

e'vebeen

upto.

Notjust

Headquarters,

Superintendent.T

hewilaya"

them

inistryand...

thepresident.

Ithinkw

e'vem

essedthings

upenough.

Now

let'sclear

out.Iknewfrom

thestart

thisw

ouldturn

outbadly.""G

ohom

e,Serdj,

andtry

tosleep."

The

inspectorrealizes

atank

wouldn't

holdm

eback.

He

nods,more

frustratedthan

ever,and

pointsto

avilla

behinda

loww

ire-mesh

fence.I

ringthe

doorbell.T

wo

minutes

later,I

doit

again.A

built-inintercom

bythe

gatecrackles.

Iintroducem

yselfT

hereisa

clickatthe

levelofthelock,and

thegate

givesw

ay.I

crossa

small

pavedcourtyard,

goup

threestairs

tothe

entrance,push

openan

oakdoor

andfind

myself

ina

large,bare,poorly

lithall.Som

ethingm

ovesatthe

endofthe

room.

Itis

SNP,w

earinga

safarisuit

anda

skullcap,his

beardlike

afan.H

elooks

likesom

eoneout

ofa

Phoenicianinscription.

He

issitting

ona

mat,

likea

fakir,handson

hisknees,

bodyupright,

andresem

blesa

heapofragsleftbehind

atthe

docks.A

streakof

ragesuddenly

coursesthrough

n1yw

holebeing,

asitdoes

everytim

eIfind

myself

infront

ofam

urdererw

hois

arrogantand

proudof

it.Flicking

my

thumb

overm

yshoulder,

Igrow

l,"W

asit

youw

hobeat

upm

yofficer?"

*W

ilayr,:province

102

Dead

Man's

ShareYasmina

Khadra

SNP

allows

himself

acontem

ptuoussm

ile.H

iseyes

glideover

rne

likethe

shadowof

abird

ofprey,

sendingshivers

down

n1yspine.

After

aninterm

inablepause

forreflection,

hesays,

"Iknew

thepolice

producedsecond-rate

rninds,butIdidn't

thinktheir

enquiriesw

ereso

disconcertinglysim

ple-rninded."H

isvoice

seems

tocom

efrom

deepunderground.

"Very

well,''

Iconcede.

"I'llask

my

questionin

am

oreintelligent

way:

areyou

thebastard

who

injuredthe

youngcop

who

was

onw

atchoutside?"

"Get

out,Superintendent."

There

isno

angerin

hisdem

and."A

nddo

youknow

who

Iam?"

"Don't

beafool.

Go

away."

His

self-assurancem

akesm

efeeldisagreeable.

He

istrying

topush

me

tom

ylim

its,and

Ihave

tostruggle

notto

joinin

hisgaine.

"I'mgoing

tosay

onething

toyou,you

pieceofscum

.Y

oucan

sendin

yourlaw

yers,your

guardianangels,

yourdam

nedsouls

andevery

presidentialcom

mittee

inthe

land,but

Iwon't

bedeterred

forone

second.I'n1going

toride

yourass

sohard

there'llbe

noskin

lefton

yourbuttocks."

"Do

asyouw

ish,Superintendent,

butdon'ttellm

eabout

it.Ihaven't

askedanything

ofyou.

Now

leavem

e."Ilow

erm

yhead,

acouple

ofheartbeats

fromapoplexy.

Ipointrny

fingerathim

threateningly:"A

cornmon

crimi­

nallikeyou

needsto

watch

hisstep."

With

this,IfeelI

havehappened

ona

small

chinkin

theguru's

armor.

Forhis

beardtrem

blesand

hiseyes

flash.H

ecollects

himself

imm

ediately,his

neckstiffens

andhe

decidesnot

toaddress

anyfurther

words

tom

e.Form

ypart,

IfeelI've

seenenough

ofhim.

Iturnon

my

heeland

amabout

toleave

when

hisvoice

pounceson

me:"W

hatgives

youthe

rightto

talkabout

'comm

oncrim

inals,'Superintendent?"

hesays,suddenly

switching

tothe

familiar

tuform

."Y

ourbrav­

ery,yourintegrity,

orm

aybejustone

ofm

anyw

aysto

earna

crust?Just

becauseyou're

acop,doyou

thinkthatautom

aticallyputs

youon

thesam

eside

asw

idows

andorphans?

Likehell!

You're

nothingm

orethan

avulgar

slaveof

thecivil

servicew

hohas

toget

upearly

inthe

morning

ifhe

doesn'tw

antto

bethe

boss'sdoormat.

You've

gotno

more

respectfor

thepoor

taxpayerthan

acircus

horsedoes

forthe

audience.They're

alljustroles,

handedout

arbitrarilyand

irrevocably.Everyone

conforms,

period.The

end."Igo

onw

alkingtow

ardthe

exit.H

isvoice

pursuesm

eacross

theem

ptycourtyard:

"It'sreally

notw

orthm

akinga

songand

danceabout

it.W

e'reall

asbadas

eachother.T

hereare

thesam

ecrirnirial

impulses

inyou

asthere

arein

anypredator,

Superintendent.Y

outrack

yourprey

inthe

exerciseof

yourduty;

Itrack

mine

inthe

fulfillment

ofmy

vocation.That

makes

youahero;

itmakes

me

am

aster."Ireach

thegate.

Hisvoice

risesan

octave,grabsm

eby

thecollar

andbreathes

down

thenape

ofmy

neck:"Life

anddeath,

Good

andEvil,

chanceand

face,they're

allthesaine;

foolishtheories

thatstriveto

takethe

placeof

destiny;com

monplaces

substitutingfor

genuineinquiry.

And

sothe

wheel

turns,sw

eepingm

illionsof

clonesinto

them

ix,links

inthe

chain,com

plicitinthe

drama

likethe

fingersofthe

handgripping

them

urderw

eapon.W

hoare

we,Superintendent?

Nothing

butcreaturessubject,

whether

theyw

illit

ornot,

tothat

sovereignand

imm

utablebreaker

thatis

fate;nothingbut

pawns

onthe

Lord's

chessboard.Y

ouyourself

must

havew

ishedto

besom

eoneelse,a

leadinglight,

103

104

CHAPTER

NINE

Yasmina

Khadra

acom

rnander,anidol,

perhapsCroesus

himself

Alas!

Weare

notinpossession

ofthescript

written

forusbydestiny,but

we

trytofollow

it.Later

on,we'll

saywe're

proudtobethis

orthatpuppet....

Bullshit!

Wehave

nomerit,

andnor

dowehave

anyfault.T

hat'show

cunninglyGodmade

theearth.

Why?

Whodares

askHim

?AllIknow

isthat

God

isfree

tomake

anychanges

Hewants

to.IfHedoesn't

liftHislittle

finger,it'sbecause

Hehas

I-lisreasons.What

affairisit

ofmine?"

Iturnround

andstare

athim

foramoment.

Hissmilehas

disappeared.Idon't

knowthe

realvalueofthis

firstconfession,

butat

thisstage

it'ssom

ethingrather

thannothing.

Hocine

El-Ouahch,

a.k.a.the

Sphinx,never

attendedan

educationalestablishm

ent.Helearned

onthejob

andfirm

lybelieves

thatexperts

areforged

onthe

street-hence

hishorror

ofthosepom

pouswindbags

knownasgraduates.

Asfar

ashe's

concerned,it'snot

thehead

thatmakes

amanbut

thehands.

Ifwespeak

ofskillinterm

sofasafe

pairofhands,

it'sbecause

everythingdepends

onthe

handsand

anythingcan

beovercom

ewiththe

strengthofthe

fist.Theproofis

thathe

worked

asanexplosives

expertduring

thewarofliberation,

without

openinga.m

anual,and

blewup

somany

tracksand

bridgesthat

theAlgerian

railroadnetw

orkhasn't

recoveredto

thisday.A

tindependence,

heaccepted

therank

ofcorporal

inanengineering

unitand

spentmost

ofhistimeswaggering

abouthis

douarwith

aBastos

cigaretteclam

pedtohis

lip,a

studdedbeltslung

overhis

shoulder,and

anunbuttoned

tunicexposing

thebelly

ofapeevishand

belligerentdrunk.

Inthose

days,when

loosewomenwere

notexactly

plentifulonthe

streets,soldiers

made

dowithbrothels,w

heredoses

ofclapand

crabswere

handedoutin

industrialquantities.

Hocine

wasn't

veryparticular.

Hegot

onwellw

iththe

madam

,occasion­

allyhelping

herdeal

with

soldierssuffering

fromprem

atureejaculation

who

accusedthe

girlsofm

alpractice.Itw

asagreat

105

106

Dead

Man's

ShareYasmina

Khadra

life.D

uringthe

day,hew

ouldkick

assam

ongthe

potato­peelers;

inthe

evening,he

would

boozeitup

attheC

améléa,

courtesyof

theinnocents

who

would

listento

himtell

howhe

personallydefeated

theFrench

paras,single-handed

andw

ithoutorders

frontabove.Then

hisbattalionstarted

totake

deliveryof

more

sophisticatedm

ateriel,and

thingsbegan

toget

complicated.

Itw

asno

longerenough

toput

togetherexplosive

devicesand

setthem

offwhen

anenem

ytruck

went

by.The

Sovietinstructors

flourishedbooks

fullofdistressingm

umbo-jum

boand

insistedon

theabsolute

necessityof

fol­low

ingthe

instructionsin

them.H

acinecouldn't

follow,H

ehad

beensuperseded.

He

was

senton

arefresher

coursein

aspecialist

institution.There,

hisneurons

were

worn

outby

sophisticatedform

ulaeand

esotericcalculations

andhe

hadto

dropout,

handin

hískitbag,

helmet

andboots,

andtry

hisluck

asa

civilian.H

ew

asbyturns

am

echanic,a

deliverym

anand

apa,vn­

brokerbefore

rentinga

trawler.H

ew

aslocked

upforillegal

useof

dynamite

duringhis

fishingtrips.

The

alarming

conditionsof

hisdetention

reachedthe

earof

hisform

ercomm

anderin

the1naqu£s-

nowan

interimgod-w

hointervened

double­quick,lighting

afire

underthe

governorofthe

jailand

tellinganyone

who

would

listenthat

throwing

ahero

ofthe

revolu­tion

inthe

slamm

erw

asthe

heightofingratitude,

adisgrace.

I-IocineEl-O

uahchw

asfreed

onthe

spot.H

eim

mediately

joinedthe

police,to

getrevenge

onhisjailers.

He

was

firstseen

inthe

late1960s,blow

inghis

whistle

atthe

cart-driversin

thePlace

duPrem

ierM

ai,then

beatingup

Mouloudia

fanson

theirw

ayinto

theB

ologhinestadium

.H

isreputation

forstrong-arm

tacticsspread

quicklyin

theunderw

orld.H

ew

asa

copby

dayand

apim

pby

night,and

hisschem

esdid

veryw

ell,in

fullview

ofeveryone

andw

ithno

objectionsfrom

anyone.W

ithinthe

policeforce,

espritde

corpstrurnped

allother

considerations.B

ocinew

asinspired

tow

orktw

iceas

hard.And

heshow

edm

uchtalent.

He

knewhow

farhe

couldgo,

henever

oversteppedthe

mark,

andhe

was

carefulnotto

huntin

anyoneelse's

territory.O

nem

orning,out

ofthe

blue,it

turnedout

thathe

hadbeen

sworn

inas

thedriver

ofasenior

officialofthe

nation­one

famous

forhisverbalattackson

thePoliticalB

ureau-w

hobow

edout

insuch

asuspicious

m.anner

thatseveral

nabobsdecided

itwould

bew

iseto

drivetheir

officialcarsthemselves.

Itm

ustbe

saidthat

eventsof

thiskind

were

almost

aregular

featureof

societyduring

thisperiod

ofrevolutionary

adjust­m

ent:after

thebrain

draincarn

ethe

flightof

capital,and

alarge

number

ofapparatchiks,

bothhonest

toilersand

highflyers,

optedto

make

themselves

scarcebefore

beingcaught

upin

anet

ofconspiracies.

The

many

departuresleft

vacantposts,

andthe

opportunistshelped

themselves.

This

ishow

Hacine

El-O

uahch,a.k.a.

theSphinx,

can1eto

besquatting

inthe

Bureau

ofInvestigation

afterthe

tragicdisappearance

ofits

director.Strangely,

nobailiffs

turnedup

toreinove

him.

lnfact,

Bocine

El-Ouahch

was

thebest

applicantfor

thepost

inthe

nation'sblack

market.

The

upperechelons

were

involvedin

speculativeinvestm

entson

allsides,so

what

better,vay

toensure

thesuccess

oftheir

littleventures

thanto

allocateInvestigation

toa

zealouscretin

andoutstanding

wheeler-dealer

rolledinto

one?H

acinew

asn'tstupid,

hew

asjustilliterate.

He

playedthe

game

tothe

hilt,signingofffalse

invoices,closed

cases,dead

dossiers,backdated

reports,rigged

statements,

etc.,w

ithenthusiasm

andto

thegreatsatisfaction

ofhissuperiors.

Fromone

dayto

thenext,

hecouldn't

move

without

anentourage

offire-breathingcourtesans.

He

became

veryrich,w

hichm

eantabsolution

ofhis

sins,asfarashew

as

107

108

Dead

Man's

Share

109

Yasmina

Khadra

concerned,and

veryinfluential,

which

raisedhim

tothe

levelofalocal

divinity.Today,

Hocine

El-Ouahch

isazaim

inthe

fullestsense

ofthe

word.

Hestill

can'tread

anevvspaper,

butevery

timeagraduate

ofone

ofthe

elitecolleges

laysout

hisdegrees

inthe

hopeofbenefiting

fromatleast

aminim

umof

consideration,Hacine

immediately

pullsthe

rugfrom

underhisfeet

bylifting

hisjacketand

showing

offhiswarwounds,

andbyworking

his,.,vay

throughthe

hypocriticalrosary

ofhis

countlessfeatsofarm

s,without

which

Algeria

would

stillbeunder

theFrench

yoketoday.

Which

showshow

historyissom

etimesthe

worst

enen1yofthefuture!

Personally,I've

hadnodealings

withthe

Sphinx.We've

knowneach

otherforyears

andour

relationshipisunrem

ark­able.T

hatdoesn't

mean

Ihaveany

respectforh.irn;Ijustthink

Ihavenocause

coblush

underthe

disapprovalofm

ycolleagues.

Asfaras

I'n1concerned,

theSphinx

hasacannonball

where

hisskull

shouldbeand

Ihave

noreason

toexpect

anygreat

showofintelligence

fromhim

.That's

why,

when

Ispotted

hisnaine

among

themembers

ofthe

president'scom

mittee

onpardons,m

yAdam

'sapple

almostleaped

outofm

ymouth.

FirstIasked

Serdjifitwasreally

Bocine

El-Ouahch,

a.k.a.the

Sphinx.Serdj

telephonedright

andleft

andcam

eback

toconfirm

thatitwas.

Ispent

therest

ofthe

afternoonfailing

tounderstand

what

thehell

asaddled-up

donkeywasdoing

inthe

middle

ofateam

ofrespectedpsychiatrists.

That

night,Icouldn't

sleepawink.

Inthe

morning,

unabletoreconcile

myselfw

iththe

ideathat

thecountry

couldbeup

thecreek

becauseanignoram

uswaschairing

apanel

ofintellectuals,

Idecided

togo

andsee

himinperson.

Who

knows?Perhaps

hehad

changed.

1arriveatthe

Bureau

ofInvestigationon

thestroke

ofninethirty.

Ihavebeen

warned

thattheSphinx

doesn'treally

wake

upuntil

he'shad

tengood

cupsofcoffee

andthree

furiousrow

s.SoItake

n1ytime.

Imunch

onacroissant

inaseedy

café,skimthrough

thenew

spaper,where

thenew

sisn'tnew

,and

then,once

I'vefinished

mysecond

cigarette,Tgetdow

nto

business.Theadm

inistrativeblock

underHocine

El-Ouahch's

controllooks

likeahaunted

castle.Nota

flunkeytobe

seenin

thecorridors.

Every

functionaryisburied

inhis

paperwork,

pretendingnot

tobe

there.lnthe

heavysilence,

allyou

canhear

isthe

occasionalclearing

ofthe

Sphinx'sthroat,

which

hasthe

effectofburying

hisunderlings

evendeeper

behindtheir

typewriters.

Andyet

thesesheep,

pitifulbeasts

ofburdenthat

theyare,

metam

orphoseinto

vileanim

alsassoon

asthey

arelet

looseonthe

poortaxpayer.

Suddenlytheir

vampire's

fangsand

theirdem

on'shorns

arerivals

inaggression,

sonightm

arishthat

eventhe

most

powerful

flarnethrowercan­

notsave

theirsouls.

Ghali

Saad,the

permanent

secretaryofthe

Bureau

ofInvestigation,

iswaiting

formeonthethreshold

ofhis

sanctu­ary,his

smileradiant

andhis

eyessparkling.

I'venever

likedhiskind.Every

timeour

pathscross,

theiron

entersmysoul

andshivers

runup

anddow

nn1y

spine.Iknew

himwhen

hewasaballboy

atthetennis

courts.How

didheget

tothe

levelofthe

Sphinx,and

soquickly?

Evenhedoesn't

knowthe

answer.

InAlgeria,

thedoor

tosalvation

isasunexpected

asthe

trapdoorfrom

which

thereisnoreturn.

It'sallabout

baraka.Either

youhave

itoryou'll

neverhave

it.Ghali

Saadmustberelated

toAladdin's

genie:wherever

heputs

hisfin­

gerhe

findsanugget

ofgold.Heissuccessful

ineverything:

women,

cars,raffles,investm

ents,connections,

bananaskins;

110

Dead

Man's

ShareYasmine!K

hadra

inshort,

hew

asborn

under

alucky

star,and

naturehasn't

neglectedhim

either.G

haliis

tallanddark,

handsome

asan

Olym

pian,very

courteousand

irresistiblygallant.

Atofficial

receptions,the

guestshave

eyesonly

forhis

elegance.H

issm

ilew

orksm

irac1es,his

wink

wreaks

destruction.Adm

iredby

all1n

en,dream

edofby

allwom

en,m

aliciousgossip

hasit

thathis

wardrobe

containsthe

knickersofthe

finestladies

inA

lgiersas

well

asa

fewY-fronts,size

XX

L.

"This

isa

blessedday,"

hecries,

spreadinghis

armsw

ideto

welcom

em

e."D

on'ttalk

nonsense,"lreply.

"It'snotevery

dayyou

seeam

onumentofintegrity

bring­ing

hisuprightness

inhere.Y

ourodor

ofsanctityw

illpurifythe

place.In

fact,I'vejustbeen

informed

thatour

much-loved

minister

isgettingout

ofhospital

thisafternoon,

onhis

own

two

feet,without

crutches.""D

oyou

thinkI'm

aftersom

ething?Because

ifsoI'll

haveto

turnm

yprayers

backto

front."Ghali

throws

hishead

backw

itha

laughthat's

sorefined

Ialm

osttake

itatfacevalue.

"Delightful1y

incorrigible,"he

says,inviting

me

intohis

gildedcage.

Ghali's

officeis

certainlyone

ofthe

most

flamboyant

placesin

theBureau.

You

can'tdescribe

itw

ithoutbeing

accusedofbeing

underthe

influenceof

hallucinogens.Fine

paneling,crystal

ware,

velvetcurtains,

paleblue

carpetand,

onthe

walls,

paintingsborrow

edfrom

theN

ationalMuseum

without

receiptsand

with

nochance

ofbeingreturned.T

heperm

anentsecretary

isaw

arethat

thissplendor

isfascinating

tothe

distinguishedvisitors

thatpassthis

way.H

esaysnoth­

ing,but

thedécor

speaksfor

itself.Studying

my

reaction,he

steers111.e

politelytow

ardan

armchair

thatw

ouldrelax

thebackside

ofthe

most

constipatedof

dowagers.

"I'min

ahurry,"

Isay."T

here'sno

rush.Y

oucan

havea

cupofcoffee

with

rue.M

r.El-O

uahchis

onthe

telephonew

iththe

president'soffice.A

ssoon

asthe

redlight

onthe

wall

turnsgreen,

he'llbe

allyours.

He'll

bepleased

tosee

you.H

e'sgot

alot

ofrespect

L'"

LOryou."Y

ou'llgive

me

acom

plex."G

halisits

onthe

edgeof

hisdesk,

likeaH

ollywood

godposing

onarocky

outcrop,rests

hism

anicuredhands

onhis

kneesand

looksdow

non

me

magnificently,

"There's

agroup

ofsuperintendentsgoing

toBulgaria

forsom

etraining.

The

listisstill

open.Ifyou

want,Ican

whisper

aw

ordin

theForeign

Section'sear."

"I'mhappy

near111.y

kids.""T

hinkbefore

youtalk

suchnonsense.

We're

nottalk­

ingabout

anexpedition

upthe

Am

azon.From

thefinancial

pointof

view,it's

areal

windfall.

Nine

months

ina

schoolw

ithan

excellentreputation.T

hestipend,

incash,w

illeasilybuy

youtw

ocars

when

yougetback.Y

oucould

evenstarta

smallbusiness.

How

longtillyou

retire?""I'm

notplanning

tohand

inm

ybadge

justyet."

"Brahim

,you'renotgetting

anyyounger.T

here'sacorn­

pulsoryretirem

entage

now.

One

day,you're

goingto

getso1ne

unwelcom

enew

sin

them

ail.U

nwelcom

ebecause

youm

akethe

mistake

ofnot

planningforit.If

youask

me,you

shouldjum

pat

anyopportunity

thatpresentsitself.

Bulgaria's

abeautiful

country.The

peopleare

marvelous

andliving

ischeap

fora

traineebeing

paidin

dollars.N

inem

onthsw

illpass

quickly.But

they'rehighly

lucrative."

111

112

Dead

Man's

ShareYasmina

Khadra

"Imean

it."Istare

athimcalm

ly.Hedoesn't

turnaway,to

provehis

goodfaith.

Atthat

precisemoment,

amagnificent

youngwoman

inamagnificent

outfitappears,

languidlybearing

aglittering

tray.She'swearing

severallayersofmake-up,

andherblouse

showsoffbreasts

soproud

thatmysense

ofdecencyisautom

aticallyrendered

nullandvoid.

Sheplaces

aporcelain

cupinfrontofm

eand

pourstwofingers

ofcoffeeinto

itwith

infinitedelicacy.

Ghali

thanksher,

puttinghis

handover

hiscup,

anddism

issesher.B

eforeleaving,she

looksrightinto

my

pupils,sodeeply

thatsomething

stirsatthe

centerofm

ybeing.

"Hernam

eisNoria,"

Ghali

tellsme."She

comestous

fromthe

Sorbonne.Thepanel

gaveher

herdoctorate

with

theirheartiest

congratulations.""Ididn't

knowthe

Bureau

requiredapostgraduate

degreetooperate

acoffeepot."

Ghali

realizeshism

istake.Hewipes

hiscrim

sonface

andclears

histhroat.

Iamabout

toadm

inisterthe

coupdegrace

when

thelighton

thewallturns

green.Savedbythe

bell,theplayboy

swiftly

getsridofm

ebyannouncing

metohisleader.

TheSphinx

doesn'tget

uptogreet

me.Heeven

seems

boredatm

yvisit.H

isconversation

with

thepresident's

officeseem

stohave

stuckinhis

throat.Helooks

searchinglyat

thereceiverfor

along

time,frow

ning.Iuse

theopportunity

toexam

inehim

upclose.

I'llnever

getused

tohis

profile.Hocine

El-O

uahchdoesn't

haveasingle

millim

eterofnose.

It'sasifamischievous

draughtslam

medthe

doorofasafe

inhis

facewhen

hewasababy.Y

oucould

putaspirit

levelonhis

faceand

thebubble

ofairwould

settleimmediately

atdead

center.Heisn't

calledthe

Sphinxbychance.H

isugliness

would

normally

beintolerable.

Tomitigate

thedisharm

onyofhis

features,hesports

anenorrn

ousmoustache,

whose

effectismagnified

byashyster's

beardthat

wouldmake

abrothel-keeper's

pubisblenchwithenvy.B

utthemost

shockingthing

ofallabout

ourMediterranean

yetiishis

hands,hairyand

repellentasgiant

tarantulas.Heisholding

themclasped

together,like

asecret

policemanabout

tobeat

asuspect

toa

pulp."Good

oldBrahim

Llob,ashard

toshake

offascrabs,"he

sneers,after

aquick

glanceatthe

clock."Youcan't

lookup

without

findinghim

inyour

sights.""Justgoes

toshow

I'magenuine

Algerian."

I-leconsiders

mywords

forfiveseconds,

notgetting

it,then

startsthe

discussionupagain.

"Meaning

what?"

hesays,

cautiously.lexplain:

"Thecharacteristic

ofanAlgerian

isthat

hedoesn't

gounnoticed:

heeither

fascinatesorhemakes

afoolof

himself."

"Thetrouble

isthatyou

gotoo

fur:youmake

aspectacle

ofyourself""Youthink

so?""Going

bywhat

I'vejust

heard,yes."

"Andwhat

arepeople

sayingabout

me?"

"Idon't

speakBulgarian."

"Who

saidanything

aboutlanguages,

Brahim

?We're

talkingabout

cash.""Icede

myplace

tosom

eoneyounger."

"Theyoung

havethefuture

aheadofthem

..Theold

shouldenjoy

awarrior's

rest.You've

beenstruggling

fordecades,

Brahirn.

I'n1among

thosewho

thinkyou

deserveallthe

respectinthe

world.

Ivalueyour

uprightness,your

cornrnit­ment,your

patriotismand

yourprobity.R

eally,copsofyour

caliberare

arare

commodity

thesedays.

I'dbedelighted

tobehelpfulin

someway."

"You're

tookind.''

1.13

114

Dead

1\l[a11'sShareYasm

inaKhadra

"You

naineit.H

aveyou

hadanything

todo

with

acertain

Maître

Wah.iba

lately?""She

came

tom

yoffice

andbent

111.yeara

fewdays

ago.""Y

ou'dbetter

watch

out.T

hatw

oman

isnitroglycerine.

Wherever

shedrips,

thedam

ageis

catastrophic.G

uessw

how

ason

theline

threem

inutesago?

The

president'schief

ofstaff.

They're

sleepingtogether.

Shehad

tow

aitfor

himto

come

backto

bedbefore

shecould

turnhim

againstyou.

Itobviously

worked.

He

triedto

reachyou

atyouroffice.

They

saidyou

were

here.Ihad

topull

outall

thestops

tocalm

himdow

n.H

etold

me

tow

arnyou

aboutyour

over-zealousness.H

e'lllet

itpassthis

time.G

oastray

onernore

time

andyou'll

bepublicly

quartered."H

enotices,

finally,that

Iam

standingin

therniddle

ofthe

room,

swallow

s,and

invitesm

eto

sitdow

non

apadded

chair.Ilow

erm

yselfonto

theseat

andcross

my

legs,scow

ling.H

ocinegathers

himself

together.H

efiddles

with

some

beads,tw

irlsthem

aroundhis

indexfinger

andthinks.

"Do

youenjoy

troublethat

much,

Brahirn?"

"Itry

toearn

my

salary."H

eputs

hisbeads

down,

strokeshis

beardand

examines

me

shrewdly.

"Why

didyou

come

here,Superintendent?"

His

toneis

businesslike."I

fearthat

apublic

menace

may

havebenefited

froma

presidentialam

nesty.""So

what?"

"I'vebeen

tryingto

work

outw

hat'sw

rongw

iththisstory

forw

eeks.B

utw

hocan

Iask?A

ndthen,

suddenly,I

realizethata

colleaguew

ason

thepresidential

comm

ittee.So

Icarneto

seeto

what

extenthe

couldenlighten

me."

''Good

God!"

hesighs,exasperated.

He

claspshis

headin

hishands,

shakeshis

beardand

then,after

asilent

curse,confesses,

"Your

casepains

me,B

rahim.

It'scrazy,

butit

hurtsto

seea

former

maquisard,a

heroof

thegreatest

revolutionthe

centuryhas

seen,aging

sobadly."

"Only

wine

getsbetter

with

age.""W

hateveryou

do,don't

feelyouhave

tohave

anansw

erto

everything.""I

can'thelp

it.""A

ndyou're

aw

it,w

hat'sm

ore.I'll

enlightenyour

littlefirefly's

tail,Superintendent.

That's

what

youw

ant,right?

Your

problemisyou.Y

oucan't

bearyourself

anym

ore.You

pickfightsin

thehope

thatsomeone

willshut

yourm

outhfor

goodand

all.T

heother

problemis

thatno

onecan

beboth­

eredto

giveyou

agood

hiding.Peoplehave

betterthings

todo.

Forgoodness'

sake!"he

rages,stirringup

theair

with

hisbeads,

"wake

up!T

hesun's

shining,there

areparties

inthe

streets,gardens

onevery

corner.K

idsare

havingfun,grannies

aregetting

theirfixes

attheperfum

ecounters,

youngpeople

aresw

arming

aboutin

thehigh

schoolsand

girlsare

prettyas

goldensequins.

Do

yousee

what

I'mgetting

at?T

hew

ar'sover.T

heenem

y'sgone

away.T

hecountry's

doinggreat.

No

murders,

noattacks,

nokidnappings;

everything'shunky-dory.

Maybe

thatreassures

thepeople,

butunfortunately

itbores

SuperintendentLlob,

bornto

dobattle,

orto

make

mountains

outof

molehills.

There's

therub:

yourdissatisfaction.

Sinceyou

don'thave

anycases

toinvestigate,

youhunt

down

yourow

nunhappiness.

And

youtread

oneveryone

else'stoes

while

you'reabout

it.W

orkit

out:it's

notthe

answer.

You're

notjust

failingto

whip

upastorni,

you'realso

making

something

outof

nothing.Ifyou

want

some

advicefrom

afriend,

takea

fewdays'leave

andrew

ardyourself

with

acure

atthe

spaatH

amm

amR

abbi.T

here'snothing

wrong

with

ourstory.

115

116

Dead

tVJ.an'sShareYasmina

Khadra

Ifthe

comm

itteedecided

togrant

apresidential

pardonto

aprisoner,

it'sbecause

hedeserves

it.The

expertsare

eminent

scientists,very

thorough.A

ndIw

asthere

tosupervise

theirw

ork.The

intellectualshave

theirknow

ledge,but

Ihave

111yexperience.

Iunderstandthe

human

factorbetter

thananyone.

I'vebeen

comm

andingm

enfor<leca.des,training

andretrain­

ingall

kindsof

people.""I've

beena

copfor

decades,too.

It'snot

boreciornthat's

kickingm

ybackside,

it'sintuition.I'n1

sureI've

putmy

fingeron

something,

andIrefuse

togive

up."H

ocinethe

Sphinxishurt.

My

obstinacyupsets

him.H

espreads

hisarm

sresignedly

andgrow

ls,"Do

what

youlike."

"Ineed

tohave

alook

athis

file."''W

hoare

youtalking

about,exactly?"

"SNP

."H

efrow

ns."A

reyou

surehis

casecam

ebefore

my

comm

ittee?""M

ayI

goto

hellifI'm

lying."H

efrow

nsagain

andtries

torem

ember.

He

cornesup

empty-handed

andhis

mouth

softens."D

oesn'tring

abell."

"SN

P,a.k.a.

theD

ermatologist.

Inprison

since1971.

Fora

seriesofhorrific

murders-e-"

"Don't

goon,

I'veheard

enough.M

ycornrnittee

studiedone

thousand,three

hundredand

fifty-sevenfiles.

One

byone.

With

thehighest

integrity.There

was

noexternal

pres­sure

andno

decisionsw

eretaken

lightly.If

yoursuspect

was

released,it'sbecause

w«

felthew

asperfectly

capableofgoing

backinto

societyand

making

anew

life.You

sayhe's

beeninside

since1971.T

hat'sseventeen

years.When

you'vespent

aslice

ofyourlife

likethatbehind

bars,youdon't

haveany

more

secretsfrom

yourkeepers.

Therefore,ifthe

prisonauthorities

recomm

endedhim

forrelease,

andif

theexperts

supported

therecom

mendation,

itmeans

theprisoner

hasthe

rightto

asecond

chance.There

areno

hiddendepths,B

rahim.

Infact,

there'sno

water

inthe

river.You're

buildingfantasiesaround

apoor

bastardw

how

antsonly

tostart

afresh.""M

aybe.I'm

notasking

theearth,

Ijustw

antto

havea

glanceat

hisfile.

The

littleinform

ationI've

beenable

togather

abouthimistoo

meager

todraw

aw

orthwhile

identikitpicture

ofhim

.""I

don'thave

anysuch

filein

111.yoffices."

"Maybe

youcould

pointm

ein

theright

direction-""I

don'thave

anythingto

pointto,"

hecuts

in."A

reyou

tryingto

startasecond-guessing

operationor

what?"

"I'mtrying

tostop

am

urdererfrom

butcheringinnocent

people.""First,

waitforhim

todo

something

beforeyou

readhim

hisconstitutional

rights.There's

nolaw

thatperm

itsus

tothrow

am

anin

thehole

justbecause

,vedon't

likethe

way

helooks.""W

ell,the

lawneeds

totake

agood

lookatitself."

The

Sphinxstarts.

He

grimaces

indisappointm

entand

growls,

"You're

completely

mad.

And

Ihaveno

intentionof

settingup

anothercom

mittee

ofexperts

tolook

intoyour

case.You're

obviouslyin

thegrip

ofanasty

mentalcold,

andby

allappearancesyouhave

nodesire

togetbetter.

I'vegiven

youten

minutes

ofmy

time.

I'veeven

beennice.N

ow,ifyou

don'tm

ind,Ihave

some

phonecalls

tom

ake."Istand

up.H

e'salready

reachingforthe

receiver.W

henI

getto

thedoor,

hesays,

"By

thew

ay,your

Lieutenant

Lino:are

yousure

he'sright

inthe

head?""H

e'sgot

anice

face,andthat's

enoughfor

him."

"Inthatcase,w

hycan't

hefind

sorneotherpiece

ofskirt?"

117

118

CHAPTER

TEN

YasminaKhadra

"He'salready

gotone."

"Exactly,

butit'snot

hissize."

"Justaslong

ashe'sgetting

insideit."

"IfIwerehim

,I'drunamile."

"It'sdifficult

tostayuprightsitting

onyour

backside.""It's

betterthan

gettingyourself

screwed."

Iturn

roundandlook

himupanddown.''Whoknow

s?Maybe

thelieutenant's

gay."Mycombativeness

takeshim

aback.Heisnotaccustom

edtopeople

facinguptohim

,anditirritates

himcothepointof

breathlessness.TheSphinx

iswellknow

nforit.O

newordout

ofplace,

andhis

interlocutorisremoved

fromtheranks.

He

haswrecked

abunch

ofhouseholds

andbrought

ondepres­

sioninworthy

officerswhomadethemistake

ofthinking

itwastheir

dutyascitizens

andprofessionals

topoint

outwhere

Hocine

El-Ouahch

isgoing

wrong.

Heputs

thephone

downandlooks

atme.Hisintim

idatingeyes

fillwithblackness.

Hemutters,

"Ihope

youknow

whatyou're

doing."Ican

hearhisjaw

sgrinding.

Ilookathimfora

goodthree

seconds,then

say,"Icer­

tainlyknow

whatIneed

todonext:stock

upontoilet

paperimmediately,

becausethisstory

isstartingtogive

metheshits."

InAlgiers,

allyou

havetodotogofrom

onecentury

toanother

iscrossthe

street.Andwhenitfalls

toyoutoleave

thecity,try

nottobesurprised

ifyourcaroccasionally

turnsinto

atimemachine.

Which

iswhy

Ididn't

jumpforjoy

whenProfessor

Allouche

suggestedIleave

thedin

ofBab

ElOuedbehind

andtake

atrip

overhisway.I

toldhim

thatsetting

footinhispurgatory

wasoutofthequestion,

asfaras

Iwasconcerned.

Hereplied

thatIwasunder

noobligation

andarranged

arendezvous

attheCaféLassifa,

inanancient

hamlettwokilom

etersfrom

theasylum

.Ihad

toaskthewaythree

timesbefore

Icameupon

amoldering

douarbehind

ahillyexcrescence

where

youwouldn't

eventake

yourworst

enemytofinish

himoff.T

heplace

looksliketheasshole

oftheworld.

Asense

ofbottom

lessdespair

risesinyour

throatthemomentyou

arrive.Itreally

isutterly

without

significance.Afewhovels

clusteredaround

livestockenclosures,

crookedalleyw

ays,the

stenchofopen

sewers,and

afeeling

ofimmense

mental

decay.Ifthe

peoplehere

haven'tclimbed

aboardtherevolutionary

train,it'sbecause

itnever

cameanyw

herenear

them.Oncethe

settlersleft,nobodytook

anyinterest

inthefateoftheindigenous

people.Theworld

carriesonelsew

here,andtheexodus

fromthecountryside

has

119

120

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhadm

contributedconsiderably

tokeeping

thissettlem

entbarren

andstagnant.

The

stubbornfew

who

haverefused

totake

flightgoon

mulling

overtheir

remaining

convictions,playingawaiting

gamewith

nofuture.

They

takeprom

isesatface

value,and

surviveonillusions

anddubious

water.

It'scalled

naivety;its

continuedsurvival

isnot

theresult

ofineffective

curesbut

ofafierce

preferencefordivine

assistance.The

officialspeeches

arecertainly

forceful;and

yet,despite

theblatant

demagoguery

andthe

lessonsoffered

bydisappointm

ent,the

common

peoplerefuse

toadm

itthat

theelite

might

bemaking

foolsofthem

.Som

epeople

justthink

likethat;

it'sdistressing

enoughto

make

youwant

tothrow

yourselfoffa

cliffbut

yoursacrifice

wont

changethe

problemone

bit.Ispit

under1ny

shirtsuperstitiously

beforedriving

mycar

intothe

godforsakenplace.

Fromthe

doorways

ofshacks

onboth

sides,gatherings

ofold

men

nearthe

endoftheir

dayswatch

mego

byasifIwere

anunexpected

thoughtgoing

throughtheir

heads.Igive

asm

allwave

ofgreeting;1nyges­

tureintrigues

themeven

more.

The

main

squareisdepressing,

nomore

thanaclay

tonguebounded

bysidew

alkshalf

buriedin

mud.

Apart

fromthe

skeletonofan

oldvan

andthe

chassisofatractor,

which

looklike

wreckage

leftbehindby

somewandering

cataclysm,you

would

swear

thatcivilization

hadmade

ita.point

ofhonor

notto

hangabout

here.The

Café

Lassifaisnext

toagrocer's

shopguarded

bya

herdofhalf-starved

cats.The

kidstanding

infor

hisfather

atthe

cashregister

isbored

todeath.

Not

acustom

erin

sight.The

establishment

itselfisbesieged

byan

intimidating

mass

ofcrushingly

under-employed

teenagers.They

havebeen

theresince

thedaw

nof

time,

staringat

thebuilding

onthe

other

sideofthe

streetand

keepingan

eyeout

fortheMehdi

thatis

spokenof

bythe

prophets,who

will

comeand

laywaste

thechaos

ofthe

doubters.Iput

onefooton

theground.

Check

thesurrounding

area.Amiraculously

intactposter

onthe

wallplugs

somecrook

forthepost

ofvillageheadm

an.There

aren'tany

otherpoten­

tialcandidates,

orelse

theirposters

havebeen

torndow

n.I

understand,alittle,

why

thevillage

isso

ill-starred.But

itsnot

thepoverty

ofafine

andcourageous

people,betrayed

bytheir

patronsaints,

thatpains

me.This

time,

without

adoubt,

myesteem

edpsychiatrist

isproving,

onceand

forall,that

hehas

littlereason

toenvy

hispatients.

You

would

haveto

besoftin

thehead

tochoose

aspot

astraum

aticasthis

forameeting

place.The

professorisleaning

onhis

elbowson

thecounter,

absorbedin

thecafé

owner's

stories.E-le

isstill

wearing

hiswhite

coat,but

hehas

kepthis

slipperson.

With

hischeeks

cuppedin

hishands,

heislistening

tothe

poorman's

sobstories.

There

aretwopeasants

inturbans

sittingsym

patheti­cally

besidehim

,silently

prayingthat

someone

will

remem

bertheir

orders.The

caféow

nerlifts

hishead

andseesm

einthe

middle

ofthe

room.Heinun

ediatelyidentifies

thecop

lurkingbehind

myplacid

family-m

anfrontand

startspolishing

thesurfaces

aroundhim

.Next,

theprofessor

seesmeand

says,"A

hr"as

ifhe

hadnot

expectedto

seemethere.A

ndthen

heglances

athiswatch

tocheck

whether

I'n1on

time,

"Foronce,

you'rejust

intim

.e.""That

dependsforw

hat."

121

122

Dead

Man's

Share

123

YasminaKhadra

"Doyou

havetimefora

cupofcoffee?"

"I'veonly

justgot

overabout

ofdysentery."

"What

doesthat

mean?

What

areyou

insinuating?"a

voiceroars

behindmyback.rturn

round.Anold

peasantissitting

inawicker

thronebeneath

aragged

holepretending

tobeaskylight.

Heisdraped

ina

brightlycolored

robe,his

cheeksare

rosyand

hisbeard

well

tended.Aclub

restsonhisknees

likeascepter.

Thismustbe

themaster

ofthe

house.Seeing

thatIdon't

sayanything,

hereopens

thedebate:

"Have

youtasted

mycoffee?"

"I'1nflatbroke,"

Isaytogetout

ofatight

corner,because

Ican

seethat

Ihave

beforemeanauthentic

Bedouin

ofthe

oldschool,

proudand

prickly,fistonthe

alert,ready

tosmash

yourface

infor

aword

inthe

wrong

place."So

godoyour

shoppingsom

ewhere

else."Icalm

himdow

nwith

onehand,

grabthe

professorwith

theother

andrush

outofthe

place.Theold

man'svoice

followsmeinto

thestreet:

"Justbecausethey

comefrom

thecity,they

thinkthey're

colonials.Didhe

evengive

111.ycoffee

atry?"

"No,Haj,"

thecustom

ersreply

inchorus.

And

theold

inangoeson,sententiously,

"Inmyday,you'd

wipe

outawhole

tribeforlessthan

that.""Quite

right,Haj...."*

**

Theprofessor

watches

ayoung

shepherdrunning

aftera

straysheep,

pursinghis

lips,then

admits,

"Ihaven't

setfoot

inatow

nfor

fouryears."

"Maybe

todaywasthe

timetodoit."

Hesighs,and

histranslucent

handclenches

intoafist.

"You

can'tsee

what's

coming,

inyour

vileand

chaoticcity.T

oomuch

noise,too

much

hustle-bustle.You're

caughtupinthe

tideofdays

andworries,

andit'srnore

thanyou

canmanage

tofind

senseinwhat's

passingyou

by.Here

inthe

country,youdon't

needadegree

toguess

where

thebeaten

pathslead.T

hethings

Ilearn,every

daythat

Godgives

me,

breakmyheart.

AllIhave

todo

islook

upatayoung

man

sittingonthe

sidewalk,

glanceinside

ahousew

ife'sshopping

basket,watch

apoor

wretch

losinghim

selfinthe

bottomof

acoffee

cupfor

twoseconds

tounderstand

what

they'veall

gotintheir

heads.I'm

worried,

Brahim

.""Youshould

talktoone

ofyourcolleagues."

Hewipes

hisface

with

apiece

oftissue

papel·.Hiseyes

arefilled

with

tears."That's

what

somesenior

peoplethink

too.They

lockme

awayinanasylum

andthink

thecase

isclosed

...that'snot

the,vay

thingswork.

You

can'thope

tokeep

yourdistance

byignoring

thedram

a.Youyourself

usedtolike

tosay

thatif

youturn

yourback

onmisfortune

longenough,

misfortune

startsinonyou

inthe

end."Agully

filledwith

water

blocksmywayand

Ihave

toswerve

tothe

right.Imount

theembankm

ent,hit

alarge

rockand

bounceback

ontothe

road,spraying

muddy

water

alloverthe

hood."Thepeople

yousaw

inthe

douarare

neitherbeggars

norcondem

nedmen,"

hegoes

on."They

arenorm

almen,

who

usedtodream

ofadecent

life.They've

made

thebest

ofthings

Once

backinmyrusty

wreck

ofacar,Ihurry

toward

theexit

fromthe

village."You

couldhave

foundusabetter

placetoland

up,"Isay

tomypassenger.

124

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKliadra

foryears,convincedthatone

daythey'll

findasliver

ofthesun

that'sbeen

takenaw

ayfrom

them.Adecade

ago,Iused

togo

thereatweekends

tosee

themlet

offsteamwithout

inhibi­tions.

They

were

happy,and

theirlaughter

echoedfor

miles

around.Ididn't

evenneed

tointroduce

myself

They

calledme

Hakim

"and

hadareligious

awefor

me.T

heyweren't

rich,but

thatdidn't

stopthem

invitingmeto

so1nemem

orablefeasts.

Inthose

days,itwas

considereddishonorable

tolet

astranger

passby

inthe

streetwithout

offeringhim

hospitality.W

ell,now

adays,thelooks

thatfollow

astranger

havechanged.A

ndso

haveche

people.Any

intrusionon

theirprivacy

isseenasa

violation.So

theyshut

themselves

away

behindtheir

silenceand

theirhostility,

toretain

thefew

crumbs

ofself-respect

theystill

have.And

there,locked

upin

theirunhappiness,

theyask

themselves

alarming

questions.What

havethey

doneto

deservetofallso

low?Where

didthey

falldown,

which

saintdid

theyoffend?

The

more

theydon't

findansw

ers,the

lesstheycan

keeptheir

headsscrewed

on.They're

losingtheir

equilibrium.Very

soon,they're

goingto

golooking

foran

explanationinhell.

Once

they'vetaken

thatstep,

Ican't

seehow

anyonewill

beable

tosilence

them.Algeria

will

thenexperience

anightm

areof

themost

absolutehorror."

"There's

nocause

foralarm

,Professor.

We're

justgoing

throughabad

patch,that's

all.""Y

ouknow

verywell

that'snot

true."Ifinally

getback

ontothe

tarmac.

Mycar

ison

itsmettle

againand

startsdevouring

thekilom

etersthe

way

astarving

man

eatsacountry

soup.Itell

rnykilljoy,

"Iwasborn

inaworse

placethan

yourdouarand

I'vegot

thescars

toprove

it.They're

what

keepme

onthe

straightand

narrow,"

*Hakim

:Wise

man,

atitle

giventocountry

doctorsby

theindigenous

people.

"Can

Itake

thosewords

tothe

bank?""Idon't

haveany

more

checks.""In

thatcase,

Idon't

takeback

aword

I'vesaid."

"Ifthat

makes

youhappy.N

ow,n1ayIknow

why

you'vetaken

meaw

ayfrom

n1y'vile

andchaotic'

city?""T

akealeft

atthenext

exit."Astrip

ofasphaltleadsus

throughthe

undergrowth.

The

sunplays

hideand

seekam

ongthe

leaves.The

coolunder

thetrees

islikeahym

nto

tranquility.Far

off,beyondthe

hilltops,aflock

ofbirdsisbidding

thearea

farewell

beforetheir

greatjourney.

The

professorabandons

himself

tohis

dreams,His

faceis

suddenlyrelaxed;

freedof

theirpain,

hiseyes

shinewith

adistant

lightagain.

The

pathslips

acrossthe

middle

ofafallow

field,skirts

asm

allhillandstraightens

beforecraw

lingon

itsbellyright

intoafarm

framed

bycypresses.A

packofbaying

dogsappearsfrom

behindahedge

andescorts

ustothe

door,where

aragged

oldman

hasjustfinished

tinkeringwith

awheelbarrow

,Ipark

mycar

underatree.

The

professorgets

outfirst,

toannounce

ourarrival,

thencom

esback

tofetch

me.

Asolid-looking

typeisw

aitingatthe

entrancetoagarden.

Heasks

ustofollow

him,then

disappears,leaving

usalone

inthe

midst

ofthe

greenery."Isn't

itabeautiful

day?"says

aman

Ihadn't

noticed,buried

inaforest

ofroses.Heiscrouched

behindhis

flowers,

asifin

ambush,

with

astraw

hatpulled

downalm

ostover

hisears.

Hisdenim

overallsare

brandnew

andhis

boots,though

spatteredwith

mud,

gleamsham

elessly.Ideduce

thatIamlooking

atahobby

gardenerwho

would

dobetter

togo

backtohis

nabob'sbed

insteadofstubbornly

shreddinghis

fingerson

rosethorns.

A

126

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhadra

glanceathisshirt

collar,spotlesslyw

hite,atthedazzling

pal­lor

ofhis

neck,athishaircut,

confirms

thisconclusion.

The

inanis

probablytrying

tocreate

anim

pression,buthe

doesn'tsucceed.

His

postureand

hisw

ayof

tendingthe

plantsspeak

ofa

pampered

mam

mal

who

hasbeen

broughtup

tolook

down

onphysicaleffortand

manuallabor;the

kindofm

anof

leisurew

hohas

everything,w

hocan't

move

fromone

placeto

anotherw

ithinhis

palaceexceptin

aw

heelchairand

can'tw

antsomething

without

tinklinga

bellathiselbow

;inshort,

apetty

aristocratsurrounded

bysycophants

andfìunkeys,

forw

hompicking

upa

handkerchiefor

wiping

hisglasses

isa

lowly

anddem

eaninggesture.

He

putshis

shearsina

toolbag,takesoffa

gloveand

standsup

toshake

ourhands.

"The

hakímhasoften

spokenofyou,Superintendent

Llob."I

frown.

The

man's

faceseen1sfanüliar,

butI

can'tplace

him.

He's

asm

allfellow

with

chiseledfeatures

andgrizzled

temples.H

em

ustbesixty-odd

yearsold,

andthere

must

begood

reasonsw

hyhis

expressionis

soalert

andfierce.

The

handhe

offersme

isscarcelybigger

thana

child's,yetits

gripbites

asfiercely

asan

embossing

tool.H

eshow

sus

tosom

ew

ickerchairs

beneatha

eucalyptus.O

bsequiously.Atype­

writer

sharesa

tablew

itha

basketoverflow

ingw

ithsheets

oftypescript.

Itfeelslikea

poet'shom

e,and

I'malm

ostem

bar­rassed

todisturb

him.

"Sohow

arethe

Mem

oirsgoing?"

saystheprofessor,sit­

tingdow

nin

theshade.

"They're

coming

along,bit

bybit.

Willyou

havesorne-

thingto

drink?""A

squeezedorange

form

e.""A

ndyou,

Superintendent?""A

fruitjuice."

Our

hostturns

toward

ahut.

"Bring

ussom

efruitjuice,

Joe."T

hesolid-looking

typefrom

beforereappears

with

atray

bearingglasses

anddried

fruitand

nuts.H

eserves

usand

withdraw

s."H

isnam

eisJoe?"

asksthe

professor."H

eloves

beingcalled

that.H

ew

entto

Chicago

onceand

nevergot

overit.Once

upona

time,he

boxedlike

agod

anddream

edofbecom

ingw

orldcham

pion.T

henhe

wentup

againstsomeone

betterthan

him.

His

managerbegged

himto

throwin

thesponge.Joe

refused.H

ew

entthe

fulldistance.

When

heleft

thering,he

leftagood

partofhis

reasonon

thecanvas.Som

etimes,

heputs

onhis

tracksuitinthe

eveningand

disappearsinto

theforestfordays

onend.T

hen,one

morning,

hecom

esbackand

can'trem

ember

where

he'sbeen.

He's

notall

there,but

he'sa

goodlad.

When

theroof

ofm

yshack

isthreatening

tocallitquits,he's

theone

thatfixesit.H

edoesn't

botherrne.Idon't

seewhy

Ishouldhave

todo

withouthim

."T

hen,turningto

me:"H

aveyou

beenin

thepolice

long,Superintendent?"

"Sinceindependence."

"Don't

yougetsick

ofit?""I've

seenw

orsein

otherplaces."

He

nods.T

heprofessor

liftshis

glassto

hislips,empties

itinone

goand

thenpounces

onthe

roastedalm

onds.W

elisten

tohim

chewvoraciously

forthreelong

minutes,

afterw

hichI

clearm

ythroatand

venture,"T

heprofessor

hasn'ttold

me

anythingb

M;:>"

aout

you,r....

"What?"

criesA

llouche."Y

oudon't

recognizehim

?"A

ndthat's

when

itcornesto

me.G

oodheavens,w

hatwas

Ithinking?H

e'saged,to

besure-

notunreasonable-

butnot

torecognize

hi111atall?

1'111the

onew

hoshould

bew

orrying.

127

128

Dead

Man's

ShareYasmina

Khadra

"Mr.

Ch.érifW

adah,the

African

Che?"

"Chérif,

that'sfine.

Asfor

Che,

ldon't

thinkIdeserve

it.Sit

down,

Superintendent.Wedon't

standon

protocolor

salamalek"

here.We're

among

friends,and

somuch

thebetter."

"I'malittle

puzzled.""N

othingto

worry

about.Strictly

between

us,Idon't

mind.

IfI've

chosento

isolatemyself

it'sso

thatIcan

havethe

timeto

lookmyself

inthe

eye,without

anescort

andwithout

allies.Justme,facing

upto

what

lthink

Iam

.You

can'treabsorb

youressence

untilyou

cantake

yourselfaw

ayfrom

theeyes

ofother

people.Flattery

isjustas

dangerousas

enmity.

Here,

inmyplace,

Iescape

interpretation.I'n1

infront

ofmy

selfand

Iconfrontitwithout

holdingback.

It'sa

must

forsom

eonelike

me,w

hohas

benefitedfrom

exagger­ated

respectbefore

beingsubjected

tounim

aginablecruelty,

toask

him

selfalot

ofquestions

andansw

erthem

alone.The

world

isno

longerwhatitused

tobe.

Hum

anbeings,

inpar­

ticular,havestrayed

inmany

respects.Myself

included.Ain

Ithe

saineperson

Iused

tobe?

Ifso,to

what

extentand

forwhat

purpose?Our

doubtssurround

us,likearm

iesofghosts.

Which

ofour

commitm

entshave

'vVelived

upto,

andwhere

haveweled

thenation?

Why

doesthe

dawnbugle

startleus

insteadoflaunching

usinto

theconquest

oftheday,asitused

todo?

Where

didvve

fail?Because

weobviously

havefailed.

Now

adays,it's

almost

shameful

tohave

beenaxaim

..You

haveonly

tolook

athowour

heroesbehave.T

hey'veturned

thepage

ofthe

revolutionso

thatthey

canturn

theircoats

more

easily.They

standup

straightevery

morning,

insultsto

themem

oryof

theDeparted;

everyevening,

theylie

down

likedogs

onthe

mattress

oftheirpromises.

Ipukewhenever

Ithinkabout

it.""T

hat'sthe

subjectof

thebook

he'swriting,"

Allouch

efeelshe

hasto

warn

me."H

e'sgoing

tosettle

scoreswith

them,

thoseoverprivileged

monkeys."

"When

arevolutionary

wants

tosettle

scores,he

doesn'twrite,he

shoots."Che's

voiceiscalm

,butfirm

enoughto

putthe

professorin

hisplace.

Apall

oflead

fallsover

us.Allouche

swallow

s,but

can'tget

ridof

thepiece

ofalmond

stuckin

histhroat.

The

oldmaquisard

isangry,butdoesn'tshowit.H

eexam

­ines

hisnails

slowly,his

lipspressed

firmly

togetherand

hisgaze

opaque.Then,

asifnothing

hadhappened,

heturns

backto

nie."Y

ouwere

saying,Superintendent?""I

waslistening

toyou,m

onsieur."Hefrow

ns,Hescratches

amark

onthe

tablewith

histhum

bnail,methodically,laboriously.

After

aninterm

inableperiod

ofmedication,

helifts

hischin

aga.inand

confesses,"I've

lostthe

thread.What

were

wetalking

about?""C

ommitm

ent,monsieur."

Hislow

erlip

quivers.That

hasn'tgot

himany

further.Hestands

upand

holdsouthis

hand."Delighted

tomeet

you,SuperintendentBrahim

Llob.""M

etoo,

monsieur."

"Iappreciate

yourhonesty."

"Thank

you,monsieur."

Hetakes

astep

backand,

without

somuch

aslooking

atthe

professor,goesback

tohis

rosesand

forgetsallabout

us.Joe

isalready

thereto

leadus

away.

*salam

alelc:contraction

ofas-salaannialaikum

(peacebe

with

you),the

standardArabic

greeting.

:129

130

Yasmina

Khaãra

Inthecar,

asweleave

thefarm

behindus,Inotice

thatmy

passengerispale.

"Ididn't

understandthat,"

Isay.Hesquirm

sinthepassenger

seat,embarrassed.

"He'sunpredictable,

yousee,"

hetellsme."Som

etimes

he'ssogracious.

Other

times,hedigs

inbehind

hisambigui­

tiesand

everythingseem

shostile

tohim."

Iwaituntil

Ihavenegotiated

apothole

andthen

grumble,

"Whydidyou

takemetohishouse?"

"Iheard

youweregoing

roundincircles,

thatyourinvesti­

gationinto

SNPwasgetting

nowhere.T

heother

day,duringa

conversationaboutnothing

inparticular,

ItoldChérifthe

storyofour

friend.Weweretalking

aboutthepresident's

clumsiness,

andv.;egotround

tothisam

nesty,which

hasthrow

nthousands

oflowlifes

ontothestreet.Itold

himIutterly

disapprovedof

thismeasure

and,forthe

sakeofargum

ent,Imentioned

SNP

andthethreat

herepresented.

SyChérif

listenedcarefully

andthen

admitted

thattheboy's

storywasnotunknow

ntohirn."

"Inwhatway?"

"Idon't

know.Hewasgoing

totellusmoretoday."

"Andyouputyour

footinit."

"I'msorry.

Iclosethewindow

,turn

ontheradio

anddon't

sayanother

wordtohim.

CHAPTERELEVEN

I'vegotgood

newsforyou,L

lob,"Inspector

Blissannounces

attheother

endofthe

line."Surely

you'renotcalling

mefrom

beyondthegrave?"

"Asfaras

that'sconcerned,

youcankeep

onwhistling,

I'llbetheonedigging

yourgrave.

Free.I'lldoitforpleasure."

"Iassum

etheboss

issitting

besideyou."

"You're

right.Youknow

verywellthatw

ithouthisclose

protectionyouwould

havechew

edmyballs

off"Hisinsolence

makes

mefeelsick.B

utIovercom

etheurge,

knowing

thatonedayhe'll

gethiscomeuppance.

Onthat

day,itwillbe

hisparty,and

Iwon'tgive

himapresent.

Little

bootlickersofhisilkarelegion.T

heythink

they'llenjoy

theirbosses'baraka

foralltimeandsopush

theirabuses

tobreaking

point.Then,one

evening,they

realizethatnothing

reallylasts

forconunon

mortals.T

heblow

totheir

headswillbeenough

toshift

theearth

offitscourse.

"Areyou

stillthere,

Llob?""Like

allghosts,Fido.

Whatdoyouwant?"

"There's

beenapunch-up

attheBlueSultanate."

"Youcallthat

excellentnew

s?""Well,ever

sinceyou've

beengetting

onourtitswithyour

depression.Isn't

thiswhatyou

werewaiting

fortogetyour

assmoving

again?"

131

132

Dead

lvían.'sShare

YasminaKhaâra

Ihangup.Bliss

isonform

,and1'111not.E

xchangingbanter

with

himwould

justconfirm

hisstatus

asabastard.

Iknow

hirn:the

slightesthint

ofweakness

andhe

throwshim

selfon

hisvictim

likeahyena

onadying

lion.Ipick

myself

upfrom

mychair

andgo

into1ny

bedroomto

getchanged.

Mina

joinsme,

intrigued."W

hat'sgoing

on?""D

utycalls."

"Ateleven

o'clockatnight?"

"Duty

issham

eless,darling.

Noone

ruinsyour

lifequite

likeit.T

hetrouble

isthat

nofoolcan

ignoreit.B

ringmemy

sweater,

will

you?"

"want

tosee

anyone.

The

manager

pretendsto

berelieved

when

hefinds

outwho

Iani.Hegets

thecrow

dto

disperseand

leadsmedefer­

entiallyto

hisoffice.

"Wecam

eclose

todisaster,"

hesaysright

away,delicately

wiping

hisface

with

asilk

handkerchief"H

etook

outhis

gun,Superintendent.

When

thewom

ensaw

thevveapon,they

startedscream

ingand

tablesgot

overturned.Sorne

peoplethrew

themselves

ontheir

stomachs

andothers

divedinto

thesw

imming

pool.Indescribable.

Peoplewere

runningaboutin

alldirections.Can

youim

agine,Superintendent?

Respectable

peoplehad

cornehere

tospend

alittletim

ewith

us,and

with

nowarning,

horror....That

officerwent

toofar.H

ehas

noidea

what's

goingto

hithim

.W

eonly

acceptwell-know

nofficials,

businessmen,

leadersofthe

regime;

peoplewho

arethe

oppositeof

aggressive,who

won't

forgivesom

eonewho

comes

anddisturbs

theirpeace

andquiet.

The

Blue

Sultanateistheir

miniature

universe.Very

exclusiveand

veryexpen­

sive,to

keepundesirables

out.And

thenbang!

Right

inthe

middle

oftheshow

,apolice

officerstarts

making

aspectacle

ofhis

own.

I'masham

ed,"he

confides,shifting

hisweight.

"Ifyouhad

onlyseen

howem

barrassedIw

as.Ifthe

earthhad

openedup,Iw

ouldhavejum

pedin

without

hesitation.Good

God!

What

ascandal.

No

onewill

haveanything

todo

with

myestablishm

entfrom

nowon.

IthinkI'm

goingto

die...."Heisquite

donein,the

manager

is.Like

adow

agerduch­

essdiscoveringablack

crumbin

herbrioche.

I'vehalf

amind

toofferhim

myshoulder

tosob

on."H

aveaseat

andtry

tocalm

down,"

Iadvisehim

,Hecollapses

intoan

armchair,

dabbingatthe

cornersof

hismouth

with

hishandkerchief

"Pleaseforgive

rnyem

otion,Superintendent.

This

isthe

firsttim

eI've

witnessed

suchdeplorable

behaviorin

aplace

A:flash

oflightningstreaks

acrossthe

skyasIdrive

mycar

outof

thegarage.

Within

afew

minutes,

largeclouds

arriveover

thecity,

theirasses

kickedby

gustsof

wind.

The

firstdrops

ofrain

0111nywindshield

looklike

constellationsbeing

bornin

theglare

ofthe

streetlights.There

arenot

marry

peoplein

thestreets.

The

shopshave

lowered

theirshutters,

ashave

thediners

andcates.T

hesidew

alkshave

beenleftto

gangsof

theaim

lessunem

ployed.Idrive

fastalong

theboulevards,

racingthrough

redlightsjust

astheychange.

Iarriveat

theBlue

Sultanate.There

arealready

twopolice

carson

thescene,

andasm

allcrow

disgesticulating

bythe

road.Irecognize

SergeantLazhar

inthe

middle

ofthe

crush.Heistaking

notesin

hisnotebook,

payingexaggerated

atten­tion

tothe

statements

coming

athim

fromall

sides.Igo

toward

himwith

1nyhands

inn1y

pocketsto

showthat

I'n1the

boss."Let's

notstay

outside,please,"Isay,to

takecontrol

ofthe

situation."A

partfromthe

owner

ofthe

establishment,

Idon't

133

134

DeadMan's

ShareYasmina

Kliadta

consideredto

bethe

most

high-classin

thecountry.

There

areplaces

forhooligans

andplaces

forthe

creamof

society.Ithink

it'sunforgivable

toenter

anenvironm

entother

thanthe

onethat's

appropriatefor

yoursocial

class.""Y

ou'reright,"

saysSergeant

Lazharhesitantly,

tomake

hispresence

felt.Isilence

himwith

agesture

andask

himto

make

himself

scarce.The

sergeantfeelshe's

beeninsulted.

Hegrum

bleswith

resentment

andleaves,protesting,

forthecorridor.

Iclosethe

doorbehindhim

andask

themanager

coair

hisdirty

laundry."Perhaps

youcould

startat

thebeginning?"

The

manager

gulps,notsure

where

tostart,

then,stillwip­

ingthe

cornersof

hismouth,

which

isas

viciousas

amoray

eel's,he

startssqueaking,

"Fromthe

firstmom

entIsaw

him,

Isensed

anobvious

absenceof

class.His

clotheswere

clean,but

nornore.

Thrift-shop

stuff,amixture

ofparroting

andnaivety.

The

kindof

handsome

ladfrom

themost

deprivedfringes

ofsociety

who

strugglesto

climbthe

ladderon

thestrength

ofhispretty

face,ifyouget

n1ymeaning.

Iwas

againsthis

mem

bershipof

theclub.W

e'revery

particularatthe

Blue

Sultanate.Our

customers

areselected

with

extreme

care.Even

nouveau-richesaren't

admitted.

Afortune

isn'tenough,

onits

own.

Our

vocationhere

isto

protectthe

greatfam

iliesagainst

thedangerous

disorderand

disrespectof

arrivistes.Alas!

Our

friendwas

apolice

officer.And

vrerespect

ourinstitutions

religiously,Superintendent."

Icover

mymouth

with

rnyhand,

tohide

aya,vn

thatthreatens

totear

my

facein

half.The

manager

isshocked

by1ny

badmanners,

buthis

respectfor

institutionsis

obviouslystronger

thanhis

desireto

re-educateme.

"I'n1sorry,''

Isay."A

ftermidnight

Istart

thinkingI'1n

ahippopotam

us.Perhaps

youcould

getstraight

tothe

point:

who

isthis

officer?W

hydid

hetake

outhis

weapon?

Where

ishe

now?"

He

asksmeto

wait

with

amotion

ofhis

indexfinger,

andpresses

abutton.

Afìunkey

inadinner

jacketappears,

hisbow

tieundone,

hisshirt-collar

soiledand

hisface

hiddenbehind

ablood-soaked

cloth."M

r.Tahar

isour

maitre

d'.He

cantell

youwhat

hap­pened

betterthan

I.""G

oahead,

Mr.

Tahar."

The

maitre

d'understandsthat

I'n1notgoing

tosym

pathizewith

hissuffering.

Hepulls

thecloth

away

fromhis

mutilated

nose,notices

thathis

injuryleaves

mecold,

andgets

onwith

theserious

business."T

helieutenant

arrivedat

abouteight

o'clock,with

hisfiancée.

They

hadreserved

tablesixty-nine,

which

Ihad

personallyarranged.

The

lieutenantwanted

tocelebrate

hiscom

panion'sbirthday

properly.He

was

veryhappy

with

thetable

decorations.They

dinedlike

lovers,very

absorbedin

eachother.A

tabout

teno'clock,

hemade

asign

tome.

Itwas

asignal'I.Ve

hadagreed

onthe

nightbefore.H

isfiancée

wasn't

supposedto

noticeanything.

Hewanted

tosurprise

her.We

turnedout

thelights

andpushed

thecake

upto

theirtable,

tothe

accompanirnenc

ofapplause

fromthe

staff.It

was

amagnificent

giantcake,m

adeby

themost

famous

pâtissierin

Greater

Algiers.

The

fiancéegot

veryem

otional.Especially

when

theirneighbors

startedclapping

too.They

cutthe

cakewith

greatcerem

ony.When

thelights

cameon

again,thetw

oturtle

doves'smiles

vanished.M

r.Haj

Thobane

wasstanding

inthe

doorway

ofthe

restaurant.Proud

asagod.

Leaningslightly

onhis

mahogany

cane.He

lookedat

thelieutenant's

fiancéein

avery

touching,vay.A

nextraordinary

silencehad

corneover

theroom

.All

movem

enthad

stopped.Everyone

135

136

Dead

Man's

Share

137

Yasmina.K

haâra

knewthat

something

remarkable

was

goingto

happen.T

hetw

oturtle

doves"vere

illat

ease.The

lookedat

eachother

asthough

theend

ofthe

world

was

knockingat

thedoor

oftheir

idyll.A

tthat

mom

ent,M

r.H

ajThobane

spreadhis

arms,

which,

inthe

generalbew

ilderment,

seemed

broaderthan

thehorizon.

Idon'tknow

what

canhave

happened.W

ew

erein

asort

oftrance.

The

lieutenant'sfiancée

droppedher

pieceof

cakeand,

asifpulled

bysom

eirresistible

force,tore

freeof

herfiancé's

handas

hetried

tohold

herback,

ranto

Haj

Thobane

andfellinto

hisarm

s.It

"vassoincredible

thatno

oneknew

whether

toclap

orsym

pathize.I-laj

Thobane

huggedthe

youngw

oman

foralong

time,

andthen

theyw

entout,

armin

arm,to

abig

carthatw

aswaiting

inthe

courtyard.After

theyleft,itw

asasifw

ehad

beenturned

tostone.

Our

customers

didn'tdare

tocontinue

theirm

eals.Everyonew

aslooking

atthe

policeofficer.

No

onew

ouldhave

takenhis

placefor

allthegold

inthe

world.Even

hedidn't

knoww

hathad

justhit

hirn.H

ew

asgroggy

andalm

ostkeeled

over,butw

enton

staringstupidly

atthedoor

throughw

hichhis

fiancéehad

disappeared.W

ew

aitedan

eternityforhim

toreact.

He

collapsedinto

hischair

andclutched

hishead

inhis

hands.W

echose

thatm

oment

tostart

theorchestra

upagain;

butit

was

tooem

barrassingto

behaveas

thoughnothing

hadhap­

pened....T

helieutenant

didn'tlifthis

headagain.H

eem

ptiedglass

afterglass,

bottleafter

bottle.O

ncehe

was

drunk,he

stoodhim

selfin

them

iddleof

theroom

andstarted

callingthe

customers

dirtybourgeois,

jumped-up

peasants.We

triedto

cahnhim

down

buteverything

vvetried

justw

oundhim

upeven

tighter.W

henhe

hit111.e,

my

staffsurrounded

himand

ledhim

outside.Som

ehow,

hegot

away

fromthem

andcam

eback

in,spreading

mayhem

inthe

roomw

ithhis

gun.

An

explosionw

ouldhave

causedless

terror.It

was

panic,a

nightmare.

Then

thelieutenant

seemed

torealize

what

hew

asunleashing

aroundhim

.W

ithoutputting

hisw

eaponaw

ay,he

calledus

well-heeled

assholesand

hypocritesand

staggeredoffsom

ewhere

orother."

Iamso

stunnedby

what

Ihave

justheard

thatIfeelm

yknees

give,vay

underm

eand

Ifallintoa

chair.W

hata

finem

essyou've

gotyourselfinto,LieutenantLino!

1looked

forhim

allnight,

callingout

everyavailable

patrolacross

thecity.

Policestations

were

alertedand

barsw

eresearched

with

fine-toothcom

bs.Lino

hasvanished.

My

anxi­ety

increasestenfold

when

thelieutenant

shows

nosign

ofappearing

thenext

day.Aw

fulpossibilities

floataroundin

my

head.Algeria's

youngsufferblatantly

fromaffective

disorder,and

thelieutenant,

thoughthirty

yearsold,is

stillan

adoles­cent,

emotionally

speaking,so

he'squite

capableof

puttinga

bulletin

hishead,

especiallyafter

them

assivehum

iliationhe

experiencedyesterday,

orof

throwing

himself

offatow

erw

ithouta

parachute.Isend

men

intohospitals

andm

orgues,my

veinsfreezing

everytim

ethe

telephonerings.

Tow

ardevening,

my

sleuthscom

eback

empty-handed,

tailsbetw

eentheir

legs.Lino

hasn'tgone

horneeither.

Nobody

hasseen

hirnanyw

here.Istay

inthe

officelate

intothe

night,stirring

n1ycoffee

with

shakinghands

andpraying

tothe

patronsaints

ofthe

city.Nothing.

The

nextday,Ireport

hisdisappearance

tothe

boss,w

hothum

pshis

deskand

throws

atabloid

newspaper

in1ny

face.The

incidentat

theBlue

Sultanateis

onthe

frontpage.

138

Dead

Man's

ShareYasmina

Khaâra

"Your

dogofalieutenant

isfront-page

newsinallthe

papersthismorning,"

heannounces

without

preamble."You

mustbevery

proud.""Idon't

thinkso,sir."

Hemakes

totear

hishair

out,changes

hismindandtries

tokeep

hiscool.

Hiseffortfallsapart

afterafew

snorts.His

bodysuddenly

expands,andhestaggers

backtohisdesk.

''Why,Brahim

?Whatisheouttoprove?

Whatdoes

hethink

he'llachieve?

Bringthunderbolts

downonmyhead?"

"I'mvery

sorry,sir."

He'sinshirt

sleeves,andhistieisundone.

Hiswanface

isfurrow

edwithwrinkles.

He'sbaffled

bymystoicism

.Hewas

expectingmetogetonmyhigh

horse,andthought

hewould

beable

tousethat

tounload

hisrage

onme,Exceptthat,w

ell,Imade

sureIdidn't

playalong

andthat

hasspoiled

hisplan.

"Itoldyoutolock

himupinakennel,B

rahirn,"hesays,

..

startingupagain.

"That's

true,sir."

"I-lowarewegoing

tomanage

thisdisaster,

tellmethat?

What

possessedhim

togoand

makeaspectacle

ofhimself

attheBlue

Sultanate?It'saplace

evenIwouldn't

dareshow

myself

There

areonly

nabobsandMedusas

there.Whatwill

becomeofmenow?"

"Idon't

know,sir."

"Thetopbrass

arebeside

themselves,"

heinform

snie,

trembling."!

heardfromthe

wali"twominutes

ago.Icouldn't

breathewhilehewashauling

meover

thecoals.

Themin­

isterhimselfhas

orderedadisciplinary

committee

tobeset

up.They're

goingtohang

himouttodry,and

allofuswith

h.

"im

."Iunderstand,

sir."

Henods,

utterlydefeated,

thenturns

hisback

onmeand

asksmetogetoutofhissight.

Twodays

ofsearching,

andnotatrace

ofLino.Then,

thenext

day...Ipark

mycaratthe

cornerofRueBabaArrouj,

aconstipated

alleywaybarely

wideenough

toletthewinds

oftimepass

through.Dilapidated

buildingsdefecate

onthe

sidewalk

onboth

sidesofthe

street.Theareahasn't

sornuch

asglim

pseda

street-cleanersince

theperiod

ofstudentvolunteerisrn

inthe

1970s.Thestench

fromthepotholes

issobad

thatyouhave

tohack

your\Vay

forwardwithamachete.

Aprimitive

foodshack

lurksbehind

astorefront,

unsavoryasadenofthieves.

Theboss

isdozing

onachair

inthedoorw

ay.Thehotel

isnext

door,hunkereddownbeneath

itsimprobable

sign.Itsays

TheOasis:

oneisamong

friendsandonecanalwaysdream

.Akidwearing

afaded

armband

abovehiselbow

appearsfrein

between

twovans,

clubinhand.

He'saladofmaybe

twelve,slim

ashischances

inlife.H

e'swearing

raggedtrousers

andaholed

sweater

andcarries

agood

bitofthe

country'spoverty

onhis

shoulders.Boyslike

himarelegion.

They

hauntthestreets

alldaylong.S.ince

theycan'tshine

shoes-an

activityconsidered

demeaning

andtherefore

bannedbythe

apparatchiks-theytrytoearn

acrust

watching

overparked

cars,ready

tomake

themselves

scarcethemomentaképi"

isspotted

intheneighborhood.

"ShallIwatch

yourcar,

monsieuri"

heasks.

"Notworth

it.It'sbooby-trapped."

Thekiddoesn't

insist.Heslips

hisstick

underhisarm

andgoes

backtohiswatch

post.Iclimbthe

stairstothehotel

entrance,then

turnround

onthetop

step:"Hey,kid

...."

*vValisenior

officialatthe

headofa

wilaya.*Kepi:

capworn

bysoldiers

andgendarm

es.

139

140

Dead

lvfa11'sShare

Yasmina

Kliadra

The

boytrots

backlike

apuppy.

Itoss

himacoin

andhe

catchesitin

mid-air.

"You're

aprince,

monsieur,"

hesaysgratefully.

Igointo

thehotel.

The

receptionistispicking

worm

sout

ofhisnose

behindthe

counter.Hiscubicle,w

hichresem

blesaw

reckedaquarium

,doesn't

seemto

botherhim

,Helooks

up,disturbed

bymy

intrusion,andstares

atmeis

ifI'veem

ergedfrom

amagic

lamp.

Ishowhim

mybadge.

"Was

ityouwho

called?""T

hatdepends..."

"Policeheadquarters."

"Ah."

Hechecks

mybadge

unhurriedly,then

comes

roundthe

counterto

thefront.H

e'salittle

man,tw

istedup

likeacouple

ofconjoined

waterm

elons,with

hisbelly

athisknees

andhis

behindatankle

level.Judgingby

hisbarking

accent,Iw

ouldsay

heisaBerber

fromthe

highmountains

who

was

swept

intoAlgiers

inthe

springthaw

andcan't

findhis

way

backup

thehill.

It'sawretched

dump,lostin

anetw

orkofnarrow

corridorsleading

offmoldering

staircases-iftourists

steerclear

ofus,itisn'tbecause

we're

lackingin

hospitality,it'sjust

thattheyfeel

slightedby

theinconveniences

thatcom

ewith

it.Wereach

doornum

ber46,atthe

endofa

corridoron

whose

flooryou

wouldn't

besurprised

tofind

aForeign

Legion

thumbprint,

classof

1958.The

receptionistshakeshis

bunchofkeys

with

amournful

clinkingsound,

fiddleswith

thelock

andpushes

thedoor

open.It'sdark

insidethe

room.Ilook

forthe

switch.

Aharsh

lightfills

theroom

.There's

ainan

lyingacross

thebed,

armsfolded

andmouth

open.Afew

bottlesof

whisky

scatteredon

thefloor

suggestthe

scaleof

thedam

age."H

owlong

hashe

beenhere?"

"Three

days.Hearrived

oneevening

andasked

notto

bedisturbed.""H

e'sbeen

hereforthree

days,with

nosign

oflife,

andyou

weren't

worried?"

"I'maprofessional,

Officer.

Inmyprofession,

discretionisessential.

Ifacustom

ersaysdo

notdisturb,you

don'tdisturb

h ."

im,Ilean

overthe

sleepingman,

holdhis

wrist,

andcan't

findapulse,but

Lino

isstill

breathing.Hehas

vomited

allover

himself

andshat

himself

"This

morning,"

thereceptionist

tellsme,w

orkingoutthe

consequencesofhis

negligence,''I

said,what's

hedoing,

thatguy

inforty-six?

Hehasn't

corneoutto

eatsincehe

arrived.Hehasn't

rungfor

anyoneor

usedthe

phone.Itisn't

Sunni.M

aybehe's

goneoffw

ithoutmynoticing.

SoIgot

worrìed;

sometim

esabad

customer

takesadvantage

ofamom

ent'sinat­

tentionto

doarunner

without

payingthe

bill.Ihadto

check,so

Icanteup

tosee

whatw

asgoingon.T

heclienthadn'tdone

arunner.

Hewas

inexactly

thesarne

place,in

thecondition

yousee

now.Ididn'tw

antanytrouble.

I'vealw

aysbeen

straightwith

God

andthe

police,kho.

Isearched

hispockets

tosee

who

hewas

andfound

hisbadge-

"I-lis

throattightensashe

asksme,"D

oyou

thinkhe's

dead,monsieur?

"Callan

ambulance."

The

receptionistclicks

hisheels

andruns

downthe

stairsmaking

anoise

likeacavalry

charge.Once

alone,Icrouch

down

tothink,

myfinger

tomy

temple.

Istartby

lookingfor

thelieutenant's

weapon,

findit

inadraw

erof

thenightstand

andslip

itunder1nybelt.

Then

Itakeoff1nyjacket,

rollupthe

sleevesofm

ysweater

andstart

changingn1y

officer'sunderw

earbefore

theam

bu­lance

crewarrives.

141

PARTTWO

Our

wounds

onceopened

intim

e'sexcuses,

dustandflow

erslook

much

thesam

e.Djam

elAmrani

143

144

Dead

Man's

Share

CHAPTER

TWELVE

Linois

adrift-theredoesn't

seemtoaleash

upto

thetask

ofrestraining

him.Hehas

takento

givingevery

bigcar

hepasses

akicking.

Ifthe

drivercom

plains,he

hurlshim

selfon

himwith

everyintention

oftearinghim

topieces.

Hiscircus

actisobviously

goingto

degenerateeven

further.But

howto

avoidthe

worst?

Serdjdragsmeoutofbed

totellm

ethe

lieutenantismak­

ingafoolofhim

selfinaswanky

cabaret.When

Iarriveon

thescene,

Ihaveto

callinreinforcem

entstorestore

asem

blanceofcalm

.Among

thepeople

who

havebeen

attackedthere

arescions

ofwealthy

families

andministers'

callgirls.

Ialm

osthave

toget

downon

myknees

topersuade

themnot

tomake

acom

plaintor

calltheir

sponsors.Im

archLino

tothe

seafront

torefresh

him.H

eisdrunk

asalord.While

Iamtrying

topreach

athim,he

showscorn­

pleteindifference,

giving111.e

thefinger

andcalling

measad

peasant,an

ass-lickerand

apoor

fool.Mypartner

isin

suchbad

shapehe

seemsabout

readytor

astraitjacket.

Seeinghim

inthis

state,roaring

wich

laughterand

making

anuisance

ofhim

selfto

thewhole

city,doubled

overon

theslipw

ayand

vomiting

uphis

bile,isunbearable.

And

Ifindmyself

cursingthe

HajThobanes

ofthisworld,

theirincendiary

whores

andasocial

hierarchyset

upsothat

apoor

wretch

inour

countrycan't

toucheven

alikeness

ofhappiness

with

thetip

ofhis

fingerwithout

gettingelectrocuted.

Lino

isout

ofbreath;

Iput

himon

abench,

facingthe

port,torecover.

Hethrow

shis

headback

andfrow

nswhen

hediscovers

themillions

ofstarsinthe

sky.Perhapshe's

lookingforhis

own,because

afoolishsm

ilecrinkles

thecorners

ofhismouth.

Hishead

droopsand

hischin

dropsgently

intothe

foldsof

hisneck.

His

shouldertwitches

once,twice;

thencom

esthe

stutteringsound

ofasob,

piercingmyheart

likeabullet.

Lino

woke

upfrom

hisam

orousmisadventure

likeafan~1

girlwho

wakes

upbetw

eentwobales

ofhay

aftershe

sbeen

takenadvantage

of:haggard,dirty,

andhum

iliated.Ever

sincehe

cameback

fromsick

leave,he'sbeen

lurk­ing

behindhis

desk,sullen

andunapproachable,

lookingas

thoughhe

hasitinforthe

whole

world,

asifhe

holdsus

allresponsible

forhism

isfortune.Heshow

sup

atHeadquarters

with

much

more

interestinpicking

fightswith

underlingsthan

makirig

himself

useful,andhe'sw

ellon

hiswaytopoisoning

ourexistence.I've

triedahundred

times

toreason

with

him,and

ahun­

dredtitnes

hisfinger

hasordered

meto

stayin

mycorner,

threateningto

runn1.ethrough

fromone

sideto

theother.

Isuggested

hestay

hometotake

stockafter

hissetback;he

flungasheaf

ofpapers

inmyface

andwent

tohide

inthe

toiletsuntil

latethat

night.Iwent

tosee

apsychologist

friendof

mine;

when

hefound

outabout

it,Lino

made

aterrible

scenein

frontof

thestaffat

Headquarters

andswore

thatif

Iwent

oninter­

feringin

hisbusiness

hecouldn't

answer

formycontinued

safety.The

,vayhe

wasm

akingaspectacle

ofhimselfw

orriedme.

145

146

Dead

Man

'sShare

Yasmina

Khadra

Iavoid

layingahand

onhim

;he's

indesperate

needof

agood

cryin

peace.After

blubberingfor

afewminutes,

hewipes

hisface

with

hissleeve

and,without

warrring,

startslancing

theboil:

"Sheused

me...can

youim

agine?She

draggedmearound

likea

bundleofold

clotheswherever

peoplewould

noticeher

goingby.A

llshewanted

todo

wasget

herlover's

attentionand

make

himjealous

asawild

boar.And

me,

straight-up-and-down

idiotthat

Iam

,Iplayed

rightinto

herhands

byshow

ingoff

thewhole

tirne."Helooks

upat

mewith

red-mrnrned

eyes."H

owcould

anyoneplay

with

peoplein

thatway,Brahim

?""Y

ou'rein

abetter

positionto

know."

"I'vebeen

had,likethe

kingofthe

assholes,right?"

"Anyone

would

havedived

in,in

yourshoes."

Henods,

sniffling,and

looksover

atthelights

oftheport.

"You

can'tim

aginehow

much

Ilovedher,

Brahirn;

no,nobody

canim

agine.Iw

asready

tosacrifice

mylife

forher.""T

hatwould

havebeen

avery

badidea,

Lino.

Sacrificeisn't

aboutdying

forsomeone

orfor

acause;

I'deven

saythat

thatisthe

leastreasonable

actofall,without

adoubt.Sacrifice,

truesacrifice,

isabout

continuingto

lovelife

despiteeverything."

Linodoesn't

agree.Ele

wipes

hisnose

with

hisfist

againand

says,"T

hey'veleft

uswith

nothing,those

richshits,

nothing,notacrum

b,not

anillusion.

They've

stolenour

history,our

opportunities,our

ambitions,

ourdream

s,even

ourinnocence.

Wedon't

evenhave

theright

tofailw

ithdignity,

Brahirn.

They've

takeneverything,

includingour

misfortune."

"That's

nottrue,

Lino.T

hat'sthe

way

lifeis;

thereare

richpeople

andpoor

people,and

eachcom

munity

onlyexists

inrelation

tothe

other."

"Our

unhappinessisbecause

ofthoserich

bastards.""Som

epeople

thinkit's

downto

fate.""A

ndwhat

thehell

isfate?"Isit

down

besidehim

onthe

bench.Hedoesn't

pushme

away,nor

doeshe

move

away

himself

Isensethat

heistired

andresigned.H

isdistress

andrage

arestill

engagedin

atitanic

struggle,but

it'sas

ifhe's

watching

themfrom

adistance,

slightlypuzzled.

His

laboredbreathing

leaveshirnhanging,as

itwere.

Heobviously

hasno

ideahow

tobring

hissuffering

undercontrol;

sohe

waits.

Asoothing

silencesurrounds

us.Wewatch

aboat

signalingin

theentrance

tothe

harbor.The

seais

black,likeabad

mood,

"Ihate

thoserich

shits,"he

growls,

clenchinghisjaw

s."A

llthemore

reasonto

ignorethem

.""I

don'twant

toignore

them."

"That's

what

youthink

now,but

thetruth

is,you'vegot

thewrong

target.It's

nottheir

cashyou

loathebut

yourbad

luck.You

haveto

learnto

reinin

yourenvy."

Hegets

angryagain.

Heleaps

upfrom

thebench

andpositions

himself

infront

ofme,his

fingerdeadly

asagun."I

don'tgive

adam

nforyour

speeches.Icouldn't

careless

aboutthose

lousybourgeois,

andyour

castratedold

man's

wisdom

isn'tabout

tolessen

thecontem

ptIfeel

forthem

.'W

hilevre

were

singingthe

nationalanthemon

paradewith

thescouts,

theywere

gettingfaton

thetaxpayer's

back.Now

theythink

they'reso

smart,

theycan

dono

wrong.

I'macop,

andI'n1

notgoing

toworry

either.The

nextnabob

thatfallsinto

my

handscan

havehis

burialcertificate

beforehe's

evenhad

time

toread

hisstatem

ent.""Those

peopledon't

knowwhatacop

isfor.Asfaras

they'reconcerned,he'sjust

someone

who

controlsthe

traffic,afunny

147

148

Dead

Man's

ShareYasmina

Khaâra

littlemanwhofrightens

offhooligans.Whateveryou

do,don'ttread

ontheir

toes,becausethey'll

runyou

overwithout

evennoticing

you.I'm

notsaying

thistomake

youangry.

We're

fromdifferent

worlds,

that'sall.

IfIhaven't

beensuccessful

inmycareer,

it'snotforw

antoftrying.

Ican'tblam

eanyone

butmyself

Wecom

einto

thisworld

poorand

naked.Then

everyonemakes

hislifeasbest

hecan.Justbecause

youopen

youreyes

inahovel,

itdoesn't

mean

youcan't

closethem

inapalace.

Ifyou're

bornsurrounded

bycoats

ofarm

s,it's

notimpossible

thatyou'll

dieonthe

trashheap.

Toeach

hisdestiny.

Traditionally,

prideis

supposedtohave

legitimacy.

Itwould

beright

ifalow

profilewastoo.T

hemistake,

thefatalm

istakeistomake

otherswearthe

hatthatwasmadefor

Bliss

comesand

defilesthe

raysoflightpouringinto

111yoffice.

Hisnabob-like

buildseem

sridiculous

inthe

doorway,

butit's

enoughtoblock

outthe

daylight.With

hishands

inhis

pockets,heleans

ashoulderagainstthe

wall

andconsiders

me

foramoment.

"Areyou

sureevery

thing'sallright,

Brahirn?"

"DoIlook

likeI'm

complaining?"

"Isaw

youpark

yourcar

justnow

.Your

maneuver

leftsom

ethingtobedesired."

"Mymind

wasonother

things,"Iadm

itted.Hejerks

himself

uprightand

then,without

takinghis

handsout

ofhispockets,

hedares

totake

astep

intomylair.

Strangely,heseem

sembarrassed.

"Iglanced

atthemailthism

orning.I'm

onthe

disciplin­ary

committee

that'sbeen

assignedyour

lieutenant'scase."

"Isn'tthat

what

youwanted?"

"Don't

talknonsense.

I'n1.veryworried.

Lino's

adepres­

sive.Hewon't

beable

tostand

uptothisextra

ordeal.It'slike

puttingagrenade

inacat'spaw

s.""When's

thehearing?"

"Beginning

ofnextweek."

"You're

right.Hewon't

haverecovered

bythen."

Bliss

isnowwithin

spittingdistance

ofmydesk.

Hefeigns

interestinthe

portraitofthe

presidenthanging

onmywall.

Acting

casual,he

easeshim

selfinto

achair

andcrosses

oneleg

overthe

other."Itold

thedirector

itwasn't

agood

moment

tobeat

Linoup.

Heagrees,

buthedoesn't

seehow

hecan

postponethe

disciplinaryhearing.

Isuggested

heextend

Lino's

sickleave,

justtocut

himsom

eslack.

Heprom

isedtothink

aboutit.

It'llbedifficult,given

thatthe

complainant

isn'tjustanyone.

Iwarned

you.Your

protégéwasrubbing

arhinoceros

upthe

wrong

way.A

ndhegothim

selfflattenedlike

aturd

asaresult."

"What's

doneisdone."

"Thetrouble

isthat

wehaven't

seenanything

yet.""What

doyou

mean?"

"Me,nothing.

I'mworried

sickabout

Lino,that's

all.""Stop,

you'rebreaking

1nyheart."

Bliss

takeshis

handsout

ofhis

pocketsand

raisesthem

shoulderhigh.

"Isee

you'reasshort-sighted

asheis."

Hestands

up."Does

iteveroccur

toyou

tobepolite

onceinawhile?"

"Never

withno-necks

likeyou."

Hegrim

aces,nods

andleaves.

Ihurrytoshut

thedoor

behindhim

.

"you.L

ino'sfinger

trembles.

Hisface

isracked

byaseries

ofgrim

aces,until

finallyhespits

toone

sidetocut

theconversa­

tionshort.

Iwatch

himstagger

offandknow

there'snopoint

inrunning

afterhim

.

149

Yasmina

Khadra

Inthe

canteen,Inotice

thatno

onewill

sitat

mytable;

Iconclude

thatthelook

onmyfacew

ouldrepel

evenmyow

nmother.

Idon'ttouchmyfood

anddecide

togeta

changeofair.

***And

what

hadto

happenhappens.

It'sabout

teno'clock

atnightwhen

Iget

acall

fromHeadquarters.

Thirty

minutes

laterI

showup

atnum

ber7Chem

indes

Lilas.The

streethas

beenplunged

intosem

i-darkness.Anam

bulance,tw

ovans

andat

leastseven

policecars

clutterthe

street.Curious

onlookers,sorne

ofthem

indressing-gow

ns,crow

dthe

sidewalks

andwatch

thecom

motion.

Asecurity

cordonhas

beenplaced

fromone

sideof

thestreet

tothe

other.Plainclothescops

aremoving

abouthere

andthere,

insearch

ofclues.

Fourchalk

circleson

theground

mark

where

shellcasesfell.Bliss,kneel­

ingatthe

baseofasw

itched-offstreetlight

with

astick

inhis

hand,isconscientiously

pokingat

abunch

ofwild

grass.He

signalsto

aphotographer

tocom

eover,and

askshimto

takesom

epictures

ofafootprint.

Serdjcatches

sightof

me;

heslips

hisnotebook

intohis

jacketpocket

andcorn

esover

tosay

hello.Histhum

bpoints

outabig

carsitting

infrontof

theentrance

tothe

villawith

itswindshield

shattered:"Som

eonejust

killedHajT

hobane'sdriver.T

hreebullets

inthe

face,tw

omore

inthe

neckand

shoulder.The

killerwas

behindthis

bush.ltwas

probablyhim

thatput

outthe

two

streetlights,so

hecould

hidein

thedark."

"When

didithappen?"

"About

forty-fiveminutes

ago.Mr.T

hobanewas

coming

backfrom

hisoffice."

150

DeadMan's

Share

"Were

thereany

witnesses?"

"Not

sofar."

"Have

youquestioned

theneighbors?"

"Well,w

e'veonly

justgot

here.Ifanyone

sawanything,

they'resure

tocorne

forward."

"Not

always,

Serdj,not

always.O

ftenyou

haveto

goout

andget

them.

Iwant

everyonein

theneighborhood

ques­tioned,

noexceptions."

"Will

do,Superintendent."

Iglanceatthe

interiorof

theM

ercedes.The

man

isin

thepassenger

seat,his

upperbody

slumped

overthe

gearstick.A

goodpart

ofhis

skullisgone,

andhis

rightarm

andhalf

histhigh

arecovered

with

blood.His

eyesand

mouth

arewide

open,asifhedoesn't

understandwhat

hashappened

tohim

."W

hereisMr.Thobane?"

"Inhis

villa,with

ourdirector

andsom

elocal

officials.The

newsspread

veryquickly.

We're

expectingthe

minister

ofthe

interiorany

minute."

Blissjoins

us,ashell

casein

asm

allplasticbag.

"Nine-m

illimeter

Beretta,"

hesays.

Ileave

1ny

111.ento

gatheras

much

information

asthey

canfor

therest

oftheinvestigation

andgo

intothe

villa.Mr.

Thobane

issitting

onhis

throne,stunned,

white

asasheet.

He'sin

astate

ofshock,his

trembling

handholding

aglass

ofscotch.

The

boss,who

isstanding

besidehim

,islivid.

He

iswaiting

forme,

armsfolded

overhis

chest,with

adeterm

inedair.

Hocine

El-Ouaheh,director

oftheBureau

ofInvestigation,stands

alittle

toone

side,chatting

with

hissecretary,

Ghali

Saad;neitherof

themknow

swhere

tolook.

"Ah!T

hereyou

areatlast,"

theboss

greetsme."I've

beentrying

toreach

youfor

ages."

151

152

Dead

lv[an'sShare

Yasmina

Khadra

Hecan't

helpit.Anytimeheisovertaken

byevents,

hecomesdownon

asubordinate.

1stay

calmand

askwhatis

goingon.

"Someone

shotMr.Thobane's

driver."Whatanidiot!

"They

wereafter

Mr.Thobane,"

Ghali

Saadexplains.

HajThobane

starts,asifbrought

toearth

bythesecretary's

remark.Hedoesn't

noticethat

hehasspilled

halfhisscotch

overhis

suit.GhaliSaad

detacheshimselffrom

hisboss

andlayshishand

ontheintended

victim'sshoulder

insolidarity.

"MayIaskwhatmakes

youassum

ethat,

Mr.Saad?"

"It'snotanassum

ption,Superintendent.

Itswhatthe

evidenceitself

shows."

"That's

right,"thenabob

confirms."Nowthat

Ithink

aboutit,I'm

theonewhoshould

belaidouton

astretcher

rightnow

.Norm

ally,Idon't

drive.When

vvegottothebasem

entofn1y

office,wefound

thecarhadaflat.Poor

Larbihurt

hiswristchanging

thetire,so

Itookthewheel.T

hekiller

wanted

todornein.Heshot

mydriver

bymistake."

"Whatdidhelook

like?""Mr.Thobane

isn'tquitehimselfyet,"

theboss

chidesme.

"I'mperfectly

clearinmymind,"

thenabob

insists."No

cornrnonruffian

isabout

tomakemelose

mygrip."

"That's

notwhat

Imeant,

Mr.Thobane."

"Soshut

yourmouth.

Youseem

toforget

thatI'vejust

escapedanattem

ptonmylife.Som

eone'safter

myhide.

Do

vouunderstand?"

'"Completely,

monsieur'"

"That's

whatyou

think."HajThobane's

lipspull

backinaferocious

grimace,

asifheisabout

toeattheboss

alive.Thelatter's

headshrinks

downintohis

shoulders:there's

nowhere

tohide.

Opposite

him,Hocine

theSphinx

gesturestohim

tostay

calm.

Thenabob

isshocked

tofind

Ghali

Saad'shand

stillon

hisshoulder."Getyour

pawoffm

e,you.Justbecause

sornecriminalloser

hasdared

tocross

swords

withn1e,it

doesn'tmean

everyonecarttreat

melike

adishrag."

Ghalirem

oveshishand

andgoes

backtohisboss.

"Inany

case,loserornot,he's

hadit,"thenabob

growls.

"I'llfind

himinhellif

that'swhere

hegoes.

Where

isthat

assholeofaminister?"

hescream

s,hurlinghisglass

atthewall.

"Ishewaiting

forhismother

togive

birthtohim

orwhat?"

"He'sonhisway,"stammersGhali

Saadinconciliation.

"He'll

showupbefore

long.""Iwantevery

policeofficer

onthis

bastard'stail.

Iwant

hishidebefore

theendoftheday."

"I'lltake

careofitpersonally,

Mr.Thobane,"

theSphinx

assureshim."Your

attackerwillbearrested

within

afew

h"

ours,youcancount

onme.

Adoor

opensontheupper

floor.Nedjm

a,thebillionaire's

littlecompanion,

comesoutonto

thelanding.

Sheiswrapped

inablood-red

silkdress

thatmakes

theperfectcurves

ofher

sirenbody

alltooevident.

Herglance

barelytouches

us.The

waysheseem

stofloatin

theair,it's

asifshe's

onacloud.

"Wasshewithyou?"

Iaskhim

.HajThobane

isnothappy

aboutthespectacle

hisbeauty

isoffering

us.Hegives

heralook;

shedelays

visiblybefore

goingback

intoherroom

."Iwasalone

withmydriver.Just

asIwasabout

togo

throughthegate

tomyhouse,alunatic

leapedoutfrom

behindthebushes

andstarted

emptying

hisguninto

Larbi.Thefirst

thingIsaw

wasthewindshield

shattering.Atfirst

Ithought

153

154

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhadra

Ihad

hitadrunk

orsom

ething.Itw

asdark.

The

streetlight

must

havebeen

sabotaged.M

ystreet

isalw

ayswell

litand

thereare

neverany

power

cutsaround

here;Imake

sureof

thatm

yselflt

wasn't

untilLarbi's

headfellonto

my

shoulderthatIrealized

someone

hadbeen

takingpotshots

atus.When

Ipushedhim

backIrealized

Icouldn'tdo

anym

orefor

him.

Thatson

ofawhore

didn'tgivehim

achance."

"Can

youdescribe

theassailant?"

"Ithappened

sofast.Ican't

eventellyou

whether

hewas

tallor

short.Iju

stcaught

aglim

pseof

ashadow

inthe

lightfrom

thegunshots.Itried

tolook

athisface.Heturned

roundto

runaw

ayand

Icouldn'tsee

hisprofile.Hishead

was

roundand

smooth,

asifh

ewasw

earingastocking

orahood.

Icouldbe

wrong,

I'mnotsure

ofmuch,

butwithin

thosefew

secondsthat's

what

crossedn1y

mind."

Heturns

hiswhole

bodytow

ardthe

Sphinx,his

eyespopping

outof

hishead.

"Wh

.M

H.'"

atcountry

arewe

1n,r.

cerne,"W

eare

inAlgeria,

Mt.T

hobane.""A

ndsince

when

haveconcealed

firearms

beenin

cir­culation

inour

country?To

my

knowledge,

apartfrom

theBoulefred

case,which

was

allover

thenew

sin

thenine­

teensixties,

nota

singledelinquent

hasbeen

caughtwith

agun

onhim

.Ain

Ito

understandthat

Colom

biahas

arrivedhere?""T

heremust

bean

explanation,M

r.Thobane."

"It'sin

yourinterest

toprovide

mew

ithone."

"You'll

getone,

monsieur"

Justthen,the

minister

oftheinterior

arrives,soflustered

thathis

tootcatcheson

thecarpet

andhe

almost

endsup

onthe

floor.

"I'vejustheard

aboutthis

terriblecatastrophe,"

hebegins,

throaton

fire.''I

hopeyou're

nothurt.

MyGod!

It'sbeyond

belief!Who

would

dareto

attackH

ajThobane?"

"It'sup

toyou

totell

me,R

éda.You

andnobody

else.Otherw

ise,Iprom

iseno

onewill

everhear

ofyouagain."

The

minister

isbrought

upshort.

Ifthe

skyhad

fallenon

hishead

itwouldn't

havecaused

himas

much

grief.His

facegoesred

andthen

graybefore

darkening;and

hisAdam

'sapple,

havingscraped

hisgullet

severaltimes,jam

sin

theexact

middle

ofhis

neck.For

amom

ent,as

[w

atchhim

dither,I

thinkhe's

goingto

faint.Sickened

bythe

sycophancyof

onelot

andthe

weakness

oftheother,

Ihurryto

joinmymen

inthe

street.

When

Iget

homelate

thatnight,M

inais

waiting

torm

ein

theliving

room,puffy-eyed.

Lackofsleep,

togetherwith

herdom

esticchores,are

well

onthe

way

towearing

herout

forgood.

But

sheis

relievedto

seem

esafe

andsound.

"lsittrue

thataminister

hasbeen

shot?""D

oyou

knowwhat

time

itis?W

hyaren'tyou

inbed?"

"The

attackw

asonthe

radio.Even

theannouncer's

voicewas

shaking.What's

thisall

about?N

obody'stargeted

am

inisterhere

sinceKhém

isti.""lt

was

much

more

thanaminister.

Itwas

almosta

god.He'snot

dead,itwas

hisdriver

thatgot

killed."M

inabeats

herbreast,

aghast."M

yGod!

Ifthey're

goingto

amuse

themselves

byshooting

atpeople,on

topofall

ourother

worries,

which

aregetting

worse

bythe

day-""It'snot

theend

ofthew

orld,Mina.

Now

goback

tobed

andbe

quiet.M

yhead's

threateningto

explode."M

inaunderstands

thatI'm

inabad

mood.

Shestands

up,sv,ay1ng.

155

156

Dead

Man's

ShareYasmina

Khadra

I'n1upatsix

o'clockinthe

morning;

notcom

pletelyrecovered

from1ny

insomnia,

butdeterm

inedtomake

thebest

possibleuse

ofmyday.A

fteragood

sweet

breakfast,Istart

bygoing

overtonum

ber7Chem

indes

Lilas.Iwantto

visitthe

sceneof

thecrim

ewithmymind

clear;perhapsdaylight

willdeliver

upto

111.ewhat

thedarkness

ofthe

nightkept

hidden.The

previ­ous

nightInoticed

twoneighbors,

ayoung

man

andanold

woman,

who

didn'tstop

lookingmeaningfully

ateach

otherevery

timeacop

cameanyw

herenear

them.In

myopinion,

theycertainly

sawsom

ething.It's

goingtobeadazzlingly

brightday.N

otasingle

damned

cloudbesm

irchesthe

clarityofthe

sky.Behind

thehill,

thesun

promises

toexcelitself.

ltisFriday,

andon

thisMuslim

weekend,

thestreets

areempry,

The

noiseofmyZastava

bouncesself-im

portantlyoffthe

buildings,filling

themorning

silencewith

acertain

boldness1can't

quiteansw

erfor.

Igo

throughseveral

neighborhoodswithout

spottingasoul.E

venthe

trafficlights

areonfìashing

yellow.Iget

toHydra

inless

thantwenty

minutes,

without

aglance

attheopulent

villas,

which

giveoffasense

ofextremebeatitude.

Here,

peopledon't

fuck,theytake

theirpleasure.

They

arethe

bestthe

Algerian

bourgeoisiehas

beenable

toachieve,

inthe

shadowoftheir

mimosas

andtheir

untouchability.For

abeliever

likeme,to

passthrough

theseareas

istogetan

ideaofthe

Edenthataw

aitsuspost

mortem

,Icatch

myself

promising

torem

ainhonest,

tocarry

out1nyfive

dailyprayers

punctually,nevertotalk

illofm

yneighbor,etc.

Chem

indesLilassoon

putspaid

tomydaydream

ing.Iwon't

beable

toinspect

thescene

ofthecrim

ewith

n1ym

indclear;

acrazy

mob

surroundsnum

ber7,tram

plingthe

theatreofthe

drainaunderfoot

andcom

promising

mychances

ofcom

ingupon

anintact

clue.Yesterday's

twovans

arestill

there.Other

carshave

shownup;

someofthem

,thesize

ofpassengerships,

clogthe

sidewalk.A

plainclothescop

ordersmetoturn

back.Iintroduce

myself;

nothingtobe

done,there

isn'tsomuch

asapocket

handkerchiefwhere

Ican

parkmycar.

Idecide

toabandon

111.yZastava

somehow

andtocontinue

onfoot.

ltisSuperintendent

Dine,

fromthe

securityservices'

Communications

Center-th

eequivalent

ofthe

FBI-who

interceptsme.He"vas

sippingacup

ofcoffeeinhis

carwhen

hespotted

me.Heopens

thedoor

andsignals

tometocom

eover.

Inotice

thathe's

developedagut

andthat

hissuit

issom

ewhat

sharperthan

theattire

I'vebeen

usedto

seeingon

him;Ideduce

thathis

newstripes

arebeginning

tobear

fruit."What

areyou

lookingfor

here?"he

asksashe

climbs

outofhis

seat."Ilost

mymorale

somewhere

aroundhere

lastnight.

Icam

eover

tosee

ifthere

was

anychance

offinding

afew

crumbsofit."

Hebursts

outlaughing,

likethe

greatclow

nhe

is,and

folds111.ein

hisarm

s.

"I'llgo

heatup

yourdinner."

"Don't

bother.AllI

want

todo

istake

abath."

"Our

areadidn't

getany

water

tonight.""Again!"

Mina

spreadsher

arms.

Ihangmycoat

onthe

hookinaneffortto

remain

calm.

Once

inbed,

Iempty

n1yhead

andtry

tothink

throughwhat

happenedthis

night.After

afew

pieces,the

puzzlestarts

toweigh

onmymind.

Exhausted

bythe

overtime,

Iput

my

handsbehind

1nyhead

andclose

myeyes.M

inastirs

besideme,constantly

forcingmuffled

creaksout

ofourancient

bed;Iknow

shewon't

goto

sleepbefore

Ido.

157

158

Dead

Man's

ShareYasmina

Khadra

"It'salways

apleasure

toseeyou

again,Brahim

.Iran

intoyour

InspectorSerdjjust

nowand

askedfor

newsofyou.H

etold

meyou

went

homefive

minutes

beforeIarrived."

"You've

beenhere

sincefour

o'clockthis

morning?"

"Everyone's

beenhere

forever.

The

targetwasHaj

Thobane,

myfriend.W

henbigshots

ofhiscaliber

areattacked,

thewhole

country'sput

onhigh

alert.Theminister

hasonly

justgotstarted.

Hesetup

theplan

personally.Allservices

areon

awarfooting,

andpatrols

aregoing

overthe

citywith

afine-tooth

comb.Strictly

between

youand

me,it's

excellentpractice.

Sincewe've

beentwiddling

ourthum

bsfor

solong,

there'snothing

likeagood

scareto

shakeusup.H

owabout

you?How

areyou

doing?""A

swellascan

beexpected."

Hegrabs

myelbow

andsteers

meawayfrom

pryingears.

"What's

goingonhere,B

rahim?"

"Idon't

know."

"It'sthe

firsttimeanational

godhasbeen

attackedlike

this.""There's

afirst

timeforeverything.

SinceComrnshas

beencalled

in,Iassum

ethis

isbeyond

Headquarters'expertise."

"Doyou

thinkHajT

hobaneisabout

toentrust

thisbusi­

nessto

smallfry?N

otonly

hasComrns

beenmobilized,

butthe

headofInvestigation

isinside

thevilla

lickingthe

xaim':

boots.Isaw

himcorne

outandlecture

hismen

anhour

ago;I'n1.not

making

itup.He's

goingthrough

theworst

quarterofanhour

ofhis

godawful

career.""Iguess,judging

bythe

forcesthathave

beencom

mitted,

thatthere's

beensom

eprogress."

"It'snot

confirmedyet,

butapparently

asuspect

isabout

tobetaken

inforquestioning.

Theguys

fromInvestigation

foundawoman's

stockingnot

veryfarfrom

here.They

thinkit'sthemask

thekiller

wore

duringthe

attack.Theshellcases

foundatthe

scenecorn

efrom

anine-m

illimeter

Beretra,just

likethe

onesthe

policeuse."

"Aremymenstill

here?"''They've

beendism

issed.It's

astate

matter.

Wehaven't

hadany

definiteorders

yet,but

itlooks

asifCommswill

handlethis,

usingthe

Buteau

ofInvestigation's

technicalfacilities."

"Iassum

eIshouldn't

hangabout

hereforlong."

"Youdon't

havetoany

more."

"Whatluck!"

Isay,irritably."I'llbeable

tosay

myprayers

atthemosque

thisafternoon."

"You'll

alsobeable

totake

asmany

napsasyou

like."

Theatm

osphereatHeadquarters

isthe

antithesisofthe

excite­ment

reigningatChem

indes

Lilas.

Adisagreeable

calmoppresses

thebuilding.

Theofficer

onguard

atthe

entrancetothe

establishment

choosestotiehis

shoelacesrather

thansalute

me.In

thecorridors,

nocorning

andgoing;

it'sFriday,

ofcourse,

butthere's

noneed

toabuse

it.The

soundofmy

footstepsechoes

downthe

corridorslike

distantgunshots.

Iwonder

whether

theplace

hasperhaps

beenevacuated

forfear

ofcontamination.

Ipush

openthe

firstdoor

Isee.

The

underlingsare

stillthere,kicking

theirheelsbehind

theirtypew

riters."How'sitgoing?"

"Fine,Superintendent.

Why

shouldn'titbe?"

someone

answers.Really?

Iclose

thedoor

andhead

formyquarters,

alittle

lessstressed.Baya

ison

leave,soayoung

traineehas

takenher

place.Because

he'svery

ambitious,

he'smanically

working

onthe

crossword

puzzlesinthene,vspaper.

When

heseesm

eappear

159

Yasmina

Kliadra

DeadMan's

Share

infrontofhim

,hestretches

outlikeaspring,alm

ostknocking

overthe

shelvesbehind

him.

"Relax,

son.You

haven'treally

arrivedhere

yet,and

ourbudget

doesn'teven

guaranteeusacup

ofcoffee

inthe

"And

how!"

snortsBliss,w

ithoutturning

round."Willsom

eoneenlighten

me?"

"Youhave

onlytodo

ityourself,

Brahirn

Llob.Because

there'safire

inthe

hole,afire

that'sin

dangerofruining

everythingwe've

builtup

overthe

years,and

allour

fineplans

with

it."The

directorfinally

decidestogather

himself

together.Hebegins

bywiping

himselfw

ithhis

tie,takes

adeep

breathand

asksmeto

sitdow

n."Som

ethingterrible

hashappened,Brahirn,"heannounces

inaquavering

voice."Terrible,

terrible,terrible.

Theworstis

thatit'shappening

tome.W

hathave

IdonetoGod

todeserve

this,atmyage,after

anexem

plarycareer?"

Bliss

seesthatthe

bossisnot

goingtoget

tothe

point.He

turnsonhis

heeland

comes

closer."A

suspecthasjust

beenarrested.

Itturns

outthat

it'san

officerfrom

Headquarters."

"No,"

Isay,panic-stricken."Yes.

The

guysfrom

Investigationcollared

himanhour

ago.""It'simpossible,

theremustbe

amisunderstanding.

Linowould

neverdo

something

likethat."

"You

see?"the

directorgroans.

"Even

youhaven'tspared

him.A

policeofficerw

asmentioned

andthat

wasenough:

youirnm

ediatelyput

anam

etohim

.I've

beentrying

topersuade

myself

thatthere's

beenamisunderstanding

sinceIheard,

thatnoneof111y

menwould

everdare

todrag

theinstitution

throughthe

111udlike

this...andyet,

andyet,

Superintendent,itreally

isLieutenantLino,

Crim

inalInvestigation

Division,

who's

justbeen

lockedup.

Under

suspicionofhaving

made

anattem

pton

thelife

ofHajThobane

andkilling

hisdriver."

."

morning."I'n1

sorry,Superintendent."

Isensethat

heisahair's

breadthawayfrom

passingout,

soIgive

himasmiledesigned

tobring

hirntohis

senses,andchange

thesubject:

"Anv

calls?",

"Nobody,

sir....Theinspector

fromthe

thirdfloor

came

lookingfor

you."Istop

himright

thereand

gointo

myoffice.

Idon't

evenhave

timetoopen

acouple

ofdrawers

beforethe

directorcalls

me.Hisvoice

isalm

ostunrecognizable.

"Corne

upquickly,"

hepants.

Ittakes

himthree

attempts

tohang

upthe

phone.Ifind

himbehind

hiscontrol

center,jacket

off,sleeves

rolledup

overhis

elbows,tie

undoneand

headinhands.

He

hasoften

spentsleepless

nightsinthe

officewithout

losinghis

grip.This

morning

heseem

sabsolutely

lost.Hishands

runthrough

hishair

nervouslyand

persistently,asiftrying

tomake

atabula

rasaofhis

scalp.Atthe

farend

ofthe

room,

standingatthe

Frenchwindow

with

hisfingers

claspedbehind

hisback,Bliss

islookingatthe

city.Hisrigid

posemakes

thehairs

riseonthe

backofm

yneck.

"Director,"

Isay.The

bossseem

stohearvoices.H

eraiseshishead

andlooks

around,dazed,

thenhalf-seesm

ethrough

afog.lt

takeshim

awhile

torecognize

me;his

movem

entsare

leaden.Hisarm

sdrop

andhis

chincollapses

ontothe

telephone."Areyou

unwell,

Director?"

160161

Yasmina

Kliadra

Icanhardly

hearthe

director'strem

blingvoice

anymore,

norcan

Icontrol

theshaking

thatistaking

overmyfingers,

mycheeks,m

yguts,

myspine.In

afractionofa

second,dark­

nessengulfs

theroom

andthen

takesroot

inme.M

ythroat

isdry

andmytem

plesare

pounding:Irealize

Iamsuffocating.

Bliss

looksatm

ewith

contempt.

Ifeelas

thoughIhave

shrunkathis

veryfeet.

162

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

Thehe

nextday

Iaskto

seeHacine

theSphinx;

theduty

officeratthe

Bureau

ofInvestigation

tellsmehe

hasan

appointment

outofthe

office.Ifallbackon

hissecretary,

Ghali

Saad;he

hesitatesa11101nent

beforeinviting

meto

comeby

hisoffice

atatirne

thatsuitsme.

Igofor

aroundmidday.

Ineedto

knowthat

theentire

staffwill

beinthe

canteensothat

Ican

talktoGhali

without

anyonedisturbing

us.At1.2:10,

noirritants

inthe

corridors,no

stragglersinthe

offices,Iarriveatthe

doortothe

officeand

knockon

it;no

answer.

Iwait

thirtyseconds

andstart

again;nothing.

Yetthe

receptioniststold

meMr.Saad

hadnot

leftthebuilding.

Besides,

when

Hocine

El-Ouahch

isout,

hisprivate

secretaryisforbid­

dento

somuch

asstretch

hislegs

onthe

landing.When

Iseethatno

oneiscorning,

Idecidetogo

inbymyself

Iturnthe

handleand

glanceinto

theroom

;nobody.Justas

Iamabout

toleave,

aguttural

cryissues

frombehind

ahidden

door,which

Ipushgently.

FirstIsee

askirt

andsom

elace

pantieson

theground,

thenahalf-naked

girllyingface

downacross

adesk

with

herthighs

generouslyparted

andGha1i

Saad,his

erectphallus

likeatherm

ometer,

takingher

temperature.

Stunnedby

thesight,

Ihurryout

tothe

corridorand

wait

forsomeone

towhistle

forme.163

164

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhadra

Fiveminutes

later,the

girlcom

esout

ofthe

officeand

disappearsdow

nacorridor.

Iconsideritw

iseto

waitanother

fiveminutes

beforeannouncing

myself

Refreshed

bythe

physicalexercise

hehasjusttaken,

Ghali

receivesm

ewith

acertain

self-satisfaction."1'111

sorryabout

Headquarters,"

hesays.

"This

episodewill

harmits

reputationfora

longtim

e.Heads

willroll,

that'sfor

sure;and

that'sjust

forstarters

....Ihear

yourdirector

hasbeen

onacontinuous

dripsince

yourlieutenant

wasarrested.

Ifeelbad

forhim.H

e'sagood

lad,he

reallydoesn't

deservethis.""It's

allan

unfortunatem

isunderstanding.""T

hat'snot

whatm

ostpeople

think.""It's

nonsense.""B

ecareful,

Brahim

,the

caseis

beinghandled

byour

finestdetectives."

"Itdoesn't

make

sense."Ghali

asksrne

tostay

calmand

sitsdow

non

thecorner

ofhis

desk.He

sucksin

hislips

andjuts

outhis

chinin

thought,then

says,"I

won't

hideitfrom

you-he

was

asuspect

fromthe

start.""R

eally?""E

verythingled

tohim

.Y

ourlieutenant

isa

badloser.

He

nevergot

overthe

defeatin

lovethat

hesuffered

with

Nedjm

a,Thobane's

littlefriend.

All

thewitness

statements

agree,they

convergeon

himand

condemn

him.B

ackat

theBlue

Sultanate,he

drewhis

gunand

threatenedthe

restaurant'sstaff

andcustom

ers.After

thatscandalous

incident,he

went

andgot

himselfblind

drunk,to

thepoint

thathe

endedup

inhospital.

Detox

obviouslydidn't

achieveanything.

As

soonas

he'sback

onhis

feet,ourfriend

divesinto

theclub

scene.W

henhe's

notstarting

brawls,

he'sbeing

pickedup

fromthe

gutterlike

aburn.

The

variousreports

vve'vehad

suggesta

inan

who's

depressiveand

unpredictable.""It

wasjust

anger,poorlydigested

disappointment.

Iknowhim

,he's

aloudmouth,

butnoworse.

He

shoutsloud

becausehe

can'tgo

where

hisshouting

takeshim

.He's

notacrim

inal-"

"Hewasn'tfaroff,w

hateveryou

say.Ifyouask

me,he

was

absolutelyfurious

atThobane.

The

situationnever

stoppedworking

onhim

,andhis

drunkenfoolery

betrayedhis

inten­tions.

Hew

asgoing

toscrew

upin

theend,it

was

obvious.""Just

don'tbury

himright

away,okay?

To

hearyou

talk,there's

noneed

foracourt

casebefore

he'slined

upin

frontof

afiring

squad."He

standsup

tosignal

thathe's

grantedme

more

time

thanhe

hadto.

Irefuse

togive

up."I

must

speakto

him.W

hereis

he?W

herehave

theylocked

himup?"

"I'n1.afraidthat's

impossible,

Brahirn.

The

lieutenantis

beingquestioned

atthehighest

levelsof

thehierarchy."

"Iw

on'tallow

himto

beabused.

There's

beenam

isun­derstanding.

Iknow

itdoesn't

lookgood

forhim

,but

Haj

Thobane

hasother

enemies."

"Iagree

completely,

exceptthat

noneof

themleft

theirprints

behind.Your

lieutenantdid."

Ifrown.

"What

doyou

mean?"

Ghaliputshis

handon

n1yshoulderand

pushesmegently

toward

thedoor.

"Ofthe

fiveshellcases

foundatthe

scene,three

couldn'tbe

usedfor

variousreasons,

buttw

owere

clean.Lieutenant

Lino'sfingerprints

were

foundon

them."

Again,

forthe

secondtim

ein

twenty-four

hours,Ifeelas

thoughthe

sky-the

whole

sky,with

itsstorm

s,itsprayers,itscom

etsand

itsspace

probes-is

fallingin

onmyhead.

165

166

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhadra

Iparkm

yheap

ina

cornerand

gofora

crowd-bath

inthe

Placedes

Trois-H

orloges.T

hew

eatheris

pleasantand

peopleare

crowding

intothe

cafés.Ihave

oftenw

onderedw

hatthe

countryw

ouldbe

likeif,

ona

suddenim

pulse,fatwa

ora

presidentialdecree

decidedto

boardup

ourcafés.

There

was

atirne

when

youw

ouldhave

found,here

andthere,

cinemas,

theaters,a

crowd

gatheredaround

asnake-oil

sales1nanor

anacrobat;

i.tw

asn'tnecessarily

happiness,but

itwas

good.You

couldpick

upajoke,

a.shortquarter

ofan

hourof

escapismand,

thatevening,

when

yougotback

toyour

slumyou

didn'tfeelasthough

youhad

corneback

empty-handed.

Now

adays,apart

fromthe

cafe,where

youjust

stareat

eachother

soyou

don'thaveto

lookatyourselves,

you'reoppressed

bythe

sainefeeling

ofem

ptinessw

hereveryou

go.Y

oucan

fixup

yourexpression

ateach

shopw

indowallyou

like,andtry

tobelieve

thefaces

filingpast

aren'tthe

saineones

they'vealw

aysbeen,

butthere's

nov,ray

toshake

offyourdissatisfaction.

You

walk

throughthe

cityand

thecity

hidesherselfaw

ay,isolatingyou

evenfurther;

you'reas

alonein

thecrow

das

adead

gnatat

thebottom

ofan

antheap.

Ican't

shakeoff

thefeeling

ofhelplessness

thatclings

tom

e,and

I'msurprised

tofind

myselfdriving

atbreakneckspeed

down

theM

outonniére.I

can'trem

ember

howI

escapedthe

hubbubof

Bab

El

Oued,

norhow

ltoreloose

ofthe

franticrush-hour

traffic.In

Algiers,

nineo'clock

inthe

morning

isalready

rushhour.

The

cityvibrates

soconstantly

with

thesound

ofcar

hornsand

arguments

it'sas

ifeveryone

works

inhis

car.T

heopen

window

allows

gustsof

wind

toblow

inn1y

face,slow

lybringing

me

backto

my

senses.I

startby

work­

ingout

where

Iam

.I'm

corningfrom

theeast,

asif

Iw

erereturning

fromthe

airport.W

herehave

Ibeen?I

don'thave

thefaintest

idea.The

seais

calmand

Algiers,

wallow

ingin

itsbay,broods

overitsdeprivation.

Itakeadvantage

ofa

generalslow

ingdow

nto

pullover

tothe

hardshoulder,

finda

placeto

parkand

godow

nto

stretchout

inthe

sun,thenIw

alkon

thernoist

sandofthe

beach,shoes

inhand,

takingcare

notto

cutm

yfeet

onshards

ofglass.

There

area

fewunem

ployedm

enscattered

hereand

there,sorne

ofthem

noisy,otherslost

inthought.

The

stenchof

theboulevards

contaminates

theirsouls,

andthey

come

hereto

walk

offtheir

bitterness.T

wo

kidsin

theshadow

ofaruin,

scarcelyoutoftheir

hiccups,are

sniffingallkinds

offilthjust

tokeep

theirheads

abovew

ater.O

nthe

scrapheapat

twelve

yearsof

age,they

don'texpect

anythingfrom

lifeor

thesandm

anany

more.Since

copsdon't

ventureinto

thearea,

theyspend

theirtim

esniffing

glueand

poisoningthem

selvesw

ithunim

aginableconcoctions,

hopingthe

more

quicklyto

wear

outthe

moorings

thatprevent

themfrom

reachingnirvana.

Itake

upa

positionon

adune,

lighta

cigaretteand

lookout

tothe

horizon.In

thedistance,

shipspatiently

wait

forthe

bigfish

thatwill

taketheir

anchorsforbait.

Seagullsdart

overthe

waves,like

flickeringfacial

expressions.rlean

backon

my

elbowand

abandonm

yselftodespair.

The

bossstilldoesn't

looktoo

good.Aw

eepingw

illoww

ouldbe

more

attractive.B

ehindhis

desk,stunned,with

packetsof

medicine

within

reach,he's

leakingeveryw

here.H

e'staken

upsm

okingagain.

Norm

ally,w

henhaving

apost-prandial

rest,he

would

indulgein

theoccasional

fatcigar,

preferablya

Havana,

tofitin

with

hisstatus

asa

privilegedpensioner

ofthe

republic.T

hisevening,he's

suckingon

untippedlaborers'

cigarettes.Probably

toget

readyforthe

hardtim

esvisible

onhis

horizon.H

ealready

seeshim

selffired,

alldoors

closed

167

Yasmin.a

Khadra

tohim

,his

creditcards

confiscated.It's

hardto

walk

onthe

groundw

henyou've

spentyour

lifesvvaggering

aboutin

theclouds.

Ialm

ostfeelsorry

forhim.

InA

lgeria,w

henthe

trapdooropens

onyour

empire,there's

noabyss

asdarkasyour

night.T

hebossknow

sthis.

He's

seencolleagues

slidedow

nthe

ladderand

endup

shambling

oldm

enafter

yearsofprivilege.

He

cansee

himself

goingthe

sainew

ay,dethroned,no

armor-plating

andno

friends-fo

rone's

friendshave

adisastrous

tendencyto

vanishlike

snowflakes

assoon

asone's

descentinto

hellisannounced.

This

isw

ear­ing

himdow

n,filling

hisguts,

risingin

hisgorge.

He

can'tbear

anyonelooking

athimany

more,

norcan

hestand

theirsilence;

hecan't

standhim

selfany

more.

He

hastaken

offhisshirt

andis

wearing

onlyan

under­shirt

soakedw

ithcold

sweat,

Graying

hairsstick

upon

hisshoulders.

His

eyesare

pouched,his

mouth

tight;his

facelooks

likea

deathm

ask.O

thersection

headsare

thereto

helphim

inhis

misfor-

tune.B

achire,from

theforensic

sciencelab,

anéminencegrise

who

spendsm

ostofhis

time

inthe

basementofH

eadquarters,w

orkinglike

anegro.

It'sthe

firsttim

eI've

seenhim

onthe

thirdfloor.

Even

hedoesn't

knoww

hathe's

doingon

thislevelof

thebuilding.

Disoriented,

hehuddles

inhis

chairand

pretendsto

beelsew

here.B

esidehim

,L

ieutenantC

hater,head

ofthe

FlyingSquad,

isconte111platinga

paintingsigned

Denis

Martinez.

He

makes

asm

allgestureatm

ebefore

disap­pearing

behindhis

1noustache.O

ppositethem

,visibly

bored,G

haoutithe

cornputerexpert

ism

arinatingin

hisquestions.

And

then,somev,rhatapartfrom

therest,Bliss

isexam

ininghis

fingernails."H

owlong

isthe

wake

goingto

last?"Iask,disgusted.

168

Dead

Man's

Share

The

bossstubs

outhis

cigarettein

theashtray.H

edoesn't

seemto

haveheard

me.

"Did

youget

permission

for1neto

seeLino?"

"Sitdow

n,Brahirn."

"Did

yougetit,yes

orno?"

"What

for?""I

want

totalk

tohim

.H

e'sthe

onlyone

who

canclear

thisthing

up."B

lissraises

hiseyebrow

s.T

heboss

fishesout

anothercigarette,

twirls

itabsent­

mindedly

inhis

fingersa

fewtim

es,thenja.nis

itbetween

hislips.G

haoutigets

upto

offerhislighter.

The

bossbreathes

ininterm

inablyand

blows

thesm

okeout

throughhis

nostrils;his

eyesfallon

me.

"What

doesballistics

say?"Blissjerks

himself

upright.W

ithhis

handsin

hispockets,he

goesround

me

toposition

himself

besidethe

director.H

esays,

"Ballistics

wants

toget

itshands

onthe

murder

weapon

beforecom

mitting

itselfO

urlieutenant

sayshe

losthisgun.

He

doesn'trem

en1berw

herehe

lostor

mislaid

it.H

ishom

ehasbeen

searched;nothing."

He

takesadvantage

ofmy

stateofshock

todeliver

thecoup

degrace:

"Too

many

coincidencesstretch

chance,Llob.Lino

isn'tleavingusany

roomform

aneuverso

that\.Ve

cangethim

outof

thehole

he'sdug

himself

The

onlything

hecan

dois

make

aconfession

andlet

usallgo

home.

He

doesn'teven

havean

alibi.It's

reallybad

luck.O

nthe

nightof

theattack,

thelieutenant

isout

forthecount.

He

sayshe's

tyingone

onin

town.W

here?W

hichbar?

He

doesn'trem

ember.

He

sayshe

losthis

gun.W

here?W

hen?T

hecat's

gothis

tongue.I

went

toB

abEl

Oued

myself,

hopingto

findsom

einsom

niac

169

Yasmina

Khadra

who

sawhim

inthe

areaon

thenight

ofthe

attack.There's

noteven

analleycat

willing

tovouch

forhim

.This

businessistoo

fuzzyto

clearLino

ofsuspicion.Hisfle

isthick

enoughto

sendhim

tothe

firingsquad."

Igo

toSoustara

with

Serdj,to

thehorne

ofSid

Ali,

acop

turnedrestaurateur.

Colleagues

comehere

fromtim

etotim

etohave

aquiet

drinkin

hisback

room,safe

fromtattle-tales.

SinceLino

knowsthe

place,I've

convincedmyself

Ihave

tostart

here;maybe

we'Il

findhim

analibi.

SidAlispreads

hiswhale's

finsin

welcom

e.Heslaps

hisfatslobbery

lipsto

1nycheeks.

"What

happenswhen

acop

isoffered

roastpig?"

"Idon't

know."

"Hedrools

tears!"Seeing

thathislittlejoke

leavesmecold,he

raiseshis

eye­brow

sin

consternation."If

you'velostyour

senseof

humor,

Brahim

,things

mustbe

reallybad."

"I'n1ata

loss,ifyouwantthe

truth,"1confess."Y

ouhaven't

seenLino

lately,haveyou?"

SidAlipinches

histem

plesbetw

eenhis

thumband

indexfinger

torem

ember.H

isbroo1n-like

moustache

quiversbeneathhis

noseforfive

seconds.I'1n

hangingon

hislips

theway

ashipw

reckedsailor

clingsto

apiece

ofwreckage,

prayingfor

hisexpressiontolightup;

tomygreat

disappointment,

SidAli

shakeshis

head,racking

mydespair

upanotch.

"It'svery

important,"

Isay

encouragingly.''Ihaven'tseen

himfor

weeks.W

hat'sup

with

him?Has

hedropped

outofsight?"

"He's

inthe

shit,and

Ineed

toknow

exactlywhere

he'sbeen

theselast

fewdays,

with

whom

and,most

ofall,

what

hegot

upto

between

Thursday

nightand

Friday.

"morning.

170

Dead

Man's

Share

"Idon'tlike

thevvay

you'regiving

methis

allofasudden,

Brahim

.Ihope

it'sjustalover's

tiff""It's

worse

thandesertion,

butI'm

nothere

todiscuss

thematter

indepth.

Ihavetoknow

where

he'sbeen

thelastfew

days.You

don'thave

theslightest

idea?Heused

tocom

ehere

andraise

aglass

occasionally.""O

nlywhen

hewasbroke.H

istab

isfullto

therim

.Ever

sinceIrem

indedhim

heow

edmesom

edough

hehasn'tdared

corneback.

But

Iknowajoint

heused

togo

tofrom

timeto

time.The

wine

islesswatered

downover

there,andgirls

areallow

ed,which

isn'tthe

casehere."

Serdjgetsouthis

notebooktowrite

itdown.

"Isitfar?"

"Maybe

tenblocks,

oppositethe

oldsoft-drinks

factory.You

takealeft

attherotary,

followthe

oldavenue

andthen,

when

youget

tothe

factory,you

takearight.

The

street'scalled

Frères-Mourad."

The

Impasse

Frères-Mourad

resembles

itshistory,

filthyfrom

startto

finish.The

roadiswide,

pavedwith

ancientflagstones,

with

highsidew

alksand

crackedfaçades.

The

housesgo

backto

theOttom

anera,squat

andgloom

ybeneath

dilapidatedroofs.

The

barisin

adead

end,lurking

behindafaded

signon

which,

with

abit

ofeffort,

itispossible

todecipher

The

Black

Cat.

During

thereign

ofthedey"

itwasa

hammam

"where

Turkish

dignitariescam

etoslim

down.T

heday

afterthe

July1830

invasion,French

soldiers,drunk

ontheir

triumph,

requisitioneditand

turneditinto

afield

brothel.ltenjoyed

along

careeras

ahouse

ofpleasure,

with

plentyoforgies,crim

esofpassion

andsyphilitic

declinesbefore

theFLN

closeditdow

nwith

machine-guns

duringthe

Battle

of

*Dey:title

givencothe

rulersofthe

Regency

ofAlgiers

underthe

Ottom

anEm

pire.**

Hanunam

:Turkish

bathhouse.

171

172

Dead

Man's

ShareYasmina

Khadra

Algiers.

Itstayed

thatway

untilthe

late1960s,

when

anold

prostitutetook

itinhand.

After

aseries

ofmurders,

theplace

was

closeddow

nagain.

Now

adays,it'salow

dive,mournful

asitscustom

ers,with

abarthat

lookslike

atrench

andcorners

freightedwith

darkness.It's

closedduring

theday,so

Iwait

untilevening

beforegoing

overthere.

Asaprecaution,

Serdjcom

eswith

nie.Venturing

therealon

e-a

dead-endstreetafternightfall-

would

givesom

eevil

ideastothe

winos

thathavebeen

turnedaw

ay.The

giantstandingguard

atthedoor

nursesaperm

anentlygestating

grudge;his

fistwould

lashout

attheslightest

falsemove.

Mybadge

doesn'tim

presshim

atall.

Hesteps

asidereluctantly

andlets

usin.

Serdjcan't

concealhisunease.The

placeinspires

extreme

distrust.A

dozenmen

arescattered

aroundthe

room,som

ein

thecom

panyof

dubiousgirls,

othershappy

tocarry

onconversations

with

theirow

nhallucinations.

An

oldman

inacoverall

isplaying

with

hishands

andgiggling

tohim

self.W

henhe

seesus

coming

in,he

openshis

toothlessmouth

wide

andgives

usthe

finger.Atthe

bar,anenorm

ousAfrican

isleaning

overaglass,

hisshoulders

likeram

parts.The

barman

polishesthe

counter,a

stickof

liquoricebetw

eenhis

teeth."T

hehouse

doesn'tgive

credit,"he

warns,

assoon

ashe

recognizesmybadge.

"That's

good,I'm

tryingto

giveitup."

Serdjintervenessothat

thingsdon'tturn

sourtoo

quickly:"A

colleagueof

ours,Lieutenant

Lino,isaregular

atyour

establishment.

Wewant

toknow

ifhe's

comein

herefor

adrink

inthe

lastfewdays."

The

barman

hangshis

clothup

somew

hereand,

ignoringus

magnìficently,

goesoff

totalk

toanother

customer

atthe

endof

thebar.

Serdjjoinshim

,calrn

andpolite:

"He's

tall,dark-haired,

quiteagood-looking

lad,and

hedresses

veryfashionably."

The

barman

goeson

talkingwith

hiscustom

er,Hisnon­

chalanceinfuriates

me.W

henhe

comes

backto

getabottle,

Igrip

himby

thethroat

andpull

himtow

ardme.

"We're

talkingto

you,asshole."

Com

pletelyunm

ovedby

myassault,he

looksat111edisdain­fully

andsays,

"There's

ashortage

ofironsin

theland,

kho.""So?""So,

yourfilthy

greatmitts

arecreasing

upthe

collarof

mybest

shirt."Ican

tellfrom

hisexpression

thatI'n1

notgoing

toget

anythingout

ofhim

.Ipush

hirnback

intohis

shelves.Just

then,thebig

African

raiseshis

carcassandturns

threateninglyin

mydirection.

"What's

yourgam

e,fool?"

"Leaveit,

Moussa,"

saysthe

barman,

"It'sjust

abastard

f,,

oacop.But

Moussa

goeson,more

andmore

in1ny

face,"Abastard

ofacop?

Where'm

I,down

atthe

station?""Y

ou'reat

home,"

thetoothless

oldinan

inform

shim

,"at

The

Black

Cat.

It'sthe

bastardof

acop

who's

notat

home."Moussa

looksdow

natm

efrom

hismonstrous

height.His

nauseatingbreath

poursdow

non

meand

threatenstodrow

nme.

"You've

gotno

businesshere,

hey!You

piece-of-shitpig.A

repeople

writing

aboutour

rageon

walls

aroundthe

republic?Are

peopledem

onstratingin

thestreets,

mounting

hungerstrikes,criticizing

therotten

systemthatrules

overus?""W

e'rejust

havingadrink,

notbothering

anyone,"says

theold

man.

"We're

nothurting

anyone."

173

YasminaKhaâra

"Sow

hy'she

cornehere

tobother

us,this

piece-of-shitpig?

Why

can'the

letus

drinkin

peace?""Leave

it,M

oussa,"saysthe

barman,

notreallym

eaningit.

Moussa

sways.

His

armpoints

atthe

door."B

eatit!"

With

hisother

arm,he

grabsm

eby

thescruff

oftheneck

andprepares

tofling

me

acrossthe

room.

SoI

turnon

my

heel,throw

inghim

slightlyoff

balance,step

backand

kickhim

between

thelegs

ashard

asI

can.Surprised,

atfirst,by

theeffectiveness

ofthis

maneuver,

theebony

giantstares

at111e

with

biground

eyes,grabsruscrotch

with

bothhands

andcollapses

tohis

knees,grilnacing

with

unbearablepain.

"The

bastard,"he

bellows.

"He's

burstm

yballs!"

"Sorry,"Isay."1

thoughtthey

were

made

ofbronze."

SuperintendentD

ine'sansw

eringm

achine

ison.

I-lehasn't

cornein

yet,his

secretarytells

me

ina

monotone.

He's

atw

ork,states

hisw

ife.Inshort,he's

avoiding0

1.e.B

utI'n1

notone

togive

upeasily.

Iknowthe

man;

hehas

hishabits,and

it'sthanks

tothem

that1

manage

torun

himto

earth.D

inelikes

adrink.

Inthe

evening,before

hegoes

horneto

hislittle

family,he

goesto

theLotus

andhas

two

orthree

beers.I

catchhim

atthe

bar,sucking

upthe

foamfrom

hisdrink.

He

isdism

ayedto

findm

eat

hisshoulder.

"lssom

ebodyon

yourtail

orsom

ething?""It'sthe

job,Brahim

.My

secretarypassed

onyourm

essages.""Y

oucould

havecalled

111eback."

"Ididn't

dare."H

epicks

uphis

glassand

leadsm

eto

adiscreet

cornerat

theend

ofthe

room.

"Why

didn'tyoudare?"

"No

needto

beatabout

thebush.

Right

now,

youw

on'tfind

anyone.E

veryone'sgone

toground,

yousee.

Ifyouw

ant

1ï4

Dead

Man's

Share

my

advice,letthings

runtheir

course.Iknow

howm

uchLino

means

toyou,but

tothem

,hedoesn't

countform

uch.N

ordo

peoplew

how

anttoprove

thecontrary.

Thisbusiness

stinks.If

youdon't

knoww

hereto

start,it's

becauseit's

scarierthan

anest

ofvipers.

Dip

afinger

inand

yourw

holearm

will

begone

forever.W

e'reold

friends;v.¡e've

beenthrough

some

roughtim

es,touched

bottoni.together

andhad

avery

fewsuccesses.

This

time,

it'sdifferent.

We're

talkingabout

Haj

Thobane,

andthat's

nota

walk

inthe

park.""H

e'snot

God

Alm

ighty.""G

odA

lmighty

ism

ercifulandcom

passionate,B

rahim.

Haj

Thobane

hasnever

forgivenanything."

Ilook

himright

inthe

eye.H

eturns

away

andtries

todrow

nhim

selfin

hisglass,

suchis

hisconfusion.

"As

faras

I'n1concerned,

he'sjusta

cretinw

ithballs."

"I'msorry

Idon't

shareyour

cavalierattitude.

Ishit

my

pantsjust

thinkingof

him,

ifyouw

antto

knoww

hatI

think.""M

yow

nthoughts

areenough

forme."

Dine

stopsfiddling

with

hisglassand

looksatm

e."What

doyou

want,

Brahim

?""T

ogetm

ylieutenant

back.""H

ow?"

"He's

beentransferred

toC

omrns

headquarters."H

isjaw

clenchesviolently,

almost

closingone

eye."D

oyou

want

me

killed?""I

want

tospeak

tom

ypartner.

Do

what

youhave

todo

togetm

eto

him.

Ipromise

Iwon't

belong.''

He

gulps,looks

aroundto

make

sureno

onehas

heardm

eand

startsup

again,nostrilsquivering,

"What

you'reask­

ingis

sheerm

adness.First,

Linoisn't

inour

building;then,

evenifhe

'were,

Iwouldn't

takeyou

tohim

,It's

notgood

for

175

Yasm

inaKhadra

youand

it'snot

goodforme.Letmerem

indyou

thatyour

Jieutenantattacked

-"

"He's

innocent,"Iinterrupt.

"HajThobane

issurehe's

gothishooks

intohis

'bastard."'"Idon't

giveashit."

"You're

theonly

one.""I

cellyouhe'sjust

acretin

with

balls.There's

suchathing

asthe

lawinthis

country.And

officialprocedures

too."Dine

isflabbergasted.

Hetakes

adeep

breathtorecover

hissenses,

thenheleans

overtow

ardmeand

shouts,"W

hatlaw

areyou

talkingabout,

andwhat

procedures?"Hisyellcrashesoffthe

wallsand

createsanimmense

silenceintheroom

.The

customers,

asone,turn

tolook

atus.Dine

adjustshistie,passes

atrem

blinghand

throughhis

hairand

waits

forthe

hubbubgradually

torise

inthebar

beforehe

saysinalow

voice,"You

don'tteach

theexecutioner

tohide

hisface,

Brahirn;and

I'n1not

goingtotty

toteach

youthat

lesson.Youknow

verywellhow

thiscountry

works.

Our

brilliantcareers

canbeblow

nsky

highinthe

blinkofan

eye;lifeitself

candepend

on'aphone

call.'What

areyou

talkingabout?

There's

nocharter,

noconstitution,

nolaw,no

equity;ifjustice

wears

ablindfold

here,it'sbecause

shedoesn't

havethe

couragetolook

herselfinthe

eye.Wedon't

serveacoun­

try,,veservemen.W

e'redependent

ontheir

changingmoods

andvveadapt

ourselvestotheir

pleasure.I'm

aspanic-stricken

asyou,I'm

worried

sickabout

Lino.

But,

dammit!He'snot

evendefending

himself

Iknowtougher

nutsthan

hin-iwho

haven'tsurvived

criticismfrom

theupper

echelons.And

theyhadn't

killedorattem

ptedtokill

abig

cheese;they

hadjust

triedtocarry

outtheir

dutiescorrectly.B

ecausethey

showed

azeal

thehierarchy

consideredoffensive,

theywere

fuckedupside

downand

sideways.

Lino,though:

hehas

cornrnitted

176

Dead

Man's

Share

sacrilege.Hehelps

himself

toagod'slittle

whore,

thenplaysthe

cowboy

onthe

bigshots'

turfand

refusestoplay

ball.Result:

he'shad

it.Asforyou,B

rahim,you

won'tput

oneover

onHaj

Thobane

bypuffing

yourselfuplike

aballoon.

He'sazaïm

;whether

youlike

itornot,

he'ssom

eonewho

canmake

therain

fallandthe

sunshine

atwill.

Ifhetells

usapack

ofliesabout

hispast

asaGreat

Revolutionary

andlooks

usinthe

eyewhile

he'sdoing

it,that

doesn'tmake

himacretin

with

balls;itmeans

thatmany

ofusaren't

1nuchbetter

thanhim

when

itcomestomorality."

Dine

isright.

Oneday,perhaps,

HajT

hobanewillsuffer

astroke

orchoke

onabone,

andalarge

number

ofpeople

willturn

outathis

grave,crying

thatHistory

shouldnever

slackoffon

herheroes.

We'll

seethem

transformedinto

fullypaid-up

hagiographersand

embalm

ers,willing

tobeburied

aliveinthe

samesarcophagus

asourpharaonic

creation.And

then,once

thelid

hasbeen

closed,we'll

finallyunderstand

whyaland

asnobleasA

lgeriaisn't

nearlyout

ofthe

woodsyet.

Itry

tofind

aglim

merofhope

inDine's

eyes.Helooks

away.I

understandthat

mypresence

byhis

sideisaserious

embarrassm

enttohim

andthat

Ithereforecan't

relyonhim

.

177

178

Dead

Man's

Share

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

headhas

more

orless

explodedand

heis

clutchinganine­

millim

eterBeretta

inhis

fist.It's

afterm

idnight,and

Iask

myself

what

they'rewait­

ingfor

toseal

offtheparking

lotand

proceedto

theforensic

examination,

The

teamlooks

tobe

inno

hurryto

getdow

nto

business;as

forthe

ambulance

crew,they're

calmly

smok­

ingcigarettes

insidethe

ambulance,

with

theirdoors

wide

open.Irem

ainstanding

infront

ofthe

stiff,with

myhands

inmypockets.

Asecond

panoramic

glanceconfirm

sthat

oursuspect

reallychose

theworst

possibleplaceto

exhibithim

self.The

hoardinghe

crouchedbehind

isbarely

highenough

tohide

achild.A

sforthe

spotlightsarranged

aroundthe

parkinglot,a

blindman

would

havenoticed

them.I

don'tknow

why

thisbusiness

doesn'tsucceed

inrnak

ingmeangry.

Sure,I've

alwaysbeen

jealousofC

omms's

brilliantsuccess

rate,butI'm

,sure

thathas

nothingto

dowith

this."H

i,Llob,"

Captain

Youcef

whispers

inmyear.

"Nice

collar,"Isay.

"Too

right.Were

youin

therestaurant?"

"Iwas

nearby.""A

ndyou

cameto

congratulateus?"

"It'sgood

work.

Justlikein

training."Captain

Youcef

raisesan

eyebrow,sensing

aninsinuation

ofsom

ekind.H

e'san

efficientguy,evenform

idable.Heworked

inthe

Bureau

ofInvestigationform

anyyears

duringthe

coldwar

with

Morocco

untilhe

puthisfootin

itinFrance

duringthe

elimination

ofadissident.

Hisnam

ewasprinted

inaParis

newspaper,

which

forcedhim

intohiding

somew

herein

theEast.

Once

thingshad

calmed

down,

hecam

eback

tohaunt

thebasem

entofC

omrns.

Hetakes

careofthe

kindofsensitive

matters

thatirritate

theupper

echelonsfrom

timeto

time.

The

redheadsaysthe

suspectproduced

agun

andattacked

Thobane,

Exceptthat

thelatter

wasn't

Thobane

buta

juniorCom

insofficer

indisguise.

The

suspecthadn't

goneten

rnetersbefore

hewas

pinneddow

nby

spotlights."Police!"

theyshouted

throughamegaphone.

"You're

surrounded.Put

yourweapon

onthe

groundand

lieface-dow

non

theground."

Taken

bysurprise,

thesuspect

tookashot

atoneofthe

spot­lights

beforebeing

hitinthe

legby

thefake

Thobane.W

hiletrying

toescape,

hecarne

facetoface

with

theredhead.

"Itwas

hirnor

me,"

theredhead

said."W

henIsaw

himairn

hisgun

atme,

Ifired."

When

Igottothe

scene,Com

rns'sexcellent

sleuthswere

stillpatting

eachother

onthe

back,very

proudoftheir

coup.Ifound

thisodd.

Ittook

meten,

fifteenminutes

toget

there.Ithought

Iwas

thefirst

idlespectator

toshow

up,after

thepeople

who

were

inthe

restaurant,who

were

nowmoving

abouton

thestairs

andkeeping

theirdistance,

frightenedby

thevolley

ofshots.

Apanoram

icglance

aroundthe

theaterof

operationswas

enoughto

convincemeof

theflim

systag­

ing-itstank

ofacheap

set-up,ofgoing

throughthe

motions;

furthermore,

theam

bulanceis

onthe

scene,which

provesit

was

therewell

aheadof

time.

Iwent

overto

thecorpse.

His

179

Yasmina

Khadra

Wehave

knowneach

othersince

thebusiness

with

thethree

Frenchspies

who

triedtoblow

upthe

partynew

spaperinthe

1970s.Iw

asstillan

inspectorthen,

andhe

wasayoung

officerwith

shiningeyesand

atortured

soul,theim

ageofthe

blowshe

hadsuffered.

Iwasleading

theinquiry

intothe

deathofa

madam

..Thethree

spies-tvvo

Algerians

andapied-noir"

-had

chosenher

house

astheir

residence.Thus

itwasthat

atacritical

junctureinmyinvestigation,

Ihadtohand

overtothe

officer.The

affairwent

beyondthe

criminal

andwas

wellon

itswaytobecom

ingadiplom

aticcrisis.

Youcef

man­

agedtotrap

theseenem

iesofthe

revolution.Since

theydon't

handout

medals

inour

country,hewas

senttoEurope

asa

reward.A

fterbeingexpelled

fromGerm

anyforflirting

with

awestern

terroristgroup,

helanded

upinParis

twoyears

later.There,

~1dissidentwasmaking

troubletorthe

regime,

stirringup

shitforthe

FLNnom

enklaturaon

thetelevision

screensand

newspapers

allover

France.Hewasmaking

alot

ofnoise,

preventingour

zaimsfrom

jumping

theirwhores

inpeace,so

Youcefw

asgiven

thetask

ofsilencinghim

.Youcef's

mistake

wasto

getahood

fromthe

slumstodo

thedirty

work:

thishired

killercouldn't

keephis

mouth

shutaround

indiscreetears-he

confidedinhisgirlfriend,

who

wasn'tim

pressedand

turnedhim

in,after

arrangingarom

pfor

himwith

arival.

Youcefhasn'tsetfootin

themotherlan

dsince.

"Canyou

tellmewho

theguy

asleeponthe

tarmacis?"

"You're

notwelcom

e,Llob.Notonly

dowehave

nothingto

saybut

also,it's

noneofyour

business.Only

Com

msand

theBureau

areauthorized

tobehere.D

omeafavor

andgetin

thatwreck

ofyoursandgetlost,w

ithyour

mirror

foldedaw

ay.The

Sphinxisabout

toshow

up.Hewasinseventh

heaven

*Pied-noir

(blackfoot):French

citizenborn

inAlgeria.

180

Dead

Man's

Share

when

wetold

himthe

news.

Ifhefindsyou

here,it'llspoilhis

evening,and

wewon'tgetour

lumpofsugarbecause

ofyou."Ipace

upand

downtokeep

warm

,"Didyou

seehis

gun?"Iask."Isn't

itanine-m

illimeter

Beretta?""You

don'tmiss

much,

doyou."

"He'swearing

asweatsuit

andanylon

topwith

nopockets."

''So?',"It's

notvery

practicalforlugging

agun

arourid.""M

aybehe

keptithidden

somew

herearound

here.""M

aybe...but

Idon'tseehis

flashlighteither.

The

redheadsaid

hesaw

himshine

aflashlight

onthe

Mercedes."

"Wehaven

'tfinishedour

work

yet.""Ithoughtasm

uch.Obviously,

youwere

hotonhisheels.

The

trapwassprung

inexactly

theright

place,itseem

s.""You

obviouslyneed

togo

throughtraining

again,at

Headquarters.""I'n1too

oldtobe

emptying

myinkpot

onton1y

blotter.""You

shouldhang

upyour

hat,Llob.

Things

don'twork

thewaythey

usedto.W

edon't

liveinthe

trees,norincaves."

1smile

toshow

Ibelieveinfairplay

andthen,innocently,

Istart

rightin

again:"Areyou

reallynot

goingto

tell111e

who

heis?"

Ithink

I'vehad

aneffect,because

headm

its,out

ofthe

cornerofhis

mouth:

"Wedon't

knowyet.

Porthe

lastfive

days,we've

beengetting

reportsofamysterious

figureshow

ingup

wherever

Mr.Thobane

goes,but

thesecurity

cordonaround

oursub­

jectwaskeeping

thestalker

beyondour

reach.Everytim

ewe

showed

anyinterest

inhim

,he

vanished.So

wethought

upalittle

dramato

suckhim

in.Adjutant

Kader

agreedtoplay

thepart

ofMr.T

hobane.Wecam

etothe

Marhaba

restaurant

181

Yasm

inaKhadra

threetim

esto

seew

hatw

ouldhappen,

reducingthe

escortperceptìbly.

The

fishtook

thebaitthis

evening.Now

thatw

ehave

thebody,

we

won't

takelong

toput

anam

eto

it.After

which

it'llbe

child'splay."

"Thrilling.

1betam

asterfulhaullike

thatm

ustbe

worth

av-1hole

heapof

sugarlumps,

atthe

veryleast.

Do

youthink

thism

ighthave

anythingto

dow

iththe

attackon

Thursday?

Because,

justthink,

I'vegot

anofficer

who

must

befeeling

badin

thatplace

ofyours,and

itvvouldgive

me

areal

liftto

findhe's

therefor

noreason."

Youcef

foldshis

arms

acrosshis

chest,looking

likea

lock­sm

ithw

hodoesn'tunderstand

why

noneofhis

keysisopening

thedoor.

His

lipssquirm

arounda

sick-lookinggrim

ace."Y

ouare

exasperating,Llob,

likeall

assholesw

hodon't

knowthey're

assholes.Pack

yourbags

andleave

beforethe

Sphinxarrives.

He's

spentthe

week

vomiting

with

terror;he'd

come

closeto

spittingout

hisguts

ifhe

caughtsight

of

h.

r."

te

expressionon

yourrace.

Iliftmy

arms

insurrender

andgo

backto

my

car.In

anapartm

entblock

notfar

fromH

eadquarters,there's

acafé

Iuse

occasionallyfor

deco1npressionpurposes.

The

clienteleconsists

mostly

ofold

men

ontheir

lastlegs,andthe

waiter

isso

slowon

theuptake

thathe

doesn'trem

ember

them

orning'sorders

untilthe

endof

theevening.

It'sa

depress­ing

place,w

ithm

olderingfurnishings

andblocked-up

toilets,but

itsterrace

providesa

veryinteresting

perspectiveon

theregression

takingplace

onthe

n1arginalizedfringes

ofsociety.Tw

odecades

ago,the

streetw

asflourishing-the

shopkeepersw

ereelbow

ingone

anotheraside,the

butchersw

erebesieged

andhouse\vives

saggedbeneath

thew

eightof

theirshopping

baskets.Today,

apart£ro111a

groceryw

ithacrum

blingfaçade

andan

unsavory-lookingdairy,

recognizableby

thecream

y

182

Dead

Man's

Share

tentaclesbranching

outon

thesurface

ofthe

road,business

hasslow

edto

acraw

landill-fed

pursescan't

keepup.T

hefew

passers-byone

seeshere

andthere

lookeven

hungrierthan

theyare;

theirw

orldisgetting

poorerfaster

thantheir

efforts,andtheir

tomorrow

shave

goneofffor

anotherfacelift.I

usedto

come

herea

lotat

thebeginning

ofmy

career.In

thosedays,

atHeadquarters,

coffeew

asonly

servedto

thedirector

andhis

guests;as

forthe

smallfry

likem

e,vre

weren't

evenentitled

toa

glassof

water.

We

ategarbage

inthe

canteen,and

we

oftenw

onderedif

we

weren't

actuallyin

jail,w

iththe

resultthat

anytim

ethe

dutyofficer

turnedhis

backw

ew

oulddive

intothe

greasyspoon

nextdoor.

Ididn'tlike

greasyspoons.

Ithought

Ideservedbetter.

With

n1ybuttocks

wellshaped

bym

yjeans

andm

ycow

boyshirt

openedw

ideover

my

blonddow

n,Iw

ouldskip

lunchand

come

overhere

toshow

offmy

muscles

andhunt

forvirgins

todeflow

er.People

couldsee

thatIw

asjustshow

ingoffand

hardlyheld

itagainst111e.In

thosedays,high

spiritsw

ereenough

inthem

selvesto

make

aparty;

everyone,young

andold,

tookpleasure

inthem

.But

Iknewm

ylim

its.W

henI

realizedthat

my

actw

asgetting

closeto

crudeexhibitionism

,Iw

ouldretire

intothe

nearestcafé,order

astrongblack

coffeeand

neverpay

forit.Everytim

eIreached

intom

ypocket

andasked

forthe

bill,the

owner

would

wave

hishand

tosay

no,explaining

thatan

anonymous

personhad

alreadytaken

careofit.A

h!D

zaïr,"n1y

home,how

youhave

changed!W

ew

erea

truetribe,

andw

edidn't

needalliances

tobe

closeto

eachother.People

respectedeach

other,Iwould

evensay

theyw

erefond

ofeach

other,and

theirgenerosity

was

oftenahead

oftheir

thoughts.It

was

so..."Superintendent."

*Dxai'r:

Algeria

(Arabic).

183

Yasm

inaKhadra

Dead

Man's

Share

InspectorSerdjisstanding

infront

ofme,hiding

myray

ofsunlight

andspoiling

myfew

mom

entsofrespite.H

isexpres­

siondoesn't

improve

things."N

owwhat?"

"There's

beensom

enew

s."184

fromthe

boss,since

hechaired

thecom

mittee

responsiblefor

therecent

releases."I

lookat

thepadded

dooras

iftrying

topierce

it.Ten

drumsare

beatingfullblast

inm

ytem

ples.Ghali

Saadwatches

myfury

butisn't

overlydisturbed.

I-leissitting

behindhis

deskwith

hisfingers

interlockedon

theblotter,fully

incontrol

ofhisnerves.

His

blueeyes

holdmy

gazedispassionately.

"It'strue

thatthingscouldn't

getmuch

worse,"

headm

its."B

utthatdoesn'tmean

wecan

allowourselvesto

bedistracted.

On

thecontrary,w

emustkeep

coolheadsifw

ewantto

keepthem

onour

shoulders.Ican

assureyou

I'mnot

losingany

sleepover

thisbusiness.

Yesterday,

Iwas

draggedout

ofbed

attwo

o'clockin

themorning

andspent

therest

ofthe

nightwaiting

aroundin

thischair.

I'1nexhausted.

And

thismorn­

ing,assoonas

ourfriend

was

identified,the

skyfellin

onthe

Bureau.

First,the

minister.

He

was

herebefore

thesecurity

guard.Idon'tneed

totellyou.

Then

theboss,

tearinghishair

out.W

henThobane

showed

up,Ithought

Iwas

witnessing

theend

ofthe

world.

Ifyouwantsom

eadvice,

Llob,goback

toyour

postandpray

with

allthefervoryou

possess.Because

itwon'tbe

longbefore

you'rethrow

nin

thepot

too.There's

areport

thatsays

youset

upasurveillance

operationaround

theconvict

inquestion

assoonashe

cameoutofjail,w

ithoutauthorization

orspecialinstructions.W

ithoutevenasking

yoursuperiors.

Why?

Iimagine

youhave

asolid

answer

tojustify

thisfoolish

initiative.Ifyou

don't,you'llfind

yourselfinthe

sameplace

asyour

lieutenant:in

thedock.

And

noone

will

inviteyou

intotheir

livingroom

.Not

evenyour

kidsand

yourfriends.Given

theschizophrenic

atmosphere,

anyprotest

youmake

will

beinterpreted

assheer

insubordination,and

thesw

ordofD

amocles

will

bewaiting

tosettle

theargum

ent

"Go

"o

n."N

othere,Superintendent.

Doyou

rniridifw

ego

stretch1

?"

ouregs.

Itoss

acouple

ofcoins

onthe

tableand

followhim

.We

walk

insilence

asfarasthe

avenueand

thenhe

tells1n

e,"The

Cornm

sguys

killedasuspect

yesterday.""I

heard."His

eyebrows

almostdisappear.

"Iwasin

theneighborhood

when

Iheardshots,"

Iexplain."I

headedfor

thescene

withoutasking

toomany

questions.""D

idthey

tellyouwho

hewas,

thearm

edman?"

"Ihope

you'regoing

toenlighten

me."

Serdjscratches

histem

pleand

thenhurls

histhunderbolt:

"SNP

.""W

hat?""H

ewasidentified

thismorning."

Idon't

knowwhat

gotinto

me.

Ileftthe

inspectorright

thereand

ranfor

mycar

likeamadm

an.

"Mr.

El-O

uahchisn't

seeinganyone

rightnow

,"says

Ghali

Saad,irritated

atmyarrivalin

hiskingdom

without

anentry

visa."H

ajThobane

iswith

him.They

areboth

inbad

moods.

Yesterday

evening,a

suspectwas

killedby

ourmen.

Ifyou

canbelieve

it,itwas

aman

condemned

tolife

imprisonm

entwho

hadjust

beengranted

apresidential

pardon,less

thana

month

ago.W

hat'sgoing

onin

theoffice

nextdoor

islikea

nightn1are.Thobane

hascomehere

demanding

anexplanation

185

YasminaKhadra

oncea.nd

forall.

Inshort,

Superintendent,you're

intheshit

,,uptoyour

ears.Acold

sweatmakes

itspresence

feltonmyback.

Ihadn'tplanned

forthiseventuality,

notforasecond,

notforafractionofasecond.

Iwassobusy

havingnightm

aresabout

thefate

awaiting

Linothat

Ihadcompletely

lostsight

ofthepossibil­

itythat

something

likethismight

happen.Thebeginnings

ofpanic

takehold

inthepitofm

ystom

ach.Myhand

gripsthe

chairofitsownaccord.

"Whatisthiscrap?"

Ihearmyselfm

uttering."Thenoose

istightening,

Llob.TheBeretta

theyfound

onthemurderer

reallyisyour

lieutenant's.Toputyou

fullyin

thepicture,

here'swhere

thingsstand:

Linocouldn'tstom

achhisdefeat

withNedjm

aand

wastrying

toretrieve

hishonor

withThobane's

blood.Heneeded

akiller.

Hehad

onein

mind:SN

P,apsychopathic

killer.Hemusthave

gottoknow

hirnabitbetter

when

hewasfollow

irighim

around,with

yourblessing,and

suggestedadeal.

SNPwasjust

waiting

foranopportunity

togetback

inhiselem

ent.Lino

lendshim

hisgunforthe

dirtywork.

Things

gowrong,

hellotrouble."

Thistime,myhand

isn'tuptosupporting

me.Ifallinto

thechair

andfumblefrantically

inmypockets

formycigarettes.

Ghalitakes

thetrouble

tostirhim

selfandoffersm

ehislighter.

Heconfides,

"Asfarastheidiotic

surveillanceoperation

aroundthesuspect's

homeisconcerned,

thebossdoesn't

knowanything

yet,andnordoThobane

andtheminister.T

hereport

isinmydraw

er."Ilook

upathim

likeabeaten

dog."Idon't

understand.""I've

gotalotofrespectforyou,Brahirn.

Iknowyou

don'thave

anythingtodowiththis

nonsense.Asforyour

lieuten­ant,he'lljust

havetofind

hisownwayout."

"Whatdoyou

mean,

'thereport

isinmydraw

er'?"

186

Dead

Man's

Share

"Imean

Idon'tintend

toshow

ittotheboss.

Notimme­

diately,atany

rate.Itwould

onlymake

analready

explosivesituation

evenworse.I've

decidedtodelay

things,toofferyou

someroom

formaneuver

andabreath

ofoxygen."

"Youwould

dothatform

e?""Whodoyou

takemefor?"

Mythroat

isdry,

andtherancid

tasteof1ny

cigaretteis

ravagingmypalate.

"I'llpayyou

back,Ghali."

"Idon't

thinkyou

havethemeans,

Superintendent.Just

makeiryour

businesstoget

something

outofthereprieve

I'mgiving

you.Honest

asyouare,

1'1nnotdoing

thisbecauseofyour

looks.I'macting

asIamtopreserve

yourdirector's

excellentreputation.

Ihearhewastaken

tohospitalthis

morn­

ing.Thelatest

twistsandturns

inthis

affairhave

takentheir

tollonhim

.It'smainly

forhissake

thatI'mtaking

therisk

ofburying

thereport.

Nowbeat

it.Itwon't

belongbefore

ourtwoogres

willtake

theirleave

ofeach

other.Ifthey

catchyou

inthat

chair,they'll

eatyoualive,

andmealong

withyou."

Inodand

standup.

Despite

theload

Ghali

Saadhastaken

offmyshoulders,I

finditdifficult

tocheer

up."Ghali,"

Isay,"if

youwantmetoget

something

outof

thereprieve

you'vegiven

me,you'll

havetodomeonemore

favor.""What?"

"Fixaninterview

withmylieutenant."

Withhisfingers

stillinterlocked,

heshakes

hischin

imper-

ceptibly."Ican't

getinvolved

inyour

business,Brahirn."

"Fiveminutes,

that'sall.''

"I'1nfond

ofmyprivileges."

"Without

hisside

ofthe

story,I'mhelpless."

"Don't

insist."

187

Yasmina

Khaâra

Atabout

oneo'clock

inthemorning,M

inashakes

metowarn

methat

thetelephone

isthreatening

torouse

ourneighbors

toinsurrection.

Myhand

knocksafew

bitsand

piecesover

onthenightstand

beforepicking

upthe

receiver."Hello?"

Isay."It's

Ghali.

Am

Idisturbing

you?""That

dependswhat

you'reabout

totellm

e."Asilence

attheother

endofthe

line,then

thedeterrn

inedvoice

ofthesecretary

oftheBureau

ofInvestigation:"Idon't

knowwhat

I'n1.gettinginto,

butI'll

seewhat

Icandoabout

gettingyou

aninterview

with

yourlieutenant."

Thiswakes

meright

up.Ghali

hangsupbefore

Ihave

timetothank

him.

Someone

hastaken

myspot

inthe

parkinglot

atHeadquarters;

atfirst,Iconsidered

blockinghim

in,butsince

thecar

isatop-of-the-range

model,

IdecideIdon't

needto

bringany

more

problemswith

influentialnabobs

downon

111.yhead.Idrive

roundand

roundlooking

foranempty

spaceand

finally,enraged,comeback

toblock

thebig

carin,readytohave

itoutwith

Azraïn

himself.A

ndIfind

apolice

carhas

gotitselfstuckinapothole

rightinthe

middle

ofthelot.W

ithhistunic

openover

hisgluttonous

belly,the

driveriskicking

thetrapped

wheel,

visiblyout

ofoptions.

Hiscolleagues

arestanding

aroundwatching;

notasingle

onedeigns

toofferhim

anyhelp,

which

annoyshim

notalittle.H

eissw

eating,with

salivafrothing

atthecorners

ofhismouth,

andwatching

himuse

upsomuch

effortmakes

mewant

tohand

inmychips.

Ihurry

backtomyoffice.

Theusual

frenzyofapolice

stationhas

givenwaytoa

strangekind

ofcalm.Officers

stoptalking

asIgoby.

Istop

firstatSerdj's

officetoask

afterthe

boss.Serdj

informsmethat

thedirector

hashad

ananxiety

attackand

188

Dead

Man's

Share

isunderobservation

inthemilitary

hospitalatA

ïnNaadja.I

suggesthe

sendssom

eflow

ersand

abox

ofimported

candy;there's

nothingtolose.

Baya

putsthe

telephonedow

ninahurry

when

shehears

mecorning.

Shesrnoothes

herskirt

andthen

forcesasm

ilethat's

difficulttoread.

"SuperintendentDine

hascalled

threetim

es.""Didhe

saywhy?"

"No,but

hepron1ised

tocall

back.""Gethim

online

twoform

e.""Right

away,sir."

Thephone

ringsjust

asI'm

hangingmyjacket

onthe

backofm

ychair.D

ineflies

offthehandle

when

hehears

mv,

voice.Hebegins

byasking

where

I'vebeen

,asifI've

missed

thechance

ofalifetim

e,then

calmsdow

nand

asksmetomeet

himat66,

Ruedes

Soviets.Alone,

heinsists.

Andthere

heis,w

aitingfor

meatthe

appointedplace,sit­

tingonthehood

ofhiscar

with

hisarm

sfolded.H

eisalone,

too.From

thejoyshining

inhisfaceIguess

thathehasgreat

tidingstoimpart.

"Leaveyour

carhere,"

hesays.

"I'lldrive."

Heopens

thedoor

andhelps

meinto

myseatw

ithexagger­

atedpoliteness,

thenjum

psbehind

thewheeland

startsthe

car."Where

arewegoing?"

"I'vemanaged

toget

oneofthe

bigwigs

tosee

sense.ltwasn't

easy,buttheresult

isgreat:

wehave

permission

togo

andsee

ourfriend

Lino."

Liar!Dine

isagreat

guy;getting

involvedintoxic

affairsisnot

hisstyle.

This

seeingsense

stuffisn'tlike

him.He'sjust

following

orders.GhaliSaad

haskept

hisword.H

owdid

hesetthe

wheels

turning?That's

hisproblem,notm

ine.IfD

ine

189

YasminaKhaâra

wants

toget

sornepersonal

satisfactionout

ofit,

Idon't

seeany

harm.I'm

sohappy

finallytobeable

tosee

mylieutenant

thatIpretend

tofeelindebted.

"Iknew

Icouldcount

onyou."

"We've

gottostick

together.These

aretreacherous

times."

"You're

right."Wecross

halfthecity,

takingone

tortuousalleyw

ayafter

another.For

amoment

Ithinkmyguide

istryingtocover

histracks

sothat

Iwon't

beable

toretrace

them.Hemightjust

aswellblindfold

mewhile

he'sabout

it.It'sno

bigdeal.

I'mso

excitedaboutlocating

Linothat

Iavoidspoiling

mypleasure.

Half

anhour

laterweplunge

intoaforested

areabristling

withtallfences,

someofthem

toppedwithbarbed

wire.

Not

ahiker

onthe

paths.Asilence

filledwith

questionscrushes

theplace.

Dineturns

downashaded

roadand

drivesuptoa

gatethat

slidesopengradually

asweapproach.W

eare

greetedbyacourtyard

ringingwithbirdsong.O

nemight

betem

ptedtothink

itwassom

eEden-like

clearing,were

itnot

forthe

body-builderwiththe

swinging

armsand

theface

barricadedawaybehind

darkglasses

waiting

forusbeside

acrum

blingfountain,

likeanexecutioner

resolutelyawaiting

hisprey.

"Endofthe

line,"Dine

warns

me."Allchange."

Thebody-builder

doesn'tcorne

andmeet

us.Hedoesn't

evenmake

amove,

thoughIcan

feelhim

lookingmeup

anddow

nwithx-ray

eyes,goingover

bothmysubconscious

thoughtsand

mysurface

obsessionswith

afine-tooth

comb.

Histailor-m

adeblack

suitisbrand

new,but

thecarnivorous

leerstretched

overhis

salivatingfangs

makes

himlook

likea

rabidhound

strainingatthe

leash.I'n1overcom

ewith

asick

feeling;Igetout

ahandkerchief

andwipe

mytem

ples.

190

Dead

Man'sShare

Theguardian

oftheTemple

contentshim

selfwith

openingthe

doorbehind

himwithnary

asalam

alekoragrum

ble.He

letsuspast

him,shuts

thedoor

andleads

usalong

asinister

corridor.Onboth

sides,low

cells,plunged

indarkness.

No

tenants,justbarred

ratholesthat

sendachill

downthe

spine.Further

on,asoiled

staircaseplunges

downtoahorrifying

lowerlevel

where

furthercells

molder

beneaththick

layersof

saltpeter.Apenetrating

stenchirritates

myeyes

andthroat.

There

arenoskylights

andno

airvents,just

stonewallssw

eat­ingfetid

secretions,with

thefeeling

thatone

iswandering

some\vhere

among

theinsalubrious

mists

ofpurgatorywithout

theslightest

chanceofescaping

unharmed.

The

iceonmyback

spreads,setting

offmyrheum

atism.

Thebody-builder

fiddleswith

thelock

onakind

ofjunk-rooin,

shootstwobolts,and

switches

onaceiling

lamp.

Something

moves

inthe

interiorofthe

hole;ahum

anshape

huddledonthe

ground.It's

myLino.

Oratleast

what's

leftofhim

.Hisface

iscom

pletelydistorted,

hiseyes

puffywith

hugepurple

bruisesand

hislips

smashed:

ahorror.

"They

broughthim

herelike

that,"the

gorillasays.

"Nobody

herehas

gonenear

himsince

hewasadm

itted."Rage

floodsinto

mefrom

allsides,

butIkeep

mycool.

Making

ascene,

orletting

slipn1y

intentions,isout

ofthe

question;I'1n

inenem

yterritory.

Ikneeldow

nbeside

mypartner

andslow

lypull

backthe

thin,greasy

blanketinwhich

hehasw

rappedhim

selfin

searchofatiny

bitofwarm

th.Hisshirt

andundershirt

havebeen

takenaway,leavingjustjailbird's

trousersfrom

which

hisfeet,bare

andfilthy,protrude.

It'sasight

fittomake

astone

weep,

Hisscraw

nybody

isstriped

withblackish

welts-e-the

resultofblow

sfrom

anight-stick

orawhip-

and,here

andthere,

191

Yasmina

Khadra

Dead

Man's

Share

wide,

pus-coveredabrasions.

It'sas

ifhe's

beensw

allowed

upand

spatout

byagarbage-con1pressor.

Linodoesn't

knowit's

me.

Hetries,

invain,

toopen

hiseyes.

Hisnostrils

areblocked

byclum

psof

clottedblood.

He

liftsacrushed

handbut

can'tmanage

toget

itas

faras

me;

Iseize

itand

pressitto

1nychest.

"It'sme.

You

see?I've

foundyou

atlast."

Ifeel

awave

ofshock

passthrough

thelieutenant

fromhead

totoe.

Hetries

tomove

abitm

ore;his

breathruns

outand

hegives

into

hispain.

Foramom

ent,he

triesto

smile

toshow

howhappy

heisto

seeme,but

thewounds

inhis

mouth

imm

ediatelystart

tobleed.

"You're

toom

essedup,m

yfriend.

Saveyour

strength."Dine

isstruckdum

b,Hemust

havebeen

expectingsom

e­thing

likethis,but

whathe

isseeingsurpasses

understanding.Igesture

with

my

head,asking

himto

leavemealone

with

myofficer.

"I'llbe

down

thehall,"

hemutters

ashe

leaves.The

apedoesn't

move,

however.

"I'mnot

goingto

stealhim,"

Isay.Hethinks

forthreeseconds,accentuates

hisleerand

then,evidently

encouragedby

Dine,

agreesto

disappearfrom

my

sight."They

didagood

jobon

me,

eh,Super?"

Linocroaks.

"They

didn'thold

back."His

policeofficer's

stripesdidn't

dohim

anygood.

Minister

orporter,

povverbehind

thethrone

orobscure

middle

man­

ager,hewho

endsup

inthejails

ofthesecret

policeofA

lgeriawill

beconscientiously

tornto

shreds.His

dignitywill

beconfiscated

sothat

hemay

bebetter

preparedfor

theworst,

andhe

will

bedragged

throughthe

mud

untildeath

ensues.If

hemanages

topull

through,by

sornemiracle,

hewill

go

backto

freeair

onlyin

orderto

givethose

who

aretem

ptedto

getupto

mischiefw

iththe

regime

something

tothink

about."W

hatday

isit?"

themartyr

asksshakily.

"Alm

ostthe

Lord's

day."Heshuffles

aroundto

getonhis

backside,but

tiresquickly

andcurls

upon

themattress.

Iputn1y

armaround

hiswaist

andlift

himcarefully;

hisbreath

strugglesto

make

headway

throughhis

groans,and

histortured

grimaces

addabiblical

hideousnessto

hisfacial

deformities.

"Ishould

havesquashed

ehernbetw

eenmy

pawslike

acarbuncle."

"Take

iteasy."

Rage

makes

hiswounds

tremble,H

epulls

hishead

down

between

hisshoulders

andstarts

sobbing.Ifthe

apehad

come

backatthat

mom

entto

seewhat

was

goingon,

Iwould

havegouged

hiseyes

outwith

toothpicks.But

nobodycom

esto

botherus.

"I'llget

youout

ofhere,Lino."

"Ican't

takeitm

uchlonger."

"Yes

youcan.

You

won't

letmedow

n."A

fitof

coughingovercon1es

him.

His

handsearches

forme

andgrips

mywrist.

"I'min

theshit,"

Iconfesstohim

."Y

onhave

tohelp

me.

Iwantto

knowwhathappened

toyou

thatnight.Where

youwere,

what

thehell

youdid

thatevening

andhow

youlost

yourgun.Y

oumust

remem

.bersom

edetail,

however

small,

something

thatmight

leadus

somew

here,Is

ittrue

youwere

inabar

onThursday

night?You

were

drunkas

alord

when

theyarrested

you.""Is

ittrue

they'veshot

thesuspect?"

"Itstrue."

"Maybe

it'sabluff"

192193

YasminaKhadra

"Iwasthere

andIsaw

him,shot

atpoint-blank

range.I

didn'trecognize

himthere

andthen

becausehe

didn'thave

abeard

anymore

andhe

hadcut

hishair,but

theidentification

isdefinite.

ltwasSN

P.""I

nevercarn

eacross

theguy.Every

timeitw

as1ny

turntodo

surveillanceduty,Ifixed

thingswith

mycolleagues

andran

offtosee

Nedjm

a.""It's

yourservice

revolverthatw

asfoundon

him,the

saineone

thatwasused

inthe

attempt

onThobane

andwhich

killedhis

driver.You

must

remem

berhow

youlost

it."Hisfingers

clamber

upmyarm

,lookingforsom

ethingtohold

onto.

He's

tryingtogain

time,and

Idissuadehim

."Iwon't

getperm

issionto

seeyou

again,Lino.

Sowe

won't

haveachance

tothink

itover

calmly,w

hathappened

toyou

thatnight.It's

nowor

nevertorefresh

yourmem

ory."Lino

nods.Athread

ofbloodoozes

froman

abscessonhis

temple

andruns

downhis

cheek."Ihaven'tstopped

thinkingabout

thatday,Brahim

.Ever

sincethey

threw

meinthe

holeI've

donenothing

else.Iknowthat

asingle

sparkcould

shedlight

onthis

whole

business."Heshakes

hischin

indesperation.

"1'111sorry,

it'sablack

hole."The

apecornesback,looking

ostentatiouslyatthe

dialof

hiswatch.Istand

up.Linorealizes

it's.the

endofthe

visit.He

clutchesmyarm

.What

Iseeinhis

expressionpierces

melike

adagger.

Hislips

quiveram

ongthe

cuts,tryingtosay

some­

thingand

then,aware

oftheextentofm

ydistress,he

changeshis

mind

andsinks

intohis

cornerwith

hiseyes

tothe

floor.

194

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

I .think

hewasdrugged,"

saysSerdj,

takingadrag

fromhis

cigarette."How

doyou

expecthim

torem

ember

anything

afterwhat

he'sbeen

through?I-Je

was

alreadygroggy

when

hewashanded

overtohistorturers.

I'n1.surethey

didn'teven

givehim

timeto

understandwhat

was

happeningtohim

.Whatw

iththe

blowsto

thehead

he'shad

andthe

humiliations

he'ssuffered,it'snot

surprisinghedoesn

'teven

remem

berhis

"ow

nnam

e.Icontem

platemycup

without

sayinganything.

Weare

onthe

terraceofa

caféinBelcourt,

farfromfam

ilyand

colleagues,draw

ingup

thebalance

sheetofour

theoreticalinvestigation,

thendraw

ingitup

again,overaglassofdishw

ater.Serdjstubs

outhis

cigaretteinthe

ashtray.He's

exhausted.For

thelast

sixdays,

wehave

eachbeen

separatelyrac­

ingabout,looking

forsorne

providentialwitness

who

might

injecthopeback

intoour

investigation;nota

thing.Serdjhas

scouredahundred

lowdives

showing

Lino'sphotoaround;not

asingle

barman,

notasingle

drunkard,not

asingle

prostitutesomuch

asfrowned.Form

ypart,Iw

entbacktosquare

oneto

re-establishthe

chronologyof

events.TwoofH

ajThobane's

neighbors,an

oldlady

andayoung

crooner,told

methat

the

195

-----=--

Yasmina

Khadra

inanlurking

inw

aitforthe

zaïmto

getbacknear

number

7C

hemin

desL

ilasw

ascarrying

avvalkie-talkie.Five

minutes

beforethe

victimarrived,

theyheard

thecrackle

ofareceiver

anda

fewunintelligible

instructions,which

implies

thatthe

shooterhad

atleastoneaccom

plice.Far

fromcheering

me

up,this

possibilityknocks

me

sideways.U

ntilnow,

my

affectionfor

Linoand

my

fearthatIwon't

beable

togethim

outofthe

holehe's

dughim

selfinto

haven'tbeen

much

help.My

emo­

tionshave

hadthe

upperhand

overm

yobjectivity

andhave

beench

angingthe

way

Iapproachthings.T

hen,onenight,I

gotagrip

onm

yselfIfIw

antedto

inoveforw

ard,Ihadto

putm

yw

orriesaside

andlook

atthingsw

itha

bitmore

rigor.1'111

acop,and

acop

follows

logic:w

hatifLino

was

intothis

mess

upto

hisneck?W

hatifhe

reallydid

givein

tohis

hatredand

jealousy?A

fterall,w

hynot?

He

isn'tcooperating,

buthides

behinda

wall

ofdubious

amnesia,

heknew

aboutSN

P,his

weapon

isthe

main

pieceofincrim

inatingevidence,

hehas

am

otiveand

noalibi....

It'ssad

toarrive

atthis

hypothesis,but

froma

professionalpoint

ofviewit

makes

thepuzzle

lesschaotic.

Linow

asn'tsoberw

henit

happened.Maybe,

inthe

end,he

tookhis

own

threatsseriously.A

pproachedfrom

thisangle,

thestory

stopscontradicting

itselfandcan

bejudged

onits

merits.Ifyou

inoveaw

ay,thehaze

comes

backand

youdon't

knoww

hereyou

areany

more.

The

onlything

thatbothers

me

isthat

botchedset-up

atthe

Marhaba

parkinglot.W

hy"vasSN

Pelim

inated?H

ew

ascaught

likea

ratina

trap;he

couldhave

beenhandcuffed.

Was

itto

putan

endto

ascandal

thatno

onew

anted,especially

HajT

hobane,w

how

assuing

thenew

spapersthat

exposedthe

affair,accordingto

my

latestinform

ation?T

hiskind

ofthing

iscom

mon

inour

country.Any

gossipthatm

ightprejudice

thesm

oothprogress

ofthe

revolutionis

nippedin

thebud.

Inthe

currentstate

of

196

Dead

Man's

Share

politicaldereliction,

aruiner

quicklytakes

onthe

proportionsofa

cataclysm.

Thus

theregim

eow

esitslongevity

entirelyto

keepingthe

comm

onfolk

ina

stateoflethargy

....I

went

backto

ProfessorA

llouchetw

ice.I

neededto

studySN

Pincre

closely.Allouche

playednie

some

more

tapesw

ithouthelping

me

tounderstand

hispersonality

anybetter.

Hisidentity

was

diffusedthrough

athousand

fantasies.His

filew

asasm

eageras

adunce's

copy-book.Without

connectionsor

apast,he

remained

anenigm

a."A

nythingelse?"

thew

aiterasks,tray

inhand.

IlookatSerdj.

"Not

form

e,"he

says."N

othingfor

me

either."T

hew

aiterstays

where

heis,an

irritatedexpression

onhislips.

"What?"

Iask.

"Well,you've

beenhere

two

hoursand

you'veonly

orderedone

thing.""So?""So,

ifallour

customers

didthe

sarnew

e'dgo

bust."Serdj

pusheshis

chairback."Y

ou'reright.W

e'releaving."

Ipayand

standup.O

nceupon

atim

e,this

kindofrude-

nesswould

havem

adem

eblow

my

top.IfI'vecalm

eddow

nsince,

itonlyproves

thatI'm

goingdow

nhill.Serdj

offersto

dropm

eoff

atmy

home.

My

watch

says15:38

andI

don'tknoww

hatto

doathom

e,so

Iask

himto

drivem

eback

tothe

office.Ifind

Baya

powdering

herface

behinda

pileofpending

files.She

isdism

ayedbecause

shew

asgetting

readyto

slipoutearly.She

putsher

bagback

onthe

groundand

delaystheorganization

ofherevening

tilllater.Asithappens,

Ikeepher

inthe

officeuntillate

inthe

afternoon.Before,this

would

haveupsetherplanned

debaucheryand

would

haveputherin

abad

197

Yasmina

Khadra

mood

forseveraldays,butever

sinceLino

hasbeen

languish­ing

inthe

undergroundjails

ofthe

Bureau

ofInvestigation

andC

ornms,

shehas

beenready

togive

upthe

assignationof

herlife

forthe

sakeofm

akingherself

useful."Y

oucan

goif

youlike."

"I'min

nohurry."

"Isitthe

albinoIcaught

aglim

pseof

theother

night?"She

shiftsabout

shyly."He's

notan

albino,he's

justgot

redhair.""Lucky

you.A

pparentlythey're

ragingstallions,

thoseredheads.

That's

why

they'vegot

thoseBarning

locks."H

ersm

ilefades

intothe

rednessof

hercheeks

andher

eyessink

tothe

tiledfloor.

"It'searly

days,Superintendent.

We

don'treally

knoweach

otheryet.I'n1

notgoing

toem

barkon

thatsort

ofthing,

youknow

:I'm

notsucking

my

thumb

anym

ore.""T

here'sm

oreto

itthan

yourthum

b."B

ayaflares

rightup.

Although

sheputs

onthe

outragedinnocent

actatmy

words,

Iknow

sheloves

itwhen

Italk

toher

likethis

fromtim

eto

time;

herfantasies

areallthe

betterfor

it."Anything

toreport?"

Without

lookingup,she

tellsm

ethat

ProfessorA

lloucheis

tryingto

gethold

ofme.

"Get

hirnfor

me

andthen

gohom

e.Idon't

needyou

this.

,,evening.

Shenods.

The

professoris

allworked

up.For

am

oment,

Ithink

he'sgoing

tom

aterializethrough

thereceiver."Pay

attention,"he

warns.

"It'snot

enoughfor

afeast;but

it'ssorneth

ingto

keepthe

wolf

fromthe

door."

198

Dead

Man's

Share

"My

mouth's

watering

already.What's

onthe

menu?"

"Not

onthe

telephone,B

rahim.

Can

youcom

eto

n1yplace

aroundsix?

I'vegot

someone

who

might

interestyou."

"Why

notim

mediately?"

"The

personisn'tavailable

rightnow

.""A

llright.C

an'twe

meetsom

ewhere

lessdepressing?Y

ourem

pireof

defectivesstops

me

concentrating.""I

promise

youw

e'llbe

betteroff

therethan

anywhere

else.It's

very,veryirnportant."

Iarriveat

theasylum

atdusk.Largeand

ominous

cloudsare

battlingit

outover

thehuts.

The

avenuesare

desertedand

theparking

lotisem

pty.A

strangew

indgusts

interrnittently,tw

eakingatthe

shrubsand

thendisappearing

intothe

darknessw

ithoutw

arning.Lights

hereand

tbere,yellow

ishand

bleakasfast-day

faces,showoccupied

rooms.In

thedistance,

alongscream

ringsout,

quicklycut

shortby

ordersin

theform

ofobscenities;

calmim

mediately

takescontrol

again.ProfessorA

lloucheis

notalone

inhis

office.Aw

oman

isw

aitingim

patientlyin

achair,

clutchinga

cardboardfile

toher

chest.She

isa

brunette,beautiful

andaw

areof

it,w

ithenorm

ouseyes,generous

lipsand

am

agnificentbeauty

spotadorning

hercheekbone.

Her

thirty-fiveor

fortyyears

lenda

maturity

toher

refinedappearance

thatis

more

likelyto

bringon

salivationthan

reflection."R

ight,"says

theprofessor.

"May

Iintroduce

SoriaK

aradach.She

teacheshistory

atB

enA

knounU

niversityand

contributesto

severallearned

journalshere

andabroad."

Sheoffers

me

afirm

handshake,w

hichcontrasts

with

thesw

eetnessof

hersm

ile."I'm

delightedto

meet

you,Superintendent

Llob.I've

hearda

lotabout

you."T

heprofessorpushes

achair

toward

me.

199

---~-~~--~----

------

---

Yasmina

Khadra

"I'veknow

nSoria

forafew

weeks,"

hetells

me."Imen­

tionedajournalist

who

wasinterested

inSN

Pthe

firsttim

eyou

cametosee

meabout

thepresidential

pardon.This

isher.Sheturned

upassoon

asIbegan

todraw

thethreat

posedbymy

patienttothe

attentionofthe

authoritiesand

thepress.

Then

shedisappeared,

andIthought

she'dgot

coldfeet.W

ell,Iw

aswrong.

Mrs.K

aradachistenacious.

Shewenton

investigating.Ithink

shehas

somerevelations

topass

ontous."

"Notrevelations,"

thewom

ancorrects

him,"but

anum

berofdetails

thatare,

inmyopinion,

quiterelevant.

The

truthis

thatI'vebeen

interestedinthe

charismatic

personalitiesinour

revolutionfor

severalyears.

Idedicatedmost

ofmystudies

tothem

,andatthe

mom

entI'm

preparingafeature

ontheir

featsofarm

swhich

Iintend

topublish.

Icarne

uponSN

P'scase

bychance.

Iwasdoing

sorneresearch

intothe

postsixty-tw

operiod

when

thestory

ofaserial

killerthrew

mefor

aloop.

The

pressdecked

hirnout

with

afancy

nameatthe

time,

'The

Derm

atologist,'and

convictedhim

outofhand

beforethe

trialeven

started.The

courtcase

wasrushed.

That's

howthe

filewas

closedbefore

ithadeven

beenproperly

opened.When

ProfessorAllanche

wrote

toour

editorprotesting

attherelease

ofapotentially

dangerousprisoner,Igotin

touchwith

hirnright

away,SN

Pwasalready

inmynotes.

Ithought

thiswas

anopportunity

toadd

tothe

fewfactsI

hadbeen

ableto

gatherhere

andthere;but

no.Apart

fromthe

man's

psycho­logical

side,nothing

tangible.Then

therewasthis

businessof

theattem

pton

Mr.Thobane's

lifeand

SNP's

appearanceon

thescene.

And

theneverything

changed.""W

hatchanged,

madatnei"

Iaskher,lighting

acigarette.

"Ibelieve

there'saconnection.

Tenuous

perhaps,but

real.""Doyou

knowthat111ym

ainpartner

isinvolved,

madam

e?"

"Ofcourse."

200

Dead

Man's

Share

"How

canyou

knowthat?

Nobody

inthe

presshas

beenallow

edtomention

it."Thewom

anistaken

abackby

theabruptness

of111y

ques­tion.She

looksoveratthe

professorfor

acouple

ofsecondsandthen

gathersherself.H

erfl.ashing

eyesseem

tobesendinz

outb

awarning.

"Iam

ahistorian

andan

investigativejournalist,

Mr.Brahim

Llob.

Ihave

friendsatvarious

levelsin

Greater

Algiers.

Mysources

aremore

reliablethan

pressreports

thathave

beengiven

asuperficial

glossbycensorship

andcantand

thenissued

inaccordance

with

thepropaganda

message

oftheday.I'm

heretomake

adealw

ithyou,notto

denounceanyone

orwaste

mytim

e.Icould

havecontinued

myresearch

alone,but

unfortunately,awom

anin

oursociety

isoften

excludedbefore

sheeven

starts.Before

wecontinue

thisconversation,

I'dlike

tomake

something

clear:I'm

anactive

participantin

thisaffair.E

itheryou

acceptmeaspart

ofyour

teamor

Igohorne

asifallthis

hadnever

happened.""Iinsist

onseeing

what

youhave

first."She

waves

herfile.

"Ihave

herealistofnam

esthat

couldcrow

nn1yw

orkasahistorian,

andyours

asapolicem

an,with

success.In

myfiles,SN

Phas

asurnam

e,afirst

naineand

abirthplace.

Itturns

outthat

Mr.Thobane

wasborn

inthe

samegodforsaken

place.Ihave

witnesses

who

can'twait

tocooperate.

Ifyou

agree,let's

settleour

courseofaction

andour

respectiveroles

rightnow

andinvestigate

together,hand

inhand,

notricks.

Otherw

ise..."

The

professorisfrozen.

Iimagine

1nyem

otionsaren't

toowell

hiddeneither.

"You've

beenable

toidentify

SNP?"

theprofessor

blurtsout."M

aybe.Now

,it'stim

etosay

yesorno.

Iknow

I'llget

there,but

itwill

takememonths,

maybe

years,on

myow

n,

201

Yasmina

Khadra

wh.ich

would

make

thesignificance

obsoleteand

uninterest­ing.W

ithMr.B

rahimLlob

andhis

experience,wecan

strikewhile

theiron

ishot.

Hehas

anofficer

tosave,Ihave

astory

toput

together."Iexam

inethe

hugeem

beratthe

endof

mycigarette.

"Justbecause

twopeople

areborn

inthe

sanieplace,

itdoesn't

necessarilymean

theyshare

thesam

edestiny,"

Itellhet."T

hat'snot

allthere

is,Superintendent."The

professorstares

atmeintently,

shockedby

my

prevarìcation."N

othingventured,

nothinggained,"

hesays.

Ipretendto

think.In

truth,Idon't

knowwhat

todecide.

The

wom

anseem

ssureofherself

The

way

shegripsher

folderbespeaks

implacable

conviction.Perhaps

that'swhat

unsettlesme;

Ifeelsodim

inishedin

theface

ofher

assurance,one

war

toolate

andtoo

tiredout

tocatch

up.Ialsofeelas

thoughmy

effortshave

beenwasted

ontoo

many

fronts,following

trailsthat

weren't

trails.Mydefeats

haveplunged

meinto

akindof

loser'sdespair,

which

takesaw

ayall

desireto

startanything

fromscratch.

The

wom

anisw

aitingform

yresponse.

Shecan

seeclearly

thatitwill

belong

incoining,

butshe

doesn'tgive

up.She

must

seethat

Ihaveno

alternativeand

thatmypathological

curiositywill

win

outover

allotherconsiderations.

Longafter

mycigarette

hasgiven

upthe

ghostin

afinal

wisp

ofsmoke,

Icrush

itundermy

shoeand

say,"SofarI've

onlyheard

what

youwant

meto

hear.""I

havetwowitnesses

who

areprepared

totalk

tous.

Aform

erprisoner

who

sharedacell

with

SNP

duringthe

nineteenseventies,

andan

ex-sergeantwho

remem

bersaboy

who

turnedhim

selfin

afteraseries

ofmurders

hesaid

he'dcom

mitted

andwhich

havenever

beenconfirm

ed.''

202

Dead

Man's

Share

Idon't

likeSoria

Karadach's

witness

number

onefrom

thestart.

He's

shriveled,with

hairyears,arm

sthat

aretoo

long,and

acon

man's

face-hehas

a,vay

oflooking

atyou

side­waysand

tellingyou

nothingworthw

hile;he's

thetype

who

would

trample

overhis

mother's

bodyto

getto

apot

ofJam

.His

name

isRam

daneCheikh

andhe

owns

agrocery

storein

oneof

themost

unsavoryareas

ofBlida.

You

must

bearaheck

ofagrudge

againstyourself

tochoose

tolive

inahole

likethat.

The

man

isdozing

atasurreal

counterwith

shelvescram

med

randomly

with

boxesofpreserves,packetsoflentils,

floorcloths,cansofoil,detergents,cookies,slippers,pow

derysw

eets,rat-traps,loaves

ofbread

andother

bitsand

piecesof

rubbishwith

nosell-by

dateor

instructionsfor

use-allno

doubtbought

offtheback

ofatruck

attwocents

apieceand,

forwant

ofabetter

method,

thrown

togetherin

thisdanger­

ousmanner,

thoughwithout

causingany

apprehensionam

onghiscustom

ers,let

alonethe

cityauthorities

chargedwith

foodhygiene

andpublic

health."W

ell,well,madame

isback,"he

chuckles,sittingup

lazily.Soria

introducesme:

"This

isthe

friendIm

entioned."The

shopkeeperlooks

meup

anddow

n.Histhick

lipspullback

toreveala

sewer-like

mouth

fitto

suffocateadeep-sea

diver."Your

friendhas

thelook

ofapig,

madam

e""B

ullseye,"Iconfess.

"Isthat

aproblem

?"The

shopkeepershrugs.

"Idon't

seeany.

Asfar

asI'm

concerned,cop

orpizza

deliveryboy,it's

alloneto

me.W

hatcan

Idoyou

foryou,lady

andgent?"

Ilookhim

inthe

eye."M

adamesaysyou

knowSN

P?"

203

204

Dead

1\1e1n1sShare

Yasm

inaKhadrâ

"That's

right.Ispent

sevenyears

injail,

ofwhich

threewere

with

thatasshole."

"Would

youmind

tellingmewhy

youwere

lockedup?"A

frowngathers

overan

outragedexpression.

"And

thenwhat?

Doyou

want

meto

tellyou

howImarried

mywife,

while

we're

aboutit?Isinned

andIpaid

theprice;

therestis

noneof

yourbusiness.

Are

youhere

formeor

forsom

eoneelse?""For

SNP."

Heholds

outapa,v

toSoria.

"Sameprice,

madam

e.""I've

alreadypaid."

"One

ticketdoesn'tgive

youthe

rightto

seethe

filmmore

thanonce."

"There

arecontinuous

showings,"

Iwarn

hirn.

Hetw

itches,because

hewasn't

expectingthe

quicknessof

myresponse.

"Not

mine,pal,"

hereplies.

"It'snot

wise

totry

torip

offacop."

Heopens

hiscam

el'seyes

wide

and,throw

inghis

headback,

burstsoutin

exaggeratedlaughter.

"Listen

tome,

pig.Cops,

stool-pigeonsand

thelaw

sof

therepublic:

fuckthem

upsidedow

nand

sideways.W

henI'm

starvingto

death,that

bastardmayor

won't

payany

attention.And

when

!'111late

with

therent,nobody's

goingto

throwmealifeline.E

veryonetakes

careofhis

ownbusiness

any,vay

hewants,

ormanages

asbest

hecan.C

oming

onlike

thebogey-m

anisawaste

oftim

e.Either

youhand

oversom

ecash

andvse

talk;or

wejust

haveabitofa

chit-chat,andI'n1

notin

themood.

Frankly,ifthe

ladyhad

toldmeyou

were

acop

Iwouldn't

haveagreed

tosee

you.Not

becauseI'm

scaredor

anythinglike

that;just

outofprinciple:Ican't

standcops.

Whenever

Iseeone

Ifeelseasick

forafew

days."Heturns

toSoria.

"The

cash,madam

e"She

takestwonotes

outofher

bag."For

thepig

too.The

managem

entmakes

noexceptions."

Iwant

totear

histhroat

out,butI'm

afraidofhurting

my

fist,itlooksso

armor-plated.

Soriapaysup.

The

man

holdsthe

notesup

tothe

sunlightto

checkthey're

authentic,folds

themin

fourand

slipsthem

intohis

pocket.Hissm

ilebroadens

andhis

eyesshinewith

unhealthysatisfaction.

"Whatdo

youwantto

know?"

"Everything

youknow

aboutSN

P.Iwarn

you,ifwe

don'tgetour

money's

worth,w

e'lldem

andreim

bursement."

He

showsmehisputrefying

teethin

agrim

aceand

starts:"A

sItold

thelady,

Iknew

SNP

inprison.

He'd

justbeen

givenalifesentence.

Hewas

twenty,

twenty-tw

oyears

old,give

ortake.

Weknew

why

hewas

there.The

warders

toldus

what

was

written

inthe

rags.Since

hehad

areputation

forbeingvicious,

theyput

himin

solitary.Long

enoughto

getan

ideaof

howdangerous

hereally

was.

Apparently,

hewasn't

convincing.Afterw

ards,they

puthim

inmycell.T

hegovernor

haditin

fornie.In

thebest

traditionof

theprison

service,he

was

probablytrying

toget

ridofni.e.

Forthe

firstfew

nights,Iw

asonmyguard-

afterall,he

camewith

aheck

ofareputation.

The

mom

enthe

gotup

forapissIw

asstand­ing

up,with

myback

tothe

wall.A

fterawhile,

sincenothing

happened,n1y

stomach

cramps

startedto

letup.Twomonths

later,Irealizedthat

1nyroom

mate

wasfarfrom

adisaster.O

fcourse,

itwasn't

inmyinterest

toshout

itfromthe

rooftops.While

theothers

were

shittingtheirpants,Ihad

aneasy

time

inmybed.

Ieven

addedto

hislegend,

byletting

theothers

205

YasminaK

hadra

knowthat

theguy

wasultra-unpredictable

andthat

theday

someone

stoodinhis

waywould

beatotal

nightmare.

All

thistim

e,SNP

shuthim

selfawayinsilence.

Henever

saida

word.

Neither

shitnor

thankyou.

Hewasanutcase

pureand

simple,

nodoubt

aboutit.H

epondered

hisplansand

guardedthem

jealously.Once,

inthe

showers,

Ipassedhim

mysoap.

Against

allexpectations,hedidn't

rejectit.H

edidn't

saythank

you,but

formeitw

asasifsom

eonehad

liftedarock

offmy

chest.Then

onenightvjustlike

that,fornoparticular

reason,hetold

mehis

naineand

where

hecarne

fromand

talkedvaguely

aboutamassacre

he'dwitnessed.

Icouldn't

getover

it.Thenext

day,while

wewere

havingamealin

thecanteen,

hecam

eupbehind

meand

stuckaten-centim

eterpiece

ofglass

inmyside.

Istill

don'tunderstand

why.

Iwastaken

tothe

infirmary

inacorna.W

henIgot

back,SNPwasn't

thereany

more.

Hewasput

insolitary

forawhile

andthen

sentto

alunatic

asylum."

Soriaopens

hernotebook

andreads,

"Hisnam

ewas

Belkacem

Talbi,w

asn'tit?"

"Yeah,

that'sright.

And

hewasborn

atSidiBaand

losthiswhole

familyinamassacre."

"How

comeyou

remember

hisnameafterso

many

years?"Iask

abruptly."Theonly

timeI've

comedose

todeath

wasthanks

tothe

blowhegave

me.Ifthere's

anam

eIwon't

forgetina

hurry,it'shis."

"Wasithim

who

toldyou

tokeep

quietabout

hissecret?"

"Idon't

takeorders

fromanvone.

Ifthat

bastardhad

been,

hangingaround

inmyquarters

when

Igotback,

I'dhave

hadhis

hidein

aminute.

I'venever

forgivenhim

forwhathe

didtome...ifIhaven'tsaid

anythinguntil

nowit'sbecause

Ididn't

206

Dead1\lían.'sShare

seethe

point.Itw

asn'tuntilm

adainecam

etostirupmemories

thatIdiscoveredthey

might

beinteresting."

"Sowhat

didhetellyou

aboutthe

massacre?"

"Ithappened

atnight.A

rmedmaniacs

showed

upathis

house.They

saidthey

wanted

totake

himand

hisfam

ilyto

asafeplace.

They

tookthem

outintotheforestand

slittheir

throats,oneby

one.SNPtook

advantageofthe

confusionto

escape.Twomenran

afterhimbut

didn'tcatch

him."

"Didhegive

anyreasons

forthemassacre?"

"No,itw

aslikehewasdelirious.

ltdidn't

feellikehewas

talkingparticularly

tome.Hejust

talked,that's

all.""Hedidn't

mention

anynaines,

refertoanything,

sorneeventthatm

ightput

themassacre

inaparticular

place?"The

shopkeeperthinks.

"Whowere

thesearm

ed111en?"

Soriaasks.

"Ididn't

askhim

.Youwant

1nyopinion,

ithappened

duringthe

warofliberation.

Only

duringthat

periodwere

peoplearm

edtothe

teeth.""Didhe

everhave

visitors?""Him

?Notonce.

Hewasanalien."

Sorialooks

atmetosee

ifIhave

anymore

questions.I

don't,butthe

inanhasrevived

myenthusiasm

;Iprom

isehim

I'llcom

eback.

"The

pricewillthe

same,pig,"

hesays.

"Ifyou

want

tosubscribe,

Icould

giveyou

agood

price,with

abit

ofluck."

The

secondwitness

iscalled

Habib

Gad.

Helivesin

Mouzaïa,

atiny

colonialtow

nwest

ofBlida,

where

heruns

aproperty

contractingbusiness.

Heisnot

overjoyedtosee

usinvadinghislittle

enterprise.1-le's

afairly

well

preservedold

inan,tall

andthin

asaflagpole,

with

aface

likeaknife

bladeand

theeyes

ofa

207

~-

--

-----==-----------=

-

208

Deadlvfan's

ShareYasmina

Khadra

sparrovvhawk.

More

tohide

fromprying

eyesthan

fromM

uslimcharity,

heinvites

usto

followhirn

intoa

kindof

largeplyw

oodbox

hecalls

hisoffice.

With

agesture

ofhishead,he

sendsasecretary

outtotake

aw

alkand

shescurries

outfasterthan

am

ouse;then,

takinga

deepbreath

togather

himself

together,he

closesthe

door

andleans

backon

it."Som

ethingw

rong,madam

e?Ido

youone

favorandyou

come

backthe

nextday

togive

me

ahard

time?"

Soria,takenby

surprise,isthrow

noffbalance

bythe

man's

attitude.She

doesn'tunderstand,

andtries

tow

orkout

what

shehas

donew

rong.T

heold

man

wipes

hisw

ristnervously,sniffs,and

shakes

hishead."If

thisgoes

on,madame,

I'llsoon

havean

army

ofpen-

pusherson

my

backand

then,m

aybe,the

radioand

theTV

peopletoo,"

heprotests.

"Ithought

youw

erew

orkingon

a

book.""That's

thetruth,"

saysSoria.

He

waves

hisarmin

anangry

circleand

pointsitatm

e."Sow

hat'sthisguy

doinghere?

Iknowhim

,he'san

Algiers

cop.""Y

ou'rea

sergeant,right?"

Iask."E

x...ex-sergeant,

please.I

retiredten

yearsago.

Now

Ihave

my

own

businessand

Idon't

wantany

trouble.""W

hat'sgoing

on?"Soria

askshim

."Lasttim

e,you

were

friendlyand

cooperatedfully."

"Lasttim

e,Ithought1w

ashelping

ahistorian.

Soyou

liedto

me."

He

sitsdow

non

am

etalcabinet,grabs

anew

spaperand

slams

itdown

onthe

table."You

weren't

aftera

book,madame,

youw

ereafter

ascoop."

His

fingerpoints

outa

headlineon

thecover:A

TTEMPTONHA]TI-IO

BANE'SLIF

E."I

betit

was

youw

how

rotethis

article."

"Ican

assureyou

itwasn't."

"Idon't

care.Inever

suspectedthat

SNP

was

behindthat

attack.O

therwise,

Iwouldn't

havelet

youthrough

thedoor

ofnrycom

pany.I'vegot

hasslesenough

with

taxes,the

city,custom

ers,creditors

andm

yow

nkids."

He's

besidehim

self.O

nlym

ypresence

preventshi111.from

grabbingSoria

bythe

hairand

draggingher

alongthe

floor.H

isexpression

ism

urderousand

hism

outhisitching

tobite.

Soriatries

tocalm

himdow

n;he

stopsher

with

anim

peri­ous

gesture."G

etthe

helloutofhere!

Forgood!

Ineverw

antto

seeyou

again,do

youunderstand?"

"Have

youbeen

threatened?"M

yquestion

provokeshim

fiercely,unleashing

am

ulti­tude

oftw

itchesat

thetip

ofhis

chin."T

hreats?W

hatare

yougetting

at?I'n1

tellingyou

Ihaveno

intentionofgetting

mixed

upin

thisbusiness.Even

smallchildren

knoww

hoH

ajT

hobaneis.It's

notgood

forbusiness."

"No

one'sasking

youto

standup

againsthim

.""G

odforbid.

Idon'tgive

adam

nabout

thisattack.Ifhe's

doneaw

ayw

ithby

sorneform

erprisoner

ora

hit-and-rundriver,

isthat

n1yproblem

?I

refuseto

havem

ynam

em

en­tioned

inany

way

whatsoever

where

Haj

Thobane

topsthe

bill.It'sbad

luck.T

heguy

isa

badom

en.Whether

it'sfor

acharity

receptionor

acircum

cision,receiving

honorsor

inthe

shopw

indow,

Idon't

want

my

name

linkedw

ithhis.It's

notcomplicated.

I'vew

orkedlike

anox

togetm

ybusiness

upand

running,and

Idon't

intendto

blowitallsky

highw

henI'm

ahair's

breadthaw

ayfrom

finallym

akingit.C

learout

ofhere,

rightaw

ay.As

foryou,

madam

e,I've

neverseen

youin

my

whole

goddamn

life.""W

eprom

ise-"

209

·-------------------~~~Yasm

inaKhadra

Hethrow

sthedoor

openangrily

andgrow

ls,"Ibeg

you,

leave."Wedon'tinsist,butgo

backtothe

courtyard,where

atruck

isunloadingsom

eillegally

imported

cernent.Soriajumpsinto

hercar,opens

mydoor

fromthe

insideand

startsthe

engine.The

way

sherevs

theengine

givesan

insightinto

thefury

rumbling

insideher.

Shegets

hersunglasses

outofthe

glovecom

partment

andshoves

themonto

herface.

Iglance

backover

myshoulder

andcatch

theex-sergeant

vvatchingusfrom

hisbox

with

hisarm

sfoldedand

apoison­

ousexpression

onhis

face."I

canassure

youI'n1

aghastathis

changeofheart,

Superintendent,"Soria

confessesasshe

moves

off."H

ewas

amodel

ofcorrectness

andconsideration

thefirst

timeIsaw

h.

"rm

,"When

wasthat?"

"Abit

overaweek

ago.""H

edidn't

know."

"Apparently

not.Hesaid

hewaswilling

tohelp

meand

leftmet\V

Ophone

numbersso

thatIcouldgethold

ofhimat

anytim

e.I-le

wasvery

flatteredbecause

Iprom

isedtonam

ehim

inmybook.

Doyou

thinkhe'sbeen

threatened?""It

wasjust

something

tosay...so,

howdid

youactually

trackhim

down?"

Shewaits

untilshe

hasovertaken

avan

andthen

says,"Elem

entary.SNPwastried

andconvicted,

right?The

archivesstill

exist.Ilookedupthe

dateand

placeofhis

arrest;therest

followed

automatically.Sergeant

Gadwasposted

toElA

frounbetw

eennineteen

sixty-nineand

nineteenseventy-three.

He

wasthe

firstperson

tohear

what

SNPhad

tosay.H

ewason

dutythat

night.Atfirst,

hethought

hewas

crazy.But

SNP

210

refusedtoleave

thestation

anddem

andedthatthey

lockhim

upinacell.T

hesergeanthad

tocall

inhisboss."

"What

didhetellyou

thatwasinteresting?"

"That

hedidn't

believethis

serialkiller

storyatall.

It'strue

thattherehad

beensom

emurders

thathad

plungedthe

areainto

mourning,

According

toGad,

theywere

asettling

ofscoresbetw

eenrival

families.

Things

hadbecom

ealittle

crazy,andthe

localauthorities,who

were

n1oreirritated

thanworried,

were

orderedbyAlgiers

toput

astop

tothe

blood­letting,

which

was

standinginthe

way

ofthe

forward

march

oftherevolution.T

hepresspounced

onthe

story,concoctingaspecial

seriesofm

elodramatic

articlesinan

efforttoentertain

theirreaders,

who

were

dazedwith

liesand

demagoguery.

Itwasn't

longbefore

'The

Derm

atologist'was

baptizedasthe

bogey-man

oftheTipaza-E

lAfroun-C

herchelltriangle.

Gad's

bosshadbecom

ethe

officialhunter

oftheBeastand,by

exten­sion,the

darlingofthe

newspapers.

When

SNP

showed

upat

thestation

toturn

himself

in,itwasasifhe

hadbeen

sentfromheaven.T

hesuperintendent

hadthe

chanceofa

lifetimeinhis

grasp;hepushed

theboat

outto

speedthings

up.According

toGad,he

wasthe

onewhoforced

SNPtoconfessto

murders

thathaveneverbeen

confirmed,or

evenrecorded,in

thearea.

Gad

was

sureSN

Pwould

havecon

fessedtoanything

toget

himselflocked

up.Hewas

scaredtodeath

ofbeing

released.Hehid

whenever

anyonecarne

intothe

station,asif

hewas

beinghunted.T

hesuperintendent

didn'tsee

anythingwrong

with

this;onthe

contrary,heled

theenquiry

inthe

directionthatsuited

himbest.A

lgierswasall

toohappy

toshutdow

na

rumorthatw

asgaining

supernaturalproportions,

andstood

bythe

policeman's

story.The

casewas

closedwith

asim

pletelephone

call."

211

YasminaKhadra

"It'sarather

simplistic

version,don'tyou

think?""Idon'tagree,

Superintendent.Welive

inacountry

where

everythingisdecided

byanod

oratelephone

call,both

bigplans

andpurges.

Ihavepersonally

lookedinto

filesthat

areso

improbable

theybecom

ehilarious,

andyet.they're

asofficial

asmyidentity

card.Som

ethingtells

meSN

Pwasn't

onHaj

Thobane's

roadby

chance.Ram

daneCheikh

wasn't

making

thingsup

either.Iw

enttothe

townhall

atSidiB

atwodays

afterspeaking

tohim

,and

lookedup

Belkacern

Talbion

theelectoral

roll.Ifound

him.Born

twenty-seventh

October

nineteenfifty,abducted

andmissing

sinceAugust

nineteensixty-tw

o,along

with

hiswhole

family:

father,mother,

fourbrothers

andasister."

"And

where

doesHajThobane

fitin?"

Sheslow

sdow

n,drives

thecar

ontothe

hardshoulder

andstops

underatree.

Shestares

atashrine

onahilltop

foralong

time.Having

weighed

upthe

prosand

cons,she

switches

offthe

engineand

turnstoface

me.

"IfI

wasn't

sureIwas

ontosom

ethingserious,

Superintendent,Iwould

havelet

itgo.

I'mnot

thetype

topaddle

aboutinaglassofw

ater.I'1nwellaviare

oftheim

plica­tions

ofthisaffair;you

don'tgetofflightly

when

youattack

azaïm

.So

Ican'tafford

toget

itwrong.B

utItrust

you.I'd

belying

ifltold

youIhadn't

hadalook

atyourfile.Y

ou'rethe

rightman

forthissituation.Butit's

outofthe

questionform

etoput

youon

theright

trackand

thenfind

myself

leftbythe

wayside.

This

storyexcites

meno

end.Ifyouwant

in,Iw

anttohitch

youup

tomytrain.I'll

giveyou

alltheinform

ationI

have.Foryour

part,youwon'thold

backany

detailthat

might

helpmeinmywork

asahistorian

andjournalist....

Willyou

givemeyour

word

now,or

doyou

needafew

daystothink?"

"Lino

vvouldn'tforgive

meif

Ihesitated."

212

DeadMan's

Share

Sheoffersm

eher

softhand."I'mrelieved,

Superintendent,and

aboveallhappy."

"Yes,but

youstill

haven'tansw

ered1ny

question."She

looksdeep

intomyeyes,asifseeking

tolifta

veiloverwhat

Ihaveinmyhead.Idon't

bataneye;she

nods,and

says,"H

ajTho

banewasthe

military

headof

theSidi

Baregion

duringthe

war

ofliberation.

Peoplesay

thatwhat

hedid

tothe

civilianpopulation

andthe

harkis"was

beyondimagin­

ing.SN

Pdidn't

make

theattem

pton

hislife

bychance,

I'dstakem

ylife

onit.T

heway

hewasprevented

fromdoing

anyfurther

harmtakes

mybreath

away.T

here'ssom

ethingfishy

goingon,

Superintendent,and

myhunch

isn'tbased

onlyon

journalisticflair.

I'msure

alittle

tripto

SidiBawould

puta

littlewind

inour

sails.Sornepeople

suggestedafew

addresses;it's

upto

usto

seewhere

theylead."

"May

Iask

who's

hidingbehind

these'sorne

people'?"She

flashesmeher

most

brilliantsm

ile,starts

theengine

upagain

and,engagingfirstgear,purrs,

"Credible

andhonorable

peoplewho

prefertorem

ainanonym

ousso

thatthetruth

will

havethe

greatestpossible

chanceofcom

ingto

thesurface.

Itrust

themasmuch

asItrust

you,and

you'llhave

tobelieve

inmetoo."

*Harkis:M

uslimAlgerians

who

servedasauxiliariesw

iththe

FrenchArmy

duringthe

Algerian

War(1954-1962).Sinceindependence,

harkíhasbeenused

asaderogatory

expressiontantam

ountto

"collaborator."

213

CHAPTERSIX

TEEN

The

signatthe

entranceto

thevillage

hasbeen

altered.Som

eonehas

crossedout

theword

Welcome

andreplaced

itwith

"vVilkoum*to

SidiBa,"asettlem

entwhich,in

thespace

ofafew

years,hasbecom

eahuge

andshapeless

towntrapped

among

saw-toothed

n1ountainsbet,veen

Algiers

andM

édéa.To

gethere,

youhave

tonegotiate

athousand

periloushairpin

bends,clim

bhundreds

ofhills,

eachmore

twisted

thanthe

last,andcurse

thepotholes

thatmine

theroad

everyfive

seconds,ruining

yourshock

absorbersand

thecartilage

inyour

vertebrae.The

worst

thingisthatin

theend

yourealize,

toyour

cost,thatthe

hikewasn't

worth

thetrip.B

ecauseSidi

Ba

isthe

kindofdum

pthatkills

anydesire

youmighthave

tosee

thecountry.

It'sugly,

it'signorant,

andwhen

youfinally

getthere

youare

hauntedby

asingle

obsession:getaw

ay!I've

seenalot

ofbullshit

inmytim

e,but

thekind

made

manifest

bySidiB

aisw

orthaspecial

award;the

town

isproofthat

men

havereached

thepeak

oftheir

geniusand,

havingrun

outof

ideas,are

en1barkingon

thehum

anadventure

inreverse,

which

isto

saybackw

ardsto

theStone

Age,

with

anenthusiasm

equalto

thefirst

cave-dvvellers.Except

that,at

SidiBa,

thelaying

ofthe

firststone

marking

thebeginning

*"M

isfortunebe

yours."

214

DeadlVlan's

Share

ofthe

declinehas

beenextended

intoan

urbananarchy

thatexceeds

comprehension.

The

rushedconstruction

ofbuild­

ingsto

housearapidly

expandingpopulation

hasmobilized

everycrook

inthe

regionto

throwhim

selfbodyand

soulinto

scamsthe

devilhim

selfcouldn't

thinkup,

encouragedby

adeeply

feloniousadm

inistration.Phony

enterprisesare

setupovernight,

ledby

electedpredators

andseconded

byarchitects

with

dubiousqualifications-e-w

elcome

tothe

move-over-or­

I'll-push-you-myself

buildingsite.

When

Iopen

thewindow

ofmyhotel

room,atorrent

ofdissonantsoundshits

me

inthe

face,followed

bythe

traumatic

spectacleof

avast

slumofleprous

streets,scabrous

sidewalks

andsinister

alleyways

thatt\VÍSt

andturn

vertiginously:a

ghastlymaelstrom

.Not

aspeck

ofgreenspace,nota

decentlyconstructed

building;nothing

butrudim

entarydw

ellings,warped

fences,hovels

thrown

togetherin

contempt

ofthe

basicrules

of111asonry.

Abuzz

ofactivityfills

everyspace

inthis

concretechaos,

aggravatingthe

madding

toand

froof

pull-cartsand

motor

cars.''I

wouldn't

chooseto

write

mynext

bookhere,"

Isay."A

reyou

awriter,

Mr.Llob?"

"You're

notgoing

totellm

eyou

didn'tknow

!""I

didn'tknow

.What

doyou

write?"

"Detective

stories.""N

otreally

mything,but

I'llmake

anexception

inyour

case.""That's

verykind

ofyou,madam

e"Soria

cornesup

tothe

window

andcontem

platesthe

hub-bub

inthe

square."1'1n

sorry,it'sthe

onlyhotelin

town."

"Justas

wellthere

isone."

Iclosethe

window

.

215

•

YasminaKhadra

The

roomiscram

ped,the

wallpaper

isfaded

andthere

isneitherbedcover

norcurtains.

The

bed,scarcely

wide

enoughfor

ahunger

striker,is

equippedw

itha

mildew

edm

attressover

which

someone

hasfolded

some

sheetsof

dubioushue.

Opposite

standsa

metal

wardrobe

flankedbv

abroken

table'

andarem

arkablyugly

bathroom.

"Ihope

there'srunning

water?"

Soriam

akesa

slightlyem

barrassedface.

Shearrived

yes­terday

tobook

rooms

andprepare

the

ground,and

shefeels

guiltythat

shecouldn'tfind

anythingbetter

forme.

"Don't

,vorry,"Isay

reassuringly."I

broughtsorne

pebbles"to

wash

with."

"There's

aM

oorishbath

nearby.""G

ladto

hearit.W

hat'syour

royalsuitelike?"

"Sarnelayout,but

thew

indowlooks

outover

avery

busycarpenter's

workshop."

"What

floor?""W

e'reon

thesain

efloor.

It'sth

eroom

nextdoor."

Ilightacigarette

andsay,"I

mustsay

you'rerather

unwise,

I'ma

sleepwalker,

youknow

.""A

nd1'111an

insomniac."

It'shardto

knowhow

totake

thisreply.Soria'sdirectgaze

doesn'thelp

me;

Idropthe

subject."M

ayIhave

alittle

nap?""O

fcourse,

Mr.Llob.I'll

leavevou

torest.

Itwas

ahard

'journey;w

hataw

aitsus

won'tbe

aw

alkin

thepark."

Shew

avesand

disappears.T

hefirstaddress

we

haveentails

avisitto

theold

quarterofSidiB

a.Itisinaccessibleto

cars,sow

ego

onfoot.

Itisobvi­ous

thatthe

populaceisnot

accustomed

tothe

swing-hipped

walk

ofw

omen

with

theirbuttocks

shockinglyclad

intight

*Pebblesare

analternative

tow

ater,sanctionedby

theProphet.

216

DeadMan's

Share

trousers.Streeturchins

interrupttheir

gaines,am

azed.Sorne

ofthemtake

usforW

esterntourists,

shrugtheir

shouldersandgo

backto

theirracket;others,lessem

ancipated,stay

outofour,vay

forfearof

theevil

spiritsthey

can"see"

floatingaround

ourhorned

silhouettes.Scandalizedfaces

appearin

window

sand

doorways,

overpeople's

shoulders;the

excitement

wanes

asvveapproach

aw

orkshopand

fadesaw

ayentirely

asalleyes

convergeon

some

oldm

ensitting

ata

tableon

theterrace.

The

men,solem

nbeneath

theirturbans,

turntow

ardusasw

epass

andtake

turnsto

spitonthe

roadway.

Soriaisaw

areofthe

disturbanceshe'screating;she'sw

alkinglessgracefully,

butit's

toolate

toturn

back.Shetakes

shelter

behindher

glasses.A

mechanic

isstripping

arusty

oldw

reck.Bent

doubleunder

thehood,

heis

cursinga

corrodedradiator

hosethat

won't

come

loose.H

islarge

behindis

moving

aboutin

alldirections,

shockedby

thetenacity

ofthe

recalcitrantpart.

Icoughinto

my

fist.H

estands

upquickly;

hishead

hitsthe

edgeofthe

hood.His

painissw

iftlydissipated

byhissurprise

atfindinghim

selfface

toface

,vitha

wom

anfrom

thecity.

"Don't

theysellhijabsw

hereyou

come

from?"

heasksm

ereproachfully,

ostentatiouslyturning

hisback

onSoria.

"Isthis

theO

mari

household?""W

hatdo

youw

antw

iththem

?Y

ou'rehere

aboutthe

taxes,right?"''W

e'vecom

efrom

Algiers.

We

would

liketo

speakto

Ham

ou,H

amou

Om

ari."H

efrow

nsand

wipes

hisgrease-stained

handson

acloth

hangingfi-om

theback

pocketof

hisoverall.

"Are

youa

medium

?"he

asksme.

"Not

necessarily."H

isthreatening

lookshuts

me

up.

217

YasminaKhadra

Dead

Man's

Share

218219

He

wipes

hisnosew

ithhishand

andm

utters,"M

yfather

diedthree

yearsago."

Upon

which

hedives

backinto

thecar's

maw

totake

itout

onthe

hose.

Shenods

andstands

lightlyon

tiptoe."G

ood,"she

says."I'm

inm

yroom

.If

youneed

nie,atleast

youknow

where

tofind

me."

"That's

why

it'sdifficultforaw

oman

tocarry

outherresearch,"Soria

sighsw

henw

egetback

tothe

hotel"I-Jere,people

onlytalk

tom

enand

among

men.

Yesterday,

Iwasn'tallow

edinto

asingle

restaurant.They

don'tw

antw

omen

inpublic

places,even

ifthey'reescorted.

The

receptionisthad

togetm

esom

e­thing

toeat

herself"I

amexhausted,

andIkeep

my

comm

entsto

myself

My

feetareburning

inm

yshoes.W

ehave

walked

allafternoon,

invain.

Ham

ouO

mari

isdead,

andso

is1-IajG

haouti.The

thirdw

itnesshas

moved

outand

thefourth,

oneR

abahA

li,has

traveledto

M.édéa

and

won't

beback

beforethe

weekend.

"Your

sourcesshould

updatetheir

information,"

Isay,

with

anote

ofresentm

ent."T

heyhaven'tset

footinSidiB

afor

along

time."

"Very

wise."

Ilieback

onm

ybed

andtake

offm

yshoes.

Soriaisstanding

inthe

doorway,thinking.

"Do

youthink

we

shouldn't

havecom

e?""W

eshould

havediscussed

itfirst."She

foldsherarm

sacross

herbreasts,

which

aregenerous,

andthrow

sher

hairbacksuddenly.She

isvery

attractive,this

Soria.She

hasbeautiful

eyes."W

hatare

vvegoing

todo?"

shesays,girlishly."W

e'rehere,and

we'Il

stayhere.Iw

on'tgo

backto

Algiers

empty-handed."

Igoback

tothe

oldquarter,

alone,thefollow

ingday.Y

esterday'sexperience

sticksin

my

craw.Soria

wasn'tjust

grumbling.

Her

presencebeside

niereduces

ourchances

ofprogressing,and

sheknow

sit.

InSidi

Ba,

people'sm

entalitiesw

illhave

tosuffer

quiteafew

more

cataclysms

beforethey

evolve;here,

when

onem

entionsaw

oman,

onedoes

sow

ithrespect.

Th.e

oldmaquisard's

codename

hadbeen

Eri-N

ems,

andhe

receivesm

eeagerly

inhis

studio.A

ssoon

ashe

realizesthat

hiswarstories

havesorn

echance

ofinterestingm

e,hereleases

histw

ow

orkers,closes

thedoor

anddraw

sthe

curtainsso

asto

havem

eall

tohim

selfH

eis

aw

orn-outw

eaver,alm

ostold,

with

enlargedeyes

behindthick

glasses.H

isem

aciatedface

islined

with

deepfurrow

s,but

hisastonishingly

white

teethare

ingood

shape.Like

marry

who

findthem

selvesin

thespotlight

afterbeing

longignored,

hestarts

byadopting

anexaggerated

solemnity.

With

hischin

upand

hislips

firm,he

triesto

bedignified.

"Ifit's

fora

film,

Iagree.

Ifit's

fora

book,Idon't,"

hew

arnsm

efrom

theget-go.

"Mose

cinema

isinspired

bybooks,"

Isayenticingly.

"Not

inthis

country.B

esides,cinem

ahardly

excitesm

e.T

hereisn'tone

inSidiB

a.The

nearestoneiseighty

kilometers

away.A

ndthey

onlyshow

moronic

filins.What

interestsm

eis

theTV

.Everyone

hasaTV

...."

He

stickstw

ofingersin

hism

outhto

adjusthis

falseteeth.

"I'llnever

forgetthe

filmThe

SurvivorofJenien

Bourezo,'he

says,challengingly."Now

that'sa

documentary.T

hebrave

Yasmina

Khadra

mujahid

isarrestedby

theFrench

army,beaten

up,takenoffto

adum

pand

shotin

theback

ofthe

head.Heispronounced

deadby

theadm

inistrationand

thebrothers

inscribehim

inthe

registerofm

artyrs.Fifteen

yearslater,it's

thesurvivor

himself

who

tellshisstory

tomillions

ofamazed

viewers.H

ebecam

easaint

overnight....

Ifit's

aTVdocum

entarywith

thatmany

viewers,count

mein,right

away;ifit's

forabook,

it'sano."

"Thatdepends

onwhatyou

havetogive

measa

witness."

Hepuffsouthis

chestlike

arooster;

hewaveshis

armin

awide

circle:"You

won't

findabetter

onefor

hundredsof

kilometers

around.I"''ªS

Com

manderL

efty'sclosestcollabora­tor.T

heLefty's

notjustanyone;

he'saliving

legend,an

epicfigure.A

llFrance

usedtotrem

bleatthe

verymention

ofhis

name.Shit!W

henhe

showed

upsom

ewhere

with

hisMauser

andhis

bandolier,itwasasign

thatallhellw

asgoingtobreak

loose.Hewould

chargeinto

enemytroops

likeahurricane.

Before

heeven

unsheathedhissw

ord,the

paraswould

taketo

theirheels

andswim

acrossthe

Mediterranean

tohide

behindtheir

mother's

skirts....Asfor

me,Ijoined

theALN

*in

fifty­five.A

talm

ostthe

sainetim

easthe

Lefty.H

erecruited

me.

Itwasn't

ahard

decision.Iknew

thatwith

menlike

himwe

were

boundtowin.T

herewere

nomore

thanfifteen

fightersinthe

maquis

atSidiBaatthattim

e.And

weweren't

allarmed.

When

wewentdow

ninto

thevillages

forsupplies,wewould

lugsmalltree

trunkswrapped

incanvas

andpretend

theywere

bazookas.The

bluffworked

likeacharm

,because

volunteersjoined

us.Me,Ihad

apistol

stuckin

mybelt,

andno

bulletsinthe

cylinder.That

didn'tstop

mepicking

fightswith

thesettlers.

Iwasn'tafraid

ofanyone,didn't

runawayfrom

any­thing.It

wasn't

untilthe

ambush

ofFebruaryfifty-six,

when

*ALN:Arm

éedelibération

nationale(National

LiberationArmy),m

ilitarywing

ofcheFLN

.

220

Dead

lv!an'sShare

wekilled

aroundtwenty

Frenchsoldiers,

thatviemanaged

togethold

ofsomeproper

equipment...."

Helaunches

himself

onan

epictale

Iimagine

tobedysen­

terie.You

haveonly

tokeep

yourearsopento

hearunbelievable

storieslike

this,elaboratebecause

they'reunverifiable,

allthetim

e.Theofficial

stampofapprovaland

today'spropaganda

campaigns

encouragethem

toproliferatebecause

theyexhort

everyhas-been

who

evertook

theoath,

toinvent

themin

industrialquantities,thus

ensuringthe

longevityofhistorical

legitin1acy.Idecide

itwould

bewise

nottolet

theconversation

degen­erate

intosterile

fantasiesand

getright

tothe

point:"It's

theperiod

afterthe

fifthofJuly

nineteensixty-tw

othat

interestsme,M

r.En-N

ems."

He

starts,incredulous,

shockedby

mylack

ofinterestin

thefounding

periodnot

onlyofthe

Algerian

nationbut

also,and

aboveall,

ofthe

ideaoffreedom

among

theoppressed

peoplesofAfrica

andelsew

here."W

hat?There's

nothingafter

thefifth

ofJuly,myfriend.

The

revolutionended

onthat

date.The

proofisthat

we've

beenregressing

atfullspeedever

since.""Didyou

knowacertain

Talbi?"

This

timehefreezes;a.death

mask

replaceshis

features."W

hatTalbi?"

hecries,

hisvoice

cracking."Helived

inSidi

Bauntil

August

sixty-two.Then

hewasabducted

andwent

missing

alongwith

hiswhole

family."

En-N

ernsgulps.H

egoes

pale.Inthe

silenceofthe

studio,his

breathingrem

indsmeofthe

wheezing

ofaboiler.

Hepoints

hisfinger

atthedoor

andyells,

"Getout!"

***221

YasminaKhadra

DeadMan's

Share

inorder

togettothebottom

ofwhatever

itwas,Hemust

beatorm

entedsoul,

perpetuallyonthe

alert,like

ahunted

animal,amanic

depressivelike

somany

ofusinthis

country.Hisfingers

twitch

inmyhand,

clammyandtrem

bling."It's

notanemergency,"

Ireassure

himquickly."W

e'renotfrom

thejusticedepartm

entortherevenue.M

ycolleague

andIare

gatheringeyew

itnessaccountsfrom

former

mujahedin

forapiece

ofhistoricalw

ork."Herelaxes.

HisAdam'sapple

returnstoitsplace

instantly,andhiscomplexion

returnstoitsnorm

alcolor.

"Ithought

youwouldn'tbe

backuntil

theweekend,

Mr.

AJ ."l.

Myquestion

abouttheTalbisbrings

thesamereaction

fromtwoother

witnesses.

Keen,

atfirst,

togive

afresh

shineto

theirfeats

ofarms,they

changetheir

minds

completely

when

Imention

Talbi'snam

e;asifIhad

kickedtheir

sandcastleinto

theair.Oneofthem

askedmenever

tosetfootinhishouse

again;theother

swore

thathewould

splitmyskull

withhis

pickaxifIever

mentioned

thenam

eof"that

traitorousdog

ofabastard"

again.When

Igetback

tothehotel,

Ifind

Soriaengrossed

inhernotes

andfiles.

Shehadbeen

duetomeetamujahida;

thewomancanceled

assoon

asTalbi'snaine

wasm

entioned."Three

days,andwehaven'tprogressed

oneinch,"

Isay."Atleast

we've

flushedoutour

prey,"shereplies.

"Iadmireyour

optimism

,butIdon'tsee

anyhares

running.""Ido.A

tleastveeknow

thattheTalbis

worry

quiteafew

people."That

evening,I'mtold

there'sàvisitor

formeatrecep­

tion.Iask

Soriatokeep

anearopen

inherroom

andhurry

downthestairs.

Thevisitor

waiting

formeinthelobby

lookstobejust

turnedfifty.H

eseem

sharassed.Salt

andpepper

hairbrushed

forward,

heisafine

figureofaman,welldressed,

witha

tie,andshoes

polishedtoamilitary

shine.Athin

moustache

underlinesagaze

thatisgentle

andopen

despiteapair

ofpeaked

eyebrows.

Hestands

upprom

ptlywhenthereceptionist

pointsme

out."I'm

Rabah

Ali,"hesays,

introducinghim

selfinan

anguishedtone."M

ysons

toldmeyou

"verelooking

forme.

Ihope

it'snothing

serious."Thewayhehangs

onmywords

betraystheterrible

anxietyhehasbeen

sufferingever

sincehischildren

toldhim

aboutmyvisit.

Ibetheheaded

forthehotelassoon

ashegothom

e,

"Mybusiness

tripwascutshort."

Hebecom

esconfused

again;hischeekbonetwitches

repeat­edly.H

ebreathes

hardtocompose

himself,

discomfited

by111yintent

look."Forgive

me,"hemumbles.

"It'sabsurd

tolose

controlfornoreason,but

I'n1going

throughso1ne

difficulttintes

atthemomentand

Idon'thave

thestrength

tokeep

mycool."

"You're

nottheonly

onetogetstressed

overasimpleyes

orno,M

r.Ali.Nothing

isreally

calminthiscountry,

neitherinourheads

norinourstreets."

Henods,chew

inghislip,and

looksatmeforthree

secondsasifwaiting

toseewhat's

corningnext.

"Youshouldn't

believeeverything

youhear,

Mr...?"

"Llob.B

rahirnLlob."

"Whatcan

Idoforyou,

Mr.Llob?"

"Wh

t"

aever

youcan.

Hegrabs

ahandkerchief,

hishand

stilltrem

bling,and

wipes

hisforehead.

Iinvite

himtositdowninthehotel's

clapped-outsofa.

Heaccepts

willingly,

butnotwithout

glancingathiswatch.

223222

Yas1ninaKhadra

DeadMan's

Share

"This

won't

takelong,

Mr.A

li.""I'm

listening.""It's

aboutwhat

happenedhere

between

Julyand

August

224

Hesays,"T

hereare

lotsof

survivorswho

want

nothingmore

thanto

throwthem

selvesatmicrophones

andshow

off.But

howmany

ofthem

aresincere?

Ifyouwant

statements

aboutheroicstruggles

andhonor,allyou

haveto

doisspread

theword

andyou'll

havethem

inecstasy.

I'msure

thatour

unhappinessstem

sfrom

thepride

wetake

init.

That's

what

pushedmeto

closethat

bookforever."

Our

eyesm

eet;he

givesin

first:"If

youprom

isenot

tomention

my

name,

Iknow

someone

who's

stillpaying

theprice.

Helives

inthe

forest.""T

heforest

isthick,

Mr.

Ali,"

Isay,tighteningmygrip.

"Firstright

afterthe

Rom

anbridge

atthenorth

exitfromSidi

Ba.Follow

theroad

tothe

end.Sevenor

eightkilom

eters.It's

afarm

,or

ratherabig

barnwhere

theykeep

chickens.''"A

ndwho

isatthis

farm?"

"His

naineisJelloul

Labras.You

can'tmiss

him.A

nhonest

nun,even

agood

man."

"Do

youthink

hehas

something

ofsubstanceto

tell?"His

Adam

'sapple

scourshis

throat."Ithink

so,Mr.Llob."

Irelax

my

fingers;he

recovershis

own,

turnsto

leave,changes

hismind,cornes

backto

meand

repeats,"D

on'ttell

himIsent

you.""C

rossmyheart

andhope

todie,"

Ipromise,

."

sixty-two.

Hethinks

foramom

ent,chew

ingafingernail.

Myinterest

inthatperiod

doesn'tbother

himunduly.

He'sjust

uncomfort­

able.Helooks

backatm

e."I'm

afraidIcan't

beofm

uchuse

toyou,

Mr...?"

"Llob,"

Irepeat."B

rahimLlob."

"Iwon't

pretendthe

subjectisn't

embarrassing

forme.

Personally,Idon't

havemuch

onrny

conscience.Itook

partinthe

warfrom

beginningto

end,without

excessesand

without

cheating.Isaw

someterrible

things,too.B

utIhave

nodesire

toturn

theknifein

thewound,

Mr.Llob.T

heyleftsom

eindel­

iblemarks

onthe

peoplearound

here.Even

today,echoes

ofthose

dramatic

eventscan

arouserancor,and

sometim

esfresh

bloodis

spilled.Ihave

thereputation

ofbeingainan

with

nostories

totell.

Infact,

Idon't

feelIhave

thestrength

totake

themon.

Mavbe

it'scow

ardice;asfar

asI'm

concerned,it's

'abstinence.

Sometim

esattitudes

likemine

shockother

people,but

theykeep

thosewho

adoptthem

sane."He

standsup.

"I'msorry

todisappoint

you,M

r.Llob."

"Irespect

yourdecision.

But

we're

veryfrustrated.

We

haveno

intentionof

diggingup

deadbodies

orreopening

wounds.

Our

work

isofgreat

importance,

pleasebelieve

me."

"Idon't

doubtit."

Heholds

outhishand

tosay

goodbye.Iseize

itandhold

itinmine.R

abahAlitries

topull

hishand

away,butIw

on'tletgo.

"Can

youatleastsuggest

somepeople

who

might

beable

tohelp

uswith

ourenquiries?"

Hetries

toextricate

himself

frommygrip;

Idon'tgive

up.

Soria'sLadalurches

alongthe

track,plungesinto

ayoung

forest,slalom

sfrom

oneobstacle

tothe

nextfor

severalkilom

etersand

finallyem

erges,more

orlessunscathed,

ontoadeeply

rut­ted

road.W

econtinue

downavalley

offairy-tale

loveliness.In

thedistance,

areservoir

ofwater

sparklesin

theglare

ofdaylight.

Flocksofsheep

grazeon

greenpastures,

andaman

onhorseback

gallopsflatout

inpursuit

ofbliss.

225

Yasm

inaKhadra

Dead

Man's

Share

Soriawinds

thewindow

down

andlets

thewind

ruffìeher

hair.Her

sunglassessit

gracefullyon

herprofile,

andher

smile

lightsup

atthewonders

ofthe

landscape.W

eclim

bseveralhillsbefore

wefinally

endup

atafarmdeep

inthe

forest.Atalland

robust-lookingm

anin

overallsandrubber

bootsisworking

inthe

yard;he

isfeedingan

armyofchickens.

Hestops

hiswork

when

hehears

usarrive;

sinceour

carisunfam

iliarto

him,he

goesback

totossing

outbighandfuls

ofgrain.Soria

parksunder

atree

andwaits

inthe

car.1walk

uptothe

yardwith

myhands

inmypockets.

"Salaams"

Icall

out."G

oodmorning,"

saysthe

fariner.Heisfairly

tall,with

awell-tended

beard,and

looksas

thoughhe

getseverything

hecan

outof

hissixty-odd

years.The

fewwhite

hairsflecking

histem

plesand

chindon't

make

anydifference

tohim

;hernoves

with

easeand

hisface

radi­ates

health."T

heylook

healthy,yourchickens."

"Thank

you...the

vetdidn't

thinkmuch

ofthem

.""H

ewas

probablyjust

aquack."

"I'n1not

sureI'd

goasfaras

that."Helunges

atatoo-greedy

roosterand

poursaload

ofmil­

letinto

themidst

ofaclum

pofpathetically

aggressivechicks.

"Isitabout

adelivery?"

heasks.

"Not

exactly.Mycolleague

andIare

justpassing

throughthe

area.We're

doingsom

eresearch

forthe

university.""A

rcheologists?"

"Historians."

Hetips

anim

aginaryhat:

"Hats

offto

you!Intellectuals

arefew

andfar

between

aroundhere.

I'mpleased

tosee

thatnot

everyonehasbeen

blindedby

fool'sgold."

"There

are1nore

seriousthings

inlife."

Heagrees,

andcuts

openanother

sackofmillet.

"Doyou

livehere?"

Iask

him.

"Iwas

bornhere.

May

Iaskwhat

wind

broughtyou

this~,,

wayr"M

ycolleague

andIare

lookinginto

someevents

thattook

placein

thesemountains

justafter

independence."His

armstops

stillover

apoultry

assault."D

idyou

comehere

bychance

ordid

someone

sendyou?"

"Both.

We're

goingvirtually

doortodoor.Som

ewitnesses

interestus,others

less.Som

eonesuggested

wespeak

toyou."

"Does

hehave

anam

e?""W

edon't

remem

ber.Would

youmind

givingus

abit

ofyour

time?"

Heglances

atSoria,who

hasjustgotoutofthe

car,exam­

inesmefor

arnornent

andthen,

sincewedon't

looklike

anythingin

particular,sm

iles."If

youcan

wait

untilI've

finishedfeeding

mychickens,

itwould

beapleasure.

Under

thateucalyptus

there'salow

tablewith

somedates

andadish

ofcurdson

it.Help

yourselveswhile

you'rewaiting."

"That's

verykind

ofyou,monsieur,"

Soriacom

esto

thefoot

ofthe

eucalyptuswith

me.

We

conte1nplatethe

plain,and

theforested

slopesundulating

aroundit.T

hesky

isaperfect

blue.Itrem

indsmeofm

yyouth

atIghider,when

Iusedto

give1ny

mother

theslip

andclim

bashigh

asIcould

upthe

hill,with

atarboush"

aboutmyhead

andmygandourca'"

undone.Iused

tolove

Ioafinzabout

onb

theGrand

Rocher,

pickingmynose

andsw

ingingn1.y

legsin

theair,

andwould

staythere

untilnightfall,

contemplat­

ingthe

magicaljigsaw

puzzleof

thefields

andwatching

the

226

*Tarboush:

felthar/turban,

**Ca11do11ra:robe.

227

don'thaveany

neighbors,so

nonuisance,

noargum

ents.And

sometim

es,when

Iliedow

nin

mybed

atnight,

Ican

hearthe

planetturning."

"You're

apoet,

Mr.

Labras,"Soria

tellshim

."Just

aprim

itiveman,

madam

e.Ilike

communing

with

nature.Ifeelin

my

element,

andIdon't

feelI'mwaiting

foranything

orthat

Ilackanything.

Iwas

luckyenough

notto

goto

school,and

atan

advancedage

Icam

eto

knowsom

eenlightened

peoplewho

taughtmeto

readand

write,I've

takenadvantage

ofthis

tolim

itmyselfto

theessentials."

"Was

thereno

schoolin

yourvillage?"

"Let'ssay

myfather

neededa

shepherd;Ididn't

wait

forhim

togive

melessons.

Ilove

animals,

Nevertheless,

Istill

haveatrem

endouspassion

forbooks.

Now

thatI'm

aherm

it,they've

becomemyprophets."

"Doyou

livealone?"

"Iwasm

arried,thirty

yearsago.M

ywife

diedvery

young.Itw

asterriblefornie.

Ididn't

daretry

theexperience

again.What

isityou

want

toknow

?"Soria

comes

roundmeto

getcloser

tohim

."W

e'reworking

onapiece

ofhistoricalresearch,"

shetells

him."In

particular,the

excessesthat

ledto

bloodshedafter

thefifth

ofJulysixty-tw

o."Labras

purseshislips.

His

expressionbecom

esdark

with

painfulmem

ories.Hedigs

hischin

intohis

chestand,

with

thetip

ofhisboot,

digsout

astone

hiddenin

thegrass.

"It'savery

controversialsubject,

don'tyou

find?It's

hardto

findanyone

who

goesinto

itwithout

attractingreprisals.

Ihope

youknow

what

you'regetting

into.""It's

hightim

ewecom

eto

termswith

thatwar,"

saysSoria."T

heonly

vvayto

doitisto

lookitin

theeye.E

vilwas

done.Toexorcize

it,wemust

firstadmitto

that.My.colleague

and

YasminaKhadra

Dead

Alfan'sShare

shepherdscorning

homewith

theirflocks

infront

ofthemlike

satedarm

ies.When

thefrailA

rezkiN

aïtWalt-

laterawell­

knownpainter-

joinedmeon

"my"

tower,

Iwas

surprisedto

findmyselfw

axingenthusiastic

aboutthe

slightestrustling

inthe

depthsof

thebushes,

theslightest

chirrupcarried

alongon

thebreeze.

Sometim

esIw

ouldcrouch

onmyunrepentant

climber's

calves,formamegaphone

with

myhands,

andsend

longcalls

outover

thevalley

tohear

themricochet

aboutin

thedistance,

mim

ickingeach

otherin

asurrealfugue.

Arezki

didn'tpay

anyattention

toechoes.

f-Iewould

followthe

lightand

shadowofthe

copseswith

hiseyes,m

akingcanvases

inhis

headand

dreaming

ofpaintings

thatwould

bemore

intensethan

thehunger

gnawing

athis

guts.·we

were

youngand

poor,but

\.Vehadeyes

tosee

andto

imagine

radiantkingdom

sonly

weknew

about;apair

ofawestruck

kids,one

abudding

poet,the

otheran

artistin

themaking,and

evenifwedidn't

watch

thecattle

togetherevery

day,becauseweweren'talw

aysneeded,

wehad

inconunon

ourlove

forthe

hillsthatstretched

alltheway

tothe

horizon,the

orchardsthat

spreadout

asfar

asthe

eyecould

see,the

ancientalm

ondtrees,

thetaciturn

olivetrees,

theclinking

ofthe

goats'bells,the

riverlike

amythical

serpentam

ongthe

serratedridges,

andthe

hieraticmountain

watching

overthe

tribe....It's

fineto

believethat

yourcountry

isthe

mostbeautiful

inthe

world-

deservingitisanother

matter.

The

farinerjoins

us,wiping

hishands

onhis

thighs."Isn't

itspectacular!"

hecries.

"Nature

hasgenius;

it'smen

thatdisfigureherin

orderto

remake

thingsin

theirow

nim

age,Justlook

atthatvillage

overthere.

Itlookslike

abig

stainon

amagic

carpet.Iw

ouldnever

goand

livein

adum

plike

that.Here,

there'shealthy

work,

cleanair

andpeace.

I

*See

Autum

nofche

Phantom

sby

Yasm

inaKhadra.

228229

231230

Dead

Nian.'sShare

Yasmina

Khadra

larecertain

ofit.Wehave

aduty

torem

ember;

nothingwill

throwusoff

thecourse

wehave

chosen,neither

cursesnor

theexecutioner's

sword."

Thefarm

erlooksup.Soria's

argument

makes

hiseyesshine.

"Youseem

sincere,madame,"

headm

itssadly."T

hat'srare

nowadays.""Perhaps

that'sbecause

ofwhat

wedon't

say.""M

aybe....Som

esilences

areunbearable.

With

time,you

trytoget

usedtothem

.That's

notenough.

Ifyou

lietoyourself

youstop

beingyourself

andbecom

eastranger."

Hecrouches

down,picks

upthe

stonehedug

outand

throwsitfar

a\.vay."Haven'tyou

everthought

aboutleaving?"

Iask,torelieve

theuncom

fortabletension

hissuffering

hascaused

between

thethree

ofus.

"I'vethought

aboutit,but

thethought

doesn'tlast

longerthan

acigarette.

Ifinditdifficultto

imagine

myself

farfrom

thesemountains.

Atthe

sametim

e,Ican'ttellyou

whatkeeps

mehere.

Before,itw

asterrible;

now,it'sunhappy."

"That's

what

Ithinktoo,"

Iconfide.That

stirshim

.E-le

digsout

anotherpebble,

rollsitin

hispalm

andstands

up."Andyet

youcould

Jivewellhere,

once,"heacknow

ledges."Sure,

wewere

poor,but

weweren't

wretched,

asweare

today.Then

therewasthewar.Itdidn't

spareanyone

oneither

side.When

theceasefire

wasannounced,

everyonewasrelieved.

Alas!

The

partywaspretty

short.As

soonasthe

Frenchsoldiers

startedevacuating

thearea,

theatrocities

startedup

againwith

twice

theferocity.

Parnilieswere

huntedday

andnight

bythe

peoplewhowere

supposedtoset

themfree.T

hefellaghaswent

crazy;they

setfire

tothe

losers'hom

esand

fields;sum

mary

executionsturned

intomass

purgesonanunprecedented

scale.Every

morning,

'traitors'

whose

nosesand

lipshad

beencutoffw

ereforced

tofile

down

thestreets

beforetheir

headswere

cutoffin

thevillage

square.I'llneverforget

thehundreds

ofmutilated

bodiesrotting

inthe

orchards,those

poorbastards

handedover

tothe

vengeanceof

thepeople,

stonedand

spatonbystreet

urchins,those

women

andterrified

kidsfleeing

intothe

mountains,

fromwhich

theywould

neverreturn

....""Areyou

talkingabout

massacres

ofharkis?"

Myquestion

shockshirn.

Helooks

meup

anddow

n,horrified,

asifhehas

neverseen

mebefore."W

hat'saharki?"

heasks

indignantly."What

isitreally?

Goon,

explaintome.W

hatisaharki?"

Sincehedoesn't

seeany

answercom

ingfrom

1nyside,he

shiversand

goeson:

"It'ssom

eonewhowasdow

nonhis

luckand

made

thewrong

choicewhen

nothingwould

goright

forhim

.That's

what

aharki

is.History's

whipping-boy,

thenher

scapegoat....Hewhopulls

thedevilby

thetail

hasnochance

ofoccupyingcenter

stage,Mr.H

istorian.Heends

upselling

hissoul

orgetting

crushedunderfoot.

Defeat

onallsides,

rout,ignorance

initsraw

state.Apart

fromafew

educatedpeople

andahandful

ofenlightened

citizens,nationalism

wasamystical

affair.Who

were

we,inthose

days?Muslim

Frenchmenwith

ourspines

bentsolow

underthe

colonialyoke

thatwefound

ourselvesgrazing

onthe

sainegrass

asour

donkeys.Natives,

that'swhat

wewere;

poorwretches,

raggedand

scarred,with

ourhands

shreddedbyhard

laborand

ourtrousers

sopatched

thatwewore

themlike

shackles;haggard

ghostswhose

wives

would

lightcandles

atthecorner

shrineevery

Fridaytoappease

thespirits,w

hiletheir

childrenbegged

breathlesslyinthe

shadowofdam

nation.Wesaid

wewould

killnot

tostarve

todeath,

anddeath

would

oftentake

usatour

word.

Sorneofusbecam

estable

boys,serfs,

YasminaKhadra

shepherds,fly-sw

atters;others

descendedon

thebarracks

tobecom

egoum

iers,spahisorzouaves,*

notbecause

theyw

antedto

make

war

buttohelp

thefam

ilystew

potbubble

everynow

andthen.

Itw

asa

hellof

atim

e.People

would

collapseon

roadsleading

nowhere;

childrenw

ouldgive

upthe

ghostthe

way

othershang

uptheir

tools.W

how

erew

e,really?

Poorrelations

ornatives,

victims

ofexpropriation,

orabortions

with

noright

tolegitim

acy?T

helegends

ourm

otherstold

usto

distractus

fromthe

grumbling

inour

stomachs

didn'tenlighten

us.W

hatw

eknew

ofour

tribesw

aslim

itedto

ourgraveyards.

Our

great-grandfathershad

themselves

cutto

piecesin

eighteenseventy

forthesake

ofFrance;

ourgrandfa­

thershad

themselves

gassedin

thetrenches

between

nineteenfourteen

andeighteen

forthesalvation

ofFrance;

ourfathers

hadthem

selvesblow

nto

bitson

allfrontsduring

theSecond

World

War

forthe

honorofFrance;

asforthesurvivors,

theirrew

ardw

asto

beslaughtered

likediseased

cattleon

theeighth

ofM

aynineteen

forty-five;"w

hilethe

whole

world,finally

ridof

Nazism

,w

ascrying

'Never

again!'from

therooftops

andin

thepublic

squares.For

theaverage

garbagecollector

or

*Zouaves:

corpsof

Frenchinfantry

firstraised

inA

lgeriain

1831and

recruitedsolely

fromthe

Zouaves,

a.tribeofB

erbersfrom

them

ountainsof

theJurjura

range.Goum

iers,spahis:other

corpsof

indigenousnorth

African

soldiersinthe

Frencharm

yatvarious

times.

**O

nthis

day,massdem

onstrationslinking

thedefeatoffascism

with

theend

ofcolonialism

cookplace

allover

Algeria.

AtSétif,a

demonstration

wasbroken

upby

police,leading

cogeneralinsurrection

throughoutthe

region.Large

numbers

ofsettlers

were

murdered

andw

ounded.Martial

laww

asdeclared,

butche

violencedragged

onfor

weeks,

with

ForeignLegion

andSenegalese

troops,aidedand

abettedby

settlervigilante

groups,killing

andpillaging

índiscriminately

inretaliation.

The

finaldeath

tollw

asbetw

een1,020

and1,300,

accordingto

Frenchstatistics,

oras

highas45,000,

accordingto

Algerian

nationalists.(Sum

marized

fromAlgeria:

Angerofthe

Dispossessed,

byJohnPhillipsand

Martin

Evans.)

232

Dead

Man's

Share

shoeshineboy,forthe

hardenedpeasant

orthe

shopkeeperin

anegro

village,France

viasthemother

country.The

inequalitiesw

erestaggering,

ofcourse,

andsom

ethingw

asn'tquite

rightam

ongall

thoseslogans

andprom

ises,but

we

were

toopoor

andtoo

stunnedby

ourw

retchednessto

thinkabout

anythingehe,really.T

heonly

fixedpoint

we

hadw

asthatphotograph

clumsily

pinnedup

onthe

cobw

all,slowly

turningyellow

andvisibly

curlingatthe

edges,that

showed

usthe

epicstory

ofthis

orthat

relativestrapped

tightlyinto

hisFrench

uniform,

with

am

oustachethe

sizeofhis

prideand

hisbreast

coveredw

ithm

edals.W

henthe

AllSaints'

revolutionbroke

out,fewtook

itseriously.Rise

upagainst

one'smother-r-zsui

oneofthe

greatpow

ersof

thew

orld,atthat?

You

must

bejoking.A

ndthe

worse

thingsgot

inthe

maquis,the

lessyouknew

which

way

toturn.

On

theone

hand,thefellaglzasw

ereratcheting

uptheir

reprisalsagainstthe

undecided;on

theother,

pacificationw

astaking

itstoll

onthe

most

deprived.Itw

asm

adness,and

thatdidn't

helpanyone

tosee

theappalling

mess

forw

hatit

was,a

rebellionw

ithoutend.

Itw

asan

atrociousw

ar,vile,

absurd,and

noone

couldbelieve

foronesecond

thathe

was

onthe

wrong

side.""A

ndw

hichside

were

youon?''

Iask

him.

My

questioncuts

himoffin

fullflow,stopping

hirnlike

aham

mer

blow.It's

asifa

stormhas

suddenlyblow

nitself

out.A

leadenpallblots

outthe

ridge.Soria

isfrozen.

Sheisstaring

atthe

farmer

open-mouthed.

Worn

outby

hisspeech,

heis

pantingasif

hehas

beenrunning

headlong.H

isface

ispale,

hism

outhis

dryand

hisgaze

isem

pty."W

hydid

youcom

ehere

andspoilm

yday?"

hesighs.

There

isso

much

sufferingin

hisexhalation

thatSoria

choosesto

givein.

Shelow

ersher

headand

hurriestow

ardthe

car.

233

~~~

~~-----

---

I--

Yasmina

Khadra

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

Irealize

my

blunder,andthe

disasterithasjust

caused.I

tryto

recover:"D

irtinessis

partof

war,M

r.Labras."

He

doesn'thear

me.

He

staresata

barehillside

atthefoot

ofthe

mountain

fora

longtim

e,nods,

andthen,

ignoringm

e,goesback

tohis

chickens,w

hostart

moving

aboutagain

when

theysee

himcorning.

!don't

expectyou

tobe

adiplom

at,M

r.L

lob,"Soria

tellsm

ein

thecar,

"butI

doexpect

youto

showa

minim

umofcourtesy."

"Itjustslipped

out,"I

confess.H

ereyesflashwith

anger.We

havedraw

nablank

onevery

expedition.The

onetim

ew

ecorne

acrosssomeone

interestingand

cooperative,I'm

theone

thatcancels

outour

goodluck.

Soriaforces

hercar

throughthe

gravel.T

hepotholes

stokeher

resentment.

Sheshouts

atm

e,"H

istoryhas

hada

spectacularvomiting

fitup

here,Mr.

Llob,and

we

aresplash­

ingabout

inthe

leftovers.N

oone

will

come

outsm

ellingof

roses.Okay,

soyou're

aform

ermaquisard

andit's

hardfor

youto

faceyesterday's

enemies,

buttoday

vrehave

torake

overthese

unimaginable

atrocitiesand

listenboth

tothose

who

carriedthem

outand

thosew

hosuffered

them.

It'snot

aboutforgivingor

condemning;

it'sabout

reconstructingthe

eventsso

thatw

ecan

learnthe

lessonsw

ehave

sofar

failedto

learn.For

my

part,before

Ijumped

intothe

water

Ileft

my

prejudicesin

thechanging

room,so

thatIcould

approachthese

eventsw

iththat

measure

ofobjectivity

without

which

noserious

work

ispossible."

"Itold

youitjust

slippedout,"

Iprotest,enraged.

234235

234

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

Yasm

inaKhadra

Irealize

my

blunder,andthe

disasterit

hasjustcaused.

Itry

torecover:

"Dirtiness

ispart

ofwar,

Mr.

Labras."H

edoesn't

hearm

e.H

estares

atabare

hillsideat

thefoot

ofthe

mountain

fora

longtim

e,nods,

andthen,

ignoringm

e,goes

backto

hischickens,

who

startm

ovingabout

againw

henthey

seehim

coming.

!don't

expectyou

tobe

adiplom

at,M

r.Llob,"

Soriatells

me

inthe

car,"but

Ido

expectyou

toshow

am

inirnurnofcourtesy."

"Itjustslipped

out,"Iconfess.

Her

eyesflashw

ithanger.

We

havedraw

na

blankon

everyexpedition.T

heone

time

,vecorne

acrosssom

eoneinteresting

andcooperative,

I'1nthe

onethat

cancelsout

ourgood

luck.Soria

forcesher

carthrough

thegravel.

The

potholesstoke

herresentm

ent.She

shoutsat

me,

"History

hashad

aspectacular

vomiting

fitup

here,Mr.Llob,and

we

aresplash­

ingabout

inthe

leftovers.N

oon.e

will

come

outsm

ellingofroses.

Okay,

soyou're

aform

ermaquisard

andit's

hardfor

youto

faceyesterday's

enemies,

buttoday

we

haveto

rakeover

theseunim

aginableatrocities

andlisten

bothto

thosew

hocarried

themout

andthose

who

sufferedthem

,It's

notabout

forgivingor

condemning;

it'sabout

reconstructingthe

eventsso

thatw

ecan

learnthe

lessonsw

ehave

sofar

failedto

learn.For

my

part,before

Ijumped

intothe

water

Ileft

my

prejudicesin

thechanging

room,

sothatIcould

approachthese

eventsw

iththat

measure

ofobjectivity

without

which

noserious

work

ispossible."

"Itold

youitjust

slippedout,"

Iprotest,enraged.

235

Yasmina

Khadra

"I'1nnot

deaf!"she

yells,yankingatthe

steering-wheel.

The

carsw

ervesviolently

offtheroad

andruns

intosom

eshrubbery,

throwing

usagainst

eachother.

Myleg

straddlesthe

gearshiftand

myfootlands

spitefullyon

bothSoria's

footand

thebrake

pedal,stopping

thecar

dead."Iforbid

youtoraise

yourvoice

tome!"

Ishoutather.

Shepushes

meback,

outragedby

my

loutishbehavior.

"Iam

notyour

subordinate,Superintendent.

Idon't

haveto

acceptany

prohibitionsfrom

you."W

eglare

ateachother

inasilence

cracklingwith

electric­ity.Insect

soundsbuzz

inour

overheatedears.

Asthe

lastfewskeins

ofdustfallbackto

earth,Soriagath­

ersherself

togetheragain.

Shepushes

backalock

ofhairthat

hasfallen

overher

righteye

andrelaxes.

"Allright,"

sheconcedes.

"We're

bothexhausted.

Let'stry

tobehave

likegrow

n-ups."Imum

blemyagreem

entand

dropit.

Agroup

ofsinister-looking

genelemen

arewaiting

forusin

thelobby.

They

getup

enbloc

andintercept

us.The

stocki­est,

whose

juttingjaw

marks

himout

asthe

leader,positions

himself

infront

ofmewith

hislips

pulledback

againsttwo

rowsofgold

teeth."M

r.Llob?""Y

es?""C

anwehave

aword,just

usmen?"

The

implication

doesn'tescape

Soria,who

leavescon­

temptuously.

Wewait

untilshe

disappearsinto

theelevator

cage,then

thestocky

oneasks

meto

followhim

tothe

backof

thelobby,

with

hispraetorian

guardbringing

upthe

rear."T

owhom

doIhave

thehonor...?"

236

Dead

Ma11's

Share

"The

dignitariesof

thetow

n,Mr.

Llob.A

townwhich

isbeginning

toask

questionsabout

theprecise

purposeofyour

presenceam

ongits

population.Mynam

eisKhaled

Frid,presidentofthe

Association

ofFormer

Mujahedin

andDisabled

Veterans

ofthe

Wat

ofLiberation.

Iam

alsoapolitical

com­

missar,a

mem

berofthe

Assem

blyand

mayor

ofSidiB

a.""In

short,you'reaone-m

anNational

Asse1nbly.

And

who

arethese

gentlern.en?""Form

erofficers

inthe

ALN

andme1nbers

ofthe

Party.They

insistedon

coming

with

meto

seeexactly

what

thiswas

about.Our

sourcestellus

thatyou

andyour

assistantare

stitringup

murky

waters,

tryingto

bringasmuch

mud

tothe

surfaceaspossible.

Thatupsets

us,becauseit's

whatw

e'redoing

ourutm

osrto

prevent.Our

regionsuffered

greatlyfrom

thecolonial

war,and

we're

notkeenon

havingoutsiders

comein

andliftour

gravestonesand

interferewith

ourdead.

Idon't

knowwho

yonare.

Itelephoned

Algiers

yesterdayand

thismorning,

andno

onecould

bebothered

totellus

what

you'reup

toorwhat's

behindyour

littleschem

e.Atfirstblush,your

plansreek

ofspite,

and,ve

haveno

desireto

holdour

nosesuntilyou

clearoff.To

sumup,you're

notwelcom

e,andyour

sordidintentions

aregreatly

irritatingto

oursensibilities."

The

othersmark

aperiod

attheend

oftheirleader's

words

with.grave

nods,which

lendsanote

ofgrotesquerie

totheir

theatricalsolem

nity."J

don'tsee

why

awork

ofrem

embrance

shoulddisturb

you,"Isay.

"You

cancallitw

hatyou

like;as

faraswe're

concerned,it's

subversion.I'1n

sureyou

haven'teven

consideredthe

significanceofyourventure

andthe

consequencesifyoucontinue

topursue

it.Therefore,

inthe

nameofthe

citizensofSidiB

aand

ofthe

237

--_-

-~-

"----

~~

"Then

I'vegot

theright

address,pal.

Besides,

1'1nnever

wrong.

It'stw

oo'clock

andyou,

you'restill

onyour

bed,w

rappedup

inyour

blankets.""So

what?"

"Sow

hat?T

here'sobviously

something

wrong

with

yourhead,

pal.I'n1

hereto

throwyou

out."Soria

appearsin

my

doorway.

The

gorillalooks

ather

with

consternation.T

urningback

tom

e,he

continuesw

ithIris

mulish

script:"A

reyour

bagspacked,

pal?"Igesture

with

my

headto

Soria,advising

herto

goback

toher

room;

then,having

firstpushed

n1yfinger

intothe

brute'sinvasive

belly,I

sayconfidingly,

"You've

come

tothe

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhadra

mem

bersoftheassociation

ofwhich

Iampresident,

Irequestthat

youpack

yourbags

andgo

backw

hereyou

camefrom

.""A

mI

tounderstand

thatyou'rethreatening

me?"

"You

saidit,

notnie."

He

looksathis

watch,

takesinspiration

fromthe

solemn

silenceofhis

companions,

anddecrees,

speakingclearly

enoughfor

thereto

beno

misunderstanding,

"Itis

nottraditional

among

usto

showstrangers

thedoor;

when

theirbehavior

isas

shameless

asyours,

however,

we

givethem

anhour,

atm

ost,to

leave.lt

isnow

twelve

fifty-two.

Someone

will

cornehere

atonefifty-three

tom

akesure

thatyouhave

gonefor

good.N

oneed

topay

thehotel

bill.I've

takencare

ofit

personally."I

don'thave

time

tosay

aw

ordin

reply.The

man

turnson

hisheeland

leavesw

ithhis

fourm

arionettesin

hisw

ake.Istand

pensivelyin

them

iddleof

thedeserted

lobby.T

hereceptionist

watches

me

onthe

slyfrom

behindhis

counter.N

otonce

doeshe

openlylook

atme.

At

abouttw

oo'clock,

someone

knocksat

my

door-arepulsive

andbrutal-looking

apew

ithflaring

nostrilsand

knucklesdow

nby

hisankles.

H.e

blocksthe

corridorallby

himself

He

startsoffby

puttinghis

hairym

ittson

hiships

andthrow

ingout

hischest,

thenlooks

me

upand

down

andgrow

lsout

ofthe

cornerof

hism

outh,"D

oyou

knoww

hattim

eitis,pal?"

"Why?"

"What

doyou

mean,w

hy?A

reyou

sureyou're

allright

inthe

head?Y

ou'renotgoing

totellm

eyou've

gotam

nesia?""A

ndyou,

areyou

sureyou've

gotth

erigh

taddress?""Y

ou'reL

lob,right?""T

hat'sright."

."

wrong

circus.A

ndclose

thedoor.

Before

Iturnm

yback,

thelanding

isshakenby

adistur­

bance.The

bigm

onkeyhasjust

kickedhis

way

intom

yter­

ritory.Without

breakinghisstride,

helifts

me

upand

slams

me

upagainst

thew

all.My

legsw

aveabout

wildly

inthe

air."N

obodyhangs

upon

me,pal."

He

flingsm

eacross

theroom

."Y

ourbags,on

thedouble!"

He

grabsm

yw

ashbagoff

thesink

andthrow

sit

inm

yface,opens

thew

ardrobe,seizes

my

suitcaseand

startsrifling

throughm

ythings.T

hat'sw

henhe

feelssomething

metallic

pressedagainst

hisneck;when

hepivots

round,he

coniesfaceto

facew

ithm

yB

eretta.I've

seencham

eleonschange

color,but

Ididn't

knowgorillascould

doittoo.

Kong's

nostrilsfl.are

sow

idethatIcan

seethe

maggots

inhis

brain.It's

probablythe

firsttune

he'sencountered

civilizationsince

hecarne

down

fromhis

tree."T

hem

ayordidn't

sayanything

abouta

pistol."

238239

240

Dead

Man's

ShareYasmina

Khadra

Kong

almost

faintswhen

hesees

mein

thecrow

dmilling

aboutin

thefoyer

ofthe

town

hall.Hethinks

I'n1there

tosort

himout

andflees

throughan

emergency

exit.Another

apetries

tostop

megoing

upstairs.Ibring

outmybadge;

fortunately,cops

arestill

heldin

highregard

inrural

areas,because

hestartsbow

ingand

scrapingforthw

ithand

rushesto

clearmypath

toapadded

door.Aheavily

made-up

secretarystops

filingher

nailsand

looksatmelike

asultry

seductress.She

guessesI'm

inahurry;

herchin

pointsdow

nacorridor,

attheend

ofwhich

Iemerge

intoalarge,splendidly

philistineroom

where

threemen

areyelling

ateachother

aroundatable

coveredwith

telephones.The

twoclow

nswith

theirbacks

tometurn

roundand

stiffen,amazed

atmyintrusion.

The

biggestone

immediately

shutsthe

topof

anattaché

casestuffed

with

banknotes;the

otherjusthides

behindhis

opaquesunglasses.Idon't

needto

consultatarot-reader

toguess

what's

goingon

inthe

mayor's

office.The

twowise

guysreek

offunnybusiness

frommiles

off.The

identicalblack

pinstripesuits,

theaw

ful,clow

nish,yellow

tiesand

thepatent-leather

shoesidentifythem

asnouveau

richeproductsofscientific

socialism,Algerian-style,

which

istosay,m

embers

ofthebrotherhood

ofvisionarylow

lifeswho

havemanaged

toconvince

theapparatchiks

thatitisnecessaryto

abusetheir

power

andconstruct

financialem

piresin

orderto

enterthe

newworld

orderbetter

armed

andforew

arned."Y

oucould

havewaited

yourturn,

Mr.

Llob,"grum

blesh

"C'

I'b

-"temayor.

antyou

seem

usyr"I

cansee

italltoowell,M

r.Mayor."

The

twoclow

nssense

danger.They

gatherup

theirthings

andleave.T

hemayor

isveryupsetby

mytactlessness;he

takeshis

chinin

hishand

andlooks

atmewith

hostility."I

can'tstand

inconsideratepeople,"

heannounces.

"Well,

Ican't

standbeing

pushedaround.

You

shouldn'thave

sentyourcircus

animal

tomyhotel.

Thanks

tohim

,I

didn'tgetm

yafternoon

napand

Idon't

quitefeelm

yself.""I

didn'tknow

youwere

hereon

amission,"

hesays,

hopefully."Peopleon

amission

normally

corneto

mefirst.

They've

neverregretted

it.Iput

myhum

anand

material

resourcesat

theirdisposal

andspare

noeffort

tomake

theirvisit

aspleasantaspossible."

"The

mayor

probablydoesn't

knowwhat

apistol

is,any

more

thanyou

do."Arm

sabove

hishead,

heretreats

intothe

corridor."It's

allright,pal.Those

thingscan

gooffby

themselves,

Iwarn

you.Pointthe

gunaw

ayalittle,

willyou?"

"Thatdepends

onyou.

Ifyouprom

iseto

goback

toyour

jungleand

nevercom

eback,

I'llholster

mygun

andthe

inci­dent

isclosed.Onthe

otherhand,

ifyoucorne

backand

upsetmytim

etableagain,

themayor

won't

beable

tokeep

youin

bananasany

more."

Henods

andruns

downthe

stairslikeacircusstrongm

anbeing

pursuedby

avvasp.

Soria,leaning

againsther

doorframewith

herhair

down

tothe

curveofher

thighs,applaudsrne.She

issoproud

ofme

thatshe

hasforgotten

todo

upher

blouse.Her

roundedbreast,

lovelyasapear,troubles

me.A

pricklyshiver

startsatthe

levelof

n1ynavel,w

ithoutwarning,

andspreads

likeashockw

avethrough

mywhole

body.SinceIcan't

tearmyeyes

awayfrom

thesinful

splendorlurking

beneathher

embroidered

neckline,Ihurriedly

thrustn1.y

gunback

intomybelt

toprevent

anexplosion

ofany

kind.

241

242

DeadMan's

ShareY

asminaK

hadra

comn1anderw

askilled

inaskirm

ishwith

someFrench

paras.The

Lefty

replacedhim

,butIstayed

with

thecom

panyuntil

theend

ofthewar."

"Did

youknow

+-?"

"The

Talbis?"

Myastonishm

entam

useshim

.Heexplains:

"The

whole

townknow

s,Superintendent."

"Did

you?""D

idIknow

them?In

thosedays,Sidi

Bawasjust

anaine

onamap.

Everyoneknew

everyone.W

e'reahnest

inthe

sainetribe.T

heTalbis

livedin

asm

allhousenear

theRom

anbridge.

They

were

peacefulpeople.

The

father,Kaddour,

was

alivestockmerchant.

The

son,Arneur,w

howas

aboutmyage,

wasa

studentata

schoolin

thetow

n.W

eweren't

friends,but

\ve'dhave

acup

ofcoffeetogether

everynow

andthen,w

henwehum

pedinto

eachother.W

henthe

fatherdied-

hewas

sweptaw

ayin

aflash

flood-the

sonfound

hewas

indebt

upro

hisneck.H

isfather's

creditorsruined

him.X

avierLapaire,

thesettler

who

ranthe

biggestfarm

inthe

area,tookhim

onasa

bookkeeper.Asfar

asIknow

,Ameur

hadn'ttaken

sides;he

was

neitherfor

therevolution

norfor

pacification.The

purgesofJuly

sixty-two

didn'taffect

him,

Idon't

remem

bereverhearing

amuh

ajidhaving

anythingto

sayagainst

him."

"Sohe

wasn't

aharki?"

"Not

tom

yknow

ledge,no."

"Sowhy

was

heslaughtered,

alongwith

hiswhole

family?"

"Itellyou

hewasn't

worried.T

hemassacres

ofharkisdidn'tdrag

onaround

here.The

whole

thingwas

settledin

threedaysand

threenights.

When

theFrench

soldiersdecam

pedto

theheights

aboveSidi

Ba,the

harkistried

tofollow

them.

But

theLefty

andLieutenant

Barrot

hadagreed

onacourse

ofaction.The

Frenchofficer

was

notto

takeany

Arabs

with

He

standsup,

comes

roundthe

tableand

takesmeby

thewrist.

InAlgeria,

thisis

aconciliatory

step.W

henyour

adversarytakes

youby

thewrist

andmakes

youfollow

inhis

footsteps,itm

eanshe

isready

tobury

thehatchet,

andyou

alongwith

it."If

I'dknow

nyou

were

with

theMouhajada

...."*"I'm

with

thepolice."

Hefrow

ns,"T

hepolice?

Has

therebeen

amurder

inmy

town

without

myknow

ledge,Inspector?"

"Superintendent."Hepushes

achair

toward

meand

startspouring

meacup

oftea."I

don'tunderstand,

Superintendent."Hishand

isshaking.

The

pitbull

terrierthat

was

goingto

devourmewhole

ashort

while

ago,in

thelobby

ofthe

hotel,ispulling

inits

claws.

Hehas

chosento

talkthings

over."I'm

lookinginto

theevents

ofJuly/August

sixty-two."

"Idon't

seethe

connectionwith

thepolice."

"You

don'tneed

to,Mr.K

haled....

Did

youserve

inthis

areaduring

thewar?"

"Ofcourse.

Ijoinedthe

FLNthe

mom

entthe

armed

insur­rection

brokeout.

Iwas

aliaison

officerto

beginwith.

My

jobwas

togive

aidand

assistanceto

ourcom

mandos

when

theypassed

throughthe

province.Som

etimes

Iputthem

up,and

Ialsoarranged

theirm

ovements.

Infifty-six,

aninform

erdenounced

me.

Iwas

arrested,tortured,

andcondem

nedto

fiveyears

injail.

Imanaged

toescape

with

agroup

ofother

prisoners.In

fifty-eight,Iw

asin

themaquis

inChréa,

thenI

askedto

bemoved

closerto

homeand

theregional

command

transferredmeto

them

ountainsofSidi

Ba.

Iworked

ascom­

panychief

ofstaff,underthe

Lefty.In

fifty-nine,our

battalion

*M

ouliafada:regional

cellof

theFLN

.

243

Yasm

inaKhadra

Dead1Vlan'sShare

him.H

isunit's

vehiclesw

erechecked

byour

guys,andthey

managed

tow

inkleouta

traitor.The

Lefty

wasn'thappy,and

burnedhim

aliveon

thespot.

Thatsam

eday,he

gavethe

orderto

huntdow

nall

traitors.By

theend

ofthe

thirdnight,

thecount

was

onehundred

andfifty-nine

deadin

them

unicìpa],ity

ofSidiBa

alone.The

Talbisw

erenot

among

thevictim

s.""T

heyw

erekilled

atthe

beginningofA

ugust.""W

hotold

youthatnonsense,

Superintendent?U

ntilprovenotherw

ise,the

Talbisw

ereabducted

andare

missing.

No

traceof

thernw

asever

found;nobodies,

noforw

ardingaddress."

"Our

witnesses

saysorne

armed

men

came

toget

themduring

thenight

anddrove

themsom

ewhere,

fromw

hichthey

nevercam

eback."

"It'spossible,

butnot

tokill

them.The

massacres

didn'tstart

upagain.

Some

excesseshad

beennoted,

andthe

ordercam

edow

nto

stopallpunitive

expeditionsagainst

thefam

iliesoftraitors.

Besides,

theharkisw

how

erearrested

laterweren't

executed;they

were

handedover

tothe

republic'sjailers.But

sorneundesirable

families

n1ayhave

beenforced

toleave

thearea.

That's

probablyw

hathappened

tothe

Talbis.

Ithink

theysettled

somew

hereelse,

likethousands

ofother

families

who

feltthreatenedw

herethey

lived.""W

hatdid

peoplehave

againstA

rneurTaibi?

You

sayhe

didn'tcollaborate

with

theFrench

anny.""M

aybethathe

wasfriendly

with

Xavier

Lapaire,the

set­tler.

The

Lefty

hatedthe

French,and

Arabs

who

soughtout

theircom

panydoubly

so.""T

here'sa

storythat

oneof

Talbi's

sons,B

elkacem,

who

was

abouttw

elveatthe

time,

managed

togive

hisabductors

theslip

thatnight."

"I'veheard

thestory,but

I'mnot

sureit's

true,because

noone

eversaw

theboy

again."

"Itistrue.I've

pickedup

theboy's

trail."The

mayor

shrugs."W

hatdoes

thatchange?"

"Marry

people'sstories."

"Sobring

himin

andw

ew

on'ttalk

aboutitany

n1ore."H

edoesn't

believem

e,or

elsehe's

tryingto

make

me

believethatthe

demolition

ofhisstory

leaveshim

indifferent,becausehe's

gotnothing

onhis

conscience."In

youropinion,

Mr.K

haled,w

hatcould

havem

adethat

boyrun

away

ifallhe

hadto

dow

assimply

inove

somew

here

else?""IconfessIhave

noansw

erto

that.It's

true,if

thefam

ilyw

asjustasked

toleave

SidiBa,

thekid

hadno

reasonnot

togo

with

hisparents.

Especiallygiven

thedreadful

thingsthat

were

goingon

inthe

area.But

theboy

wasnever

found,and

there'snothingto

provethese

storiesaren't

justinvented

byenem

iesof

therevolution

who

want

tocast

doubtin

peo­ple's

minds,

anyw

aythey

can,to

tarnishthe

pagesof

ourhistory."

"I'vefound

him."

"Others

haveshouted

thesam

ething

fromthe

rooftops,butin

vain.W

e'veseen

som

anyghosts

aroundhere

thatno

onebelieves

inthem

anym

ore.A

tSidiB

a,we're

quitesure

thatthestory

oftheyoungB

elkace1nT

aibiwas

invented,from

startto

finish,by

certainm

alcontentstrying

todam

ageH

ajThobane's

reputation.""W

hat'sthe

connectionw

ithH

ajT

hobane?"

"HajT

hobaneis

theLefty."

Iget

outmy

littlenotebook

andscribble

"Haj

Thobane

==Lefty."A

whim

sicalgesture,

perhaps,even

anunusual

onefora

copw

how

orksby

instinct,but

itallow

sm

eto

hidem

yaniazen1ent.

"Who

would

want

tounderm

inea

nationalhero?"

244245

Yasm

inaKhadra

Dead

Man's

Share

Atissue

ofvulgarlies.T

hewar

isover,M

r.Llob.W

hat'sdone

isdone.R

egrettableornot,

itcan't

beundone.

Wewant

toturn

thepage

andrebuild

thecountry.

Everythingelse,the

fabricationsand

theidiotic

insinuations,shouldn't

putusoff

Iassureyou

there'snothing

toit.

Ifyou

insistonfinding

outforyourself,

goahead.

Butbe

careful,people's

sensibilitiesare

onlyjust

belowthe

surfacearound

here."Ashe

patshis

temples

dry,themayor

noticesthathis

handwon't

stopshaking,

despitehis

effortstokeep

calmand

tomoderate

hislanguage.

Heputs

hishandkerchief

inhis

pocketand

standsup.

"Why

don'tyou

comeand

havedinner

with

metonight,

Superintendent?Wecan

talkabout

allthisagain,

calmly.

Ihaveapile

ofadministrative

filestodealw

ithright

now;this

officeisgoing

toswallow

mewhole."

''What

apity,

Ihave

problemswith

cholesterol."Inthe

corridor,the

twocrooks

frombefore

arewaiting

formeto

leavesothat

theycan

goback

tothe

mayor.

The

biggerofthe

two,whose

gapingshirt

canonly

justcontain

hisbelly,throw

sasmile

atmethat's

asfakeashis

Lacoste

belt.[lean

overtohim

andmurm

urinhis

ear,"You

shouldput

sorneunderpants

overyour

face."

"Revolution

doesn'tonly

givebirth

tovaliant

souls,Superintendent.

The

internecinequarrels

thatravaged

ourranks

duringthe

warare

stillgoingon

today.Within

thesaine

party,peopleloathe

andplot

againsteach

other.Nobody

likesthe

oneswhohave

beensuccessful.

TheLefty

hasbeen

success­ful.H

.eattracts

theenvious,

thecritical.

Peopletry

todestroy

hislegend,

tosully

hispast,

todispute

hischarism

a.We're

aware

ofthis

inSidiB

a,and

wesuffer.T

osom

eextent

it'sa

symbol

ofusthat

isbeing

disfigured,you

see.HajThobane

isagentlem

an.Hisgenerosity

isenorm

ous.Everyone

atSidiBaowesthe

bestpart

ofhiswellbeing

tohim

.Thanks

tohim

,this

hamlethasem

ergedfrom

economic

stagnation.Our

douarison

itsway

tobecom

ingatow

n,maybe

eventhe

capitalofawilaya.

Malicious

tonguesspeak

ofregional

favoritism,

nepotism.They

thinkour

heroistoo

rich,too

greedy,too

suffocating.It's

nottrue.H

ajThobane

isagood

man,

caringand

charitable.Personally,

Ihold

himinveneration."

Ibring

myglass

oftea

tomylips,

sniffatit,then

putit

downwithout

tastingit.T

hemayor

twitchesbutdoesn't

expresshishurt.H

emust

befinding

memore

andmore

disagreeable,because

hismoustache,

which

previouslydrooped

downward,

isnO\V

bristling.Ilight

acigarette

andwatch

awisp

ofsmoke

making

itswaytow

ardthe

ceiling."How

couldthe

storyof

aboy

tarnishthe

image

ofHaj

Thobane,

Mr.K

haled?"Iask

himsuddenly.

"Isthere

alink

between

theTalbis

andour

hero?"Myquestions

don'tput

him.offhisstride.H

epours

himself

acup

ofcoffee,togive

himself

timetothink.

Hesays,

"SinceHajThobane,

theLefty,w

asthe

military

commander

oftheregion

duringthe

war,

peopletry

topin

everyblunder

andevery

messy

storythat

tookplace

hereonhim

,that'sthe

link.

246

There

isamanwaiting

bythe

carinthe

municipal

carpark.

Heisunkem

ptand

unshavenand

seernstobe

inanadvanced

stateofinebriation.

Assoon

ashecatches

sightofm

e,hesnaps

toattention

andbrings

hishandtohis

temple

inaform

alsalute."Is

ityouwho's

making

troublewith

thecitizens

ofSidi

B;>"a."T

hatdepends,"

Isay,opening

thedoor.

Themanjerks

histhum

bover

hisshoulder.

"That

mayor

isason

ofabitch

ofthe

firstorder.

Hethinks

he'sGod

andbelieves

thewhole

townbelongs

tohim

.Iknew

himwhen

247

YasminaKhadra

hewastw

enty,Hewas

ahick,

aspineless

wonder,a

loser.He

tellseveryone

hespent

time

inprison

forhis

revolutionarv'activities.

It'snottrue.Henever

foughtwith

theFLN

.He

didn'tknow

what

itwas,

beforeindependence.

Hewas

arustler,

acornrnort

sheepthief,

nomore.H

ewas

arrestedby

afarm

ertrying

tosneak

intoasheep-pen."

Istartthe

engine.The

man

pushes111eoutofm

yseatand

turnsthe

key."I'n1

nottalking

tothe

walland

I'mnota

halfwit.

Let's

dolike

this,okay?

Italk,

youlisten.

I'vebeen

waiting

foraman,

areal

man,w

hodoesn't

havecold

eyesand

who

goeswhere

thereare

mines

without

protectionfor

hisballs

orabullet-proof

vest;you

won'tdisappoint

me,

willyou?"

Istart

theengine

again;he

jumps

atthe

dashboardand

switches

itoffagain.

"I'n1not

alunatic.

Have

Iaskedform

oney?""W

hatdo

youwant?"

"I'veheard,in

town,

thatyou'relooking

forthe

truth.I'm

inpossession

ofpartofit.D

on'ttake

mefora

tramp

either.Iknow

Ilook

likearag-and-bone

man,

butIwasn't

likethis

mywhole

life.I'vew

orkedright

atthetop,m

e,andI've

gonearound

inluxury

cars.You

knowhow

lifeisinan

abortionof

arepublic

likeours.

One

dayyou're

praisedto

theskies,

thenext

you'reup

insm

oke.If

I'veslipped

down

theladder,

it'sthanks

tom

yintegrity.H

onestpeople

don'tlast

longam

ongpredators

andopportunists.

That's

thecause

ofmyruin,

my

friend.Because

Iwas

upright,they

brokeme.

I'mnot

theonly

one,andyou

won't

contradictm

ethere.

So,thisbastard

'truth,'areyou

stillinterestedin

it?"A

sIhesitate,

unsurehow

totake

this,he

thrustshis

armunder

hisworn

cardiganand

bringsout

abundle

ofpapers

heldtogether

with

arubber

band."T

hishere

ism

yform

er

248

Dead

Man's

Share

maquisardcard.

Iwas

acadet

inthe

ranksof

theALN

.My

facemy

havechanged,

butI've

keptmy

name

andfam

ily.This

hereis

my

partym

embership

card.Iwas

officemanager

atthe

regionallevel.A

ndthese

hereare

my

orderswhen

Iwas

appointedasa

Sub-Prefectbythe

presidenthim

selfinnineteen

.h

"sixty-t

ree....A

small

crowd

isform

ingaround

us;afew

kidsat

first,then

some

passers-byturn

up,intrigued

bym

yinterlocu­

tor'sgestures;judging

bythe

sniggeringand

openlaughter

flaringup

hereand

there,hecan't

haveavery

goodreputa­

tionin

theneighborhood.

Kong

showsup

too,truncheonin

hand,to

dispersethe

curious.He

doesn'tm

anageto

worry

everyone."G

etin,"

Itellthe

stranger.The

man

burieshis

bundleunderhis

coatagainand

saluteshisaudience

beforeslum

pingdow

nin

thepassenger

seat."B

astards!They'll

behearin

gfrom

me."

"Where

arewegoing?"

"Wherever

youlike.Fuck

them,anyw

ay.""M

yhotel?"

"Why

not?"The

crowdw

on'tpartto

letniethrough.

Sornekids,prob­

ablyegged

onby

theadults,

throwmissiles

atus.

Iengage

reversegear,

gothe

wrong

way

upaone-w

aystreet,

findan

exitand

escapeat

topspeed,

farfrom

theshouting

thathasstarted

upbehind

us."Y

oumustn't

thinkpeople

don'tlike

strangers,"rny

pas­senger

says."T

hey'repeople

who

areincapable

ofjudgingthings

forthem

selves.Ifsom

eonesays

sornebad

thingsabout

you,they'llvom

italloveryou,rightthereand

then;ifsom

eonesaysyou've

beensentfrom

heaven,they'll

throwthem

selvesat

yourfeet,yousee?

They're

justweathervanes,

reactingto

the

249

Yasm

inaKhadra

nomore

educationthan

adonkey

trainer.Sure,when

itcomes

tocounting

pennieshe

couldgive

anelectronic

calculatora

runfor

itsmoney.B

utapart

fromthat

hecan't

puttogether

asim

plememo."

"Looks

tomelike

hegets

byjust

fine.""H

e'scrafty.T

hephraseshe

comesoutw

ith,hememorizes

themforofficialspeeches

andrecites

themcleverly

sothat

hepasses

foran

educatedman.

He's

neversetfoot

inaschool,

Itell

you.He's

illiteratein

threelanguages,

ourmayor;he

signsdocum

entsautom

atically,without

botheringtodecipher

them.Iknow

him.Wegrew

upinthe

samedead

end.He

wasa

smelly

littlebratw

howore

thesam

eragsin

winter

thathe

wore

insum

merand

emptied

everysheep

penwithin

afifty-kilon1eter

radius.That's

allheknew

:stealing

livestockand

sellingiton

somew

hereelse

atatenth

ofthe

price.At

theend

ofnineteensixty-one,

hecam

eout

ofprison.Onthe

nineteenthofM

archnineteen

sixty-two,with

independencevisible

onthe

horizon,hejoined

theranks

ofthe

ALN

asa

common

foot-soldier.The

bastardhad

seenwhich

way

thewind

wasblow

ingand

made

hismove.

Result:itw

orked.""H

adhe

takenpart

inmassacres

ofharkis?"

"Forsure.

Itwasascram

ble,myfriend.

Everyone

wasin

DeadMan's

Share

gustsofthe

wind,

When

theair

iscalm

,it's

hardtobelieve

thatthey're

fleshand

bloodand

stillbreathing."

"Doyou

thinksom

eoneset

themagainst

me?"

"Here,m

anipulationreigns

supreme.Everyone

inthe

town

knowswhy

you'rehere,

youand

thelittle

wom

an.They

sayyou're

heretobring

thetow

ninto

disrepute,thatyou're

com­

munists,

atheistsand

enemies

ofthe

Revolution.

That

what

youwrite

isinsane,andthatyou're

tryingtodrag

ourmartyrs

throughthe

mud.

It'salw

aysthe

sarnestory

when

strangerstake

aclose

interestinour

intrigues.So

theystir

upthe

mob

againstthe

undesirables,and

letanger

takecare

oftherest.

Ifmisfortune

follows,you

can'tpunish

awhole

mob."

"And

hasitfollow

ed?""M

isfortune?This

isitshom

e."

Soriaisn't

wearing

ablouse

anymore.

Shehas

replacedit

with

atightly

buttonedburgundy

shirtwith

aMao

collar.Herhair

isgatheredup

inachignon,leaving

herwillfulbrow

uncovered,and

hereyes,

highlightedby

mascara,

shinelike

jewels.

Sheiseven

more

beautifulinher

velvettrousers,

which

definethe

shapeofher

thighsw

ithgreat

skill.This

wom

anstops

rneconcentrating;

Irealize

Ihaven't

thoughtofMina

forseveralnightsinarow

,Next

time,

Iswear,Iw

on'ttake

awom

anonmyteam

."D

oyou

mind

ifshestaysw

ithus?"

Iaskmyguest.

"Sheis1ny

colleagueand

ourconversation

willinterestherasm

uchasme."

."

onit."E

venyou?"

"Iwasn't

activeinthis

area..And

Ididn't

waituntil

thenineteenth

ofMarch

totake

uparm

s.Iwasone

ofthe

feweducated

mentojoin

themaquis.

Iwent

tohigh

school,and

Isetfire

tomyinstitution

beforeIwent

towar.In

nineteenfifty-seven,if

youplease.Iw

aswounded

twice."

Heundoes

hisjacketand

liftsuphisundershirt

toshow

achest

decorated,vith

twoblackened

holes."Iwas

anofficer

cadetin

nine­teen

sixty,and

Iwasappointed

asdeputy

commander

ofthe

"Why

shouldImind?

I'n1not

macho."

Ithank

himand

havehim

sitonmybed.

Soriaoccupies

theonly

chairinthe

room;Isit

onthe

cornerofthe

table."Don't

letthat

assholeofamayor

intimidate

you,"the

unkemptfellow

advisesus."H

e'sgotabig

mouth,

andhe's

got

251250

--------

"""...----

252

Dead

MC1n'sShare

YasminaKhadra

"Iwant

tohelp

you.Weabsolutely

havetosm

ashthese

bastards.They're

equivocators,base

creatures,dogs,

starvingwolves.

Whatw

ithallthe

money

they'veam

assed,they

continuetoflourish.

This

regionwasthe

breadbasketofthe

countrywhen

theFrench

were

here.Itprovided

fortypercent

ofthe

redmeat

onthe

northAfrican

market.

It'sbecause

Itried

tosave

itthatIwasm

adedestitute

andhanded

overtothemob.

Iraisedthe

alarminnineteen

seventy.This

regionwasmade

foragriculture,

asIsay.M

essingitupwith

factorieswasout

ofthe

question.Ihad

preparedareport,

which

wasendorsed

byaform

idablegroup

ofexperts.

Nogood:

HajT

hobanewas

bentonindustrializing

theland

ofhis

birth.Asfarashe

was

concerned,that

wasemancipation.

Hewanted

toabolish

theprofession

ofshepherd,

which

reminded

himofhisform

.erstatus.

Iopposedhis

plans.With

asnap

ofhisfingers,

hehad

111.erelieved

of11.1.y

dutiesand

instructedhis

cliquetomake

mylife

difficult.I'1natrock

bottomtoday

becauseofhim

.""Why

don'tyou

tellusalittle

abouttheTalbis?"

"I'mgetting

tothem

.This

businessisn't

onlyabout

theTalbis.

There

wasalso

Allal

Kaïd

andhis

family;

theywere

abductedand

went

missing

too.Andthe

Bahasses,

whomade

thebest

oliveoilon

theHigh

Plateau;abducted

andmissing.

Andthe

Ghanem

s,whohad

severalthousand

headofcattle;

abductedand

missing.

Inone

night,without

tr.aceand

with

nosign

oflifesince.

Asifthey

hadvanished

intothin

air.The

peoplearound

herehave

worked

outwhathappened

tothem

,but

they'reafraid

totalle

aboutit.Afraid

tothink

aboutit.

Afraid

torem

ember

it.There

were

similar

disappearancesin

theearly

yearsofindependence.

Notrich

people,justcurious

peoplewhotried

tounderstand

what

happenedonthe

nightofthe

twelfth

tothe

thirteenthofA

ugustnineteen

sixty-two.

They

were

neverseen

again.Me,I'm

notafraid.

What

haveIgot

tolose?

Idon

thave

anykids

and1ny

wife

leftmefor

abig

shotmore

thantwodecades

ago.Idon

thaveany

realexistence

andIdon't

reallywant

toextend

it.Ishould

havedied

inthe

maquis.It's

nolife,

nowadays.

SoifI'm

goingto

die,let

11.1.edie,

aslong

asit's

forthe

rightcause.I'd

bethe

happiestofvictim

sifI

couldbring

HajThobane

down.He's

acrim

inaland

abastard

ofthe

highestorder.

Hisfinancial

empire

isadirect

resultofthat

night-timepurge

inAugust

nineteensixty-tw

o,I'dbet

mylife

onit."

"That's

aserious

allegationyou're

making."

"It'snothing

compared

towhat

he'sdone."

"Didyou

knowhim

personally?""Icertainly

did!""Youthink

he'sdirectly

linkedtothis

business?""Asclosely

asheistothe

devil."Igrim

acedism

issively."Surely

youdon't

rriakewhole

families

disappearjust

soyou

canappropriate

theirproperty?

There

mustbe

something

else,otherwise

tongueswould

haveloosened

sincethen."

"They

were

comfortably

offfarnilies,and

theywerewiped

outforthat

reason.""Because

peoplewere

envious?""Because

peopleresented

theirgood

fortune.Freedom

hadbeen

won;now

,vehad

toget

ourselvesout

oftheshit.

To

getstartedonthe

rightfoot,

youhad

toput

onother

people's

company

atMelaab,

inthe

mountains

ofOuarsenis.

Icam

eback

toSidiB

aaw

eekafterthe

masskillings.

But

Iwasthere

forthe

Talbis."

Soriaistrem

blingfrom

headtofoot.

"Mynam

eisZoubir,

madam

e,Tarek

Zoubir.Y

ou'reahis­

torian,aren't

you?Atleast,that'sw

hatthey

sayinthe

town."

"It'strue."

253

Yasmina

Khadra

DeadMan's

Share

hennitin

thew

oods.H

e'sflatbrokeand

analcoholic,so

ifyouslip

hima

fewcoins

hem

ightm

akethe

effortto

regainhis

lucidity.""C

anyou

takeus

tohim

?""O

fcourse.

I'dhave

tospeak

tohim

first.H

e'ssuspicious

andpig-headed

when

hedecides

notto

cooperate.""H

ecan

nainehis

price,"saysSoria.

He

standsup

totake

hisleave.

"Ifyou

promise

tofollow

yourinvestigation

allthew

ayto

theend,

I'llgo

andsee

himright

now,A

ndtom

orrow,

you'llfind

himfresh

andw

illingatm

yhouse.

Ilive

tenkilom

etersfrom

SidiBa,

onthe

roadto

Médéa.

You

can'tgo

wrong,

my

placeis

visiblefrom

theroad.

About

akilom

eterpast

thepetrol

station,you'll

seea

shrineon

yourleft.

Furtheron,a

ruinby

theside

oftheroad.

My

placeoverlooks

it.There

areno

otherhouses

around.I'll

wait

foryou

there,w

ithR

achid.""N

ineo'clock?"

Isuggest."N

otso

early.Rachid

doesn'tget

upbefore

noon.Let's

sayt\VO

o'clock."G

ratefully,Iofferm

yhand.

"Tom

orrowthen,

t\VOo'clock

h,,

sarp.I-le

holdshis

handback.

"We

canshake

handsw

henw

e'vefinished

with

thesebastards,

Mr.H

istorian.N

otbefore.

Iwant

thesevillains

topay,Iw

antthe

countryrid

oftheir

carcassesfor

ever.D

on'tthink

I'mgetting

revenge.There's

abit

ofthat,

ofcourse,

butIdon't

feellikeI'm

settlingscores.

Ilovethis

country.You

don'thave

tobelieve

me,

andIdon't

giveadam

nw

hetheryou

door

not.The

onlyim

portantquestion

forme

ishow

toget

youto

pursueyour

investigationallthe

\vayto

theend.

Because

ifyou

pullout

likelim

pchickens

itwill

bethe

endof

everything,for

rneand

foranyone

who

believesthere

isjusticeon

thisearth."

255

boots,M

r.H

istorian.The

Thobanes

were

thebarefoottype.

They

were

starvingto

deathbefore

thew

arbroke

out.The

fatherslaved

asa

stableboy

fortheLapaires.

They

sayhe

was

killedby

am

adhorse.T

heson,

H.aj,w

orkedas

ashepherd

forthe

Ghanem

s.Tw

oof

hisbrothers

were

killedin

Indochina,ìn

theFrench

army.

Haj

inheritedunbelievable

poverty.I

remem

berhim

veryw

ell.H

ew

ouldoften

goroam

ingabout

thebarracks

toglean

rationpacks.

That's

howthe

war

startedfor

hìrn.H

ehad

gotto

knowthe

Muslim

soldiersand

hadm

anagedto

radicalizea

few.W

iththem

,he

mounced

anam

bushagainst

am

ilitarysupply

truck.Com

pletesuccess.

Firstglorious

featof

arms,

with

thebonus

ofseven

soldierskilled

andsupplies

divertedto

themaquis.

The

Leftyhad

justentered

intolegend,

throughthe

frontdoor.

He

went

onto

reignas

absoluteleader

ofthe

whole

region.A

fterthe

war;

heturned

itintohis

personalfiefdom

.H

eappropriated

Allal

Kaïd's

lands,the

Babasses'

pressesand

theG

hanems'

livestockpens,

andno

onefelthe

hadgone

toofar.A

fterall,

wasn't

hethe

saviorof

SidiBa?"

"And

what

didthe

Talbis'fortune

consistof?"

Soriaasks

him."T

hat'sthe

gapin

thestory,

madam

e.A

sfar

asIknow

,the

Talbisw

ereruined.

They

were

livingon

thethreshold

ofpoverty.

The

fatherwasw

orkingasthe

Lapaires'bookkeeper,it's

true,but

hedidn't

earnenough.

Why

theycam

eforthem

onthat

nightis

acom

pletem

ysteryand

astum

blingblock.

None

ofthe

oldpeople

aroundhere

cancom

eup

with

thefeeblest

oftheories.

Because

Talbi

was

neitheron

oneside

northe

other.H

ehad

ahandicapped

wife

andsick

children,so

hew

asleft

inpeace.

But

Ithink

there'ssom

eonew

hocould

enlightenus.

Acut-throat

forthe

revolutionturned

full-time

drunk,a

certainRachid

Debbah.

He

liveslìke

a

254

256

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

Yasm

inaKhadra

"It'strue

thatIsometim

esfeelI'm

beingkept

inthe

dark,but

I'1nno

chicken.""I

realizedthat

assoon

asIsaw

youcom

ingout

ofthe

mayor's

office.""See

youtom

orrow."

"That's

right.Seeyou

tomorrow

,historian.

Withoutfail."

Ishowhim

out.W

henIget

back,Ifind

Soriastanding

bythe

window

lookingworried.

She'slooking

atthe

swirling

squarewith

frowning

eyesand

asingle

lineacross

herforehead.

Without

turninground,

shesays,

"Can

Ihaveacigarette,

Mr.Llob?"

It'strue:you

cansee

Tarek

Zoubir's

placefrom

theroad.T

ogetthere,allyou

haveto

doisfollow

thetrack

leadingup

tothe

shrine,whose

greenand

white

domedom

inatesthe

hill.Weturn

ontoawinding

roadand

followan

avenueofshrubs.

It'sten

totwo.

The

sunbeats

down

onthe

countrysidelike

ananim

al.Soria

isdriving;

shelooks

exhausted.She

spentthe

nightpacingup

anddow

nin

herroom

andscribbling

endlessnotesin

herfi.les.W

henmorning

carneshe

wasstillbent

overherpapers,so

absorbedthatshe

didn'thear

meknock

orcorn

ein.It's

hardto

saywhat's

goingthrough

hermind.

Shehasn't

saidmuch

sincelast

nightand

haslost

ahuge

amount

ofher

enthusias1n,asifthisbusiness

issuddenlybeginning

toget

ontop

ofher.She

triesto

hideit,of

course,but

theshadow

overherexpression

foolsno

one.Tarek

Zoubir'spatio

issilent.Soria

honksthe

horn.Nobody

comes

out.Wewait

fortw

ominutes,

andthen

Istepoutand

goand

knockon

theworrn-eaten

door.Nothing.

Ilisten,but

don'tbearasound

onthe

otherside.

Icallthe

man;

myvoice

ricochetsaround

thecob

wallsand

diesaw

aywithout

arousingany

interest.Itry

thelock;

itopens.

Through

thehalf-open

doorIcan

seeone

endof

thecourtyard

andadog

stretchedout

onthe

ground.ltdoesn't

inove.Ofcourse

not:its

head

257

YasminaKhadra

CHAPTER

EIGHTEEN

"It'strue

thatIsoinetim

esfeelI'm

beingkeptin

thedark,

butI'm

nochicken."

"Irealized

thatas

soonas

lsaw

youcoining

outof

the,

ff"

mayors

onee.

""See

youtom

orrow.

"That's

right.See

youtom

orrow,

historian.W

ithoutfail."

Ishowhim

out.W

henI

getback,

Ifind

Soriastanding

bythe

window

lookingw

orried.She's

lookingat

thesw

irlingsquare

with

fro\.vninaeyes

anda

singleline

acrossher

forehead.Without

º·

M1

b?"turning

round,she

says,"C

anI

havea

cigarette,r.L

o.

It's

true:you

cansee

Tarek

Zoubir's

placefrom

theroad.T

oget

there,allyouhave

todo

isfollow

thetrack

leadingup

tothe

shrine,w

hosegreen

andw

hitedom

edom

inatesthe

hill.W

eturn

ontoa

winding

roadand

followan

avenueofshrubs.

It'sten

totw

o.T

hesun

beatsdow

non

thecountryside

likean

animal.Soria

isdriving;

shelooks

exhausted.Shespent

thenight

pacingup

anddow

nin

herroom

andscribbling

endlessnotes

inher

files.W

henm

orningcarne

shew

asstillbent

overherpapers,so

absorbedthatshe

didn'thear

me

knockor

cornein.

It'shard

tosay

what's

goingthrough

herm

ind.She

hasn'tsaid

much

sincelastnight

andhas

losta

hugeam

ountof

herenthusiasm

,asif

thisbusinessissuddenly

beginningto

getontop

ofher.Shetries

tohide

it,ofcourse,butthe

sha.dowover

herexpression

foolsno

one.Tarek

Zoubir's

patioissilent.Soria

honksthe

horn.Nobody

comes

out.We

wait

fortwo

minutes,

andthen

Istepout

andgo

andknock

onthe

wann-eaten

door.Nothing.

Ilisten,but

don'thear

asound

onthe

otherside.

Icallthem

an;my

voicericochets

aroundthe

cobw

allsanddies

a,vayw

ithoutarousing

anyinterest.

Itry

thelock;

itopens.

Through

thehalf-open

doorI

cansee

oneend

ofthe

courtyardand

adog

stretchedout

onthe

ground.lt

doesn'tm

ove.O

fcourse

not:its

head

256257

258

DeadMan's

ShareYasmina

Khadra

hasbeen

blownoff.Soria

startswhen

sheseesm

eget

outmy

weapon;

Itell

hernot

toleave

thecar

andenter

thehouse

ontiptoe.

Asmall

tablehas

beenoverturned

onthe

floor;a

shoehas

beenleft

inthe

hallway.W

ithmyback

tothe

wall,

Imove

in,listening

outfor

suspiciouscreaks.

Thewindow

iswide

open;itgives

ontoawretched

livingroom

.Thefew

piecesoffurniture

areout

ofplace:signs

ofastruggle.

Imove

infurther,step

overabench

with

myBeretta

infrontofm

e,and

comeinto

abedroom

thathas

beenturned

upsidedow

n.Iraise

myhead

andfind

him.Tarek

Zoubir

ishanging

fromabeam

,his

nakedbody

coveredwith

bruisesand

hisarm

sdangling.

Streamsofblood

branchout

fromhis

chinand

hischest.

Hisneck

istwisted

bythe

knotinthe

rope,and

heis

staringata

cornerofthe

roomwith

partofhis

tonguesticking

outthrough

hislips.

Hisexecutioner

cutoffhis

nosebefore

hanginghim

.Irush

throughthe

remaining

rooms,com

eback

intothe

courtyardand

searchthe

surroundings;not

asoul.

Soriaarrives,curious.

"Idon't

adviseyou

togoany

further,"Isay.

Shepushes

rnyarm

asideand

headsfor

theliving

room.I

holdher

backbythe

wrist.

"Getyour

handsoff111e!"

shescream

s,beside

herself"It's

notapretty

sight.""I've

seenworse."

Sheholds

herhead

between

herhands

without

takingher

eyesoff

thehanged

man.

Rage

makes

hereyelids

puffy.Inthe

silenceofthe

house,her

breathingseem

scacophonous.

Isense

thatshe's

acouple

ofheartbeatsawayfrom

imploding.

After

meditating

onour

badluck,

sheturns

tome,her

facecrum

pled."They

cutoff

hisnose,"

shesays.

"Isaw

."

259

Shegoes

intothe

bedroom.

Iexpecttosee

herback

outwith

hertailbetw

eenher

legs,or

elsebend

doubleand

throwup,

butSoria

doesn'tpanic.

Herlegs

holdfirm

andshefacesthe

mutilated

corpsewith

acalm

thatgives

megoosebum

ps."This

isno

coincidence,"she

mutters.

"Doesn't

looklike

it."

"Doyon

knowwhat

thatmeans?"

lnAlgeria,

thenose

isthe

organofpride.

During

thewar

ofindependence,the

maquisardsused

tocut

offtraitors'

nosesbefore

forcingthem

tomarch

downthe

streetsothatpeople

would

getthe

message.

The

signatureand

themessage

were

clearinthose

days.It's

seeingitagain,tw

enty-sixyears

later,that

shakesme.

"Doyou

thinkthis

isajoke,

Superintendent?""W

hateveritis,it's

inbad

taste.""They're

tryingtoscare

us.""A

dd

~,,reyou

scare,m

aam

er"No.Areyou?"

"Alittle,

butnot

enoughtodiscourage

me."

The

superintendentatSidi

Baisfurious.

He's

tryingto

intimidate

me,but

heisn't

uptoit.H

e'sadried-up

littlerunt

with

aface

carvedout

ofgranite,

who

talkswith

hishands

andfeetand

explodeslike

aspring

everytimeItry

toget

aword

inedgew

ise.Hemustbe

veryharsh,becausehisshouting

wreaks

havocinthe

policestation,

anill-conceived

edifice,like

theprofession

carriedon

therein.The

twoinspectors

helpinghim

arestanding

atattention.The

tallerofthe

two,

abeanpole

with

amean

expression,has

itinfor

mebecause

I'1ngettinghis

bossallworked

up.The

other,asweating

greattub

oflard,can'tstop

scratchinghis

backside.Helooks

mean

Yasmina

Khadra

261

Dead

Man's

Share

too,proudofhis

military

moustache

andhisgluttonous

pig'sbelly.It's

highalert

inthe

office,whose

frenchwindow

looksout

ontoagraveled

courtyard.Weare

constantlyinterrupted

bytelephone

calls.It'sthefattub

oflard

who

answers.

Ifit

isn'tthe

mayor,

it'shis

secretary.The

inspector'sdiscom

fortbetrays

thedissatisfaction

reigningamong

thepow

ersthatbe.The

superintendentrefuses

totake

thecalls."C

an'tyou

seeI'n1busy,"

heshouts,every

timethe

inspectorholds

outthe

receiver.Asforme,Ijust

standthere

aghast.Idid

rightto

leaveSoria

atthehotel.

With

clownslike

theseinthepolice,

shewould

finallyhave

lostthe

smallamount

ofrespect

shestillhas

forme.

"Sothere

youhave

it,"the

superintendentofSidi

Ba

explodes."Youshow

upand

hellocorpses.

Things

were

calmonthe

whole,

andthen

youarrive

onyour

highhorse

andsow

yourfantasy

inafield

ofnettles.

You're

notinAlgiers,

comrade.

This

isniytow

n.Ifyou

haveaproblem

,you

come

tome.Y

ouhave

noright

tostep

onmytoes.T

hereare

regu­lations,

andadm

inistrativedivisions."

"Would

youmind

turningdow

nthe

volume?"

Isay

tohim

,"You

canbeheard

attheother

endofthe

town."

Hestops

dead.The

superintendentcan'tbear

theidea

thatonemight

notshow

himthe

properrespect

infront

ofhissubordinates;

heiswrithing

with

apoplexy."Idon't

quiteunderstand,"

hesqueals,

hopingtoget

me

tobeg

hispardon.

"That

doesn'tsurprise

me."

Cuttothe

quick,hefrothstow

ardmybelly.W

ithatrem

­bling

finger,hethreatens

me,"Save

yourarrogance

forthe

littlepeople,

pal.Iwasn't

bornyesterday.

Icrush

jokerslike

youevery

day.I'msoused

toititbores

thepants

offme.So

calmdow

n.""Fuck

you."Hemoves

tothrow

himself

atnie,but

holdsback

atthe

lastmoment.H

e'sreached

boilingpoint;

histeeth

arechew

ingathis

lipsand

hishandsare

shaking.Hetries

adifferent

tack:"Doyou

think,because

you'refrom

Algiers,thatyou

scareme?"

"That's

aboutthesize

ofit."HisAdam

'sapple

clicksinhis

constrictedthroat.

Hereal­

izeshe's

hitupon

atough

nutand

thatit'snot

inhis

interest

topush

hisluck.A

saprecaution,

heorders

hisinspectors

toclear

offOnce

we're

alone,heundoes

thetop

buttonofhis

shirtand

goesback

behindhisdesk.

Heisdeflating,

theloser.

"Ishall

informthe

minister,

Mr.L

lob.""Youcan

dropaword

inthe

president'sear,ifitw

ouldgive

youpleasure.

I'1nhere

towork.

Purtherrnore,Superintendent,

Icategoricallyforbid

youtotreatn1.e

asyoujustdid

amom

entago.

Iknow

yourun

yourship

yourwayaround

here,far

awayfrom

indiscreetears

andtherefore

withtotalim

punity,butthatdoesn'tgive

youthe

authoritytohitanyone

youwant

withyour

oars.Sticktopolishing

upyourlittle

scams.Y

ou'relucky

you'renot

alreadyrotting

behindbars.

Myshortstay

inyour

magnificent

whorehouse

hasgiven

meaninsight

intoyour

activities.Youdon't

dothings

byhalves,

andthat's

toyour

credit.Butrest

assured,I'n1.not

heretostop

yourlittle

games.So

ifyou

want

toavoid

myinvestigation

strayingoff

thebeaten

track,Isuggest

youdon't

getunder

myfeet."

Themanhasstopped

breathing.Hehas

turnedtostone

inhis

chair,withhishand

suspendedover

thetelephone.

From

260

YasminaKhadra

DeadMan's

Share

hisdistorted

pointofview

,hemust

bewondering

whether

I'mbluffing.

Welook

ateach

otherforalong

time,both

look­ing

forthe

chinkinthe

other'sarm

or.There's

nodoubt

thatthe

bastardinfrontof

meiscunning,

butnot

boldenough

tothrow

myaudacity

backatm

eand

seewhat

it'sbased

on."I

supposeyou're

wellprocecced.rM

r.Llob."

"You

amaze

me."

"May

Iseeyour

orders?""ln

yourshoes,

I'dgive

thatamiss."

Hepushes

thetelephone

back."Iget

it,"he

groans."If

it'snot

toomuch

toask...w

illthatbe

all?"Hespreads

hisarm

sin

surrender.Before

leavingIglance

backover

n1.yshoulder.

You

can't

tellsusnothing

wewantto

know.Soria

isdism

ayed;she

uttersacurse

andsinks

ontoarock.

"Itcan't

be,"she

moans,

"itcan't

be."And

burstsout

sobbing.Igo

intothe

hovel.Rachid

Debbah

islyingcurled

upon

amattress,

attheend

ofabare

roombathed

inadazzling

glare.The

onlyfurniture

isan

upturnedcrate

puttouse

asanightstand.

There

isacandle

onit,

drowned

inwax,

besidean

empty

wine

bottle.The

sleepingman

stinks;he

hasn'thad

abath

sinceNoah's

flood.Hisbare

feet,which

thetiny

fringedblanket

doesn'tmanage

tocover,

arecovered

inathick

layerof

filth.Icrouch

down

topull

backthe

blanketand

uncoverthe

pootdevil's

head:som

eonehas

smashed

inhis

skullso

hardthat

fragments

ofhisbrain

havespattered

thewall,

..

imagrne.

The

nextday,

wego

intothe

woods,

Soriaand

I,looking

forRachid

Debbah,

thefam

ouscut-throat

Tarek

Zoubir

was

goingtointroduce

ustoathis

home.W

emanage

tounearth

himlate

inthe

afternoon,thanks

tosom

eyoung

shepherds.Helives

inahovelon

theother

sideofthe

hillside,surrounded

byundergrow

thand

aheap

ofgarbage.

The

goattrack

thatleads

tohim

istoo

narrowfor

theLada.

Weabandon

thecar

besidean

orchardand

clamber

upthe

slopeonfoot.Soria

climbs

fasterthan

me,asif

afraidofarriving

toolate.

The

placemust

havesheltered

afew

families

beforeitwas

completely

burnedout.T

hedisaster

must

dateback

aneternity,

judgingby

theruined

shacks,which

areoverrun

with

wild

grassesand

rats.Athin

streamoffoul-sm

ellingwater

leaksout

ofadilapidated

tankand

disappearsbehind

awallofcactuses.

Here

too,the

carcassofadog

isbecoming

rank.Further

back,the

hovel.Its

doorislying

inthe

ditch.The

buzzingofflies

The

bloodhas

drainedout

ofSoria's

face.She

saysnothing,

holdingback

therage

welling

upinside

her.Don't

touchme,

shesaysthrough

grittedteeth

when

Ioffertohelp

herdow

nthe

steeppath.

Notanother

word

afterthat.

Nothing

butthe

spasmodic

working

ofherteeth,

ferociouslygrinding

upthe

screamsthat

leaptoher

throat.She

refusestotake

thewheel.I

drive,looking

straightahead

while

shestares

intothe

distance,stubborn,

turnedinonherself,w

ithher

armsfolded

overher

chest,like

asulky

littlegirl.

Ourtrip

backto

SidiBatakes

placeinasilence

weighted

with

storms;the

slightestspark

couldset

offthepow

derkeg.Som

ethingtells

n1esheholds

meresponsible

forthe

badluck

thatdogs

us,that

shethinks

I'mabad

ornen.Idrop

heroff

atthe

hoteland

gotopark

thecar

inthe

carpenter'syard.

Night

hasfallen.

The

feeblelam

paccentu­

atesthe

darknessatthe

baseofthe

buildings.Iswitch

off

262263

YasminaKhadra

265

Dead

Man's

Share

toapply

thecom

presses,theyquiverlike

jellyand

almost

pourout

overme.She

reallyisa

magnificent

wom

an.Now

thatsheseem

sto

havedigested

heranger,herfaceisrestfuland

hereyes,

sparklingjew

elsthatthey

are,fascinateme.H

erscent

makesm

ywhole

beinglose

itsequilibrium

;Ihavethe

vaguesensation

ofbeing

carriedalong

onastream

toward

someenchanted

shore.She

leansoveragain,andthe

nearerbreastoverflowsalittle,w

ithher

nipplelike

acherry

onacake.Suddenly,she

catchesme

lookingather,and

herexpression

leavesmeflustered.I

tryto

beataretreat,like

achild

caughtinthe

act;hersm

ilecom

fortsme,disarm

sme,

stripsmenaked;

Ican't

findthe

strengthto

fightthe

strangewave

breakingover

m.efrom

allsides.Soriasees

thatI'n1in

disarrayand

exploitsitwithout

encounteringany

resistance.Her

fingersdrop

thecom

pressesand

spreadout

overmyface,stroke

thebridge

ofmynose,slide

overmylips,

arousingamultitude

oftrem

orsin

myflesh

andasn1any

fly­ing

sparksin

1nyspirit.H

erbreastis

nowcom

pletelyfree;it's

hoveringover

mychest,like

aforbidden

fruit.Mythroatisdry

andmyheart

isfluttering

aboutin

itscage

likeafrightened

sparrow.She

leansover

somemore,

thenmore

still,lettingher

hairdrop

overmyface;her

breathmingles

with

mine

inamuted

ballet;herhand

slidesslow

lydow

nmybelly,logical

andin

control,goeslow

er,fearlesslyand

withoutreproach,asif

moved

bysom

einvincible

force.Iamwrithing

andtrem

bling,com

pletelyout

ofmydepth.Soria'slipsco1ne

andbrush

againstmine,stilling

theirquivering,drinking

intheir

fear.I'mbeing

carriedalong

toward

astate

ofdizziness,caughtupin

delicioustorm

ent.JustasIbegin

toflounder,herhands

roughlygrab

my

belt,instantlybreaking

thespell.I

pounceon

herwrist:"M

inawould

beangry

with

me,"

"She'llneverknow

,''shemurm

urs,hermouth

againstmine.

themotor

andlight

acigarette.

Justas

Iopen

thedoor,

ashadow

pounceson

meuttering

adeafening

Sonofa

bitch.A

blowto

theback

ofthe

head,another

tothe

jaw,then

blackness...When

Icom

eto

again,Irecognize

theceiling

ofmy

room.I'm

stretchedout

onmybed

with

abarbecue

grillat

mytem

ples.The

walls

areundulating

gentlyaround

me.

Itouch

myfacew

ithmyhand

andfind

patchesoffire

andlum

psunder

myear

andon

mycheeks.

Trying

toget

upIm

anageonly

toset

mymigraine

offagainand

giveup

immediately;

that'swhen

Irem

ember

Iwas

attacked.Soria

arriveswith

asaucepan

fullof

icecubes.

Shesits

downbeside

me,dips

somecom

pressesinthe

coldwater

andapplies

themgently

tomywounds.

"What

happened?""The

receptionistheard

youcry

out.If

hehadn't

come

runningout,

thebad

guyswould

havelynched

you.They

were

kickingyou

inthe

kidneyswhile

youwere

lyingon

theground.""W

ouldhe

beable

toidentify

them?"

"Itwas

dark.They

ranoffassoon

asthey

sawhim

."Myjaw

hurtslike

hell.Suddenly,Ilook

formygun

inmy

beltand

can'tfind

it.Soria

reassuresme:

"I'veput

itaw

ay....You

didn'thave

timeto

seethem

?""I

didn'tsee

anythingcom

ing.""Y

ou'regetting

old,Superintendent."

"Ithink

sotoo."

Sheiswearing

adiaphanous

go,vn,pale

andtransparent,

within

which

stirsasplendid

body.Her

bewitching

breasts,

beautifullycontained

intheir

lacybrassiere,look

likeapair

ofsuns

emerging

frombehind

acloud.W

henshe

leansover

me

264

Yasmina

Khadra

267

"I'dknow

,I'dnever

beable

tolook

atherthe

wayIused

to.Inthe

end,she'dsuspect

something

andbevery

hurt,and

asforme,I'd

neverforgive

myself"

Shedoesn't

insist."Mina

isvery

lucky,"she

says,stand­

ingup.

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

Kong

leavesthe

townhall

atfive

thirty.Hereaches

thecenteroftow

nonfoot,recognizable

byhissloping

shoul­ders

andoafish

gait.Looking

athirn,

youunderstand

rightawaywhat

abrute

is.People

crossthestreet

when

theysee

him;

kidspick

uptheir

ballsand

make

themselves

scarcewhen

heapproaches;shopkeepers

addresshimwith

elaboratesalam

aleks.Inshort,

heisintim

idationpersonified.

When

hegets

tothe

souk,heorders

somegrilled

kebabsfrom

astreet

vendor,eats

themonthe

spot,standingatthe

counter,and

leaveswithout

paying.That's

what

theycall

havinganeasy

tirneofitat

therepublic's

expense.Then

hegoes

intoaseedy-looking

café,sends

adom

inoes-playerpacking

andtakes

hisplace.

Atthe

endofthe

thirdgam

e,hehas

agoathis

partner,who

didn'tmanage

thereturn

match

well.

Toward

evening,he

stocksup

inagrocery

storeand,

with

hisarm

sfullof

purchaseshe

hasn'tpaid

for,clim

bsarepellent

alleywayand

entersavile­

lookingbuilding.

Themoment

heopens

thedoor

tobisshun,

Ibundlehim

insideand

bithimover

thehead

with

mygun.

Hecollapses

likeanelectrocuted

bear.Hisshopping

bagsburst

openon

thefloor,

litteringthe

floorwith

tangerinesand

crackedeggs.

266

YasminaKhadra

n1year,

exactlywhere

ithurts

most.

The

painstokes

upmy

anger.Istrike

outblindly,short-arm

ed,with

thebutt

of1nygun.

Kong

collapses.Igo

onhitting

him.Each

blowIland

fillsmewith

theidea

thatIam

contributingtothe

salvationofhum

ankindand,by

thesam

etoken,

carryingout

asacred

dutytothe

goodLord.

"Okay,

okay,Isurrender,"

hegasps.

Iorderhim

toback

upagainst

thewall;

heobeys,

cram­

ming

himself

intoacorner

andwiping

hisforearm

.Ihave

messed

upone

ofhiseye

socketsand

smashed

hisnose.B

loodissmeared

alloverhis

face."The

twoguys

who

attackedyou

arenot

knowntoour

battalion.They

carnehere

fromAlgiers

threedays

ago,and

claimtobe

members

ofMilitary

Security.The

mayor

receivedthem

inprivate."

"What

dothey

looklike?"

"Well,

likeeveryone

else."My.45

digsinto

hisgut.

"Ionly

sawthem

once,Iswear."

"Describe

themtome."

"Strong-looking,shaved

temples,

brokennoses.

Classic

bouncerprofile.

One

ofthem

hasascar

onhis

upperlip;

theother

onehas

shortlegsand

limps

abit.They

giveyou

achill

upand

downyour

spinewhen

youfirstsee

them."

"How

didthey

gethere?"

"What

doyou

mean?"

"Their

car?""Gray

Peugeot405,

Algiers

plates.""Arethey

theones

who

didTarek

andDebbah

in?"Kong

inoves;Ipush

himback

with

thetoe

ofmyshoe.

"That's

notaquestion

forme,Superintendent.

I'mthe

mayor's

bodyguard.It's

true,Ido

somebad

things,but

never

Dead

Man's

Share

"Hello,

Kong.Iw

asexpecting

tofind

youup

atree,but

youchoose

tovegetate

inacage.

You're

way

aheadofyour

species,Im

ustsay."

Heshakes

hishead

toorder

histhoughts.

My

.45flashes

andlays

himout

again,nose

tothe

tiles."Lie

down!"

Iswitch

onthe

lightinthe

room,close

thedoorand

crouchdow

nbeside

him,m

yBeretta

onthe

alert."W

hatdo

youwantfrom

me?"

Ishow

himthe

lumpson

myface.

"How

amIgoing

topull

anygirls,

nowthat

you'vemessed

upmylooks?

Isthat

anyway

tobehave?"

"Idon't

knowwhat

you'retalking

about.""You're

breakingmyheart,

Kong."

"Iswear

Idon'tunderstand."Igrab

himbythe

hairand

pullhis

headback

sharply.His

neckcracks

andhis

eyesbulge

with

pain."You

andyour

friendhave

made

aserious

mistake."

"You're

wrong,

Superintendent.I'1n

notcrazy.

The

firsttim

e,Ididn't

knowwho

Iwasup

against.But

assoon

asI

foundout

youwere

with

thepolice

Ikept

mydistance.

Iknow

mylim

its."Istand

upand

surveythe

hovel;it's

ashabby

roomwhere

housework

israrely

done.Ametal

bed,abench,

alow

tableoverloaded

with

dirtyplates

andglasses,

adust-covered

televi­sion

andafridge

comprise

theentirety

ofthefurnishings.O

nthe

damp-stained

walls,

amid

abunch

ofpictures

ofnaked

wom

en,an

electoralposter

showing

asmiling

mayor

ofSidiBa.

Kong

takesadvantage

ofmyinattention

topounce.

He

triesto

disable1ne

with

hisarrn

s,Idodge

himand

followup

with

aseries

oflefts

thatdon't

haveany

effecton

him.He

chargesagain,

fallingon

meand

yelling.Hisfist

slamsinto

268269

270

Dead

Nlan's

ShareYasm

inaKhadra

anythingreally

serious.Idon't

know\Vho's

behindthemurder

ofthosetwopoor

bastards.And

evenifIdid

knowsom

ethingI'dkeep

ittomyself

Idon'tplay

with

fire,me."

"Let'smake

adeal."

"No,no,

Idon't

want

tobemixed

upinthis

business.Don't

relyonme."

"Iwant

theirnam

es.''"Youknow

verywellthatguyslike

thatdon't

havenam

es.They

justhave

codenames,and

noaddress

orfamily.Y

oucan

beatmeupallnight,but

you'dbewasting

yourtim

e.Iwon't

sayanything.

Already

Idon't

remember

who

youare,

andyou've

neversetfoot

inmyhom

e."Turning

hisback

onme,hegrabs

arag,

thrustsitonto

hisface

andcraw

lsmiserably

backinto

thedepths

ofhishole.

Soriahas

beenlistening

tothe

accountof

111.yinterview

withKong

without

interrupting.Aline

onherforehead

shows

thatshe

isworried

abouthow

Iwillact

onit.She's

holdingherbreath,

withher

handsclasped

onthe

stackofpapers.

"Iwon't

forceyou

totake

anyserious

risks,Mr.Llob.

You're

freetotake

whatever

decisionyoufeelis

right.Asfor

me,it's

outofthe

questionto

stopwhen

I'vecom

ethis

far.Anarm

yofsecret

policemen

couldn'tmake

meback

offI'll

goright

tothe

furthermost

pointof

rnylimits."

"I'n1.notagutless

worrn

myself."

"That's

notthe

point.Anyone

canpull

outifhethinks

thestakes

aretoo

high.There's

nosham

einthat."

"Canyou

tell111ewhat

yourmotivation

is,rightnow

?""What

motivates

youwhen

youcarry

outyour

duties,Superintendent:

thetruth.

I'venever

beensodriven

byastory.

I'vemade

itapersonal

matter."

"Why?"

"Ican't

standinjustice.

Peoplehave

beenkilled

....''

"Abducted

andmissing."

"Comeon,

Superintendent.What

doesthat

reallymean,

abductedand

missing?"

It'sten

o'clock,and

thetow

nishunkered

downinimpen­

etrablesilence;

thestreets

aredeserted

andthe

shopsare

shut.Once

inawhile

acargoesbyand

vanishesimmediately,Soriahas

darkrings

underher

eyes.With

herlittlepocket

tape-recordernext

toher

files,shegoes

backtochecking

hernotes,confirm

­ing

certainpoints

andadding

hugequestion

marks

overothers."I'll

leaveyou

alone,"Isay

toher.

"You're

right.Agood

night'ssleep

willbring

usthe

answers."Ileave

her,prom

isingtosnore

lessloudly.Once

in111y

room,Irelease

thesafety

catchon

111yBeretta

andplace

itonmynightstand.

Ihaveno

intentionofsleeping

soundlytonight.

The

presenceofthe

twoguys

fromAlgiers

inSidiB

aworries

me.Ifthey're

behindthe

murders

ofTarek

andDebbah,

nothingwillprevent

themfrom

visitingmein

myhotel.

Iswitch

onthe

lampand

stretchout

onthe

bedwith

onehand

behindmyhead.

Inthe

morning,

Idecideonasolo

visittothe

town.T

heonly

waytobring

someorder

backton1ythoughts

istolocate

thefam

ousgray

Peugeot405

with

Algiers

plates.Bynoon,

Ihave

gonedow

nand

lurkedaround

thetow

nhall,

thentaken

upaposition

bythe

policestation.N

osign

ofmytwo

attackers.Halfw

aythrough

myinvestigation,

Irealize

I'1nbeing

followed.

The

fattub

oflardfrom

theSidi

Bapolice

stationisglued

tomyheels.H

e'strying

tobediscreet,

buthe

isn'thelpedbythe

frenziedscattering

ofmerchants

insearch

ofsafetytriggered

byhis

passing.Atthe

cornerofan

alleyway,

Icatch

himoffguard,

grabhim

bythe

throatand

thrusthim

againstawall.

271

I~r-

---

=

Yasm

inaKhadra

273

Dead

Man's

Share

"It'sfor

yourow

ngood,"

hegurgles

without

struggling.Ilet

himgo.H

estraightens

thecollar

ofhisshirtand

says,"If

itwas

upto

me,I'd

begetting

laidinstead

oftrottingalong

afteryou

likeapuppy

soyou

don'tgetroyallylynched

bythe

111ob.Except

thesuperintendent

insistshe

doesn'twant

tohave

topick

youup

inlittle

tinypieces.

Hedoesn't

want

anytrouble

onhis

watch,

youget

nie?Ican

assureyou

it'snotout

oftearn

spiritnor

becausehe

likesyour

looks.""Frankly,

with

t\VOcorpses

onyour

handsand

twodan­

gerouslunatics

inthe

town,

don'tyou

thinkthere

arem

oreim

portantthings

todo

thango

roundsniffing

atmy

ass?""A

sfar

asthe

deadare

concerned,they've

beenburied

andthe

investigationcontinues.

Asfor

thetw

obastards

who

attackedyou,they've

flownthe

coop.""N

okidding."

"Itmay

notlook

likeit,

butwehad

nothingto

dowith

thosecrooks.

We're

copsand

we

carryout

ourduties

with

thefew

resourceswehave

atour

disposal.""H

owtouching."

He

looksat

mewith

disgustin

hiseyes.

"Iseldom

lackrespect

formycolleagues,

butright

nowI'm

dyingto

punchyou

inthe

mouth."

"Sodie

andlet's

getit

overwith."

He

snickers,with

hismouth

curledinto

asneer

ofdistaste."Y

oupoor

fool!"1get

rnyleftready.H

eissaved

byagroup

ofwom

enem

erg­ing

fromapatio.

Westare

ateachother.

Hebacks

down

first,shakes

hishead

andretreats

with

hisfingererect.

"Watch

yourstep,

Superintendent.You're

struttingabout

inaminefield."

"You're

inaw

orseposition.

Ifeelsorryforyour

mirror."

Herecovers

hisfinger,

usesit

totug

atthe

bottomof

hisunderpants

andwaddles

off.

That

afternoon,Soria

insiststhat

wego

backto

thehom

eofLabras,

thechicken

farmer.

Isubjecther

toacom

plicatedroute,

inthe

hopethat

thegray

Peugeot405

will

appearin

therear-view

mirror,

After

we've

beenon

theroad

forseveral

kilometers,

we

agreethat

we're

notbeing

followed.

Weretrace

oursteps

asfaras

theR

oman

bridgeand

goback

throughthe

forestuntil

wereach

JelloulLabras's

fann.W

efind

thelatter

sittingon

arock

bythe

sideof

theroad,

asif

expectingour

visit.His

welcom

eis

lessthan

generous.Soria

asksmeto

leaveitto

herandgets

outof

thecar.Iw

atchfrom

thecar

asthey

carryon

aconversation.

The

farmer

isn'tvery

warrn.

His

weary

gesturesand

theway

herolls

hiseyesatm

eare

notencouraging.

Soriadoesn't

letherself

getbeaten.She

playsher

strongestcards:

hercharm

andher

arguments.

The

man

moves

limply,

payinglessand

lessattentionto

whatshe

issaying.

Finally,bysom

emiracle,

hestands

upand

headsfortheeucalyptus.

Soriagestures

tometo

followher;

it'sin

thebag.

The

farmer

putsout

threefolding

chairsaround

thetable

atthe

footof

thetree.

Hedoesn't

addressaword

tom

e.He

avoidslooking

atme.

Isit

down

besideSoria;

hepositions

himself

slightlyto

oneside.Suddenly,

hesays,"I

was

atTarek

Zoubir's

burial.His

deathaffected

meprofoundly.

Hewas

agood

inan.""D

idyou

knowhim

?""Y

es....Hehad

fallenalong

way,it's

true,but

onceupon

atim

ehe

was

respected.I-few

asalocal

authorityin

thenine­

teensixties.

An

idealist,clean.

Hebelieved

inthe

renewal

ofAlgeria.

His

promises

didn'tsurvive

Jongin

theface

ofthose

greedyvultures.

When

hetried

tooppose

theLefty,

who

hadgrabbed

theregion

forhimself

andhis

gangsters,he

foundhim

selfin

thegutter.

He's

luckyhe

wasn't

doneaw

aywith

sooner.Iow

ethis

farmto

hirn.Iwas

starving.Nobody

272

274

DeadMan's

ShareYasmina

Khadra

would

givemeajob.

Nobody,in

thetow

nor

anywhere

else,could

standthe

sightofm

e.Iw

aslike

aplague

victim;

Istillam

,even

ifpeople

don'tthrow

stonesatm

eany

more.

Ihad

nowork,

norelatives

andno

support,myhouse

hadbeen

confiscatedby

thefellaghas...."Fellaghas!T

heword

explodesinmelike

abomb,

blowing

apartmyequanim

ity.Myexpression

darkensin

afraction

ofasecond,

andmytem

plesburn.

Istand

upand

indignationgushes

forth:"W

hatdid

yousay

thosefreedom

fighterswere

called?""F

ellaghas...."This

time,

it'smyguts

thatareon

fire.Iam

overcomewith

incandescentrage.

"Take

itback,and

doitnow

.""lt

won't

cleartheir

name,

youdo

knowthat,"

hesays,

somew

hatintrigued

bymyreaction.

"Iforbid

youto

callthemthat."

"Hey,m

akesno

differenceto

me.

Idon'tneed

yourper­

mission

andI'll

callanyoneIw

antwhatever

Iwant.

Foryou,

theywere

heroes;forme,they

were

demons."

"Because

theharkis

were

angels?""T

heywere

what

theywere,

andatworst

theyweren't

asbarbaric

asthefellaghas."

Myfistflashes

out.Labras

takesitjust

belowhis

leftear;

hefalls

flaton

hisback.To

stophim

gettingup

again,Igive

himmy.45

underthe

chin.Soria

triesto

intervene;Icatapult

heraside,against

mybetter

nature.Labras

putshimself

outof

reachofm

yblow

sand

pointshis

fingerat

me."W

ouldyou

dareto

raiseyour

handagainst

meifyou

weren't

acop?

I'dcrush

youlike

aripe

pumpkin.

But

thelaw

'son

yourside,

isn'tit?It'sm

adeto

measure

foryou,isn't

thatright,Superintendent?You

strikefirst

andthen

youhide

behindthe

law.D

on'tyou

thinkthat's

ratherasim

plecontest?

Goon,putyour

badgeand

gunaw

ayand

showmethere's

more

thanshitin

yourbelly."

Itakeoff

myjacket

andput

mygun

andbadge

downon

theground.

He

surprisesmewith

ahook.

A.flashlights

upmybrain;

asecond

hookfollow

s.Mylegsw

obblebeneath

hisblow

s,butmypride

forbidsmeto

cavein.In

anexcessofrage,

Iattackagain.W

etangle

with

eachother

inaw

ebofcurses

andinextricable

contortions.He's

verysolid,this

chickenfarm

er.The

healthycountry

airhelps

himwith

theclose

work.Soon,

myenergy

isbeing

sappedby

myragged

gasping;mygrip

onhirn

fallsapart,

weakens,

I'mgrabbing

forahold

anyway

Ican.

The

pollutionofA

lgiershangs

heavyon

mylegs.Labras

realizeshe

isgetting

theupper

hand,and

slipshis

armunder

mybuttock

tolift

meup;

Istickafinger

inhis

eyeand

forcehim

toput

medow

nagain.

Asudden

explosionbrings

usto

order.It'sSoria.

She'sholding

1nyBeretta

inboth

handsand

pointingthe

gunatus.

"That's

enough!"Wemove

apart,Labras

andI,mesm

erizedby

thebarrel

ofthegun.

"Hey!"

Isayto

thehistorian.

"That's

notoy

forawom

an,you

know."

"Nor

areyou

two.

Your

squabblingisgetting

onmy

nerves.And

you'reridiculous.

What's

mostfrustrating

isreal­izing

thatyou

don'tsee

itinyourselves.

Tim

eshave

changed,gentlem

en.The

idealsyou

usedto

defendhave

nocurrency

today,and

what's

happeningto

thecountry

isthe

antithesisofyour

Utopias.

Have

pityon

yourselvesand

sparemeyour

foolishness.I'm

carryingout

aserious

investigationhere.

The

lastthing

Ineed

ispettiness,

ofwhich

youtwoare

sadexam

ples."

275

Yasm

inaKhadra

277

Dead

Man's

Share

"What

became

ofyesterday's

promises

isnot

within

my

remit.

ButIw

on'tallowanyone

tocallm

enand

wom

enw

hodied

fortheir

countryfellaghas."

"And

what

haveyou

doneto

honortheir

mem

ory,you,

theguardian

ofthe

Tem

ple?"the

farmer

shoutsat

me.

"The

countrythey

diedforhasbeen

handedover

todogs

andgood­

for-nothingsand,

apartfrom

huntingdow

nlegless

cripplesand

beatingup

men

with

noarm

s,what

haveyou

doneabout

it,M

r.FreedomFighter?"

"Iw

asnot

afellagha.""W

ereyou

justin

themaquisi"

"What

aboutthis?"

Iroar,liftingn1y

undershirtto

showabullet-hole

two

centimeters

away

fromm

yheart.

"Do

youthink

that'sa

cigaretteburn?"

"What

aboutthis?"

heretorts,

pullinghis

trousersdow

nto

hisgroin.

"Do

youthink

that'sm

yeunuch's

badge?''M

ybreath

iscut

short.Soria

doesn'tturn

away.

Though

shockedby

them

an'snakedness,

sheseem

sturned

tostone

atthesightofhis

groin,w

hichis

denselycovered

with

pubichair,

asif

tohide

hisaffliction:

thefarm

er'spenis

andtesticles

havebeen

cutoff.

The

silenceof

thetom

bfallson

theridge.

Labraspulls

histrousers

backup

andsits

down

again.

Pantingbut

calm.H

eturns

hisbackon

me,

asifto

expelm

efrom

theuniverse,

andaddresses

Soriaand

Soriaonly:

"You

shouldhave

lefthim

inhis

zoo,madam

e.W

ildcats

getvery

agitatedw

henyou

takethem

intothe

forest.""I'm

trulysorry,M

r.Labras."

He

winks

athersadly.

"It'snottoo

bad.ln

aw

ay,it'seven

agood

thing:atleast

I'llstay

faithfulto

my

deadw

ifeto

thelast.

ForTarek

Zoubir,"

histone

changessuddenly,

"I'llm

akean

exception.H

edidn't

deserveto

endhis

dayslike

that.I

owe

hima

lot.H

ew

asthe

onlyperson

inauthority

who

was

willing

tosee

me.

He

listenedto

me,

andit

was

himw

hosuggested

Imove

inhere,farfrom

men

andtheir

rancor.Ifithadn't

beenfor

hispersonal

intervention,the

bankw

ouldn'thave

lentm

eenough

tobuy

some

ropeto

hangm

yselfThe

bastardsw

hokilled

hitnw

on'tget

away

with

it.I'mready

torisk

everythingto

make

thempay.T

ellme

what

youw

antto

know,madam

e,1'1n

ready."Soria

handsm

em

ygun.Islip

itunderm

ybeltand

goand

getsom

eair

alittle

apartfrom

them,

butat

adistance

fromw

hichIw

on'tm

issany

oftheconversation.

"Tarek

Zoubir

wasgoing

tointroduce

usto

akey

witness

onthe

dayhe

wasm

urdered,M

r.Labras.A

witness

tothe

dis­appearance

oftheTalbifam

ily,who

disappearedon

thenight

ofthetw

elfthto

thethirteenth

ofAugust

nineteensixty-tw

o.H

ereally

wanted

tocooperate

fully.Unfortunately,

theygot

thereahead

ofus.

And

Debbah-

""D

on'ttalk

tom

eabout

thatdog.H

edied

thew

ayhe

hadalw

ayslived.He

wasabutcher,

scumofthe

worstkind.M

anyinnocent

peoplew

entunderhis

knife.Justthinkingabout

hirnm

akesm

ew

antto

goand

shiton

histom

b."Soria

raisesherarms."Sorry.Ididn'tknow

youhated

him."

"Hated

him?

That

would

dohim

toom

uchhonor."

"Very

well,M

r.Labras.Itake

backw

hatIsaid."

"There's

nopoint

wasting

time

onthat,

madam

e.What

must

berem

embered

onceand

forallis

thatthe

peoplew

how

ereabducted

thatnightand

arestillm

issingw

ereexecuted,

with

theexception

ofachild

who

managed

toescape,a

childwhom

theLefty's

men

huntedfor

months,

maybe

years,and

whom

theynever

found.Iw

asthere,madam

e.Iwillneverforget

what

happenedthatnight.

Never.1

canrem

ernberthe

tiniestdetails,

everycurse

utteredby

theLefty'sfell...henchm

en,the

276

278

DeadMan's

ShareYasmina

Khadra

tearson

thecheeks

ofthewom

enand

children,everyprayer

ofthe

men

who

were

abouttobe

liquidated....Ihadbeen

arrestedt\VO

daysbefore.T

heyfound

n1ein

thewoods,

where

Ihadbeen

hidingsince

thefirst

mass

killings,the

oneswhere

my

wife,

1nyfather

andtwoof

rnybrothers

were

finishedoff.I

washoping

toget

toaport

andsailto

France,but

FLNtroops

were

scouringthe

region,putting

upcheckpoints

onallthe

main

roadsand

checkingall

travelerswithout

exception.The

huntforharkisw

asatitspeak.

Iwasone,and

therewasa

priceon

myhead.

Idon'tknow

howmany

daysand

nightsIhid

inthe

forest,eatingplants

andwild

berries.One

morning

Icarnedow

nto

aspring

toquench

mythirst,

andthe

Lefty'shench­

men

pouncedon

me.Sorne

ofthemwanted

toslit

n1ythroat

onthe

spot,the

othersinsisted

Ishouldbe

broughtbefore

theirleader.

They

tookmeto

adisused

look-outpost

andtied

meup

inacave.

Thatsam

eday,three

more

harkiscarne

tokeep

me

company.

One

ofthem

hadbeen

badlybeaten;

hedied

fromhis

injuriesbefore

sunset.The

nextday,afteram

ockexecution,

theytook

usback

tothe

cave.That

evening,atractor

arrivedwith

ahefty

escort.Irecognized

AllalK

aïdand

hisfamily,as

well

asthe

Ghanem

s.They

hadtheir

belongingsin

suitcasesand

didn'tunderstand

what

theywere

supposedto

havedone

wrong.A

fewhours

laterthe

Bahass

family

arrived,onfoot.I

remem

berthat

theoldest

childwascarrying

hisgrandm

otheron

hisback.

Straightafterw

ards,atruck

unloadedTalbi

andhis

family,

None

ofthemunderstood

why

theywere

there.It

seemed

tomethat

noteven

thekidnappers

knew.They

were

waiting

fortheLefty's

orders.Itw

asn'tuntil

theysaw

Debbah

theButcher

showup,

with

hisbag

fulloflong

swords,

thatthey

beganto

getthe

picture.Asit,vasgetting

late,arurnor

startedto

goround

thatthe

Leftycouldn't

comeand

hadordered

ustobe

puttodeath.W

eand

thetw

oharkis

decided

tosell

ourlives

dearly.The

killersbegan

with

theKaïds.

The

sceneplayed

itselfoutin

aclearing,

underthe

lightof

amoon

thatwasbright

asday.W

henthey

startedtying

upthe

children,Allal

Kaïd

shoutedout,

'They're

goingto

slitour

throats.'There

waspanic.

The

threefam

iliesspread

outinthe

generalchaos.T

heLefty's

men

startedshooting

leftandright.

Mytwocom

panionsand

Itookadvantage

oftheconfusion

tomake

ourgetaw

ay,overcom

ingthe

t\VOmen

standingguard

infront

ofthe

cavealong

theway,T

herewere

alreadyafew

bodieslaid

outin

theclearing.A

llthe

kids,and

thewom

enwho

hadbeen

caughtby

theirpursuers,

were

screaming.

Bullets

were

whistling

aboutmyears.

Iran

asfar

asIcould.

Mybound

handsweren't

much

help.Iran

intoatree

andslid

intoaditch.T

hreearm

edn1en

caughtme.'This

one'srnirie,'

Debbah

said.The

othertwopinned

meto

theground

while

Debbah

pulleddow

nmytrousers.

Heem

asculatedmethere

andthen.

There

was

more

screaming

nearby,so

heordered

theyoungestto

letmesuffera

while

beforeblow

ingmybrains

out.Ihadn't

passedout.

The

painwas

soatrocious

itkeptme

conscious.And

therewas

thescream

ingofthe

victims.The

guywho

hadbeen

toldto

finishmeoffw

astrem

blinglike

aleaf

Ibeggedhim

toput

meout

ofmymisery.Sobbing,

heshook

hishead.

Hisrifle

was

shakinginhis

arms.Heaim

edthe

barrelat

myhead,

thenturned

itaw

ay,shotto

oneside

andfled."W

hythe

Talbis?"Soria

persisted."Idon'tknow

.I'veoften

askedmyselfthatquestion.T

herehave

beensom

especulative

theories,most

ofthem

fantasies.Sorne

arevery

serious,oftenimprobable.Ihave

myprinciples:

thiscountry

hasgot

usso

usedtomanipulation

anddisinfor­

mation

that,in

orderto

keepmyhead

onmyshoulders,

I'IJonly

believewhat

Icantouch

wich

myhands

andsee

with

1ny

279

280

Dead

Man's

Share

281

YasminaKhadra

eyes.The

Talbis?

Idon't

getit.T

heothers?

They

were

rich,and

peoplehad

itinfor

thembecause

theyhadn't

supportedthe

armed

strugglefinancially.

Their

refusaltoparticipate

inthe

war

effortwas

seenashigh

treason.""Tarek

suggesteditwassothat

theLefty

couldappropri­

atetheir

wealth."

"That's

what

hewent

onand

did.The

officialversion

remains

thefirst

one.""The

Talbis

weren't

wealthy."

"Exactly.T

hat'sthe

flawinthe

theory.Later,

therewasa

rumor

aboutthem

,but

itfizzledout."

"Why's

that?""It

might

justhave

beentittle-tattle."

"Tell

usanyw

ay.""Idon't

havethe

right.Iknow

someone

inabetter

posi­tion

thanrne

toansw

eryou."

"Does

heJive

aroundhere?"

"Yes,

butIdon't

knowwhether

he'swilling

totalk

toyou.

Hewas

veryfriendly

with

Tarek

inthose

days.Andhe's

aman

ofintegrity.

lnmyopinion,

heknow

salarge

partof

thetruth.""Can

youtake

ustohim

?""Imust

askhim

first."

must

haveprom

isedour

witness

thathewouldn't

beexposed

toany

risk.Although

I'mimpatient

toreach

ourdestination,

Ileavehim

tofeel

outthe

territoryashe

seesfit.There

isacar

waiting

forus.Labras

asksusto

climbinto

theback

seat,jumps

behindthe

wheeland

drivesthe

vehicleonto

thetarm

acwith

itsheadlights

extinguished.Hedoesn't

turnthe

headlightson

untilafter

wehave

skirtedround

thecity

walls.W

eleave

thetow

nbehind

andturn

toward

Médéa.

The

nightisdark,

thesky

threatening.Wedon't

encountera

singlecar

onthe

road.The

countrysideisburied

inshadow

s,the

silencepierced

hereand

thereby

thehow

lingofw

ilddogs.

Wereach

ajunction,make

adetour

becauseabridge

hasbeendam

agedby

floods,and

headdow

natrack.

Labrasswitches

offthe

headlightsand

getsout

tolisten.

Hecom

esback

afterthree

minutes,sure

thatno

oneisfollow

ingus.

Headlights

stillswitched

off,hestarts

upagain

smoothly

andheadsfora

copseoftrees.A

boltof

lightningstreaks

acrossthe

distantsky,follow

edby

agust

ofwind

thatisswallow

edup

bythe

trees.The

firstfew

fatdrops

ofrain

spatterthe

windscreen.

The

headlights,now

switched

on,illum

inatea

deeplyrutted

roadhem

med

inby

thickets.The

creakingof

theshock-absorbers

coversthe

soundsofthe

forest.Soria

looksstraight

ahead,holding

herbreath.

Herhands

slideanxiously

upand

downher

thighs."Is

itfar?"

Iask.Labras

doesn'tansw

er.Heismaneuvering

thecar

skill­fully

an1ongthe

ruts,one

eyeon

thestate

ofthe

roadand

theother

onthe

rear-viewmirror.W

edrive

onfor

abouttwenty

minutes,

untilwestart

tomake

outsom

efar-off

specksof

lightindicating

afew

hearthsthat

areasdistant

fromeach

otherasmyway

ofthinking

isfrom

thechicken

farmer's.

At

last,justasweemerge

throughahedge

ofspindlypine

trees,

'•

JelloulLabras

comestofetch

usatthehotelataboutm

idnight,Headvises

ustoleave

theLada

where

itisandtomake

ourway

throughthe

maze

ofnarrowstreets

thatdisappear

intothe

oldtow

n.On

severaloccasions

hegoes

onahead

andscrutinizes

thearea;som

etimeshepushes

usintoadoorw

ayand

headsbacktosee

ifwe're

beingfollow

ed.He's

notfrightened;he'sjust

onhis

guardand

doesn'tseem

tobe

exaggerating.These

excessivemeasures

aren'tbeingtaken

toprotect

ourmovem

ents;Labras

Yasmina

Khadra

283

Dead

Man's

Share

barkingbreaks

out.Thedog's

eyesgleam

inthe

darkness.Behind

it,thereisa

buildingwhere

someone

hasjustswitched

onalight.A

silhouettecorn

esout

ontothe

terraceand

tellsthe

animaltobequiet.I

recognizeRabah

Ali,the

manwho

cametosee

meatthe

hoteland

suggestedIgetin

contactwith

thechicken

farmer,H

ehas

changedsince

theother

day;he

seemstohave

cheeredup.N

othinglike

thefearfulm

anwho

couldn'twaitto

getaway.T

histimehecultivates

anaggressive

manner,

withfrow

ningeyes

andaheavy

mouth.

Iwonder

whether

hisconfident

lookisn't

downtohishunting

garb­mesh

trousersand

abrightly

colorednylon

jacketover

awool

sweater,

finishedoffwith

animpressive

studdedAmerican

belt.Heleads

usinto

aliving

roomstrew

nwithChaoui

rugsillum

inatedbybronze

lampsinsconces.

Wesitdow

non

paddedbenches.

JelloulLabras

choosestorem

ainstanding

bythe

window

."A

sfarasmychildren

areconcerned,

I'vegone

partridgehunting,"

Rabah

Aliexplains

inastuttering

voicethat

con­trasts

withhiscarefully

calculatedappearance.

"Which

isnotuntrue.

Inafew

hours,som

efriends

willjoin

me.Atfour

o'clock»re

will

setofffor

thewoods.

Allofthis

soasnot

toattract

attention.I've

alreadytold

you,Mr.Llob.

Iwant

tostay

outofthis

business.Even

ifIthink

it'shigh

timeto

lancethe

boil.Jellouldidn't

havetowork

hardtopersuade

rne.I've

haditup

tohere

myself,and

I'llbeglad

when

it'sover

with,

Butbefore

wegoanyfurther,I

havetoask

afew

"Thefirst

timearound,

itwasyou

whosteered

ustow

ardLabras.

Tonight,he's

bringingustoyou.

Would

youmind

tellingmewhat

theconnection

isbetween

you?"Jelloul

raiseshis

hand,asking

ourhost's

perrnissionto

answerinhis

stead.Thelatter

accepts.Thechicken

farmer

addressesSoria:

"The

armedmanDebbah

orderedtoblow

mybrains

outonthe

nightofthe

twelfth

tothethirteenth

ofAugust

wasthis

man,R

abahAli...."

Soriaisdism

ayedbymybehavior.

These

detailsdon't

interesther.She's

desperatetoget

tothe

heartofthe

matter.

Sheturns

toRabah

Ali."MayItake

notes,Mr.A

li?""Idon't

seewhynot."

"Thank

you."She

getsanotepad

andapen

outofher

bag,switching

onthe

taperecorder

shehas

hiddenthere

asshe

doesso.T

otallyincontrol

ofhermovem

entsandfeelings,she

opensthe

con­versation:

"I'1nwaiting

foryour

questions,Mr.A

li.""Doyou

knowwhoyou're

upagainst?"

"HajThobane,

otherwise

knownasthe

Lefty,a

personofnational

influenceand

amember

ofthe

PoliticalBureau."

"Very

good,madam

e.How

farare

youwilling

togo?"

"Me,all

theway,"

saysSoria."M

eaning?""W

hatitm

eans.""A

'reyou

sureyou

reamatch

forHajT

hobane?Ifso,how

?""Would

youmìnd

tellingmewhat

thisisall

about?"I

growl."Please,Superintendent,"

Soriabreaks

in."Iknow

exactlywhere

he'sgoing

withthis

andhe's

right.Twomenhave

alreadybeen

killedbecause

ofour

investigation.Iswear

thattheir

deathswillnot

gounpunished.

You're

wondering,

Mr.A

li,how

Iintend

tocross

swords

with

agod

likeThobane,

who

."

questions."That's

fine,"Isay,"only

I'vegot

oneimportant

one.After

that,I'llletyou

takeover

andhave

thefloor."

Rabah

Alifrow

ns.Helooks

atJelloul,whonods.

"Goahead,

Mr.L]ob."

282

Yasmina

Khadra

DeadMan's

Share

:flourishesby

doingwhatever

helikes

with

norespectfor

laws

orthe

peoplewho

want

toapply

thern?I'n1.not

alone,believe

me.

Ihave

solidbacking,

important

peoplein

authoritywho

areup

todate

with

myresearch

andwouldn't

hesitateto

backmeup

ifIdiscoveredanything

seriousenough

toputT

hobane

upagainst

aw

all,Iw

ouldnever

havestarted

onthis

businessif

Ihadn'tbeensure

Icouldm

obilizepeople

who

couldcarry

itthrough

tothe

word

'end.'""I

won't

keepanything

fromyou:

that'swhat

Ithought.

Itgives

me

complete

reassurance,now

thatyou

confirmit.

BecauseI've

gotsomerevelations

foryou,

andthey're

major."

His

voicesuddenly

goeshusky.

The

mom

enthe

hasbeenfearing

hasarrived.

Hehasjust

remem

beredthe

dangersthat

awaithim

andaglin1m

erofdoubt

flashesacross

hisface.Soria

looksat

himintently,

asif

tobreathe

some

ofher

determi­

nationinto

hirn,Rabah

Ali's

prouddem

eanoris

somew

hatdim

inished;he

hesitatesslightly,

triesto

pullhim

selftogether.There

arebeads

ofperspirationon

hisforehead;hislips

aredry.

"You

haveto

goahead,

SyAli,"

saysthe

chickenfarm

erencouragingly.

"Itrust

thislady."

Rabah

Alithinks

aboutthe

farmer's

exhortationand

some­

howmanages

toovercom

ehis

misgivings.

He

goesinto

aneighboring

roomand

comes

backwith

asm

allspiral-boundnotebook,

which

heslaps

down

ontothe

lowtable

infront

ofSoria.

"I'vekept

thisfor

twenty-five

years.Now

Iwant

nothingmore

todo

with

it.""W

hatis

it?"asks

Soria,turning

pale."It

belongedto

Am

eurTalbi.

Iw

asthe

onewho

was

orderedto

escortthem

thatnight,"

hetells

us."A

ndImean

'escort.'Ididn't

knowthere

was

goingto

beany

roughstuff.

Iwas

barelytw

entyyears

old,and

myhands

were

stillclean.

284

Iwas

orderedto

findthe

Talbisand

tellthem

topack

theirbags.A

truckwas

putat1nydisposal

forthe

mission,

Inthose

days,Ididn'targue

with

ordersorask

myselfquestions.

Atnine

thirty,Iknockedon

theTalbis'

door.M

yrifle

wasn'tloaded.

That

shows

howlittle

Iknew

what

was

goingto

happen.Ameur

Talbiwasn't

expectingour

visit.He

saidthere

was

amisunderstanding,

thatthe

Leftywould

neversend

anyoneto

hishouse.

IsaidIhad

strictinstructions

andthat

Ihad

todrive

himand

hisfam

ilyto

postnum

berthirty-tw

o.Ameur

Talbitold

mehe

couldn'tcom

eanyw

ay,becausehis

wife

was

semi-paralyzed

andhis

youngerson

hadaforty-degree

fever.Ihad

noradio

ortelephone

totalk

tomysuperiors.Seeing

my

uncertainty,Ameur

Talbigave

methis

notebookto

provethat

Ihadthe

wrong

person.Iopened

thenotebook

toread

it.At

thatmom

entajeep

droveup.ltw

asan

NCO

.Withoutgetting

outof

thevehicle,

heshouted

atme

tohurry

up.Itried

toexplain

thatwe

might

havethe

wrong

person.He

yelledat

111ethat

ifIwasn't

atpost

number

thirty-two

byten

o'clockbe

would

tearoffm

yskin

with

pliers.Ameur

Talbihadheard.

The

orderswere

clear.Itold

himthat

everythingwould

besorted

outonce

we

gotto

postnum

berthirty-tw

oand

thatthere

didn'tseem

tobe

anyreason

topanic.

He

noddedand

fetchedhis

children.Tw

oof

n1ymen

helpedhirn

carryhis

wife.W

ewent

upto

postnumber

thirty-two

andIm

issedthe

rest.Jelloulmust

havetold

youwhathappened

afterwards."

Soriawants

toknow

what

theLefty

hadagainst

Ameur

Talbi.Frightened

bythe

seriousnessofw

hathe

hasrevealed,

andknow

inghe

hasgone

toofar

toturn

backnow

,Rabah

Alislaps

thenotebook

down

onthe

tableagain.

"What,you

stilldon't

understand?Ameur

Talbi

was

theLefty's

closestcollaborator,

hismosttrusted

confidant:he

was

histreasurer."

zss-

J

Yasm

inaKhadra

Athunderbolt

explodingin

ourmidst.

The

shockis

suchthat

thepen

Soriahas

beenholding

inher

handsnaps

intw

o.Her

faceis

awaxen

mask.

Iamnum

b,and

therest

ofAli's

wordsfail

toreach

me.It's

enoughfor

meto

watch

hismouth

working

hisgall.

Cosm

ichissing

fillsmy

ears,blotting

outthe

screamsof

thewind

inthe

treesand

thedrurnm

ingof

therain

onthe

roof.CHAPTER

TWENTY

Ican

hardlyrecognize

Soria.A

strangeblend

ofrage

andintense

joyhasaltered

herfeatures.She

didn'tutter

asolitaryw

ordwhile

Labrasdrove

usback

tothe

hotel.Icould

onlyfeel

theconstant

trembling

ofher

body,transm

ittedto

me

throughthe

leatherof

theback

seat.She

didn'teven

thankthe

chickenfarm

erwhen

shelethim

go.Once

inher

room,

shethrew

herselfat

hersuitcases

inasort

offrenzyand

startedrifling

franticallythrough

herthings.

"What's

gotinto

you?"Iask

her."I'm

packingup

andgetting

outof

here.""D

oyou

haveany

ideawhat

timeitis?

It'llbe

dawnsoon."

Her

mouth

twists

asshe

straightensup.

Her

staringeyes

lookme

upand

down.

"Don't

youget

ityet,M

r.Llob?

Forthe

firsttim

ein

hislife,

thatmonster

Haj

Thobane

isin

ahole,

andI'1n

deadset

onturning

itintohis

grave.To

doit,I

haveto

strikewhile

theiron

ishot.One

tea-break,one

delay,one

distractionand

hecould

turnthe

situationin

hisfavor.

Iwon't

givehim

thechance.

I'drather

die.Iw

anthim

tofall,

andthe

soonerthe

better.""W

eneed

somesleep.

It'sadifficult

drive,andthe

weather

outsideis

foul."

287

Yasmina

Khadra

Athunderbolt

explodingin

ourm

idst.The

shockis

suchthat

thepen

Soriahas

beenholding

inher

bandsnaps

intw

o.Her

faceis

aw

axenmask.

Iamnum

b,andthe

restofA

li'swords

failtoreach

me,It's

enoughform

eto

watch

hismouth

working

hisgall.

Cosm

ichissing

fillsmy

ears,blotting

outthe

screams

ofthe

wind

inthe

treesand

thedrum

ming

ofthe

rainon

theroof.

CHAPTERTWENTY

Ican

hardlyrecognize

Soria.A

strangeblend

ofrage

andintensejoy

hasalteredher

features.She

didn'tutter

asolitary

word

while

Labrasdrove

usback

tothe

hotel.Icould

onlyfeel

theconstant

trembling

ofher

body,transm

ittedto

rnethrough

theleather

ofthe

backseat.

Shedidn't

eventhank

thechicken

farmer

when

shelet

himgo.

Once

inher

room,

shethrew

herselfathersuitcasesin

asortoffrenzy

andstarted

riflingfrantically

throughher

things."W

hat'sgot

intoyou?"

Iaskher.

"I'n1packing

upand

gettingout

ofhere."

"Doyou

haveany

ideawhat

timeitis?It'll

bedaw

nsoon."

Her

mouth

twists

asshe

straightensup.

Her

staringeyes

lookmeup

anddow

n."D

on'tyou

getityet,

Mr.Llob?

Forthe

firsttim

ein

hislife,

thatmonster

Haj

Thobane

isin

ahole,

andI'n1

deadseton

turningitinto

hisgrave.

Todo

it,Ihave

tostrike

while

theiron

ishot.One

tea-break,one

delay,one

distractionand

hecould

turnthe

situationin

hisfavor.I

won't

giveh.im

thechance.

I'drather

die.Iwant

himto

fall,and

thesooner

thebetter."

"Weneed

somesleep.It'sa

difficultdrive,andthe

weather

outsideisfoul."

287

YasminaKhadra

"No

restuntilthew

ar'sover.May

1remind

youthatyou

haveto

rescuea

lieutenantw

ho'slanguishingin

theshit?

Inhis

situation,tim

eis

worth

more

thangold;

it'ssurvival.

lnany

case,I'1n

soexcited

Icouldn'tpossibly

sleepanyw

here.If

you'retired,

I'lltake

thew

heel.Iprom

iseto

getyouhom

e.

.''

inone

piece."W

hatabout

my

car?""G

ivem

ethe

keysandpapers.

I'llsend

someone

togetrt

,,tom

orrow.

There's

nopointarguing.

She'salready

elsewhere.

Iputabrave

faceon

itandgo

backto

my

roornto

pack.Idon't

lastlong.

About

ahundred

kilometers

in,Islump

down

inm

yseat.

Soriaw

akesm

eas

we

enterA

lgiers.She

needsm

eto

directherto

my

home.Idirecther

ina

daze.Shedrops

me

offinfrontofm

ybuilding

andvanishes,

forgettingthatm

ybags

arein

thetrunk

ofthe

Lada.M

yw

atchsaysit'sfive

o'clockin

them

orning.Somehow

,I

climb

thestairs.

On

thethird-floor

landing,I

strugglein

vainto

overcome

my

dizziness.This

makes

two

nightsin

arow

thatIhaven't

shutm

yeyes.

Mina

opensthe

door,her

prettyface

puffyw

ithinterrupted

dreams.

Icollapseinto

herarm

sand

lether

takecare

ofm

e.I

havea

vaguerecollection

ofher

takingm

yshoes

off.My

headburies

itselfina

pillowand

imm

ediatelydrags

111.edow

ninto

aw

onderfulabyss.Isleep

likealog.T

hesun

isonits

,vaydow

nw

henIcom

eback

tom

ysenses.M

inais

sittingon

theside

ofthe

bedand

smiling

atm

e.Shehas

touchedup

herm

ake-up

andem

pha­sized

hereyelashes

with

kohl."I've

runyou

abath,"

shechirps.

"Icertainly

needone."

While

she'ssoapingup

my

back,Iask

whether

therehave

beenany

phonecalls.

288

Dead

A111n'sShare

"Apart

fromM

onique,no

one.""W

hatdid

shew

ant?""T

here'saw

eddingthis

weekend.

IsaidI'd

thinkaboutit."

Bythe

eveningI'm

fittobe

tied.Soria

hasn'tshow

nany

signoflife.

What

drivesm

em

adis

thatI

didn'tonce

havethe

presenceof

mind

toget

heraddress.

Idon'tknow

where

shelives,or

howto

getintouch

with

her.The

more

thetelephone

continuesto

broodin

silence,the

worse

111ym

oodgets.

I'mso

disappointedI

don'ttouch

my

dinner.T

oward

midnight

my

temples

startthrobbing

again.M

inabegs

me

tocorne

tobed.

Idig

1nyheels

in.In

theend,

Icollapse

onthe

paddedbench

inthe

livingroom

.Sarne

againthe

nextday.Istareatthe

telephoneallm

orn­ing,

likethe

dogin

His

Master's

Voice.A

partfrom

routinecalls,

nothing.Soria

persistsin

herneglect.

Ispeakbriefly

toBaya,to

seeif

aw

oman

hastried

toreach

rneat

theoffice;

theansw

erincreases

my

disquiet.M

inaavoids

confrontation;

shehas

learnednot

torub

me

upthe

wrong

way

when

1nyjow

lslook

likea

constipatedm

astiffs.Late

inthe

afternoon,Pouroulou,

theneighbor'sson,tells

me

there'sa

wom

anw

aitingform

eÍ11

hercar

infront

ofthe

building.If

anyonehad

timed

me

gettingdressed,

Ithink

Iw

ouldhave

earneda

placein

theG

uinnessBook

ofRecords.

Mina

hashardly

hadtim

eto

turnround

beforeI'1n

outin

thestreet.Soria

isdon

eup

fromhead

tofoot.

Certain

thatshe's

holdingthe

winning

cards.Squeezedinto

abreathtaking

suit,w

ithher

daringbreasts

andher

dazzlingm

anner,she

plantsa

greedykiss

onm

ycheek.

"Careful,"

Isay,to

calmher

down.

"Do

youw

antm

yw

ifeto

dragm

eto

court?"

289

YasminaKhadra

291

Dead

Man's

Share

Shethrow

sher

headback

inalaugh

thatembodies

truehappiness,

allbyitself

Sheslaps

mythigh,hard.

"I'vehitthe

jackpot,"she

cries."Ispentyesterday

knock­ing

ondoors

andmyprayers

havebeen

answered.

Asofnow

,wehave

threesolid

supporters.T\VO

politiciansand

themost

powerfullaw

yerinthe

country.They

won'tback

down.They're

knownfor

that.And

Ihaven'teven

toldthem

everything.They

knowIhave

thebullfirm

lyby

thehorns

andthey're

happyto

hearit.Iguarantee

they'llmarch

besideustothe

bitterend.

.Butthat's

notthe

bestofthe

goodnew

s,Guess

who

calledmeless

thantwohours

ago.""I'm

tooexhausted."

"Che!"

''ChérifW

adah?""Himself"

That

wakes

meup.

"Ifthat

man

iswith

us,the

match

isasgood

aswon,"

Itell

her."H

eis.He's

expectingusathis

home."

"When?"

Abig

wrought-iron

gatejudders

asitopens

ontoatiled

courtyard.Soria

backsup

alittle

andslides

hercar

undera

canopyofbougainvillea.Joe

showsuswhere

topark

andhur­

riesback

toclose

thegate.

ChérifW

adah,looking

serious,isstanding

atthetop

ofa

shortstaircase,with

hishands

inthe

pocketsofhis

bottle-greendressing

gown.Hehas

puton

sorneweight.

Freshlyshaved

andwith

hishair

brushedback,

hehas

recoveredsom

eofhis

former

charisma.When

hesees

meheading

toward

him,he

spreadsout

hisarm

s."The

greatSuperintendent

Llob."Wegreet

eachother

inthe

dignifiedterm

sthat

befitthe

warriors

weused

tobe.H

eisvery

happytoseem

eagain.Soria

waits

herturn

onthe

topstep,a

satchelather

chest.Our

hostinvites

hertoem

bracehim

.She

doesn'tmake

himask

twice.

"You're

magnificent,

mybeauty,"

hewhispers.

"IfIw

eretwenty

yearsyounger,

I'dmarry

youfour

times

over.""Give

meabreak!"

thehistorian

replies,laughing."Ididn't

knowyou

kneweach

other,"Isay,feelingjealous.

"Soriais

rnymuse,"

theold

zanitells111e.

"Ilove

herlike

myowndaughter.

Wefirstm

etfive

orsix

yearsago-"

"Eight,"

Soriacorrects

hirn."She

studiedmealot,

evenwrote

abook

aboutme."

"Two,"

thehistorian

explains."A

biographyand

avolume

ofconversations.""That's

right."Heleads

usinto

anenorm

ousliving

roornstrew

nwith

handmade

rugs.The

walls

arecovered

with

huge,very

oldblack

andwhite

photographsinwhich

ourhost

may

beseen,

sometim

esinhis

maquisardgetup,

with

amachine

gunslung

aroundhis

neck,sometim

estieless,in

baggyworker's

clothes,posingbeside

thegreatfigures

ofourrevolu­

tion.Insom

eofthem

,the

latePresident

HouariB

oumediène

"No,1v."

And

shetakes

offlikeashot.

Ican'trem

emberseeing

anyonesoeuphoric,

exceptperhapsforInspector

Bliss

onthe

successofsom

eparticularly

brilliantpiece

ofchicanery.

"We're

goingtoblow

himsky-high,

thatcardboard

mon­

ster,Superintendent,"

shecries

injubilation.

"Iprom

iseyou

they'llbe

gatheringhim

upwith

tweezers."

"Better

notleave

thecar

inthe

road,"Joe

advisesus,hav­ing

firstlooked

rightand

lefttobe

surethe

wayisclear.

"I'llopen

upthe

garage."

290

Yasmina

Khadra

Dead

Man's

Share

isrecognízable,

inothers

PresidentTito

ofYugoslavia,

theVietnam

esegeneral

Giap,Fidel

Castro,

Kíng

FaisalIbnSaud,

King

Hussein

ofJordan,the

Libyanleader

Muam

rnar

al­Gaddafi,

andPresident

Nasser

ofEgypt.

Chérif

Wadah

hasbeen

shotfrom

allanglesin

thecom

panyofthese

greatmen,

sometim

eslaughing

outloudwith

someofthem

.Im

pressive."So,

mylovely

princess,what

canyou

tellinethat's

good?Igot

thecall

thisafternoon.

Itseem

syou're

inpossession

ofan

atomicbom

b."Soria

spreadsthe

contentsofhersatchel

outonasm

alltable."Y

ouwon't

believeyour

ears,mydear

Che."

Firstshe

handsover

hernotes.

Che

studiesthem

attentivelywhile

thehistorian

laysout

herargum

ent.Afterhalf

anhour

theold

man

isno

longernodding

hishead.

Shakenby

herrevelations,

heisholding

hishead

inhis

handsand

listeningtoSoria'sreport

without

interrupting.Hísforehead

isdeeply

furrowed.

Iintervenewith

aword

hereand

there.Itellhim

aboutthe

variousstages

andthe

difficultiesweencountered

inour

investigation.Tarek

Zoubir's

storymakes

hisface

crumple.

He

sighswith

vexationand

looksup.H

iseyes

glow;beneath

them,his

cheekstwitch

with

indignation."U

nbelievable,unbelievable,"

hemutters.

Hestands

up.W

ithhis

handsbehind

hisback,

hepaces

upand

downthe

room,furious

andstunned

atthe

sanietim

e.Feverishly,he

says,"G

odgave

men

thebest

ofHimself.

Hemade

theworld

likeawater-color

paintingfor

them,so

thattheir

eyeswould

beaw

akenedto

beauty,putstars

inthe

skytoguide

them,built

enchantinghorizons

aroundthem

toarouse

theirinterest.

ButHeforgotto

putabrake

ontheir

needforcruelty,

andall

Hisgenerosity

went

fornothing

God

....shouldn't

haverested

Hishopes

onthe

verycreatures

that

excelindisfiguring

Hisimage,H

eshould

neverhave

believedforone

secondthat

wewere

incapableofingratitude.

Allthe

unhappinessin

theworld

steinsfrom

thatmisplaced

trust."Soria

nowgets

hertape

recorderout

ofherpocket.

"And

nowthe

climax

oftheshow

,"she

announces,press­

ingthe

button.Che

sitsdow

nagain.

Rabah

Ali's

voicepours

intothe

roomlike

ariver

oflava.

The

universeretreats

aroundit,

fragments,

dissipates.There

isnothing

leftbutthe

tinyreel

turningin

itscassette,

settingfree,

bitby

bit,the

unbearablenarrative

ofour

keywitness

atSidiBa.

Itisseveral

minutes

beforeChe

noticesthat

thereel

isn'tturning

anymore.

His

facecloakedin

inscrutability,herings

forJoeand

ordershim

tofetch

hispills.

The

formerboxer

complies.H

avingswallow

edhis

medicine,

theold

man

asksleave

toretire

tohis

officeto

think.Wetidy

upour

papersand

wait

aneternity

forhim

toreturn.

Through

thewindow

,the

eveninghas

dismissed

thelastglim

mers

ofdaylight.

Amoonless

nightispreparing

tomagic

thecity

away,

Che

catchesusfretting.

Heishim

selfagain,

andhis

fea­tures

arerelaxed.

"Algeria

andGod

wouldn't

forgiveus

ifwefiled

thismatter

away,"

hedecrees.

"Suchatrocities

will

notrem

ainunpunished."

Soriaisrelieved.

The

old111an

suggeststhatshe

shouldn'tget

toocarried

away,saying,

"Itwon't

beacakew

alk.""W

e'vegot

enoughtoruin

him,"

criesthe

historian."H

ajTho

baneisno

ordinarycitizen;

youdon'tjust

turnup

athis

housewith

awarrant

andsom

ehandcuffs.

He

isa

permanent

mem

berof

thePolitical

Bureau."

"You're

amem

berofthe

PoliticalBureau

too,"Irem

indhim

."Y

ourcharism

aisashuge

ashisinfluence."

293

YasminaKhadra

Dead

Man's

Share

"Things

don'thappen

theway

youthink

theydo

inthe

higherrealm

s.It's

more

complicated

thanthat.Personal

inter­ests

areclosely

linked,as

arecom

plicitiesand

networks.

Ifone

pillarcom

esdow

n,there's

achain

reaction,adom

inoeffect.M

anyofthe

regime's

dinosaurswould

feelthemselves

directlythreatened

ifone

ofthem

,whether

anally

oradis­

sident,was

targeted.The

Systemhas

survivedso

longonly

becausethe

mini-universe

ithasmade

foritselfiswatertight.

Within

thecenters

ofpow

er,youcan

disagree,or

evenshoot

eachother

downfrom

timeto

time+-all's

fairin

war-e-bue

when

thethreat

isexternal,

allthoseenem

iesclose

ranksand

formasingle

bloc,compact

andsolid.B

esides,aheavyw

eightlike

Thobane

doesn'tonly

haveinterests;

hecontrols

anarm

yof

disciplesand

pawns

who

wouldn't

want

tosee

themanna

thatflow

sfrom

hisheaven

comprom

ised.Itw

on'tbe

easyto

unseathim

.""Easy,no,but

possible,"says

Soria."H

e'sjustacrook

with

bloodon

hishands.

He's

strongbecause

noone

knowshow

hegot

where

heis.W

hatwehave

will

exposehim

,nakedas

aworm

,to

publicopinion.

His

closestfriends

will

drophim

.When

thestockade

hasbeen

breached,everyone

triesto

keephis

headdow

n,I'm

sureofit.

Whatyou

sayistrue,

SyChérif

But

onlyifthe

conspiracyisexposed

oraborted.

When

theworst

happens,you

goback

intoyour

shelland

keepout

ofsight.

Upthere,

inthe

higherrealm

s,U-turns

areterrible.

Let's

notallow

ourselvesto

beintim

idated.W

e'rewithin

spittingdistance

ofour

objective.Let's

goon.

I'vealready

written

thearticle

forrnynew

spaper.W

ithyour

support,the

editorwill

acceptitforpublication.

You

knowvery

wellthat

noone

canstand

thatvile

andugly

reptileThobane,

noteven

hisow

nfam

ily.He's

scum,and

heisn't

heldin

highregard,

butfeared

likethe

plague.The

countrywillbe

gratefulto

us

forridding

itof

him.Itwould

beaw

fulifwedidn't

carryit

throughafter

somuch

effort.""W

hosaid

anythingabout

throwing

inthe

towel?"

asksChe

calmly.

"Ifanyone

herenever

givesup,

it'sme.

Iknowwhat

thisindividual

representsfor

thefuture

ofthe

nation:the

worstofalldisasters.

The

problemlies

elsewhere.W

hatisthe

bestcourse

tofollow

?That's

thereal

question.One

falsestep,

anditcould

allbe

turnedagainst

us.Hewould

come

outofit

strongerthan

ever,andno

onewould

darestand

upto

him.It's

doubleor

quitstim

e.""W

illyou

agreeto

helprne

publishmyarticle?"

"Inall

themain

newspapers,"

hesays

emphatically.

"InArabic,

Frenchand

Chinese,

ifthat's

what

youwant.

But

itwon't

beenough."

"I'llneed

atelevision

crewtoo.

I'1ngoing

backto

SidiBa

tomorrow

,to

coverthe

excavationof

themass

grave.Labrasisdriving

me.

We'll

filmthe

exhumation

ofthe

bodiesand

thewhole

world

will

seeiton

thetelevision

news."

"Whatever

youdo,

don'trush

it,"saysC

he."I

don'tcare;

we've

gotto

actfast,

veryfast.

Our

successdepends

ontim

ing.Ifthat

bastardsuspects

anythingserious,

he'llgetin

aheadofus

andblock

ourexits."

"Doyou

thinkhe

isn'talready

aware?"

"Hedoesn't

knowthe

most

important

thing.Hethinks

we've

drawnablank,

thatour

arm-w

avingisjust

much

adoabout

nothing.Otherw

ise,he

would

havesethis

dogson

usalready."

Che

asksusto

calmdow

n.Our

discussiongoes

onfor

sev­eral

hours:Soria

willhave

hertelevision

crew;herarticle

will

appearin

themajor

nationalnew

spapers.But

weneed

some

additionalevidence,

without

which

outenterprise

willfail.

''.Andthat's

where

it'sup

toyou

topull

outallthe

stops,Superintendent?

295

Yasmina

Khadra

Wecross

Haj

Thobane's

property,which

produceswonder

afterwonder.

Awhole

country:marble

avenuesthrough

atropical

forest,low

stonewalls

dancingaround

miniature

palmtrees,

sculpturedIarnpholders

everyfive

paces,rectangles

ofmagnificent

gardenbounded

bytiny

babblingbrooks,

asm

allzoo

with

peacocksstrutting

aboutin

agroupofquadrupeds:

apair

ofgazelles,adoe,

two

cagedfennecs,a

youngzebra

andother

cutelittle

animals

broughtin

fromdistant

lands.HajThobane

issitting

inan

imposing

wicker

throne,facing

hisfellow

animals.

Heiswearing

adesert

robe,with

hisbelly

inhis

lapand

afatcigar

inhis

mouth.

Athis

feetisone

endof

themost

beautifulswim

ming

poolI've

everseen

inmyentire

lousylife.

Hedism

issesmyescort

with

awave

ofhis

finger."Y

ouwanted

totalk

tome,

Superintendent?"he

bellows,

gettingstraight

tothe

point.Idon't

panic;quite

thecontrary,

Ithrust

myhandsin

my

pocketsand

spendsom

etim

eadm

iringthe

landscape."A

llyou

needis

aflag,

andfarew

ellto

therepublic,"

Isuggest.

His

eyebrowtw

itches.Heturns

hishead

slowly

andstares

atme.

"Have

youbeen

tosee

adoctor,

Mr.Llob?"

"Yes.

He

saidIw

ascertifiable."

"Ithink

sotoo."

"Idon't,M

r.Thobane."

"Are

yousure

youthink

anything?""W

hywouldn't

I?"Hecrushes

hiscigar

inan

ivoryashtray

shapedlike

ashell.

And

sinksinto

adisturbing

silence,the

way

astorm

does."I

went

toSidiB

a,"Itellhim

."Shain

ean

agriculturalarea

shouldgo

infor

uncontrolledindustrialization.

lthas

ruinedits

poetryand

corruptedits

minds.

But

Iwasn't

bored."

-Dead

Man's

Share

Che

saystomein

anaside.

Upon

which

weshut

ourselvesup

inhis

officeto

ironout

everytiny

detailof

ourplot.

Algiers

isradiant.

The

purityof

thesky

inspiresher.

Sherelaxes

andgives

into

pleasure,spangled

with

light,her

baylike

anim

mense

smile.

The

sunlightofbroad

dayshow

soff

itsmuscles

onthe

square.Asfor

me,

I'1nfull

ofmyself

Ifeel

goodin

mymind

andgood

inmybody;

I'moff

totopple

agod

fromhis

Olym

pusand,

bythe

sainetoken,

enterinto

mythology.

Anxious

notto

blowit,

Icheck

regularlyto

seethat

1nyBeretta

isstill

thereand

thatthemike

isstill

securelytaped

beneathmyundershirt.

Iha.ve

made

anappointm

entwith

HajThobane

atthree

o'clocksharp.

Atthree

o'clocksharp,

Ipark

myZastava

infront

ofnum

ber7Chem

indes

Lilas.The

grillerattles

themom

entIpress

thebuzzer,

confirming

tomethat

Iam

verymuch

expected.A

stockyindividual,

sizeextra

large,blocks

thedoorw

ayand

thenstands

asideto

letmethrough.

Assoon

ashe

hasclosed

thedoor,

heproceeds

tosearch

me.

"We're

notatR

oissyairport,"

Icomment.

Hepaysno

attentiontomyrem

ark,feelsthefolderIhave

inmyhand,runs

hisexpert

handsaroundmyankles

andbetw

eenmythighs

anddiscovers

thesurprise

beneathmyarm

pit."N

ofirearm

shere!"

hebarks,

holdingouthis

hand."T

mon

duty.""G

ivemeyour

gun,please."

"Out

ofthequestion!

Acop

hastokeep

hisweapon

abouthim

evenwhen

he'sgetting

laid."Another

extra-largespecim

en,on

guardduty

onthe

ter­race,signs

tohim

tolet

itgo.The

gorillagrum

bles.Heinoves

onahead,

limping

slightly.Like

anew

sflash,Kong's

storyof

thetwoheavies

spottedin

thegray

Peugeot405

atSidi

Ba

sparksin

mym

ind:the

otherone

hasshort

legsand

limps

abit....

296297

=----=-

----=------=---~

~-

~~~~~.....~

YasminaKhadra

Dead

Man's

Share

"Iknow

.Others

havebeen

theretomess

aboutwith

my

legendbefore

you.They

ruinedtheir

voicesas

well

astheir

teeth."Imove

closertohim

.Hisface

convulseswith

indignation.Either

he'sahypochondriac

orhe

can'tstand

theproxim

ityof

nobodies."Still,

it'san

areathat

sufferedgreatly

fromthe

war,"

Icontinue

with

detachment.

"Allyou'd

haveto

doisscratch

theground

atrandom

andyou'd

findhum

anbones."

"Doyou

thinkfreedom

isdelivered

likeapizza,M

r,Llob?

Algeria's

costatleast

am

illionand

ahalfm

artyrs.""There

weren't

onlymartyrs."

"Idon't

countenem

ylosses.T

hat'snot

ourproblem

.""T

hereweren't

onlyenen1y

losses."Heturns

hiswhole

bodytow

ardme,hoping

toputm

ein

myplace.

Iwink

athim

toshow

howdeterm

inedIam

.He

looksthrough

melike

anx-ray.

Ican

tellbythe

wayhis

lefteyelid

istwitching

thathe'sbeginning

tosm

elltrouble.

Nobody

would

darehold

aconversation

with

hin1in

suchacasual,vay.

Except

amadm

an.That's

what

hethought

ofmeto

beginwith.B

utthe

clarityof1ny

deliveryexplodes

thattheory.Haj

Thobane

knowsI've

cometo

dobattle;

what

unsettleshim

isthat

hedoesn't

knowwhat

weapons

Ihold,

howthey

will

performin

practice.Who's

behindme?

Awretched

poacheror

thewhole

forest?Anunw

eanedbear

orafox

onthe

pointofbolting?

Myovert,even

zealous,self-confidenceisamassive

gesturein

itself.Why,

heasks

himself

Isthis

afishing

expe­dition

orastupid

blunder?Heisused

toshouting

forsilence

among

thosearound

him,and,

throughoutdecades

ofabusesand

crueltyexercised

with

themost

impregnable

impunity,

hashardlyever

encounteredany

resistanceor

argument,

sohe

canclearly

seethe

driftofmycom

bativeness;it'sjust

thathe

doesn'tknow

what

strategyto

follow,So

hewaits

formeto

stumble,

andlet

himgain

theupper

hand.Even

Iamsurprised

byhis

stoicism.Isit

hisage

orishe

tooaccustom

edtoexcess?

Inany

case,heseem

simprobably

disconcerted,asthough

adestructive

forebodingwas

secretlysapping

hismorale.

"Would

youmind

gettingto

thepoint,

Mr.L

lob?""M

anyinnocent

peoplewere

sacrificedtoo."

"Com

eon,

thatwasinevitable.

Where

there'sdisorder'

peoplewill

gethurt."

Hisphilosophy

doesn'tconvince

me.

Idon't

tryto

hideit.

Heworks

outthat

it'sgoing

tobe

difficultto

changemy

mind;

hecan

seewhere

I'mheaded

andhas

readmycoded

insinuationsloud

andclear.H

elooks

meinthe

eyefora

longtim

e,trying

invain

tomake

melook

away.W

ithasigh,

heagrees

todefend

theindefensible:

"Itwasw

ar.There

were

noguilty

orinnocent

people,no

executionersor

victims,just

peoplewho

were

inthe

wrong

placeatthe

wrong

timeand

peoplewho

tookother

people'slives

inorder

tosave

theirovvn.

Sure,som

epeople

shoutedlouderthan

others,and

somecried

victoryatevery

opportunity.But

infact

thewhole

nightmare

was

havingalaugh

attheirexpense.

Inthe

end,there

were

neitherwinners

norlosers,

justthose

who

losteverything

andthose

who

playedtheir

cardsright,buteven

theydidn'tescape

completely

unscathed."Icarry

on,stubbornly,"Som

eofthe

innocentpeople

didn'tjust

happento

bepassing

by,Mr.T

hobane,and

theyweren't

reallyjust

unlucky.""It

happened.It's

unfortunate,butthat's

theway

itis."

"The

most

unfortunatething

isthatthe

executionershave

neverhad

anyreason

toworry

since.""W

hatgood

would

itdo?You

can'tbring

thedead

backto

life.What's

doneisdone.T

oday,with

thebenefitofhindsight,

298299

Yasmina

Khadra

yourealize

youcould

haveavoided

quiteafew

excesses,with

am

inimal

amount

ofgoodsense.H

ateand

angerw

erein

theascendant,

andnobody

coulddo

much

aboutit.

We

were

ina

hurryto

getit

overw

ith,and

we

botchedeverything

thatcam

eour

way.W

ew

eren'teven

supposedto

askquestions.

There

was

onlyone

dazzlinghorizon:

theindependence

ofour

country.T

herest-

ourlives,

ourdeeds,

ourgestures,

ourm

istakesand

ourabuses,

were

carriedaw

ayon

thetide

ofourcom

.mitm

ent.W

edidn'tstop

alongthe

way,w

eput

ourheads

down

andcharged

toward

freedom,and

ifwe

knockedafew

thingsover

onthe

\vay,orw

alkedoverthe

corpseofa

friend,w

edidn't

saysorry.

We

wouldn't

haveexpected

apologiesif

ithad

beenus

beingtrodden

on.T

hatw

asthe

agreement.

'When

youtake

uparm

s,youtake

thingsas

theycorn

e;good

orbad,

youhave

toaccept

them.

That's

theonly

way

youhave

anychance

offorcingdestiny's

hand....B

esides,I'm

nottelling

youanything

new.Y

ouw

ereamaquisard

andyou

knoww

hatitwaslike."

"It'strue,I

wasa

maquisard,

butm

ym

otivesw

eren'teven

closeto

yours,no

matter

which

way

youlook

atit.Iwasfight­

ingforindependence,

notfor\VhatIintended

tom

akeoutofit

afterwards.

Form

e,survivingthe

war

was

thefinest

giftGod

couldgive

me.Iw

asovercom

eby

theidea

ofbeingreunited

with

n1yfam

ily,01.yhouse,

my

littlefoibles.

Other

peoplelooked

furtherahead.T

heyw

erealready

dreaming

ofsharingin

orphan.edfortunes,influentialjobs

andthe

privilegesthey

guaranteed.It'snotthe

saniething,you

mustadm

it.Putting

upa

flagoutside

thenew

town

hallswasn't

enough.Som

epeople

wanted

tosubstitute

themselves

forwhat

itrepresented:they

wanted

tobecom

em

astersofthe

country.Because

theyw

ereshepherds

before,they

didn'tknow

howto

become

governors,and

wenton

treatingpeople

likelivestock.

But

that'snot

what

300

Dead

Man's

Share

we're

hereto

talkabout,

Mr.

Thobane

....I'vecorne

tostir

upsom

eshitfor

you."I

expecthim

tofly

offthehandle,

oratleast

toorder

hism

ento

beatm

eup

andthen

showm

ethe

door;instead

Ia111granted

asad

andtired

look,the

lookof

anold

godw

hois

beginningto

realizethat

heis

mortal.N

oteven

thevulgar­

ityof

my

languagehas

shockedhim

.It's

asif

hehas

under­stood

thatIamnot

drawing

onm

yinvestigator's

logicform

ystrength,

buton

thestealthy

gatheringofforces

thathas

goneon

behind111.e,ofw

hosedeterm

inationm

yperson

representsa

sample.H

ajThobane

isafirst-rate

crook.He

hasovercom

em

oretests

thana

titan,avoided

trapsin

industrialquantities;

ifhehas

survivedthis

long,in

acountry

where

machinations

areof

surgicalprecision

andtreachery

issoberly

calculated,it's

notjustbecause

hew

asborn

undera

luckystar.

"Carry

on,Superintendent.

Ican

assureyou

youhave

noidea

ofeven

ahundredth

ofthe

shityou'reabout

toland

Ifi,,

yoursem

."Y

ouhave

thrown

alieutenantofpolice

intoa

dungeon,M

r.Thobane.

You

haveaccused

himofm

akingan

attempt

onyour

lifeout

ofjealousy.Itturnsout

thispoor

copis

therefor

noreason

atall.T

hatyouhave

beenthe

victimofyour

past,w

hichhas

finallycaught

upw

ithyou.

Idon't

knowhow

heobtained

my

colleague'sw

eapon,but

yourattacker

hadevery

reasonto

haveitin

foryou.I-le

wastrying

toavenge

himself,

andhisfam

ily,who

were

executedby

yourorderson

thenight

ofthetw

elfthto

thethirteenth

ofAugustnineteen

sixty-two,

nearSidiB

a,where

youw

entby

thenam

eof

theL

efty.That

night,threeother

familiesw

erew

ipedout;

noneofthem

man­

agedto

escape.The

Kaïds,rich

landowners;the

Ghanem

sand

theB

ahasses,ow

nersofthe

biggestfortunesin

theregion.N

osurvivors,

noheirs.T

heirproperty

becarnethe

spoilsofw

ar,

301

Yasmina

Khadra

303

Dead

ivlan'sShare

sixty-two.

Towit:

forty-fivemíllion

oldfrancs

incash,

onethousand

andthirty-seven

goldlouis,tw

elvekilosofloose

gold,fifty-tw

oprecious

stoneswith

atotal

valueofthree

million

...in

short,allthe

lootyounever

declaredto

theFLN

andwhich

youpocketed

oncethe

war

was

over.""G

etout-"

which

"vere,intheir

turn,diverted

topersonal

ends-yours.

The

otherfam

ily,theTalbis,left

asurvivor:

Belkacem

,who

hasbeen

inconfinem

entsin

cenineteen

seventy-one,under

thenam

eofS

NP

,andwho

was

grantedapresidential

pardonlastN

ovember.T

hisboy,w

how

asonly

abouttwelve

yearsold

atthetim

eofthe

mass

killings,survived

onlyin

orderto

findyou

andsettle

thescore.

I-:Iem

ayhave

missed,

butIw

on't.""T

hefam

iliesyou

mention

hadcollaborated

with

theenem

y,They

were

triedand

convictedby

anFLN

court-martial.

Their

fortunesdidn't

interestus.

The

Talbis

were

aspoor

asJob.Everyone

inSidiB

aknow

sit.So

why

were

theyexecuted,

iftheobject

ofthe

exercisewasjust

togethold

ofthe

guiltyparties'property?"Ibrandish

1nyfile

folderin

theair

beforeI

slapit

down

inhis

lap.Coolly,he

takesout

abundle

ofphotocopies.

"What

isthis?"

"Read

it.Itwillrefresh

yourm

emory."

Heturns

toward

theinterior

ofthevilla

andorders

someone

tobring

himhis

glasses.The

limping

gorillahurries

upim

me­

diately.Haj

Thobane

putson

hisglasses-th

elenses

enlargehis

eyesout

ofallproportion-

leafsthrough

thedocum

entsand

doesn'tseem

tobe

botheredby

them.

"Idon't

seewhat

thism

eans,Superintendent."

"You're

lookingata

copyofthe

accountskeptby

Am

eurTalbi

duringthe

war.E

verysingle

cashdeposit

handledby

himon

behalfof

yourbattalion

isentered,

aswell

asevery

disbursement

signedby

yourhand.

We

caneasily

calculatethe

income

andexpenditure,

thetotals

ofvariousdonations,

subscriptionsand

otherfinancial

contributionsfrom

citizens,M

uslimand

Christian

-extortion,

too-collected

inthe

SidiBaregion

between

March

nineteenfifty-six

andJune

nineteen

"Ameur

Talbiwas

yoursecret

treasurer.You

executedhim

,alongwith

hisfam

ily,soas

notto

leaveany

traces-"

Thisis

thelast

straw,HajT

hobaneis

onhis

feet,shaken,distorted

fromhead

tofoot,w

ithagun

inhis

hand."I

haveamicrophone

onme,and

severalpeopleare

listen­ing

toour

conversationwith

interestaswespeak.Sorry,

butI

hadto

takecertain

precautions.Twomen

havealready

beenkilled

thisweek,in

SidiBa,forlessthan

this.Their

murderer

forgets-like

othermurderers-e-thar

youcan

killwitnesses

intheir

thousands,butyou'll

nevercom

pletelykill

thetruth

."The

fistwith

thegun

initgoes

paleatthe

knucklesand

trembles."Y

ou'renot

goingto

shootm

e,yousee."

"I'mnot

likelyto

dirtymyhands

with

theblood

ofadog,"

hegrow

ls."O

therpeople

arepaid

tocarry

outthat

chore.""I'll

tryto

bevigilant."

"Too

late.""D

oyou

thinkImade

aserious

mistake

incom

ingto

you,M

r.Thobane?"

"Get

outofhere.G

ogetyour

lump

ofsugar,beforeyour

masters

changetheir

minds."

The

two

gorillasgrabmeby

theshoulders

andmanhandle

me

toward

theexit.

Itw

istround

togloat

atthe

vulgargod:

"You

cankeep

thedocum

entsas

asouvenir.

The

originalsare

inasafe

place.See

youvery

soon."

302

Yasmina

Khadra

305

Dead

Jvían'sShare

"Get

lost!"drools

thegorilla

atthe

backofm

yhead.

Haj

Thobane's

tenebrouseyes

watch

hismen

dragme

throughthe

tropicalforest.

Hemustbe

askinghim

selftwo

questions:whatsauce

toserve

with

me,and,

most

important,

when

tocom

eto

thetable.

ones,takenwithin

themaquis,ofthe

famousL

eftyshow

ingoff

afield

radio-communications

postcaptured

fromthe

enemy

inan

ambush,

takingaim

atatarget

with

hismachine-gun,

thewhole

thingnarrated

inthe

cavernoustones

ofafuneral

oration....

Allaround

nie,frozensilence.M

ytwogrow

nsons

andn1y

daughterare

turnedto

stone.Mina

isholding

hercheeks

inher

hands,andher

eyesaresw

ollenwith

tears.The

noiseinthe

apartment

nextdoor

hasstopped;

normally,

atthis

hour,it's

hardto

tellwhich

islouder:

theshouting

orthe

crashingabout

ofchildren.The

whole

buildingisholding

itsbreath.

Ithinkitm

ustbe

thesam

ein

therestofthe

country."D

ad!"myyoungest

yellsfromhisbedroom

,"How

amI

supposedto

goover1nynotes

with

thisracket

goingon?

The

phone'sbeen

ringingfor

hours."Ifeelasthough

I'mem

ergingfrom

acave,and

ittakesme

awhile

toabsorb

what

myson

isshouting.

Finally,thesound

ofthe

telephonegets

throughto

me.

Irun

toitand

answer;

it'sHaj

Thobane.

"You

idiot,"he

saysinarem

arkablyserene

toneofvoice.

After

ashort

pause,he

goeson,

"Tellyour

sponsorsthat

theyshouldn't

counttheir

chickensbefore

they'rehatched."

Hehangs

up.Mina

finds111ein

ourbedroom,holding

thephone

queasilyin

myhand

andstaring

intospace.

Atfive

forty-fivein

themorning,

thetelephone

makes

m.esitup

inbed.

It'sNedjm

a,HajT

hobane'slittle

friend."C

oniequickly,"

shesobs.

"Something

terriblehas

happened."

Soriacalls

totellm

eshe

isback

fromSidiB

aand

everythingwentw

ell.Her

three-pagearticle

will

appeartom

orrowin

themain

nationalnew

spapers.She

advisesmeto

remain

gluedto

111yarm

chairand

notco

letthe

smallscreen

ofn1y

televisionout

ofmy

sight;her

reportwill

beon

thetelevision

newsat

eighto'clock.A

tfivetoeight,Ideclare

acurfew

inmyhouse.

Mina

andthe

kids,justas

tenseas

Iarn,joinmein

theliving

room.Ihaven't

toldthem

anything,but1nyover-excited

statehas

gotthem

wondering.

Only

myyoungest

staysin

hisroom

,cursing

ashe

crossessw

ordswith

hishom

ework.

The

televi­sion

newsopens

with

asingle

headline:M

assgraveuncovered

atSidiBa;

27bodiesfound,

15efthemchildren.T

hepictures

areofa

bulldozerturning

overthe

soil,men

diggingup

human

skulls,various

pilesof

bones,witnesses

tellingtheir

versionsof

events,thesam

eones,

learnedby

heart;panoram

icview

ofthe

mountains

ofSidi

Ba,

close-upof

thetow

n,dam

ningcom

mentary.

Archive

picturestake

usback

tothe

waryears:

groupsofm

ujahedinmarching

throughthe

snow,French

air­force

planesdumping

napalmon

Muslim

villages,burnt

faces,peasants

fleeingtheir

devastatedvillages,

,,..,01nenand

childrenhuddled

among

theirbelongings

onrough

carts;then

it'sback

tothe

mass

grave,where

aquavering

oldman

tellsthe

dramatic

tale,pointing

outapath

andthe

surroundingarea.

The

reporterexpands

onthe

statements

ofthewitnesses

who

were

interviewed

earlier,then

disappears,to

bereplaced

bya

recentpictureofH

ajTho

bane,immediately

followed

byolder

304

PART

THREE

"Dying

isthe

worst

thingyou

cando

foracause.For

therewill

always

bearace

ofvultures

hangingover

theruins

andthe

sacrifices,cunning

enoughtopassfor

phoenixes.They

won't

hesitatefor

onesecond

touse

theashes

ofmartyrs

tomake

fertilizerfor

theirEdens,

orthe

tombs

ofthe

missing

tomake

monum

entsoftheir

own,

orthe

tearsofw

idowstomake

water

fortheir

mills."

Brahirn

Llob,Autum

nqfthe

Phantoms

307

CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

309

DeadMan's

Share

Daylight

spreadsitself

carefullyove~

Chem

indes

Lilas.The

nightm

usthave

beenw

orrisome

aroundhere.

Peopleprobably

tooktranquilizer

shotsin

orderto

getsom

esleep.

It'snatural:

when

yourneighbor

islynched,

itm

eansthe

angerofthe

masses

isn'tfaraw

ay.Iimagine

the

shockthe

nabobsofA

lgiersm

usthavefelt

infront

oftheirtelevisions

lastnight.

Itw

asn'tthe

Haj

Thobane

scandalitself

thatchurned

theirguts

fromtop

tobottoni,

butthe

realizationthatnothing

istruly

hidden.Ifsom

eonehas

daredto

stripaliving

legendnaked,

it'sproofthat

anypetty

tyrantcan

beeasily

stripped.W

hichexplains

why

stayingin

bedis

thepreferred

optionin

thislittle

sliceof

paradise.Y

ouw

on'tleave

thehouse

beforem

akingphone

callsright

and

lefttoascertain

them

agnitudeof

theshock

wave

that'sabout

tobreak

overthe

city.In

them

eantime,

youstay

inthe

warm

th,breathing

inthe

smell

ofyour

blanketsor

sniffingatyour

own

perspiration,since

thestreets

aren'tsafeanym

ore.O

utside,the

skyislivid.N

ota

cloudto

hideitsface.Soon,

thesun

willfocusitsbeam

onthe

scaleofthe

destruction.It's

notevery

daythat

adinosaur

isdragged

throughthe

mud;

thegigantic

streaksw

illbe

perceivedalong

way

avvay.O

neis

curiousto

knowwhatsort

ofchaosone

isin

for.

Iparkm

yZastava

infrontofnum

ber7.H

ere,inparticular,

thesilence

augurssom

ethingirreversible.A

bitlikethe

onethat

surroundsyou

when

yourealize

you'rerightin

them

iddleofa

minefield.Idon'tletitgetto

me.H

avingcrushed

my

cigarettestub

outin

theashtray,I

stepout

ofthe

carand

shutthe

doorfirm

lyto

givem

yselfsomeim

petus.Iamlucid.In

possessionofallm

yfaculties.It'sgoing

tobe

abeautifulday.A

fewbirds,buried

inthe

foliage,aretuning

theirvocalchords.

There'sno

hurry.N

edjma

opensthe

doorbefore

I'vefinished

fondlingthe

doorbell.Sheisshow

ered,m

adeup,coiffed:she

doesn'tlookasifshe's

aboutto

gointo

mourning.In

herstate

ofundress,surrounded

bythe

most

delicateof

scents,she

resembles

afairy

emerging

outof

acloud

ofsmoke.

Her

eyes,sparklinglike

jewels,

arethose

ofapoetic

muse,

andher

lipslook

liketem

ptacionitself.N

owthatIperm

itm

yselftolook

atherclose

up,Ican't

remem

berever

seeingsuch

complete

beauty.H

ertw

enty-fiveyearscrow

nherfreshness

likeadiadem

.Everything

inherisnigh

onperfect:the

regularityofherfeatures,

thetilt

ofher

cheekbones,the

clarityof

hergaze

andthe

excellentdesign

ofherfigure.

Quite

aspecim

en."H

oware

you?"Iask.

"Ihaven'tasked

myselfthe

questionyet,

Superintendent."She

asksm

eto

followher.

Lino

would

have

followed

herall

thew

ayto

hell.When

shew

alksin

frontofyou,

thisw

oman

blotsout

therestofthe

world,starting

with

itssnares

andpitfalls.If

shew

alkedon

water,

youw

ouldfind

yourselfskim

ming

overityourself

Her

graceis

ajoyto

behold,her

appearancean

epiphany.Itry

tokeep

n1.yhead

screwed

on;it's

impossible

totear

n1yeyes

fromthe

mesm

erizingdance

ofherhips.

Ilookfor

thegorillas,

oratleast

aflunkey

onthe

prowl

foranorder

ora

signal;not

asoul

inthe

gardens.

308

YasminaKhadra

311

Dead

Man's

Share

"Areyou

alone?""Y

es.""Itold

you.Hajsentthem

allaway

yesterday.Hewanted

tobe

alone.Heasked

metogo

away.I

refusedtoleave

himinthe

statehe

was

in.""How

washe?"

"Strange.""M

eaning?""W

henthey

startedshooting

himdow

ninflam

eson

theTV

,hedidn't

inove.Orsay

anything.Hejust

askedfor

aglass

ofwater.H

estayed

inhis

armchair,calm

,asifhewaswatch­

ingsom

ethingcom

pletelybanal.

Ofcourse,

hedidn't

miss

asingle

word

ofwhatw

asthrow

nathim

duringthe

news.B

utitwas

likesom

eoneelse

was

beingtorn

apart,sorneone

hedidn't

know,Afterw

ards,heturned

outthe

lightsand

toldhis

servantsand

bodyguardstogo

home.Hewas

calm,Hejust

wanted

tobe

alonetothink

aboutwhatw

ascorning

downon

him.H

ecan1e

overtome,kissed

1nyforehead

andasked

me

topack

mybags

andleave.

Irefused.

Hedidn't

insist.Itw

aslike

hewas

suddenlytired

oflife.Once

thestaffhad

left,he

calledyou,

hungup

andlocked

himselfin

hisoffice.Idecided

Ihadn'tstayed

inorder

totake

refugein

myapartm

entsand

leavehim

alonewith

hisgrief,so

Iwent

tohisoffice

tocom

forthim

.Hewasstanding

bythe

frenchwindow

,with

hishands

behindhis

back,staringatthe

moon.Ithink

hewasexpecting

phonecalls

fromhis

friends.Several

times,

heturned

roundtow

ardthe

telephoneand

stoodthere,

lostincontem

plation.Since

nobodywascalling,

hepicked

upthe

receiver,checkedfora

dialtone

andput

itbackdow

n,smiling

atme.Itw

asthe

saddestsmile

Ihaveever

seeninmylife.Ittore

rueapartand

Iran

tohim

.Hetook

meinhis

arms.Hewasmore

bitterabout

hisfriends

thanangry

aboutthose

who

hadconspired

againsthim

....You

knowhow

itgoes,

inour

country.Every

godis

worshiped

untilhis

vulnerabilityisexposed.

Immediately,

"What

happenedtothe

bodyguards?""H

ajsent

themall

awayyesterday."

Wego

intothe

palace.Idon't

thinkeven

theking

ofJordan

would

lastlong

ifhestarted

struttingabout

here.The

magnificence

ondisplay

would

make

thegods

ontheir

comets

envious.It'sincredible

whatm

enwillgather

aroundtheir

min­

utepersons

duringtheir

ephemerallives.

Evenmore

incrediblewhen

youthink

that,aftersuchostentation

andsuch

blasphe­mous

riches,they

consenttorot

atthebottom

ofadark

holefor

therest

ofeternity.

Nedjm

aleads

mestraight

toher

lover'sprivate

den.Haj

Thobane

isthere,surroundedby

hismahogany

treasures,mscrystal

knick-knacksand

hishard-currency

paintings.Heis

sittinginapadded

chair,wearing

adressing

gown,the

upperpart

ofhis

bodyslum

pedover

thedesk,

hishead

restingon

hisleft

armon

topof

anew

spaper,his

rightarm

danglingover

thearm

restwith

ahuge

revolverinhis

fist.The

bulletsmashed

histem

pleand

tookaway

halfhis

skull,fragm

entsofwhich

havesprayed

thewall

with

askim

ofbrains

andblood.

Imove

closer.Thenew

spaperisopen

toadouble

pagecom

pletelygiven

overtothe

massgrave

atSidiB

a."I

thinkreading

thispaper

finishedhim

off,"sighs

Nedjm

a."That's

what

itlooks

likeatfirst

glance,"Iagree.

"Can

youtellm

ewhat

happened?""Iwas

asleepwhen

Iheard

ashot.

Iran

downand

foundeverything

asyou

seeitnow

,Ididn't

touchanything."

"What

aboutthe

servants?"310

Yasmina

Khadra

Dead

Man's

Share

thosew

housed

tolick

hisboots

starthungrily

snappingathis

heels.That

hurthim

alot."

"Did

hespend

thenight

inhis

office?""I

managed

toget

himinto

theliving

room.W

etalked

aboutthe

times

we

hadshared

together.H

easked

ifI

heldanything

againsthim

,ifhe

hadbeen

improper

toward

me,if

hehad

hurtm

esom

ehowor

other.Isaid

thatonthe

contrary,Ihad

beenunable

tobe

worthy

ofhiskindness

andgeneros­

ity,thathe

hadindulged

me

sofarthat

hehad

almost

spoiledour

happiness.Iwasn'tlying,

Superintendent.H

ew

asa

goodm

an,charitable

andem

otional.H

ecouldn't

bearother

people'ssuffering,

andanyone

couldask

himfor

anything.The

peoplew

hopushed

hi111to

suicideare

dogs;their

fleasw

illdevour

themfaster

thantheir

remorse."

We

gointo

theliving

room.

Setup

asif

fora

ceremony.

No

signof

violence,not

asingle

falsenote.

"Why

callrne?"

Shespreads

herarm

sw

ide:"I

wasH

aj'sm

istress,not

hissecretary.Idon't

haveaccess

tohis

diary.H

isfriendsw

erenotm

yfriends

andIw

asforbid­

dento

answer

thetelephone

when

itrang.

He

was

discreet,not

jealous.W

henIfound

himsw

irnrningin

blood,I

pan­icked.

Who

tocall?

Idon'tknow

anyofhis

relatives.Then

Irem

embered

thelastphone

callhem

ade.Itw

asyou.Ipressed

'redial'and

youw

ereon

theline."

"Am

Itounderstand

thatno

oneknow

sabout

thisdram

a?""N

oone."

"We're

goingto

haveto

stireveryone

up.""D

owhatyou

haveto

do,Superintendent."

"How

longdid

youstay

inthe

livingroom

?""I

don'tknow

,U

ntilm

idnight,maybe."

"And

then?"

"We

went

upto

ourbedroom

.Icouldsee

thatsomething

terriblew

asrunning

throughhis

head.""H

ow,for

example?"

"His

calmw

asintriguing.Itw

asn'tahabit

ofhis.He

would

roarfor

ayes

ora

no.H

ew

aseven

impulsive.H

isanger

kepthim

stable.A

ftera

goodbout

ofshouting

hew

ouldrecover

hisaplom

b.That

night,his

silencefrightened

me.I

fearedthe

worst."

"Did

youhave

theim

pressionhe

was

goingto

killhim

self?""T

hathe

would

reactwith

extreme

violence.K

illhim

selfor

killboth

ofus.Iknowhim

veryw

ell.I've

neverseen

himthe

way

hew

asyesterday.

Itwas

distressing,very

distressing.H

elay

down

onthe

bed.Iputsome

sleepingpills

inhis

fizzyw

aterand

keptw

atchuntil

hefell

asleep.Y

ouknow

what

happenedafter

that.A

shotw

okem

eup.

Haj

hadjust

com­

mitted

suicide.""So

youfellasleep

yourself?""A

fteranevening

likethat,

ofcourse

Idid!""N

obodycarne

herein

between?"

"No

one.""M

aybeyou

didn'thear

them."

"Impossible.

Ifsomeone

hadshow

nup

here,the

bellwould

havealerted

me.T

heintercom

ison

my

nightstand.""So

who

broughthim

thenew

spaper,ata

tin1.ew

henthe

kiosksare

stillshut?"N

edjma

becomes

confused.It's

abouttim

e.H

erunruffled

demeanor

seemed

excessivefora

mistress

who

hasjustlosther

patronsaint.

Her

delightfuleyebrow

sfrow

nas

sheracks

herbrains

forideas

andcan'tm

anageto

findaw

ayout.A

sshelifts

hereyes

tom

e,Inotice

thather

lipsare

distorted,tw

istedby

adiscom

fitedgrim

ace.

312313

Haj

Thobane

ishanded

overto

thegravedigger

inless

thanforty-eight

hours.Idon'tknowwhetherthisisto

followMuslim

traditionorsw

iftlytoturn

thepage

onthis

odiousepisode

inthe

legendofour

revolution;in

anycase

itisdone

remarkablv,

quickly.Aburialperrnitissued

byaslovenly

municipal

official,afew

spadefulsofearth,

apair

ofgrotesqueflagstonesinstead

ofatom

bstone,allpreceded

byafuneralm

arch,Nofanfare,

noguard

ofhonor,not

somuch

asaglim

pseofa

crown.T

henotables

ofSidiBaare

absent,mostconspicuously

themayor.

There's

notmuch

ofacrow

d;fifty-odd

dust-coveredpeas­

ants,rushed

infrom

theirvillages

asanem

ergencymeasure,

agroup

offormerfighters,senile-looking

andtrem

blingwith

decrepitude,and

anobscure

imam

who

keepsgetting

hisverses

Yasmina

Khaâra

DeadMan's

Share

"You're

right,"she

admits.

"Maybe

hewent

outwhile

Iwas

asleep.""T

hekiosks

aren'topen

foranother

thirtyminutes."

"Som

etimes,

when

there'sim

portantnew

s,he

callsthe

printers.Heknew

theprints

would

followthe

television

atleisure.

Ispot

HajT

hobane'sreading

glasseson

achest

ofdraw

ers,aglass

onthe

nightstand-this

Islip

intomycoat

pocket-aspiral-bound

notebookby

thefootofalam

p;Irum

­mage

aboutinthe

drawers,shifta

fewstacksoffiles,find

afew

insignificantthings,

nothingreally

interesting.The

soundof

thetoilet

flushingbrings

meto

mysenses.

Nedjm

afinds

rneadm

iringan

oilpaintingshow

ingthe

deceasedat

hispeak.

"Itwasdone

byAlessandro

Cutti,

afam

ousItalianpainter,"

sheinform

smewith

ahint

ofaggression."Iw

ouldhave

beensurprised

ifitwere

byDenis

Martinez."

"Who's

that?""A

famousA

lgerianpainter."

The

doorbellinterrupts

ourdiscussion.

Nedjm

afrow

nsand

goesover

toansw

erthe

intercom.

"That

mustbe

theforensic

teamfrom

Headquarters,"

Iteliher.

"Iasked

themto

meetm

ehere."

"Why

aforensic

team,Superintendent?

It'ssuicide."

'Justaform

ality,madam

e,"Iassure

her.

"ne,vs-"T

hatexplanation

doesn'thold

water.

Ifhe

hadcalled

theprinters,you

would

havereached

themwhen

youpressed

eIi

J'"rec

1a.

"Inthat

case,som

eonebrought

itto

himthis

morning,"

sheconcedes.Nedjm

ais

embarrassed.

Iaskher

toshow

methe

roomwhere

theyspentthe

night.She

obeys,with

hermind

elsewhere.

The

businesswith

thenev,spaper

isawkw

ardforher.She

hasn'tgivenitthe

attentionitdeserves.

Ifollowheralong

acorridor

linedwith

revolution­ary

frescoesglorifying

thebravery

ofour

resistancefighters;

paintingswith

noreal

talent,butjingoistic

enoughtoforce

one'srespect.

Nedjm

awalks

aheadof

me.

Her

progresshas

lostits

nobility;it's

asthough

sheisfleeing,

ortrying

topull

herselftogether.

The

bedroomishuge,

with

nofew

erthan

fourfrench

window

senveloped

invelvet

curtainsheldback

byim

posinggilded

ropes.Alarge

four-posterbed

coveredwith

silkdrapes

occupiesthe

centerof

theroom

,flankedby

twonightstands

andarom

an-stylecouch.

Opposite

thebed,

amonum

entalmirror

reflectsthe

daylightbackacross

theroom

.The

walls

arepainted

off-white.A

sforthe

twochandeliers

cascadingdow

nfrom

thehigh

ceiling,they

areabsolute

marvels

andmusthave

costtheskin

offthe

backsofa

thousandhonestcivilservants.

Nedjm

aasksm

yperm

issiontoleave

theroom

foracouple

ofseconds;

Igrantitwillingly.R

elieved,Iinspect

theplace

314315

Yasmina

Khadra

hebegins.

"Iwascarrying

apassenger,

andwhen

Icam

eto

ajunction

Igot

stuckinatraffic

jam.The

guybehind

me

startedhonking

hishorn

andflashing

hisheadlights

atmelike

amachine

gun.Heseem

edtobeinahurry,

butIcouldn'tm

oveforw

ardorinove

overtoone

side.Sohecalled

meevery

name

underthe

sun.Ididn'treact,

Iswear.Ifollow

edyour

advice.""Notentirely,

Isee.

What

doImean

bythat?

You

stillinsist

onbeating

aboutthe

bush."Didou

takesoffhis

mangy

hatandrubs

it.Myimpatience

makes

himuncom

fortable,andhedoesn'tlike

takingshortcuts.

"Itwasapolice

sergeant,Brahirn.H

econfiscated

111ypapers

andimpounded

theone

toolofmytrade.

Thekids

don'thave

anythingtoeatany

more.Isw

earIdidn't

doanything.

There

,vasatraffic

jarn...."

Then

hegives

methis

persecuted-victimlook

I'venever

beenable

toresist.

Ifind

myself

promising

totake

careofit

firstthing

tomorrow

.Didou

issorelieved

hetakes

myhead

inhishands,

almostsobbing,

andkisses

thetop

ofmyskull.

That's

Algeria

foryou:onetyrant

lost,athousand

recruitshot

onhisheels.A

buseisn't

anaberration

forus,it's

aculture,

avocation,

anambition.

Mina

haspreparedafeastfor

me:a

wild-m

ushroomomelet,

Ieatmyportion,

hersand

someofthe

children's,thenIgo

tomyroom

torum

inate.JustasIam

reachingthe

deepestpart

ofmyslum

bers,mydaughter

shakesrne.

"Dd

.'H

d"

a,its

eaquarters.

Istaggerinto

thehallw

ayand

grabthe

receiver."Yeah?''

DeadMan's

Share

wrong

andstrutting

about,very

much

onhisdignity.

Some

visitorsgoback

andforth

infrontof

thegathering,

pickingtheir

noses.Theambulancem

enwaitim

patientlysothatthey

cangettheir

stretcherback

andleave.A

nold

man

inthe

back­ground

isthe

onlyone

tosob,held

upbyayoung

boy.This

mustbethe

deceased'sbrother.T

heoccasional

comrade

triestoconsole

him,without

conviction;som

eresent

thespectacle

heismaking

ofhimself.

Thecerem

onyisabbreviated,

reducedtothe

absoluteminim

um.People

arethere

tobesure

thatthemonster

iswell

andtruly

dead,nottotellstories

abouthislittle

peccadilloes.Noparty

officialshave

seenfittobestir

themselves

either.The

deadmandoesn't

havethe

righttothe

respectdue

tohis

rank;the

scandalhas

automatically

strippedhim

ofthat.

Inoticetwoorthree

journalists,one

ofthernashort-sighted

photographer.The

eveningpapers

willgive

himaparagraph

nexttothe

obituaries.Just

enoughtoconfirm

therum

orand

givethe

survivorssom

ethingtothink

about.Asthe

remains

arebeing

placedinthe

grave,Iturn

onmyheel

andhead

forthe

parkinglot,

where

Serdjiskeeping

watch

overmywreck.

Hedidn't

want

togo

tothe

funeral;graves

make

himill,he

says."What

arewedoing?"

heasks.

"You

choose."Hesuggests

acup

ofcoffee

bythe

seafront.

Ishrug.On

theway,he

realizesIam

depressedfitto

grinddow

na.tank

anddecides

itiswiser

todrop

rneoffathom

e.Didou

iswaiting

formeatthe

entrancetomybuilding,

lookingcrestfallen.

"What

isitnow

?"Didou

isataxi-driver

bytrade.N

otaweek

goesbythathe

doesn'tget

aticket.

"Iswear

Ididn't

doanything

thistime,"

"The

guysinthe

labwant

toyou

toget

intouch

with

them,"Serdjtells

me.

"What

timeisitnow

?""Twenty

pastthree."

316317

319

Yasmina

KhadraDead

Man's

Share

"Would

youmind

coming

topick

meup?

Mycar'satthe

mechanic's."

"I'llbe

infront

ofyourbuilding

inaquarter

ofanhour."

thingsto

calmdow

nso

thatIcouldgo

backto

anorm

allife.Nota

chance:the

Thobane

affairisboundto

breakcoveragain,

andI'1n

notsureI'n1

flexibleenough

tocatch

itinmid-flight.

"Something

wrong,

Superintendent?"saysSerdj,w

orried."H

owaboutyou

takemedow

nto

thesea

front?Ifeellikeareally

goodcup

ofcoffeeto

get1ny

ideasin

order.""A

reyou

sureone

cupisenough?"

''Aslong

asI'1n

notpaying."

The

policeforensicslaboratory

isinthe

basement

ofanadm

in­istrative

buildingadjoining

Headquarters.

Itusedto

beastore­

room,where

allsorts

ofthings

were

shovedaw

ay,a

sortof

chutedow

nwhich

youcould

pushcom

promising

files,worn­

outtypew

riters,stale

ideasand

evennew

thumbscrew

s.Then

therewas

aflood,

anditw

asnecessary

toclear

thebasem

entout

fromtop

tobottom

.Since

thepolice

hadjust

acquiredsom

enew

investigativeequipm

entthatwassophisticated

andcoveted

byotherbranches,the

bossesdecidedto

setupa

labo­ratory.E

versince,

themen

who

slaveaw

aythere

contractallkinds

ofillnesses,

andnobody

knowswhether

it'sbecauseof

theequipm

entthey

useor

thedam

p.Bachir,the

director,welcom

esus

inhis

cubicle;theglass

Irem

ovedfrom

Haj

Thobane's

homethe

previousnight

isin

prime

positionon

thedesk.

Fromthe

,vayhe'sblinking,I

sensethat

hehas

hitthejackpot."W

ell?"Iask.

"You

were

right,Brahim

.There

was

abig

enoughdose

oftranquillizers

inthe

contentsof

thisglass

toputa

mule

tosleep

fortwonights

inarow

.""A

reyou

sure?""T

heanalysis

isdefinitive.

It'sStilnox.

Apow

erfuldrug.

One

tabletand

youcan

gothrough

acatastrophe

andnot

noticeanything."

"Inany

case,he

didn'tsurvive

it.And

onthe

gun?""O

nlythe

deadman's

fingerprints."Itake

Serdjbythe

elbowand

gooutinto

thefreshair.W

hatIhad

fearediscatching

upwith

me.I

would

havepreferred

Amaid,no

longeryoung,

butfreshout

ofherwrapper,opens

thedoor.I

giveher

myparticulars.

Shedoesn't

understandmygibberish

andasks

metorepeat

it.Isuggest

shegoes

andgets

hermistress

andtellsher

SuperintendentLlob

would

liketo

seeher.

Shecom

esback

afew

minutes

laterand

takesme

tothe

swim

.ming

pool.Nedjm

aisstretchedout

onalounger,

with

hersunglasses

upin

herhair.

Sheisreading

afashion

magazine,

with

herdressing

gownopen

overherperfectlegs."G

oodmorning,

Superintendent.""M

orning,madam

e,""Isn't

itaglorious

day?""Ifyou

havethe

means."

Sheputs

hermagazine

downand

facesme,her

elbowon

acushion.

Ican't

sayitoften

enough:this

girlistem

ptationin

itsmost

acuteform

.Her

wide

eyescast

aspell

overme.

Ican

feelmycalf

musclestw

itchingbelow

rnycarcass.

Sheoffersm

eachairbeside

her.Why

not?Isay

tomyself

There's

nolaw

againstdream

ing.Iundo

myvestto

givemy

bellysom

efreedom

andlie

downnear

thesesulfurous

influ­ences.Suddenly,1n

ylounger

turnsinto

aflying

carpet.The

maid

appearswith

atray

loadedwith

fruitjuiceand

imported

cookies.Sheputs

itdownon

asm

alltableand

leaves."Is

sheAlgerian?"

Yasm

inaKhadra

DeadNlan's

Share

"Ithink

she'sfrom

Yem

en.She

worked

asacook

inthe

Algerian

embassy

inAden.A

diplomatfriend

recommended

her.Shecan

doanything.

She'sam

azing."Iw

atchthe

maid

walking

away.

Nedjm

asits

upto

serveus.

The

topofher

govvnfallsopen,

revealingfirnt

roundbreasts

likeapples

pluckedfrom

theGarden

ofEden.Itry

totake

aninterest

inapair

ofgazelles,but

Ican't

tearmyeyes

fromthe

splendorwithin

reachof

myfingers.

Nedjm

anotices

theconfusion

developingin

my

souland

conscience;her

falselymodest

handrearranges

hergow

n.She

holdsout

aglassof

orangejuice.

Isw

allowamouthful

andsm

ackmylips

admiringly.

"Excellent.""Isn't

sheam

azing?""E

verythinghere

isam

azing."She

rewards

mewith

asm

ilethat

would

arousealegless

cripple."Y

oureally

thinkso,

Superintendent?""I

certainlydo!"

Sheleans

backagain,

putshersunglasses

overher

eyesand,without

carryingthe

nectarto

herdazzling

mouth,says,

"Did

youjust

happento

bepassing?"

"Totell

thetruth,

madam

e,Inever

justhappen

topass

throughthe

wealthier

areas.Ithas

tobe

areal

necessityfor

rneto

venturethere.

Ihate

richpeople.

Their

goodfortune

makes

mesick."

"Pity.""W

hyapity,

madam

e?""Y

oudon't

deserveto

sufferbecause

ofother

people'shappiness."

"It'soften

atrap,

youknow

.''

320

"Aslong

asthere's

enoughto

eatand

drink,wedon't

generallygive

adam

n."She

decidesagainst

herdrink

andputs

itdow

non

thetable.Suddenly,she

despises111e."Would

youmind

tellingme

what

givesyou

theright

tocom

eand

depresspeople

aroundhere,

Superintendent?""I'm

hereto

clearup

threeor

fourfuzzy

details,as

partofm

yinvestigation."

"Investigationinto

what?"

"The

deathofH

ajTho

bane,of

course."She

frowns.

Iwatch

herhands;

theystand

upto

1nyexam

i­nation

veryskillfully.T

hiswom

an,Ithink,has

character;sheknow

swhat

shewants

andhow

toget

it."A

reyou

serious,Superintendent?"

"Have

Isaidsom

ethingfoolish?"

"You

must

have.Sinceitwas

suicide.The

pressreported

it-""T

hepress

writes

what

it'stold

towrite,

madam

e.We're

inAlgeria,

inthe

socialistera,

don'tforget."

"Where

doyou

seeany

socialism?

Inthis

heavenlyresidence?"

"Inthe

practicesofthe

day,madam

e?She

tossesher

hairdow

nher

back.Her

profile,that

ofa

goddess,extends

herelegance

allthe

way

toher

high,full

breastsbefore

flatteningher

majestic

belly,which

isgraced

with

anavel

thatis

sodelicate

onewould

unquestioninglyaccept

itas

thesign

oftheLord

himself

"What

isitthat

bothersyou

aboutthis

suicide?""A

bunchof

deadends."

"Forexam

ple?""The

gunin

hisright

hand.""W

hatof

it?"

321

Yasmina

Khadra

"HajTho

banewasleft-handed.T

hat'swhy

hewas

calledthe

Leftyin

themaquis."

"I'veseen

himuse

bothhands

without

difficulty.''"Perhaps.

Buthave

youseen

himread

anew

spaperwithout

hisglasses?"She

starts."H

isglasses

weren't

onhis

desk,beside

thenew

spaper,madam

e.They

were

inyour

bedroom,on

thenightstand."

"Perhapsheleftthem

therewhen

hewentto

fetchthe

gun."She

will

always

surpriseme,this

Nedjm

a.The

livelinessof

herintelligence

isafeast.

"Perhaps,again.

The

problemis,

howdid

hemariage

towake

up,given

thedose

ofsleeping

pillsyou

gavehim

?According

toour

analyses,anag

fromthe

Aurès

mountains

wouldn't

havesurvived

it.HajThobane

can'thave

woken

upor

draggedhim

selfto

hisoffice,never

mind

beingclear­

headedenough

tothink

aboutwhat

washappening

tohim

.Hewaspractically

incapableoflifting

hislittlefinger

toscratch

himself.""W

hatare

yougetting

at,Superintendent?""T

his:

yourstory

doesn'tstand

up.HajThobane

was

murdered,

madam

e.With

orwithout

yourassistance."

Nedjm

asits

up,herfingers

claspingher

knees.Her

sun­glasseshide

theexpression

onherface,butthey

can'thide

thetwitching

ofher

cheekbones.Her

furycom

esboiling

upto

thesurface;

shedoesn't

attempt

tocontain

it."D

oyou

realizewhatyou're

saying?""A

bsolutely.""I

doubtit,Superintendent."

Shestands

upand,

unwilling

towaste

onemore

secondwith

anoverdressed

killjoylike

roe,picksup

hertow

eland

strutsback

toher

apartments

inagust

ofwind.

322

DeadMan.'s

Share

Icansee

themaid

corningback,

soIraise

myhands

andcom

edow

nfrom

myflying

carpet."N

oneed

toworry

aboutme,"

Icallout

toher.

"Iknow

theway

out."

Ihaven'thad

thestrength

tocheck

mymail.T

hereare

threefileslying

abouton

1nydesk,betw

eenthe

telephoneand

theblotter.

They've

beenthere

fordays,sealed

likeoaths.

Baya

comes

infrom

timeto

timeto

checkthat

I'mstillalive.T

heexpression

onmyface

bothersher.

Twice

shehas

triedto

remind

meof

something

andthen

heldback.

The

portraitof

thepresident

oppositemeseem

sto

bepoking

funatm

e.W

heneverone

ofus

catchesthe

other'seye,

myheart

hic­cups

oddly.Idon't

knowwhat

todo

with

myself.Y

esterday,after

leavingNedjm

a,Iwent

forawalk

alongthe

seafront.

Iwalked

forkilom

eterswithout

noticing.There's

nodoubt

thatAlgiers

offersfatethatisblind;

asyouwalk,she

slipsaway

beforeyour

cares,likeadisturbing

mirage,even

asthedepths

ofyour

discomfiture

openup

behindyou

inproportion

toyour

disillusionment.

The

boss'sisn't

backyet.

His

courtierssay

thathis

con­valescence

stillhasagood

way

togo.

Despite

thefall

ofHaj

Thobane,

hisanxiety

refusesto

godow

neven

anotch.

Ithought

aboutgoing

tovisithim

athishom

e,butIw

asafraidofaggravating

hiscondition.

I'mso

awkw

ardwhen

itcomes

tobeing

polite.In

theboss's

absence,Bliss

hastaken

theplace

over.He

rulesthe

roostwith

aniron

fist,thepitch

ofhisscream

higherthan

theflag

onthe

facadeofthe

building.He's

onlyalow

lyinspector,

anobody

onthe

hierarchicalscale,and

yetthestaff

neithergrum

blesnor

argues.Among

us,the

interregnumis

oftenfilled

bymen

who

canbe

trusted-boot-lickers

andyes-m

en-seldom

byranking

officers.

323

Yasmina

Khadra

Dead

Man's

Share

Imiss

myLino.

Funnilyenough,justasm

yeyeshappen

tofallon

thelieu­

tenant'soffice,

Ghali

Saadcalls

me.Hestarts,

inhis

cheerfulway,by

congratulatingmeon

thejob

I'vedone,

talksto

me

abouthow

mysuccess

hasbegun

tosw

eepaw

aythe

graynessof

theyears

oflead,

aboutthe

reliefof

thelaboring

niasses,now

ridof

atyrant,

abouthis

certaintythat

hewill

seethe

countryrediscover

themagic

ofform

ertim

es...when

Idon'trespond,he

askswhether

I'mstillon

theline.

Iassurehim

thatIam

stillthere,at

theend

ofmyrope,

likeahanged

man.H

efinds

mymetaphor

toomuch,and

turnsitaside

with

asugarylaugh.

The

receiverisheavy

inmyhand.

Ifeellike

hangingup

andgoing

somew

herefar

away,w

hereno

onecan

reachme.

Ghali

Saadgets

downto

business.Hebegins

byinform

­ing

methat

hewore

outhis

fistbangingon

thedesks

ofthe

biggestofthe

bigshotsto

getahearing,

andthat

afterstagger­

ingfeats

ofspecial

pleading,backed

upby

well-constructed

reportsand

emotional

statements,

hehas

managed

towin

theday:Lino

isfree!

***Mylieutenant

haslefthis

septictank

foraclinic

onthe

heightsabove

Algiers.

Icrossthe

cityin

awhirlw

ind,provoking

cursesatevery

turn.Ieven

runtw

oor

threered

lights.The

doorman

attheclinic

raisesthe

barrierassoon

ashehears

mytires

screaming.

Akind

doctorexplains

thatthe

officerarrived

earlyin

themorning

inan

indescribablestate

andthat

heis

inthe

bestroorn

inthe

institutionand

inexcellent

hands.Iask

toseefor

myself

Herings

foran

assistantand

handsmeover

toahuge

324

nursewho

looksas

thoughshe

istrying

totouch

theceilíng

bystanding

ontiptoe.

Wewalk

downanum

berof

glisteningcorridors.

Afew

sickpeople

hobbleabout

hereand

there,under

thewatchful

eyeofa

medic

who

lookslike

aprison

guard.Lino

isn'tin

hisroom

.Anurse

hastaken

himout

inawheelchair

forabreathofair,w

eare

told.Weretrace

oursteps

andgo

intoagarden.

Linoisthere,

underatree,

with

ablanketover

hislegs,lookinglike

atorture

victimin

anelectric

chair.With

hisarm

scrossed

Iimply

overhis

kneesand

hisback

bentunder

theweight

ofthe

nightmare

hehas

experiencedin

thejails

thatdon't

exist,he

isstaring

atacorner

ofthe

lawnand

notmoving.

Onhis

asceticface,m

arkedforever

byman's

infamy,

isanexpression

ofsuffering.

The

handsome

ladof

Bab

ElOued

isafeeble

vestigeof

hisform

erself

Iwouldn't

haverecognized

himif

Ihadcom

ealone.

"We'll

gethim

backon

hisfeet

verysoon,"

thenurse

promises.

Iturnon

myheel

toget

outas

quicklyaspossible.

"You

don'twant

tosee

himany

more,

Superintendent?"Ilook

ather."Not

inhis

presentstate,"

Isay,swallow

inghard.

"Hewould

resentmefor

it."She

nods."Y

es,Iunderstand,"she

sighs.Ihave

alreadyleft.

Inan

effortnot

toisolate

myself

with

myanger,

ItakeMina

with

meto

visitMonique.

lhaveno

interestinshutting

myself

avvayinmyroom

andcontinually

seeingin

mymind's

eyethe

pictureLino

presented.A

privateconversation

with

myself,

inasituation

Iikethat,

would

finishmeoff

Monique

greetsus

with

herusualfriendliness.Sheisvery

pleasedto

seemeand

won't

stopfooling

around,in

thehope

325

...-

----=-

-

~~~~

~~

~

326

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhadra

ofdriving

away

theveil

ofbile

coveringmyface.

Itry

totake

thebait,

butIcan't

finditin

thetroubled

waters

ofmy

bitterness.Mohand

watches

n1efrom

hiscorner.

Hesees

thatI'm

primedtogoofflike

abom

band

choosesnot

torub

upagainst

metoo

much.

After

awhile,

theflow

ofMonique's

storiesslow

sdown,and

finallydries

upcom

pletelyintheface

ofmyblack

mood.

Dinner

iseaten

inadisconcerting

silence.Atabout

ten,Mina

asksperm

issiontotake

mehom

e.Sheis

disappointedbymyperform

ance.Wefound

ourhosts

ina

jovialrnoodand

wespoiled

theirserenity.

Asthey

areseeing

usout,just

asIam

preparingtogo

downthe

stairs,Mohand

suddenlysays

tome,"You

stillhaven't

toldmethe

storyabout

thegravedigger

whowanted

tobecom

eacaver."

Igivehim

alook

foramomentand

thengrum

ble,"Don't

youknow

it?""N

"h

o,esays.

"Hechanged

hismind."

Upon

which

noteIgo

downthe

staircase,feeling

asthoughI'm

dissolvingaway

inmytroubles.

Thenextday,Ihear

thatNedjm

ahasflownoffto

Frankfurt:nov,

Ihave

nothingatall.

acrisis

ofconscience:she

feelsguiltyabout

abusingMadam

e'sprivileges

while

thelatter

iselsew

here.Iexploit

herinner

weakness

towrong-foot

her:"When

didshe

leave,exactly?"

"Nomore

thananhour

afteryouleft."

"Shedidn't

behavelike

someone

who

wasabout

tofly

offsomewhere.D

idyou

knowshe

wasplanning

toleave?"

"No,

monsieur."

"Doyou

thinkitw

asbecause

ofme?"

"Idon'tknow

,monsieur.W

henyou

left,shewentinto

herbedroom

.Probably

tomake

aphone

call,becauseshe

calledmeright

awaytopack

herbags.""How

wasshe?"

"What

doyou

mean?"

"Was

shenervous,

excited,calm

...?""Norm

al,asusual.

Shewasneither

rushednor

angry.Shetook

ashow

erwhile

Iwasgetting

herbagsready.

Ihelpedher

doher

hairand

make-up.

Shewascalm

.When

theycam

eto

gether,shewasready.''

"Wasita

taxi?"

Nevertheless,

Igoback

tonum

ber7Chem

indes

Lilas.Imust

knowwhat

reallyhappened.

Themaid

hesitatesalong

time

beforeletting

mein.W

ithherm

istressgone,she

behavesalittle

asthough

thehouse

isherovin.H

erapron

isinthewardrobe,

herhair

isloose,and

sheisliving

thedream

inbroad

daylight.Judging

byher

tannedskin

andbloodshot

eyes,she

must

bespending

hertimeinthe

swimming

poolandlounging

inthe

sun,sipping

endlesspitchers

offruitjuice.

Myunannounced

visitseemstospoil

herpleasure;worse

still,sheenduresitlike

"No,

itwasabig

blackcar

with

tintedwindow

s.Atall

gentleman

tookhersuitcases

andput

theminthe

trunk.Then

heopened

thedoor

formadam

eand

theyleft

straightaway."

"Didshe

saywhere

shewasgoing?"

"No."

"Orwhen

shewould

beback?"

"Madam

enever

tellsmeanything."

"Didshe

takealot

ofbaggage?""Enough

foralong

stay."Ihold

1nychin

with

mythum

band

indexfinger,

toshow

themaid

thatthe

situationisa

massive

problemform

e.Seeingmydiscom

fiture,she

gulpsand

startsfidgeting

withherfingers.

327

Yasmina

Khadra

CHAPTER

TWENTY-TWO

328329

Ichoose

thism

oment

toget

down

tobusiness.

"May

Isee

herbedroom

?"She

startsvisibly,asiftaken

bysurprise,

andlooks

around."I

don'tknow

whether

that'sproper,

monsieur."

"I'n1a

cop,Ihave

everyright."

Shecan't

denyit.

She'sjust

goingthrough

them

otions.I

amtouched

byher

voicew

henshe

says,timidly,

"Can

Icome

with

you?""O

fcourse.

Ijustw

antto

make

aphone

call.""T

here'sa

phonein

thehall."

"I'mallergic

todraughts."

Sheraises

herarm

sin

surrender.Igo

intothe

bedroom,

where

everythinghas

beencare­

fullytidied

away,pick

upthe

telephoneand

pressredial.

Imm

ediatelyafter

thefirst

ring,a

sirenvoice

chirps,"G

oodm

orning,general

secretariatof

theB

ureauofInvestigation."

Iput

thereceiver

down

quickly,as

ifI

hadopened

atrapdoor

andcom

eface

toface

with

theghost

ofanancestor.

The

maid

istaken

abackby

theviolence

ofm

ym

ovement.

Ireassure

herw

itha

wave

ofn1y

hand:"It'

nothing.I'll

callfromm

yoffice.

It'safer."

To

understandw

hatgoeson

inA

lgeria,you

haveto

imag­

inethe

following

picture:in

anO

lympus

whose

highercircles

havefallen

intodisuse,

inthe

absenceof

theloving

God,

fourdem

onsare

tryingto

gaincontrol

oftheinterreg­

num

-Beelzebub,

Lucifer,M

ephistophelesand

Satan.Below

,the

peopleare

reducedto

baseinfluence-peddling;

theyare

onthe

pointofgiving

uptheir

souls,w

hicheach

oftheaforesaid

demonic

creationsw

antsto

damn.

SuperintendentD

ineisn't

following

me.

As

faras

he'sconcerned,

literatureand

philosophyare

onthe

senileside

ofhum

anfolly.B

yhis

own

admission,

he'snever

toucheda

bookapartfrom

scientifictexts

andm

anuals.He

abhorsthem

,and

almost

pitiesrne

when

I'n1polishing

upa

manuscript.

Right

now,

strangely,his

Adam

'sapple

istrem

bling.H

ehas

imm

ediatelyguessed

thatthis

isjustan

openinggam

bit.The

expressionon

1nyface

would

make

analley-cat's

whiskers

standon

end,it's

true,but

it'sthe

dancingfìarnesin

my

eyesthat

worry

hi111.If

heonly

knew,

poorm

an,he

would

havestayed

athom

eeating

lettuceleaves

untilhe

turnedinto

arabbit.

But

hechose

toinvite

me

toa

lavishm

eal,and

nowdiscovers

thatthe

tax,w

hichhe

hadn'tforeseen,

exceedsthe

bill.H

em

ustbe

chewing

hisfingernails

tothe

bone.W

ith

330

DeadMan's

Share

331

YasminaKhaâra

me,you

always

getyourmoney's

worth.

SoIspill

outwhat's

onmymind.

Inasingle

vomit.Taken

aback,he

doesn'thave

timetoput

hissmile

away.First

hefrow

ns,then

sucksinhis

nostrils.ThemoreIspill

thebeans,

themore

hishair

standson

end,even

thehair

inhis

ears."Doyou

hatemethat

much,

Brahim

?""Idon't

hateyou."

"Sowhydoyou

comehere

andadd

tomytroubles

with

youridiotic

story?Ijust

wanted

tosee

youand

havealaugh

ortwoover

afriendly

meal."

"Ithought

youmight

liketoknow

thetruth."

"The

what?

You're

theone

turningyour

back011the

truth,that

whore.

Ifyouwant

myopinion,

youspend

toomuch

time

withyour

books,and

thatdistancesyou

fromreality.T

hereal

truthisthat

yourejust

abigfatdisgusting

flea,puffedupwith

air,thatlovesrubbing

upagainstthorns.

Youjust

havetoplay

themischief-m

aker.Evenifthere's

nowater

inthe

river,you

havetogolooking

foreelsunder

rocks.What's

thepoint

ofthis

nonsense?Even

thedevil

would

hanguphis

hat.Iw

arnyou

rightnow

:Ididn't

comehere

tolisten

torubbish.

Iget

enoughofthat

frommywife."

"Nevertheless,

hewaskilled."

Dine

panics."Not

soloud,"

hebegs.

"AsfarasI'm

concerned,HajT

hobanewasw

elland

trulymurdered,"

Iemphasize,

unmoved.

"Iheard

you...for

heaven'ssake

speakquietly."

Itouch

mychin

tothe

tableand

whisper,

"Hewas

ex-e-cu-ted.""That's

enough.Cutitout

now."

Helooks

roundatthe

fewcustom

ersatnearby

tables.They

seemfine,

absorbedintheir

desserts.The

girlinthe

corner

givesus

awary

smile;

shecan'thear

us,unlessher

hearingaid

isvery

sophisticated.The

waiter

ignoresus;

he'sfacing

thekitchen,

waiting

foradish

thathas

beenordered.

Dine

takesadeep

breath."You're

irnaginirigthings,

Brahim

.""M

aybe-"

"HajT

hobanecom

mitted

suicide.""Ohno

hedidn't!"

"Hekilled

himself

forgood

andall,

you'llsee."

"It'snot

true.Hewaselim

inated."Dine

wipes

hisneck

with

anapkin

toget

ridofthe

sweat

thathas

justappeared

there.Mystubbornness

terrifieshim

.Inthe

littlerestaurant

atBelcourt,

where

heinvited

meto

celebrateLino's

release-aplace

where,

hewants

metounder­

stand,he

iswellknown-myevery

word

setsoff

aseries

ofstinging

sensations."You're

notwell,

Brahirn.

You've

blown

afuse.

Haj

Thobane

putabullet

inhis

ownhead.

Dinosaurs

don'tsur­

vivewhen

theiruniverse

burnsdow

naround

them.Hehadn't

expectedthis

disaster,it'sassim

pleasthat.H

e'dnever

thoughtitpossible

andhehadn't

preparedforit.H

eheld

himself

abovethe

fray,farfrom

unpredictableannoyances.

And

bang!He's

thrown.Hedidn't

getupagain.W

hatelsecould

hedo?

Defend

himself?

Hedidn't

knowwhat

itmeant,

Deny

it?Awaste

oftime.Pick

uphis

routinewhere

heleft

off,asifnothing

hadhappened?

Peoplelike

thatdon'tknowhow

tosaysorry.Either

theygrab

everythingorthey

giveup

everything.Thobane

couldn'tbesatisfied

with

alifedisrupted-

especiallynotafter

he'dbeen

flatteredfor

decades.Hecouldn't

bearhaving

peoplelook

himinthe

eyeand

questionhishistorical

legitimacy.

He

understoodthatthe

diewascast,thatthere

wasno

conceivableretreat.A

llornothing.

That's

thelaw

ofthe

hydrasthat

rule

332

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhaâra

us.It's

alaw

thatdoesn't

gointo

theparticulars.

Andnor

dothose

whohave

chosenit.T

hobanedied

themoment

heand

hisaura

partedcom

pany.Hisextrem

eact

wasjust

thenatural

extensionofa

processofw

ithdrawal.

Hechose

todie

theway

hechose

tolive:

withno

appeal.""That's

thesum

mary.

The

scriptfor

thescene

ismore

developed.""Only

inyour

warped

mind."

"Whywon'tyou

justthink

foracouple

ofseconds,Dine?"

"Ihate

thatkind

ofbrain

exercise.Italways

degener-ates.

Personally,Idon't

giveadam

nwhat

reallyhappened

atnum

berseven

Chem

indes

Lilas.W

hat'sinitforrne,besides

alot

ofshit?"

Dine

isbeside

himself

Hethought

hewasoffering

mea

11101nentofrelaxation;I'm

turningitinto

torment.

Idon'tlikedisappointing

him,but

Ican'thelp

it.It'simportant

tometo

knowwhether

Icanrely

onmyfriends.

Onmyown,

Iwon't

getanyfurtherthan

theend

ofmynose.R

ightnow

,I'mdying

todobattle.

I'vebeen

anordinary

littlepuppet

inthis

busi­ness,

anditbothers

meday

andnight.

Whyme?Why

Lino?Ican't

reconcilemyself

with

thenotion

thatthe

lieutenant'sidyll

wasasimple

crush,ofthe

kindpeople

getallthe

time

inthese

yearsofserious

sexualfrustration.

Linowasthrow

ninto

HajThobane's

pathdeliberately.

Hisgun

wasfound

onSNP's

bodyaspart

ofaplan

toreel

inasucker.

Who

isthe

kingofsuckers?

Probably

aresentful

oldcop

whowasfedupwith

twid­

dlinghisthum

bsand

feltreadytopounce

onany

newcase

togetback

inthe

saddle.Hewanted

trouble,sohegotburied

init.Uncerem

oniously.Almostwith

alaugh,

even.Otherw

ise,what

wasthe

significanceofthe

stringofblunders

thatfol­

lowed?

Those

summary

executions,carried

out"as

ifthey

were

formalities"

don'tnecessarily

indicateamateurism

.Maybe

itcom

esdow

ntoover-confidence,

asifthe

killersand

theirsponsors

hadnothing

tofear

fromaturning

ofthe

tables."Brahirn,"

breathesDine,

exhausted."It's

over.""W

hatdoyou

mean?"

"Shelvethe

caseand

goback

toyour

kids.""I've

beenused."

Hisbelly

shakeswithashort

drylaugh.

"Somebody's

always

beingused,

Brahirn.

That's

howthings

happen.There's

noneed

tofeelcheated.

When

youput

onauniform

,you

takeoff

yourpride.

Besides,

they'retwoirreconcilable

attitudes.There's

nopoint

beatingyourself

upabout

it.You're

acop,

andlike

allcopsyou

gowhere

you'resent.W

henyou

investi­gate,you're

following

aprofession,

notnecessarily

avocation.

Whatever

youdo,

don'ttry

tosee

what's

behindit.Y

ou'llbe

overcomewithvertigo."

"I'mnot

atool."

"That's

where

you'rewrong,

Brahirn.W

e'realljustpaw

nsonachessboard.Supposing

you'reright

andHajT

hobanewas

murdered-G

od,the

ideagives

methewillies,"

hegrum

bles,wiping

histem

ples,"what

doyou

care?It'sthe

bigshots'busi­ness.

Smallfry

aren'tinvited.

Afew

higher-upsare

havinga

kindofclear-out

inthe

harem.Hell,

theycan

dowhat

theywant,it's

theirhom

e!Youwere

broughtintoplay

asmallpart

inthe

purge.Thetoilet

hasnowbeen

flushed.Now

youwipe

yourself:gohom

eand

trytolock

yourdoor

properly,that's

all.It'snot

complicated,

forcrying

outloud."

"Isityou

givingmethis

speech,Dine?"

''And

what

amIifnot

amouthpiece,

Brahim

?What

were

youexpecting?

That

Iwould

congratulateyou

onyour

cleverness?Ifyou

carnehere

tohear

meglorifying

youand

encouragingyou

togointo

thelion's

den,you

gotitw

rong.

333

335

Yasmina

Khadra

Dead

Man's

Share

I'vegot

kidsand

afine

wife

athom

e.Mywork

endswhere

theterritory

ofthegodsbegins.A

slongasn1ybosses

orderme

tocarrv

onIm

oveforw

ard.Ifsuddenlythere's

radiosilence,

,'

ared

lightgoes

oninrny

head.Iknow

mylim

its.I've

gonedow

nsom

estrange

pathsmyself

Sometim

es,youfìnd

yourselfinforbidden

clearings.That's

when

yousound

theretreat,

andIcan

promise

youI'm

thefirst

toturn

back,asquick

asIcan.

I'1nneither

aprophet

noradispenser

ofjustice.I'm

asuperintendent

andIobey

orders,period,the

end."Hegrabs

meby

thewrists.

"Strictlybetw

eenyou

andme,B

rahim,would

youbebig

enoughtostand

uptothem

?They've

justelim

inated

theman

everyonethought

couldn'tbe

toppled.Justlike

that,with

asnap

ofthe

fingers.Hewasaguru,

thatinan.Hehad

friendsatevery

leveland

armies

offollowers,

Better

protectedthan

aholy

fortress.Andlook

howthey

messed

himup.From

oneday

tothe

next,it's

asifhe

neverexisted

....Wedon't

belongintheir

game.

It'stoo

bigform

idgetslike

us.The

oddsare

huge,and

we're

microscopic.

Trust

me,B

rahirn,anddrop

it.You'rejusta

flybuzzing

aroundacow

'sass;

asimple

fartwould

blowyou

topieces.Ifyou

wantanother

pieceofadvice,

don'ttell

anyoneelse

whatyou

justtold

rne.Inour

country,trust

isthe

firststep

onthe

way

toperdition."

The

waiter

bringsour

steakfrites

anddisappears.

Dine

continuesto

wipe

himself

with

thenapkin,

hislips

almost

white.

Hepushes

hisplate

awaywith

hisother

hand."Y

ou'vetaken

awaymyappetite."

"Sorry,"Isay,digging

myfork

intoapiece

ofpotato."Honestly,B

rahim,whatisitthat

attractsyou

tothe

shit?""Let's

saymyidea

ofhonesty

isdifferentfrom

yours.""I'n1

honest.""R

eally?"

Ifeelabitleftto

myow

ndevices,like

asporeatnature's

whim

.Soria

Karadach

hasn'tshownany

signsoflife;C

hérifWadah

hasgone

abroad,soI'm

told;the

bosshasgrantedhim

selfasinecure

atHammam

Righa;

Headquarters

islike

asheep-pen,

opentothe

fourwinds,

andAlgiers

isbehaving

likeastraitjacket.

Igo

backtothe

clinicto

seeLino.

Hehasn't

gothis

colorback,but

he'scom

ingback

tolife

bitbybit.

The

conversationwasn'tlong.Isatdow

non

theedge

ofhisbed

andwelooked

ateachother

andcouldn't

findthe

words.T

hedoctorjoined

us.After

afew

kindwords,

henoticed

thatweweren't

inthe

mood.H

eleftw

ithafunny

lookoverhis

shoulder,no

doubtwondering

whether

wecam

einto

theworld

justtospoilthe

fewjoys

thatstillexisthere.

Iwentback

towork

thewaythe

proverbialHalim

areturned

toher

comfortable

oldhabits.N

eithertoo

earlyinthe

morn­

ingnor

toolate

inthe

evening.Myirritability

isstill

present,but

Idon't

seethe

needtomake

ameal

ofit.What

todaykeeps

toitself,

thefuture

will

tellus.

This

doesn'tmean

I'mdisheartened.

Inthis

life,it'snot

enoughtoknow

whatyou

want;the

important

thingistogetit.For

themom

ent,Idon't

knowhow

,So

Iwait.

"Aboutm

yself,tostartw

ith.Know

ingyourlim

itsisalready

away

ofnotabusing

yourself."Hestands

up."Areyou

leaving?""I'm

gettingout

while

Ican,

Brahirn.

I'mgoing

toask

fortwoweeks'leave

togo

somewhere

alongway

awayfrom

yourheedlessness.

Idon't

want

towaste

myrneal

everyday."H

eleaves

hisnapkin

behindthe

wayyou

mightthrow

inthe

towel,

goesoff

topay

thebill,

andleaves

therestaurant

without

lookingatm

e.

334

337

Yasmina

Khadra

Dead

Man's

Share

Serdjhas

takenover

thefiles

thathavebeen

stagnatingin

1nydraw

ers.He'sagood

man,

Serdj.IfIlostmyfalse

teeth,hewould

offertoserve

asmyjaw

s.I've

seeninspectors

expendthem

selvesunstintingly,

butnoneofthem

comeup

tohisankles.

Baya

hasputon

abitofw

eight.Herbreasts

haveexpanded

andthe

generosityofher

hindquartersisrnore

andmore

distractingtothe

staff.Every

morning,

shearrives

with

ahandbag

fullofSwisschocolates.

Fromthis

Igather

thather

newstallion

haslearned

hislessonbetter

thanhis

predecessors.Those

damnredheads!

Their

intentionsare

soexplicit

theymake

theirhair

burn.Bliss,for

hispart,is

takinghim

selfvery

seriouslyindeed.

Hewatches

overthe

placewith

raredevotion.

Theinterregnum

haswhetted

hisappetite.

Eversince

theboss

cameclose

toswallow

inghis

shirt,Bliss

hasbeenbehaving

likean

absolutemonarch.

Hehas

boughthim

selfashinynew

three-piecesuit

andapair

ofcertified

authenticRay-B

ans,and

hissevere

tielifts

hischin

considerably.Wemetonce

inthe

corridor,and

hegot

upsetbecause

Iwalked

pastwithout

salutinghim

.It's

extraordinaryhow

theheights

cangototheir

heads,especially

when

theirreign

issubject

tochance.

Afew

minutes

later,he

calledrne

toassign

aminor

tasktome.Irealized

Ihad

torem

indhim

oftheproper

orderofthings,

becauseatthis

ratehe

would

soonbe

holdingout

hishand

tobekissed

....Fortunately,

matters

aregoing

togoback

tonorm

al.Thelat­

estnewsisthat

theboss

isdoing

wonderfully:

hewascaught

with

histongue

upanurse's

pussy;which

goesto

showthat

he'sregaining

hissanity

andhis

tastefor

sinfulpleasures.Onemorning,

ataboutaquarter

toten,som

eonecalls

me

onthe

telephone.Hisvoice

isvery

faint.Atfirst

Ican'tmake

anythingout

throughhis

panting;hespeaks

soquickly

Ican'tkeep

up.The

man

explainsthathe

can'tstay

onthe

linevery

longand

begsmetomeethim

atCafé

Nedrom

a,notfarfrom

Headquarters.

Iask

himwho

heis.Hehangs

up,insisting

Ikeep

ourappointm

ent.Iweigh

upthe

prosand

cons.It's

veryhot

inmyoffice

andthe

airconditioning

isout

oforder.Ten

minutes

ofhurrying

later,Ireachthe

cafeinquestion,

which

isopposite

thebus

station.A

sparsefew

customers

decoratethe

interior:crippled

oldmen,a

fewtravelers

waiting

fortheir

bustoarrive,

andone

ortwodisillusioned

boys.Apart

fromthe

fatcashier

watching

mefrom

behindhis

counter,none

ofthem

seemtopay

anyattention

tome.

Ilookatmywatch:

I'montime.

Amanwalks

in,abasket

oneach

arm,looks

aroundall

thetables

forafam

iliarface

andleaves,cursing.

Notmyman.

Three

minutes

later,the

telephonescream

s.The

cashierpicks

up,listensdistractedly

andgrow

ls,"Your

mistake,

klio.Wrong

number."

Hardly

hasheputthe

receiverdow

nbefore

itrings

again.This

time,the

cashierwakes

up.Hisface

becomesmore

andmore

flushedasthe

cracklinginthe

receivergoes

on."Hey!"

saysthecashier

irritably."Ididn't

hanguponyou,

okay?Ijust

saiditwasawrong

number.T

hisisacafé

andnot

thepolicestation

switchboard.Y

ourcop

doesn'tworkform

e,okay?

Sostop

yellingbecause

Ihateit."

Iyankthe

receiverfrom

hisgrasp.

"Hey!

You

..."Ishow

himthe

gununder

myvest,

which

isconsidered

themost

intelligentshort-cut

forshow

ingyour

professionalcredentials.

Thebarm

anretreats

againstthe

mirror,

holdinguphis

paws.

"It'snot

ahold-up,"

Isay."Idon't

evenhave

abag

toput

yourpathetic

money

in."

336

Yasm

inaKhadra

339

Dead

Man's

Share

Henods

inagreem

entbutdoesn'tdare

puthishands

down.

Atthe

otherend

ofthe

line,thestranger

isstillcom

plain­ing

aboutthecashier's

lackofcooperation.

Heishopping

mad

andshouting

soloud

I'mafraid

my

otitiswillflare

upagain.

"It'sall

right,it's

Llob.Why

aren'tyou

atthe

café?"The

strangercalm

sdow

n.After

acouple

ofsniffles,

hesqueaks,

"Ican't

come

tothe

café.""W

hat?You

make

anappoìntm

entwith

meand

thenyou

stayhom

e?""T

hat'snot

it,Superintendent.

Iwanted

totalk

toyou.

Idon't

trustthe

phonesin

theoffice.

They're

allbugged.I

neverintended

togo

tothe

café.Ijust

preferredto

haveour

conversationon

more

reliableequipm

ent.""W

hatabout?"

"I'n1in

theshit,Superintendent.

They're

aftermyblood.

I'vebeen

onthe

runfor

threeweeks.

I'mgoing

crazy.Ican't

gohom

eand

Ican't

goto

ahotel.

Ifyou

couldonly

seethe

stateI'm

in.""I

don'tevenknow

who

youare!"

Icanhear

himpanting,w

ithloud

trafficand

peopletalk­

ing;he

must

becalling

fromacall

box."M

ynaine

wouldn't

mean

anythingto

you,"he

says,clearing

histhroat.

"I'n1not

inany

ofyourfiles."

"What's

theproblem

?""I

killedaguy."

"Firstofall,w

hat'sthisH

içh?""H

ighSociety,

ofcourse!"

"Idon't

getit.""T

heupper

echelons,for

cryingout

loud!""I

stilldon't

followyou,pal."

He'ssniveling

intothe

handset.His

trembling

isdrowned

inthe

roarof

atruck.

"Ican't

stayhere

long,Superintendent.

They'll

findme

anddo

mein.

You're

my

onlyhope.

Iturn

myselfin

toyou

andyou

promise

meafair

trial."Judging

byhis

feverishtones,the

flamesare

lickingat

hisheels."A

llright.I'll

wait

foryou

inmy

office.""Stop

making

funof

me,

Superintendent.If

Ishow

my

facethere

1'1nfinished."

"What

doyou

suggest?""T

hatyou

comeand

getme.A

lone.Idon'twant

anybodyw

ithyou.A

ndyou

corneim

mediately.I

mean

immediately,

Or

elseIleave.

Don't

tryto

make

aplan,

Superintendent.You

don'tneed

one,because1'1n

turningmyselfin.

Toyou,

nobodyelse.''

"What

doyou

findin

me

thatyou

don'tfind

inthe

others?""Y

ou'renot

acrook.

You

don'tknow

me,

butIknow

you.Itrust

you.""W

hereare

you?""O

verby

theCastors."

"Not

aplace

forpicnics.""T

hat'sright."

"You

thinkIshould

trustyou?"

"Iprom

iseyou

it'snot

atrap."

"It'sbig,

theCastors."

,,,,

"Iwant

toturn

myselfin."

"Do

youneed

theaddress

ofthenearest

policestation?"

"Don'tm

akefun

ofme,Superintendent,"

hesays,angrily.

"It'svery

serious.I'm

beinghunted

bythe

High,and

Ineed

someone

toprotect

me.

Iwant

tosurrender

rightnow

,but

notjustany

oldhow

."

338

With

hisrum

pledand

dirtyclothes

andhis

worn-out

shoes,this

terrifiedmanwould

make

aconspirator

runaway

quickerthan

apolice

raid.Hislong

greasyhair

isplastered

againsthistem

ples,fram

inganindistinct

face,paleasa

dyingman's,

Hisswollen

eyeswon't

staystill.

Hedrags

himself

warily

toaposition

infront

ofthehood

ofmycar.

Iopen

thedoor;

heleaps

back,onhisguard.

"Don't

youwant

toget

in?""Notimmediately,"

hemumbles,

wiping

hisnose

with

hissleeve.

"Your

colleaguesmight

turnup."

"Icam

ealone."

"Idon't

havetobelieve

yon.""Don't

youtrust

meanym

ore?"Heretreats,

apathetic

sneeronhis

lips."In

myjob,

that'sadeadly

sin.""Andwhatis

ityoudo?"

Hestands

upontiptoe

tocheck

thesurroundings,

focusingon

thecopse.

Hisfeardistresses

me.

Hestares

atmeand

murm

urs,withoutem

otion,"Occasional

hit-man.""Isthat

all?"Heclears

histhroat

andspits

aconsiderable

distance.Hisgaze,

which

seemedlost,

hardens.Hesays,

icily,"Everyone

doeswhat

hecan

togetby."

"What

isanoccasional

hit-man

exactly?"Heplunges

hishands

intohispockets

andfrow

nsheavily.

Hemust

bewondering

whether

it'sagood

ideatocarry

onwith

thisconversation.

Now

thathehas

meinfront

ofhim,

YasminaKhadra

DeadMan's

Share

"Onthe

northside

there'sanold

buildingsite:tw

ounfin­

ishedbuildings.

It'seasy

tofind.

Ifyou're

coiningfrom

Bab

Ezzouar

it'son

yourleft.

After

thewaste

ground,you

can't

Ashadow

appearsfrom

abed

ofwildgrasses.

Iwasexpecting

tomeeta

man,butit's

aghost

Iseebefore

me.

..

,,ITIISS

lt.

"Iknow

where

itis.""Very

good,Superintendent.

I'malready

here,waiting

foryou.

Butrem

ember:

noescort.

Nofriends.

Nocolleagues.

Ihave

aview

overthe

whole

area.Anything

suspicious,and

Iclear

off."Andhisgasping

voicecracks,beco1nes

almost

tear­ful:"A

reyou

goingtocom

eand

getme,Superintendent?

On

yourmother's

life,canItrust

you?""I'm

likearock."

Thebuilding

sitecovers

halfofapiece

ofwaste

groundat

oneend

ofasuburban

areathat

seemstohave

emerged

froma

nuclearcloud.T

hetrack

leadingtoitcrosses

apublic

garbagetipbefore

breakingitsteeth

onashantytow

nwith

itsroofs

goneand

itswindow

sfilleted.

Thehideousness

ofthe

placerecalls

theworst

heartbreakdespair

canbring.H

eapsofrubble

riseinthe

midst

ofthedevastation

likemonstrous

carbuncles,soawfulthat

eventhe

straycats

stayaway.Icheck

thearea;as

ano-go

zone,you

couldn'task

forbetter.M

yhand

instinc­tively

checksthat

mygun

isinitsholster;

thecoldness

ofitsbutt

calrnsnie

down.Ipark

mycar

behindastripped-dow

nsite

officeand

wait,

earspricked.

Onmyleft,an

abandonedcernent-m

ixersits

rustingamong

amass

ofscrap

metal

androtting

girders.Amutilated

fencedoes

itsbest

tomark

outthezone,

herestanding

upon

swaying

posts,therelying

onthe

ground.Onmyright,a

dumpofshrubbery

coversthe

groundfora

hundred-oddmeters

andthen

merges

with

animmature

copseofhirsute

trees.Infrontofm

e,thetwounfinished

build­ings

looklike

misfortune

herself,gray,skeletal,distressing.

340341

Yasmina

Khadra

342

Dead

Man's

Share

he'sno

longersure

ofanything.A

threaddrips

elasticallyout

ofhisnose;

hepays

noattention.

He

stepsback

fivem

eters,shootinghunted-looking

glancesaround

theplace.

"Superintendent,"he

goeson,insistently.

"You

must

under­stand

thatIw

antto

turnm

yselfin.I've

shotpeople

andnow

Iw

antto

pay.Without

remission."

"That's

yourright."

"The

peoplew

hohired

me

areafterm

eto

eliminate

me.

That

wasn't

inthe

contractand

Ihave

nointention

ofallow

­ing

myself

tobe

beatento

death.""Spare

athought

forthe

small

amount

ofbrain

Ihave

left.T

ellme

firstof

allw

hoyou

areand

why

they'reout

foryour

blood.""I

was

recruitedby

some

higher-ups.Ihad

killeda

rival,the

leaderofa

gangofthieves,

who

ranpart

ofTilim

li.Iw

asarrested

andthought

Iwasin

linefor

thefiring

squad.That's

when

someone

suggestedIw

orkfor

thehigher-ups

toatone

for1nysins.

The

offerwas

ternpting.N

otonly

couldI

startw

itha

cleanslate,

butalso

I'dgo

upin

thew

orld.A

ttwenty,

youdon't

spiton

everything.I

divedin

without

hesitating.W

ellpaid,w

elldressed,wellhoused.A

ndeasy

jobs:awkw

ardm

istresses,intrusive

gigolos,indiscreet

servants.Ifound

themand

killedthem

,Nothing

reallycom

plicated.Iw

entback

home

andpicked

upthe

envelopein

my

mailbox.

The

restof

thetim

e,Ispent

my

cashlike

alord.Forten

years,life

was

sweet.

Correct,

Iwas.N

otparticular

aboutmy

methods.A

ndnow

,all

ofa

sudden,111y

employers

aretrying

toget

ridof

me.

Idon't

thinkI've

brokenany

oftherules.

Ican'texplain

what's

happening.Three

weeks

ago,they

kidnappedm

ygirlfriend.

Ithought

she'ddum

pedm

e.W

rong!M

yem

ployerstold

me

thatif

Iw

antedto

seeher

aliveagain

Ihad

tosurface.

Was

Ihiding?

SinceI

hadn'tdone

anythingw

rong,I

calculatedthere

musthave

beenam

isunderstandingand

surfaced.They

tookm

eto

ahouse

inthe

countryand

toldm

eto

keepout

oftrouble.

They

saidthings

were

turningsour,

thatIhad

toleave

thecountry

andthat

theyw

eregetting

me

apassport.

Isaid

okay.Later

on,a

gorillaturns

up.Iask

himif

hehas

thepassport.

He

saysyes,'gettingout

hisgun,

andadds,'it's

evengot

avisa,'as

hescrew

sasilencer

ontothe

barrel.Ididn't

needto

fillinthe

blanks.Ihithim.Iran

intothe

woods

with

Warda'

my

girlfriend.The

gorillaand

anotherape

carnechasing

afterus.

They

shotatus

andtold

usto

stop.W

ardagot

abullet

inthe

thigh.Icouldn't

doanything

forher.I

don'tknow

what

happenedto

her.Me,Icarried

onrunning.

This

hasgone

onfortw

entydays.

Ican'tgo

home.

Idon'tknow

where

togo,

andI'm

livinglike

adog."

"And

who

didyou

killlast?

Maybe

that'sw

hereyour

problems

started.""Sorne

nabob'sdriver.T

herevolutionary

who

killedhim

­self

recently.""T

hobane?""Som

ethinglike

that.My

contractsaid

Ishouldw

aitout­side

hisvilla

andw

hackhis

driver.That's

exactlyw

hatIdid.

Idon't

knoww

hythey

want

togetrid

ofme."

"Look,

itw

asn'tyou,"

Isay

toregain

sornelostground,

time

togetm

ythoughts

inorder,because

whatI've

justheard

hasknocked

me

sideways.

"The

killerw

ascalled

SNP

andhad

justcom

eout

ofprison.H

ew

asliquidated."

"Rubbish.

I'n1the

onew

how

hackedthe

driver.A

ndthere's

now

ayIm

issedhi111."

Isearch

my

pocketsfeverishly

formy

packof

cigarettes.M

yfrantic

movem

entsfrighten

him;

hethinks

I'mgoing

form

ygun

andgets

readyto

clearoff.

343

344

Dead

Man's

Share

345

Yasmina

Khadra

"Justacigarette,"

Iyell,showing

himthe

pack."Doyou

want

one?""T

hat'snone

of1ny

business.In

myprofession,

theless

youask

questions,themore

chanceyou

haveof

waking

upafter

agood

night'ssleep."

"How

didthey

gethold

ofit?""I

don'thave

anansw

erto

that,Superintendent.

The

guygave

methe

gunin

alittle

plasticbag.H

ew

asvery

insistentthat

Ikeepitlike

that.There

were

printson

it.Iwassupposed

towear

gloveswhen

Iusedit,putitback

initsw

rapperimme­

diatelyafterw

ardsand

thenleave

itinaparticular

trashcan

...."Noticing

thatI'vestopped

breathing,he

thinksI'm

playingadirty

trickon

him.

"Whatisit,Superintendent?

Doesn'tm

ystory

interestyou?""It's

notthat."

"Sowhat

isit?"

"I'mthinking."

"What

about?""A

boutwhatyou've

justtoldme."

"Ifyouprom

iseto

protectme,

I'llconfess

itallincourt."

Igesture

tohim

tokeep

quietfor

aminute.

Ineedto

aeratemybrain."So

nowwhat?"

hesays

impatiently.

"I'mnot

planningto

hangabout

here."The

endofm

ycigarette

burnsmyfingers.

I'vesm

okedit

infew

erthan

tenpuffs.M

ythroat

isburning

and1ny

palateisbitter

with

thetaste

ofnicotine."W

ouldyou

beable

toidentify

yourem

ployers?""N

otahundredpercent.T

hey'retwocleverguysw

hocom

eout

onlyatnight

andstay

inthe

shadowswhen

theygive

me

1nyorders.

Inall

theyears

I'vebeen

working

forthem

,I've

nevermet

themin

thestreet,

onthe

beach,in

theairport

orin

arestaurant.

And

yetI'maman

who's

alwaysoutand

about.

"Itmightbe

doped.""Suit

yourself""N

o,Iwon't

takethe

risk."Ilight

mycigarette

andsuck

onitgreedily;

thefirst

fewpuffs

warm

upmyideas

andease

thetrem

blingofm

yhands.

"Why

didyou

shootatthe

passengerseatthen,insteadof

theman

who

wasatthe

wheel,

ifyouwere

afterthe

driver?""I

was

givenacounter-order

byradio.

Atire

hadblow

nouton

theway.T

hedriverhad

sprainedhisw

ristchangingthe

tiré.They

toldmeright

outthat

itwasn't

himatthe

wheel.

The

restwasn't

rocketscience."

Hehasjust

passedthe

testwith

.flyingcolors.A

confusingmultiplicity

ofthoughtscrow

djostling

into1ny

skull.None

ofthem

standout

inparticular.L

ikeadrunk

when

hewins

thejackpot,

Ilose

1nybearings

andfind

myself

wanting

severalthings

atthesam

etim

e.This

rnanisthe

missing

piecein

my

puzzle.And

yetIcan't

work

outhowtobring

himon

board,nor

where

tostart.

Ifeel

certainIhave

aterrifying

bomb

inmyhands,

andIrealize

I'mnot

abom

b-disposalexpert.

Suddenly,

Iunderstand

howloaded

with

goodsense

Dine's

words

inthe

restaurantatB

elcourtwere.A

burninghot

irontakes

upresidence

inmystom

ach.Sw

eattricklesdow

nbehind

myears,soaks

mycollar

andstarts

eatingaw

ayatm

yneck.

"I'mcom

pletelystunned,"

Isay,to

controlthe

fearthat's

takinghold

ofme,

"You

shothim

with

yourow

nweapon?"

"I'venever

carriedaweapon.

Myem

ployersgive

meone

when

it'stim

eto

doajob."

"Doyou

knowthat

thevveapon

youused

belongedto

acop?"

347

Yasm

inaKhadra

Dead

lvf.an'sShare

And

I'venot

oncefound

myself

facetoface

with

them.It's

always

them.thatknow

where

tofind

mewhen

theyneed

me."

"Ifyou

can'teven

recognizemenwhohave

beenusing

youfor

years,your

storydoesn't

haveachance

ofstanding

up.This

isavery

seriousbusiness.

It'sout

ofthequestion

forustoreach

anagreem

entonthe

basisoffairy

talesthat

noone

canverify."

Helifts

hishead

suddenly,and

takeshishands

outofhis

pockets."What

thehell's

goingonhere?"

Iturn

tosee

where

he'slooking.Acloud

ofdusthasjust

risenupbehind

abank

ofdirt,to

theaccom

paniment

ofarum

blingsound.

"Sonofabitch,"

theghost

saysangrily,

"youprom

ised."Acar

appearsatthe

endofthe

track.It's

headingforus

atfullspeed."Idon't

knowwho

thisis,"

Itell

him.

"Like

hell!You're

allthe

saine...."The

car,abig,

black,hellish

body,iseating

upthe

roadataferocious

clip.Themanisgoing

completely

green:"It's

them.They've

trackedmedow

n."Before

Ihavetimetoget

outofm

yvehicle,

hehastaken

tohisheels

andfled

toward

thewoods,

Istartpursuing

him,but

giveupright

away:the

occasionalhit-m

anhasa

nuclearreactor

uphis

ass.Heclam

bersupaheap

ofgravelin

asingle

bound,runs

alongthe

fenceand

thenstarts

sprintingatunbelievable

speed,straight

ahead,with

hisvest

streaming

outinhis

slip­stream

.Iturn

toward

themadcar,w

ithmyBeretta

inview

.The

driversees

meright

inthe

middle

ofthetrack

andapplies

thebrakes

butfails

toslow

down;the

lockedwheels

gougeat

theground,

slippingand

slidinginatrem

endousskid.

Taken

abackby

theclum

sinessofthis

maneuver,

Iremain

standinginthe

dust.Thehuge

bodythreatens

torun

meover,

spins,

Iwent

backto1ny

officeand

waited.

Thenext

dayIclock

inatdaybreak

andask

tobeleftalone

withmytelephone.

The

strangerdoesn't

call.Notonthe

following

dayseither.

At

theend

ofthis

wasted

time,Iface

thefacts;luck

doesn'tring

twice

atthesam

efool's

home.

Iputacross

againstthe

callinquestion

anddecide

nottoworry

aboutittoo

much.

Inthe

evening,Igo

outwith

Mina

tochange

rnyoutlook;

duringthe

day,Itrytomake

senseofthe

thingsofthis

world.Y

esterday,the

doctorinform

edmethatLino

ismaking

afight

ofit.He's

stillmistrustful

ofthe

nurses;onthe

otherhand,he's

gettingonwonderfully

with

theother

patients.Andthat's

something,

OnThursday,

earlyinthe

morning,

Serdjannounces

thatabody

hasbeen

foundinascrapyard.

Wetravel

tothe

sitetogether.

Theplace

isonthe

wayout

oftown,ontheroad

toTiziOuzou.

Wegetthere

afteranhour

ofslalom

ingabout

cursing.It's

onthe

otherside

ofahill,

onapothole-filled

passeswithin

ameter

ofme,and

smashes

itsfrontendinto

thecem

entmixer

with

acrash

ofmetal

onmetal.

Stunned,Iwaitforthe

dusttosettle

beforethinking

aboutthe

disasterIhave

justescaped.

Thedriver

opensthe

door,groggybut

unhurt.He'sjust

akid."I

didn'tseeyou,

monsieur."

"What

thehellare

youdoing

inthat

crate?Didyou

stealit?""Ohno,

monsieur!It'sm

yfather's.H

elets

metake

itsorne-timesso

Icanlearn

todrive,

aroundhere,w

herethere

aren'tany

people.Isw

earIdidn't

seeyou,

monsieur!'

Irun

toward

thewoods,

hopingtofind

myexhibit

Ahiding

there.Despite

myreassuring

calls,myfriend

doesn'treappear.

Hemust

alreadybe

inhiding

onthe

otherside

oftow

nbynow

.

346

Yasm

inaKhadra

348

Dead

Man's

Share

pieceofland

where

afew

lonelytrees

despairoftheir

birds.There

arehundreds

ofcarscram

medinto

lessthan

ahectare,

sorneofthem

nearlynew

,others

inaninconceivable

state.Abarred

gate,topped

with

astrip

ofbarbedwire,

opensonto

asmall

yardwith

ableached-out

watchm

an'shutfalling

apartatits

center.Ihonk

myhorn

toannounce

n1ypresence.

The

watchm

anconies

outand

peersatusand

thengoes

backto

fetchhis

keys.Heisabig

man,

compact

andsullen;

hischest

bulgesbeneath

aleather

waistcoat

stainedyellow

with

sweat

inplaces.

Heisflanked

byascraw

nydog

thatistoo

pathetictoact

fiercewithout

bringingdow

nridicule

onitself

Heheads

forthegate,undoes

abig

Chinese

padlockand

pullsthe

chainthrough

thebars.

"Iwasabout

tohitthe

sack,"he

saysreproachfully,unhappy

atbeing

disturbed."It's

onlyjust

nineinthe

morning,"

Itellhim.

"ButIwork

nights."Hethrow

sthe

gateopen

wrathfully

andlets

usthrough.

Idrive

mycar

uptothe

hutand

switch

offtheengine.

Serdjgets

outfirst,with

mehard

onhis

heels.Thewatchm

anchases

hisdog

away

andjoins

us.Hehas

thesinister

lookofaman

who

knowsnobody

likeshim

anddoesn't

giveadam

n.He

walks

infront

ofuswithout

lookingatus,the

scentofa

rabidanim

allike

anaura

aroundhim

.Hemustpack

agood

hundredkilos

intohis

onemeter

sixty,aswellas

concreteshoulders

andthighs

strongenough

totow

atrailer.

Hisshaved

skullrests

onabulging

neck,likeamedievalcannonball

onaworn-out

shockabsorber.

"Wasityou

thatfound

it?"Iask

him.

"Doyou

th.inkthere's

anarm

yofushere?

Idon't

evenhave

astand-in."

Heleads

usthrough

corridorscutthrough

carbodies.The

groundshakes

beneathhis

feet.He'sinahurry

toget

itover

with

andgo

backtohis

nap."W

hyisn't

theambulance

hereyet?"

hegrum

bles."It's

onthe

way."

"Ihope

theambulance

mendon't

stopand

getsomething

toeat

alongthe

way.I

want

thiscrap

takenawayfrom

herepronto."

"Areyou

sorude

becauseyour

armsare

toomuscular?"

Isayinexasperation.

"Ididn't

askyou

tomarry

me,"

hereplies

withoutslow

-ing

down.

"Coolyourjets,big

fella.Idon'tlikethe

wayyou

talktous."

"Norm

allyIdon't

talk,Ipunch."

"Your

dog?"Hestops

dead,walks

backand

looksmeup

anddow

n."So

tellme,pig.A

reyou

lookingfor

trouble?""That

senough,"

Serdjinterjects."Me,

Idon't

golooking

fortrouble,"

hewarns

me."I'm

happyinmyhole,

okay?DoImake

troublefor

people?So

staywellclear

of1nyfist,pig.W

hetheryou're

ahoukoumo"

oryou

clearout

monkeys'

assesforaliving,

it'sallthe

sameto

me.N

obodymessesm

eabout,

yougetm

e?I'm

awatchm

an,not

atradesm

an'sentrance."

Serdjslipsbetw

eenus,

toreason

with

theoxand

handlethe

pig.The

watchm

answallow

shis

belligerenceand

walks

offahead.Hearrives

attherem

ainsofavan

andsetshis

handson

hiships.

"There

heis.U

ptoyou

totake

himaway.M

e,I'm

goingback

tobed

andhaving

asnooze."

*Houkoutna:functionary,

regimentalflunkey.

349

Yasmina

Khadra

350

CHAPTER

TWENTY-THREE

"Not

sofast,"

Iadvise

him."Weneed

toask

youafew

questions.""I'm

notthe

onewhodid

himin.

Idon'tneed

aknife

forthat,

pal.""Youfound

him,right?"

"Mydog

did.Askhim

.Ididn't

seeanything

orhear

any­thing.

Maxhow

led.Icam

e.Thedead

guywasthere,exactly

likeheisnow

.Ihaven'ttouched

anything.Icalled

theman­

agement.

Themanagem

entgot

intouch

with

you.That's

allthere

istoit....

Shutthe

gateonyour

wayout."

Heleaves,

short-neckedand

stoop-shouldered.Hisdog

cornestomeet

him,wagging

itstail.

Hekicks

itinthe

ribsand

shouts,"You

alwayshave

tostick

yournose

ineverything,

don'tyou!"

Ipayno

attentiontohim

andcrouch

downby

thebody.

It'smy"occasional

killer."Hishands

andfeetare

tiedupwithwire,his

torsoisnaked

andhisthroat

hasbeen

slitfrom

eartoear.

Thefingerprints

takenfrom

thebody

atthescrapyard

don'tproduce

anything.Aphotograph,

takenwith

careand

distributedtoallthe

policestations

inAlgiers

andthe

suburbs,isa

deadend.Ihave

sentSerdjandother

inspectorsoutto

sniffaround

inthe

nightclubsand

swanky

barswhere

younghoods

gotoblow

theircash,

without

success.Thearray

ofdragnetsorganized

aroundthe

matter

corneupempty.M

y"occasional

killer"iscom

pletelyunknow

n.Irem

embered

Tilim

li,how

hetold

mehebehaved

likeachieftain

when

hewasayoung

delinquent,and

went

theremyselffour

timesinthe

spaceof

aweek;

thedow

nturnedmouths

onthe

peopleIapproached

almosttrickled

downtheir

chins.After

tryingeverything

else,Ibring

inthe

press.There

too,the

publicationofapicture

ofthe

unknownman

inthe

main

nationaldailies,

with

theheadline

"Help

identifyhim

,"finds

notakers.

Justonce,

ahoaxer

calledthe

switchboard

andsentus

downablind

alley.Myactivities

enduparousing

theinescapable

Bliss'scuri­

osity.Now

thatthe

bossisgetting

readytotake

uphis

postagain,

hisdedicated

spywould

liketospice

upthe

reporthe

intendstosubm

it.Needless

tosay,he

hasnoted

allthe

unex­plained

absencesofhis

colleagues,the

pettydisputes

andthe

transgressions,but

that'snot

enough.Hemust

havenoticed

351

351

Yasmina

Khadra

"Notso

fast,"Iadvise

him."Weneed

toask

youafew

questions.""I'm

nottheone

whodid

himin.Idon'tneed

aknife

forthat,

pal.""Youfound

him,right?"

"Mydog

did.Askhim

.Ididn't

seeanything

orhear

any­thing.M

axhow

led.Icam

e.Thedead

guywasthere,

exactlylike

heisnow

.Ihaven'ttouched

anything.Icalled

theman­

agement.

Themanagem

entgot

intouch

withyou.

That's

allthere

istoit....

Shutthe

gateonyour

wayout."

Heleaves,

short-neckedand

stoop-shouldered.Hisdog

comestomeethim

,wagging

itstail.

Hekicks

itinthe

ribsand

shouts,"Youalw

ayshavetostick

yournose

ineverything,

don'tyou!"

Ipayno

attentiontohim

andcrouch

downbythe

body.It's

my"occasional

killer."Hishands

andfeetare

tiedupwithwire,his

torsoisnaked

andhisthroat

hasbeen

slitfrom

eartoear.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-THREE

Thefingerprints

:akenfrom

thebody

atthe

scrapyarddon't

produceanything.

Aphotograph,

takenwith

careand

distributedtoallthe

policestations

inAlgiers

andthe

suburbs,isa

deadend.Ihave

sentSerdjandother

inspectorsoutto

sniffaround

inthe

nightclubsand

swanky

barswhere

younghoods

gotoblow

theircash,

without

success.Thearray

ofdragnetsorganized

aroundthe

matter

comeupempty,M

y"occasional

killer"iscom

pletelyunknow

n.Irem

embered

Tilim

li,how

hetold

mehebehaved

likeachieftain

when

hewasayoung

delinquent,and

went

theremyself

fourtimesinthe

spaceof

aweek;

thedow

nturnedmouths

onthe

peopleIapproached

almosttrickled

downtheir

chins.After

tryingeverything

else,Ibring

inthe

press.There

too,the

publicationofapicture

ofthe

unknownmaninthe

main

nationaldailies,w

iththe

headline"Help

identifyhim

,"finds

notakers.Just

once,a

hoaxercalled

theswitchboard

andsentusdow

nablind

alley.Myactivities

endup

arousingtheinescapable

Bliss'scuri­

osity.Now

thatthe

bossisgetting

readytotake

uphispost

again,hisdedicated

spywould

liketospice

upthe

reporthe

intendsto

submit.N

eedlesstosay,he

hasnoted

alltheunex­

plainedabsences

ofhiscolleagues,

thepetty

disputesand

thetransgressions,

butthat's

notenough.

Hemust

havenoticed

350

Yasmina

Khadra

352

Dead

Man's

Share

thefrenzy

thathas

grippedmydepartm

entand

absolutelyinsists

onknow

ingwhat's

goingon.

That

wayhewillhave

anansw

ertoeverything,proving

hisrem

arkableprow

essas

aguard

dogforhismaster.

Hecom

esinontiptoe,

rubbinghisR

ay-Bans

onthe

backofhis

grenadinetie.A

fterbeating

aboutthebush

forawhile,

hegetsto

thepoint:"I

askedforcar

numberfourteen

yesterday,and

thehead

ofthecarpool

toldn1eyou

hadrequisitioned

it.""What

ofit?"Heputs

hisglasses

backonhisratlike

face."Carnum

berfourteen

isuntouchable,Llob.Itdoesn't

leavethe

garageexcept

onthe

minister's

personalorder.

Ithought

maybe

therewas

adelegation

ofVIPStobedriven

somewhere.

Butno,

therewasn't.

Isaid,

what's

gotinto

thesuperintendent,

thathe's

drivingaround

inabulletproof

car,classifiedasuntouchable,

without

theauthorization

ofthechief

ofpolice

himself?"

"Andyou're

heretofind

outtheansw

er?""T

l'

.h

.iatsrig

t.Ilook

himupand

downforam

oment.H

elooks

asthoughhe's

comestraight

fromthe

beautician.He'sdressed

uptothe

nines,freshly

shaved-e-whichfurtherem

phasizeshispixie-likecheeks-

andsmellsstronger

thanagathering

oftenwhores.

The

shoesshow

ingbeneath

hissharplycreased

trousersare

ofaforeign

brand;I'venever

seentheir

likeinthe

shopsIfrequent.

"Wasitthe

bosswhogaveyou

thecombination

ofhissafe?""Don't

changethe

subject,Llob.A

carfromthe

restrictedcategory

lefttheHeadquarters

carpoolwithout

myknow

ledge.It's

aserious

breachofregulations."

"Mycar

brokedow

n,and

mydepartm

ent'svehicles

arehardly

inbetter

shape.Ihadaninvestigation

tocarry

outand

Itook

numberfourteen

forthemorning.

Ifyou

thinkthat's

worth

includinginyour

reporttothe

director,gorightahead."

"Aninvestigation,

didyou

say?"hesays,taking

offhis

sunglasses.Hisyellow

eyesglitter

likeasnake's

when

itfindsaplum

plittle

mouse

trappedin

ahole.

Hisreptilian

tonguepassesover

hislips,his

nostrilsflare

andhis

earsprick

up."Youheard

me,"

Isay."Aninvestigation

intowhat?''

Ipush

mychair

backtogive

mygut

arest

frombeing

pressedup

againstthe

desk,and

sneerathim

."Ithought

Imade

myself

clearthe

otherday,

Bliss.

Theboss

leftyou

histhrone,

butthat

doesn'tmean

you'rethe

king.Even

youwouldn't

bestupid

enoughtothink

so.There's

ahierarchy

inthis

whorehouse.

Aladder

thatgetsridiculed

asmuch

asour

scaleofvalues,w

iththe

differencethatit's

stillinforce.

We

allappear

onan

organizationalchart,

allthe

wayfrom

thebig

chiefdow

ntothe

securityguards,

andwe're

paidaccord­

ingtoaclear

andprecise

orderofbattle,w

ithoutwhich

we'd

bechew

ingeach

other'sheads

offatevery

turn.Me,I'm

asuperintendent.

You,you

playyourlittle

gamesseveralgrades

beneathrne.If

itpleasesyoutoforget

it,that'syour

problem,

notmine.

Here,

you'rein

tnydepartm

ent.Andyou're

notwelcom

e.IfIwere

youI'dgoback

tobeing

apoodle

onthe

thirdfloor

andwaitforsom

eonetowhistle

foryou.""There's

astanding

orderthatin

theabsence

ofthedirec­

tor,Inspector

Nahs

Bliss

willact

inhis

stead.""You're

right.There

wasone

onmywall.

Itgavemethe

runssobadly

Iused

ittowipe

myass.

Andanother

thing,Inspector.

Iknow

theregulations,

andwhen

anidiot

ofa

directortram

plesthem

underfootI'm

underno

obligationto

applaud.Putting

youatthe

hehnofH

eadquartersisillegal.A

slong

asitjustgivesyouahard-on,Idon'tm

ind,Ifon

theother

hand,you'reunw

iseenough

tocom

einto

myofficeand

remind

meofthe

anarchyreigning

inour

variousadm

inistrations,

353

YasminaKhadra

354

Dead

Man's

Share

youdon't

havea

chanceofgetting

outunscathed.

My

adviceissim

ple:go

fuckyourself

anddon't

tellanyoneabout

it."B

lissretreats,

waddling.

He

waves

acasual

fingerat

me,

threateningly,and

giggles.O

ncein

thedoorw

ay,heturnsround."Ialm

ostforgot.I've

gotexcellentnew

sforyou.Y

ou'regoing

toBulgaria

forsome

training.T

hetelex

arrivedthis

morning,

Signedby

GhaliSaad

himself

With

recomm

endationsat

thatlevel,

you'llbe

well

placedin

theharem

.T

othink

youhated

bigshots

som

uch.""I

didn'task

themfor

anything.""N

kiddi;,••

o1

mgr

"And

Iw

antnothing

todo

with

thistraining.

I'llcede

my

placeto

you.""U

nfortunately,I'n1

nota

superintendentyet."

"That's

thefirst

intelligentthing

I'veheard

fromyou

rm

outhsince

theoilindustry

was

nationalized."H

ew

inksand

disappearsfrom

sight.Baya

arriveson

herstiletto

heels.She

hasm

adeherself

uplike

arubicund

goddessand

putan

infìarnmatory

redon

herlips.

Her

tightblouse

makes

herbreasts

leapabout

liketw

ofatrabbits

caughtin

anet.

Firstshelistens

toB

liss'ssteps

asheleaves,

thensaysenthusiastically,"Is

ittrue,whatIjustheard?"

"That

dependshow

longyou've

beenthere

with

yourear

gluedto

thedoor."

"You're

veryunfair,Superintendent.

Idon'tgetinvolvedin

arguments

between

my

superiors."She

putsabig

envelopedow

non

theblotter.

"This

came

inthe

mail,"

sheexplains.

"Idon't

seea

sender.""W

ell,itwasn'tm

e."She

picksup

acom

pletedfile

andpresses

itto

herchest

likea

schoolboyw

ithhis

comic

book.

"Isitfar,B

ulgaria?""It's

notnext

door.""It

mustbe

anice

country.""W

hydo

yousay

that?""W

ell,of

courseit

is.Y

ou'llchange

yourideas,see

newfaces,new

towns,

neww

aysof

thinking.M

e,I'm

gainefor

anynew

horizon.Ireally

needto

getout

ofhere."

"That

low-cutdresssuits

you."She

blushesw

ithpleasure.

"You

noticed,Superintendent?"

"Of

course!Now

takecover,honey.T

heenvelope

might

bebooby-trapped."She

nodsand

goesback

toher

cubicle.I

tearthe

envelopeopen

andtake

outa

creasedold

pho­tograph

inw

hichfive

maquisardsw

ithrifles

slungover

theirshoulders

aresaluting

toward

thelens.

They

arein

aclear­

ing.Inthe

backgroundthere

isa

kindof

blockhouseor

cavecam

ouflagedw

ithbranches.

The

men

arerather

young,and

pleasedto

beso.

The

tallestsports

athin

moustache.

He's

givingthe

thumbs-up

asagesture

ofsatisfaction.T

heothers

seemproud

tobe

posingbeside

him.T

heenlargem

ent,w

hichm

usthave

beenrnade

froman

originalprint

ratherthanfrom

thenegative,

exaggeratesthe

defectsof

theoriginal.

Itry

toidentify

thecharacters,

butnone

ofthem

ringany

bells.M

ym

agnifyingglassdoesn'trevealanything

inparticular.T

here'sno

caption,no

accompanying

note,noteventhe

usualgreetingsestablishing

thecontext.

IaskSerdjto

corneover.H

elooks

atthe

photofrom

allanglesand

thengives

itback."M

aybeit's

aform

ercom

radein

arms

who

thoughthe

recognizedyou

init,"

hesuggests.

"He

couldhave

written

something

onit."

"That's

true,pretty

stupid."355

357

YasminaKhadra

Dead

Man's

Share

"Look

carefully.None

ofthefacesrem

indyou

ofanyone?"Hetakes

thepicture

againand

studiesthe

fivefighters.

"Idon't

seeanything."

"Doyou

thinkit's

acoded

message?"

"Meaning?"

"That

itmighthave

something

todowith

recentevents?"

Forthe

thirdtim

e,Serdjleans

overthe

photo."Itcould

beanything,

Superintendent.Asimple

mistake,

amoment

offorgetfulness.

Theperson

who

sentitprobably

forgotto

putinthe

letterthat

goeswith

it.There's

nothingtoworry

about,Idon't

think.""DoIlook

likeI'm

losingit,Inspector?"

Iyell."That's

notwhat

Imeant."

"Sodrop

it.Iasked

youropinion

aboutthe

photo,not

mystate

ofmind."

Serdjgetsthemeasure

ofhisblunderand

escapesasquickly

ashecan.

Iglanceatthe

photoone

lasttime,throw

itintoadraw

erand

ringforB

ayatogetm

eacup

ofstrongcoffee.

"Notnecessary.

Bebrief,

andwe'll

manage."

Thevoice

clearsitsthroat

andgets

tothe

point:"Didyou

getthephotograph?"

"Wh.

hM

~,,re

one,r...r

"Mynam

ewouldn't

mean

anythingtoyou.

Isentyou

aletter

inthe

mailaweek

ago.With

aphoto

inside.""Youforgot

thetext

thatgoes

with

it.""There

wasn't

one.""So

what's

thestory?"

"It'stoo

longtotell,Superintendent.C

anwemeet?

Ihavesom

einteresting

revelationsforyou."

"About

what?"

"Notonthe

telephone,SyBrahim

.It'sveryvery

important."

"I'minthe

officeevery

morning."

"I'mbusy

inthe

morning,

Isuggest

wemeettom

orrowateight

o'clock,atthe

Pyramidsrestaurant."

"Idon't

knowwhich

suittowear

tosuch

anaugust

establishment."

"There's

noneed.Should

Ireserveusa

table,Mr.L

lob?""If

itgives

youpleasure

tobe

eatenunder

thetable

bya

Twodayslater,

atelephonecallcatchesm

eathom

e.Itisrem

ark­able

towhat

extentdeath,

life,th.eprogress

ofone's

career,sackings,

declarationsofw

ar,crisesoflove,infacteverything

inour

countrycan

hangonatelephone

call.Avoice

with

astrong

easternaccent

tellsmenot

tohang

upinitsface.

"I'clhavetosee

itfirst,"Itell

thevoice,

stillswallow

ingmypiece

ofchicken.

Thevoice

becomesbolder:"T

hankyou

forhearingmeout."

"Ican't

guaranteeyou

that.I'vejust

satdow

ntoeat."

"Sorry

Iinterrupted

yourmeal.

Would

youlike

meto

callyou

back?"

."

pig..."It's

anhonor,

forme,to

inviteyou

todinner."

"That's

great.Tom

orrowateight,

atthePyram

ids."''Ithank

youwith

alln1y

heart,SyBrahim

.Goodbye."

Mina,w

hohasstopped

allmovem

enttowatch

me,searches

1nyface

forworrying

signs.Iflashher

areassuring

smile."Just

acharitable

soulinvitingmetoafancy

restauranttom

orrow.

I'mgoing

tostuff

myselfw

iththose

gourmetdishes

unti]I

throwup."

"Doyou

thinkIdon't

feedyou

enough?""Lets

saythis

willbe

awelcom

echange."

356

358

Dead

Man's

ShareYasm

inaKhadra

Min

araises

adisapproving

eyebrow."Y

ouw

on'teatlike

aking

onthe

penniesyou

doleout

bitby

bit,after

endlessnegotiations."

"Are

yousaying

I'1nstingy?"

"Worse:

you'repoor."

"That's

nottrue,"

saysmy

youngest."M

ydad's

notpoor,

he'shonest.""It

comes

tothe

sarnething,"

hisolder

brothertells

him.

Mina

liftsher

chinand

bringsthe

kidsback

undercon­

trol.Isit

down

inm

yseat

againand

goback

tochew

ingon

my

drumstick,

thinkingaboutthe

insand

outsof

thestrange

phonecall.

ifto

apologizefor

beingforced

toseat

sucha

clodso

closeto

theiridyll-

heleaves

without

slidingback

my

chair.M

yclosestneighbors,

two

taciturnnabobs

sittingbeside

afatsow

drapedin

silkand

preciousstones,

stareatn1e,baffled

bythe

vulgarincongruities

occasionedby

my

outfit.Ibare

my

teethin

abestial

grinand

sitdown,

ignoringthem

ina

dignifiedm

anner.A

heavilyrnade

upw

aitress,herbust

measurem

entequal

toher

hipm

easurement,

handsm

ea

menu

onw

hichbew

il­dering

delicaciesare

listedin

astring

ofexquisitely

phrasedsubtleties

designedto

stimulate

one'sdesires

andtitillate

one'sfantasies:lam

bsteak

inpastry,jus;

sliceofsm

okedduck's

liver;and

otherrefined

garbagethat

reminds

1nehowfar

behindI

amw

henitconies

toem

ancipation.SinceIcan'tdecipher

them

enu,Isuggestw

ew

aitfor

my

host."A

ndas

anapéritif?"

shepesters.

"What

doyou

mean?"

"Asm

allglassof

champagne?"

"Oh

no!I'm

abeliever."

"Some

water?"

"With

pleasure.""Still

orsparkling?"

Why

isshe

persecutingm

elike

this?"E

r,sparkling,"I

sayatrandom

."M

ouzaïaor

Perrier?""M

iss,"Ibeg

her,increasinglyhorrified

bym

yneighbors'

ostentatiouscuriosity,

"my

palatehas

beenso

ruinedby

thebad

foodin

thecanteen

thatitw

ouldn'tknow

thedifference

between

marzipan

andm

odelingclay.

Not

worth

bringingm

eany

atall,okay?"

Her

smile

disappearsso

fastthatshe's

leftspeechless.She

confiscatesm

yrnenu

andleaves

nieto

my

fate.

The

nextday,

inthe

evening,I

puton

my

leastw

orn-outshirt,

my

onlysuit-

which

Ionly

getout

when

Ihave

to­and

my

tiew

hichbears

thecrest

ofa

British

club,w

hichI

boughtfrom

asecond-hand-clothes

dealerin

Bab

El

Oued,

andpresent

myself

ateight

o'clocksharp

atone

ofthe

most

exclusiverestaurants

inA

lgiers.T

hereceptionist

can't

seehow

wellm

ythreadbare

moccasins

andm

yflannel

trousersgo

together,tries

twice

tofind

me

inthe

reservationsbook

andforgets

todem

andm

ydocum

ents.W

henhe

realizesit

reallyis

111e,he

handsm

eover

wholesale

tothe

arrogantpenguin

inch

argeof

seatingthe

customers.

The

latteraccepts

theresponsibility

thew

aya

man

who

hasused

upall

histrum

pcards

acceptsa

comprom

ise.H

einvites

me

tofollow

himw

ithan

obsequiousw

aveofhishand.M

ytable

isatthe

endofthe

room,

inan

alcoveprotected

bysatin

curtains,w

itha

bigpainting

behinditand

anoutstanding

viewofallthe

comings

andgoings

inthe

room.

The

flunkeyasks

me,

ineducated

French,w

hetherI

might

perhapstrouble

myself

totake

offm

yjacket;

then,after

aflustered

glanceat111y

neighbors-as

359

Yasmina

Khaâra

Some

fifteenm

inutesgo

byam

idthe

clatteringof

forksand

thebillow

ingof

curtains.T

heam

bienceof

muted

hub­bub,

punctuatedby

thelaughter

ofyoung

sirensin

searchof

aU

lyssesto

leadastray,is

soothing.T

hebeautiful

peopleleave

me

alonew

ithm

yfrustrations,

andm

ym

ysterioushost

istaking

histim

eto

appear,so

thetim

estarts

tohang

heavyon

me.I

havenibbled

atthe

littlesavory

biscuitsand

theslices

ofbread

spreadw

ithsom

ethingthat

dissolveson

thetongue

beforegiving

upitssecret;

nothingin

sight.Suddenly

thepenguin

rushesto

welcom

ea

dreamcouple,

obviouslyregulars.

My

Adam

'sapple

cornesup

againstthe

knotof

my

tie,and

Iahnest

swallow

acrum

bthe

wrong

way.T

hem

anis

exceedinglydashing,

anda

fewreverent

headsturn

hisw

ay.He

istall

andcharism

aticand

seems

tocom

mand

greatrespect.

As

forhis

companion,

who

issqueezed

tightlyinto

am

agnificentoutfit,

sheshines

with

athousand

flames.

Of

course,it

isn'ther

greatbeauty

thatleaves

me

bewildered,

butthe

vvayshe

sticksto

herm

anas

ifshe

wanted

tom

ergew

ithhim

,A

ndw

hatintrigues

me

tothe

highestdegree

ishow

arem

arkablew

oman

likeSoria

Karadach,

aw

ell-known

scholarw

ho,to

my

mind,

isthe

embodim

entof

moral

andintellectual

integrity,can

clingso

closely,in

fullview

ofthe

world,

toan

individualw

ithas

littleto

recomm

endhim

asG

haliSaad.

The

penguinleads

themto

theother

endof

theroom

,behind

am

ahoganyscreen,

toprotect

theirintim

acyfrom

pryingeyes.

Beforehe

disappearsfrom

view,G

haliSaad

putshis

annaround

thehistorians

waist

andshe,

flatteredby

thisevidence

ofhisaffection,

gentlyrests

herhead

onthe

shoul­der

ofthis

man

who

canm

akeit

rainor

shineatthe

Bureau

ofinvestigation

and,by

extension,throughout

therepublics

nervoussystem

.

360

Dead

Man's

Share

Istart

when

thew

aitress,w

homI

hadnot

seenarrive,

handsm

ea

telephone."It's

foryou,

monsieur."?

Stillflabbergasted,Istruggle

torecognize

thevoice

attheother

endof

theline.

"SyB

rahim?"

"Yes."

"Are

youastonished?"

"Icertainly

a111!"I

say,coming

tom

ysenses.

"Isthis

my

host?""SorryI'n1

late,Superintendent.In

fact,Idon'tthink

I'llm

akeit

intim

e.So

don'tw

aitfor

me.

This

evening,you'll

dinealone.

Don't

worry:

them

ealis

onm

e.Y

ouw

on'thave

topay

anything.""W

hatis

this,ajoke?"

"It'sup

toyou

tow

orkit

out,Superintendent.

It'sright

upyour

street.Adm

itit:youw

eren'texpecting

itatall.Soria

Karadach,

thefam

oushistorian,

onthe

armof

acrook

likeG

haliSaad.Inconceivable,no?

I'mnot

tryingto

manipulate

you,Sy

Brahirn.

You've

beenm

anipulatedenough

sincethe

startof

thishoax,

andI

haveno

intentionof

abusingyour

naivetym

yselfI'm

evensorry

foryou.

It'strue

thatI

usedto

beara

deadlygrudge

againstyou,butin

asituation

where

there'sno

escape,thew

isem

angives

precedenceto

the,vay

ofreasonover

theem

otionsofthe

heart.We

knowyou're

notin

bedw

iththe

dogsw

hodrove

tosuicide

sobrave

ason

ofthe

revolutionas

HajT

hobane.Y

oujoined

inthe

plotdespite

yourselfY

ouhad

tosaveyourlieutenant.

Besides,

yourpartnerdidn't

findhim

selfthere

bychance.H

ew

asentrappedin

orderto

entrapyou.

The

peoplepulling

thestrings

knewthat

theonly

way

todrag

youinto

thisbusiness

was

bybaiting

youw

itha

goat,in

theshape

ofone

ofyour

men.

Sincethe

fate

361

362

Dead1'1la11

1sShare

363

Yasmina

Khaâra

ofyourlieutenant

dependedon

yourcom

mitm

ent,you

were

freeto

getto

thebottom

ofthings.

The

proofis

thathe

was

freedw

ithoutinvestigationor

trial,asifnothing

hadhappened.

Do

youfind

thatreasonable?

...Hello?

Are

youstill

there?""G

oon,

I'minterested."

"Many

ofussuspectedthe

plotandcondem

nedit.lt

wasa

verycruelact.

Of

course,thereare

oftendisagreem

entsam

ongthe

higherechelons,

that'sto

beexpected,

butto

bringabout

thedeath

ofanenem

y,that'sagainst

therules

ofthegaine."

"Soit's

againe,

asfarasyou're

concerned.""It's

justa

manner

ofspeaking.""Y

oucalled

itaplot?"

"Corn

eon,it's

obvious.Ahistorian

who

shows

thesuicidal

temerity

toprofane

thesecrets

ofthe

gods:it's

unheardof.

Shecouldn't

bew

orkingalone.

Shedidn't

standa

chanceof

settinga

trapw

ithoutbeing

swallow

edup

inthe

abyss.She

was

super-protected,and

Idon't

mean

byyou

....H

aveyou

readher

books?"

"You

thinkshe

was

theone

who

started-""I

don'tthink

anything;Iask

questions.""lt

comes

tothe

sani.ething.""I

won't

pretendI

don'tfeelhatred

forthat

wom

an,M

r.L

lob.Shehas

contributedto

am

isfortunethat's

aboutto

turnour

livesupside

down."

"Isthat

aquestion

ora

statement?"

"Ihave

nothingon

my

conscience,M

r.L

lob.Ihavenever

wished

fororagreed

with

anyone'sdeath.

You're

theone

who

shouldbe

feelingsom

erem

orse.O

nyour

own

initiative,you

openedPandora's

box.D

arknessw

il]soon

castits

shadowover

ourfuture

andtransform

ourcity

squaresinto

fieldsof

combat.""Pity

Ican'tsee

youface

toface.Ilike

yourstyle."

"My

name

wouldn't

mean

anythingto

you.Idon't

rep­resent

aclan

ora

faction.I'm

justan

Algerian

who's

worried

aboutthe

futureof

hiscountry.

Iknow

thatw

arhas

beendeclared

among

ourleaders,

andthat

itsconsequences

will

bedire

forallof

us.""Is

therea

connectionbetw

eenyour

fearsand

thephoto

yousentm

e?"

"Thatphoto

hasno

valueofany

kind.ltwasjust

toarouse

yourcuriosity

andlead

youto

thisrestaurant.

Iwanted

youto

see,with

yourow

neyes,the

historianw

oman

andthatbastard

ineach

other'sarm

s.They've

beenlovers

forseveralm

onthsand

come

tothe

Pyramids

fordinner

everyM

onday.Now

,these

aretw

oviscerally

materialistic

people.Feelings

haveno

placein

theircalculations.

Their

kindknow

snothing

oflove;only

complicity

bringsthem

together,only

self-interestbinds

themto

eachother.

What

roledoes

eachplay?

lnSoria

Karadach

'scase,it'sunclear.A

sforG

haliSaad,hisprofessional

ambition

isIimitless.L

ookatthe

,vayhe

rushesateverything.

"Not

aone."

"Isuggestyou

havealook.She

can'tstop

singingthe

praisesof

everysingle

oneof

thepeople

who

governus,

paintingfantasy

portraitsof

them,

puttingup

monum

entsto

them,

tracingrevolutionary

journeysworthy

ofMao

orG

andhi.A

ndyet,

onezaïm

hasnever

foundgrace

inher

eyes.She

doesn'tm

entionhim

inher

scholarlypapers

orne,vspaper

articles.""H

ajT

hobane?""G

otit

inone,

Superintendent.So

why

didshe

haveit

inforhim

sobadly?

Why

didshe

hatehim

som

uchthatshe

would

denyhim

theright

tobe

includedam

ongour

heroes,som

eonew

hoisinextricably

associatedw

iththe

epiphanyof

Novem

berfifty-four?

And

byw

hatsqualid

chancedid

shefind

herselfthe

architectofhis

death?"

Yasmina

Khadra

364

Dead

Man's

Share

Hispresence

isnot

acoincidence.

We're

surehe's

nostranger

tothe

situation-"

"We?

Ithought

yousaid

youweren't

actingon

anyone'sbehalf."

"It'sjust

amanner

ofspeaking.""W

hatare

yoursuspicions

basedon?

"Allvou

haveto

doto

findout

isstartagain

atthebegin-

,

"You

thinkI'm

nolonger

entitledto

thedinner

that'sbeen

offeredto

me?"

"I'mafraid

not,monsieur,"

The

two

nabobsand

theircom

panionare

watching

with

interest,delightedto

hearthemanager

shutmeup.T

heglittering

courtesanison

thepointofgetting

upand

givinghim

amedal.

"Okay,"

Isay,making

asifto

pushback

thetable.

Satisfied,the

manager

liftsup

hisnose

andstands

there,solem

nand

strict,waiting

formeto

getout.

Amateur

error!Myhand

divesunder

thetablecloth,

slipsrapidly

between

histhighs

andgrabs

himby

thetesticles.

The

poorfooljum

ps;his

bodylurches

backwards

asthe

painexploding

belowhis

waist

turnshim

tostone,w

hilehisalready

rubicundface

turnscom

­pletely

scarlet.Since

hecannot

cryout

orstruggle,

hefreezes

intoagrotesque

positionhalf-w

aybetw

eenagenuflection

andafakir's

somersault.

The

courtesanatthe

nexttableclucks

with

indignation;her

companions

don'thear

her,they're

soshocked

bythe

obscenityofm

ydeed.

Itighten

mygrip

tomake

themanager

leanforw

ardeven

rnore.When

hisearreachesthelevelofm

ylips,Iw

hisper,"Y

ourministers,Idon'tgive

adam

naboutthem

.Your

balls,likeyour

fate,arenow

inmyhands.W

hatwillyou

choose?To

apologizeto

meand

servemewith

thegreatestdiligence

orto

gohom

ewith

arunny

omelet

inthe

bottomofyour

underwear?"

"Monsieur?

hemoans

hoarsely,"a

littledecorum

,Ibeg

you-""T

hat'snot

thesong

Irequested."Hegulps,

trembling

with

pain,tries

tohold

out,butfinally

putsone

kneeto

theground.

"Ibeg

yourpardon,

monsieur,"

hesaysquietly."Superintendent,

sir,"Ibreathe.

ning,Mr.

Brahim

Llob."Hehangs

up.Iwhistle

forthepenguin

andask

whether

my

supperis

paidfor.H

egoes

tocheck

andcom

esback

toconfirm

thatit

is.Iask

hirn,therefore,

tolistfor

memybenefactor's

originsand

contactdetails.

Heinform

smethat

itisnot

within

hisrem

itto

givemethat

kindof

information.

When

Ithreaten

tocause

ascandal,

hegoes

andgets

themanager.T

helatter,a

baldand

effeminate

individualperchedon

legsthat

resemble

thoseofa

wading

bird,explainsthat

theperson

who

invitedme

didnot

wish

tobe

identified,and

thatone

ofthefundam

entalprinciples

ofthe

Pyramids

isthat

itscrupulously

respectsits

customers'

requirements.

His

smile

isaffable,but

hispiercing

gaze,which

endswhere

hisfragile

faceliftbegins,tipsrne

offthat

Ihave

abetter

chanceof

survivingabite

fromacobra

thanakiss

fromhim

."Fine,

Iunderstand,"Isay

insurrender.

"You

would

showan

evenfiner

understandingifyou

went

anddined

elsewhere,

monsieur!'

"Iam

asuperintendent

ofpolice,"Iw

arnhim

."T

hereare

twogovernm

entministers

andthree

veryhigh

dignitariesof

theregim

ein

thisrestaurant,

monsieur.

They

would

liketo

haveadelightfulevening,

andthat's

whatw

e'rehere

for,monsieur!'

365

366

Dead

Man's

Share

367

Yasm

inaKhadra

*Chahid:

martyr

ofchew

arofliberation.

Ghali

isappointed

secretarysom

ewhere

inthe

Ministry

ofthe

Interior.H

em

arriesthe

daughterof

ahigh

officialand

risesm

eteoricallyup

thehierarchic

ladder.H

eis

charming

andcunning;

hisdetractors

criticizehis

lackof

educationand

challengehis

authority.T

heycan

dothis

becausehe

hasshow

nthem

allthe

door.B

ehindhis

courteousfaçade,he

issaid

tobe

machiavellian.

His

closestcollaborators

onlylastas

longas

theirfirstbitofintrigue;

hefires

themon

theslightest

suspicion.W

omen

can'tresist

him;

hefeaturesin

thefilthiest

jokestold

inG

reaterA

lgiers.His

reputationas

askirt-chaser

issuch

thata

wom

anas

refinedas

SoriaK

aradachm

usthaveprotected

herselfagainsthim

.Of

course,feelingsare

notbased

onrational

considerations,and

yet,having

spenttim

ewith

thehistorian

andknow

ingherfervent

dislikeofcrooks,

IfindI

can'tw

orkout

theprecise

natureof

thecouple

theyrnake.

On

thefourth

day,takingm

ystubbornness

inboth

hands,Idecide

toshake

thetree

tom

akethe

rottenfruit

drop.After

working

hours,I

goand

ringatSoria

Karadach's

door.H

erm

aidtells

me

shew

on'tbe

backuntil

eighto'clock.

Iask

herto

tellher

thatI

came

byand

thatI

would

returnlater.

Soriaw

asexpecting

me.

Ataboutnine

o'clock,she

receivesme

inherliving

room,

which-

letitbe

saidin

passing-vvould

notbe

unworthy

ofa

nabob.K

nowing

thepoverty

ofour

country'suniversity

professorsandthe

penuryofourjournalists,

who

haveto

wear

protectiveclothing

againstthe

wolf

snappingat

theirheels,

Iamstunned

atthe

sightof

theluxury

inw

hichour

friendlives

thegood

life.B

utthe

ways

ofthe

Lord

arem

ysterious,and

theloving

God

givethto

mortals

andtaketh

away

asI-le

wishes,

without

havingto

justifyJ-Iin1self

Soriahas

puton

asober

housecoat.She

hasrem

ovedher

make-up

andlether

hairfalldow

nher

backasifplanning

to

"Superintendent,sir."

"Superintendent,sir

what?"

"Ibeg

yourpardon,

Superintendent,sir."

"There

yougo,you've

gotit."

Ilethimgo,stand

upand

leavethe

roomin

alordly

manner,

As

Icross

theexterior

courtyard,I

walk

infrontof

abay

window

behindw

hichour

two

turtledoves

aredrinking

atoast.

As

shebrings

herglass

toher

lips,Soriasees

me

infront

ofher.

Her

facedarkens.

Iwink

ather

anddisappear

beforeG

haliSaad

turnsround.

Irifledthrough

SoriaK

aradach'sfile

fromtop

tobottom

.For

threedays.N

othingcom

promising.

On

thecontrary,

thescholar's

careeris

litteredw

ithhonors.

Outstanding

schoolingin

anorphanage-

shew

asthedaughter

ofachahid:"

Top

ofher

dass

atBen

Aknoun.G

raduateofthe

topE

uropeanuniversities.

Heads

am

ilitantorganization

called"T

heR

elief"G

odmother

tom

inorcurrents

within

theyoung

revolutionarym

ovement.

Exemplary

reputation,both

personallyand

professionally.Her

chiefeditor

worships

her.T

herector

bows

down

beforeher

qualities.In

short,the

creamof

thecrop!

Could

asaint

sleepw

ithan

incubusw

ithoutlosing

hersoul?I

searchfor

reasonsthat

might

leadan

éminence

grise

tofall

foran

obscureernirience

ofthe

Ghali

Saadtype,

butin

vain.G

haliSaad

isnot

known

forhis

erudition.H

eleft

schoolw

ithno

more

thana

diploma

andsigned

upasa

lowly

administrative

officerat

Staoueli,a

branchof

theSecurity

Services'C

omm

unicationsC

enter.H

istraining

over,he's

anunderling

inan

auxiliaryservice.

His

bosshas

acrush

onhim-

malicious

rumor

hasitthat

itwas

loveatfirst

sight;he

covershim

,literally

andfiguratively,

andsends

himabroad

ona

managem

enttraining

course.W

henhe

co1nes

back,

Yasm

inaKhadra

368

Dead

Man's

Share

gotobed.

Shewelcom

esmewithout

ceremony.E

verythingleads

metobelieve

shewants

togetrid

ofmeas

soonaspos­

sible.Ihave

thefeeling

she'sbeen

waiting

formetoturn

upever

sinceour

eyesmetatthe

Pyramids.

Sheseem

srelaxed,

incontrol

ofherfaculties,andmyvisit

doesn'tworry

heroverm

uch.She

isnolonger

thedaring

his­torian

whotook

herchances

withmeand

sharedinmymood­

swings

atSidiBa.H

erexpression

iscold,her

attitudeneutral.

"Youwishtosee

me,Superintendent?"

Hervoice

sendsicedow

nmyspine.

"Am

Idisturbing

you?""It's

always

disturbing

when

peopledon't

cornetomy

homeinfriendship."

"Where

dovou

seeahatchet?"

Iask

her,spreading

my

'

"Willing

accomplice

ormanipulated

victim?"

"Ibeg

yourpardon?"

Shelooks

atmepiercingly,

hereyebrow

scom

pressedalm

osttothe

eyesthem

selves.Iabsorb

thelook

without

fl.inching.Myvigilance

preventsher

fromtrying

tochange

thesubject;

sheknow

sIhaven't

comehere

toexchange

idlechit-chat;

thatIhave

something

important

togetoffm

ychest.

Herblood-red

lipstighten

slightly;suddenlyshe

isunde­cided,

evenunsure.N

owshe

istryingtobecom

ethehistorian

ofSidiBaagain,

energeticand

beguiling.Awasted

effort.My

eyesaredriving

herinto

acorner,crushing

her,bindingher.

Astrange

expressioncrosses

herface.She

feelsshe's

aboutto

loseground

andistrying

toregain

theupperhand.Idon'thelp

her,contentingmyselfw

ithfolding

myarm

sacross

mychest.

"Anyone

would

thinkyou

haditinfor

me,"

shesays

weakly."H

aveIdone

something

wrong?"

Irefusetocuther

anyslack:"H

owmuch

didthey

payyou?"

"Ah!Finally!"

shesays,shaking

herhead.

"Ittook

meawhile,

butIgot

there."Mycoarseness

doesn'tbotherheroverm

uch.Curiously,

itseem

stostim

ulateher.Shegoes

fromhotto

coldwith

amazing

ease.Shemusthave

preparedherselffor

this.This

womanis

pureintelligence,

without

ashred

ofboneoranounce

offat.What

class,what

talent,what

aforce

ofnature!

Shetakes

astep

toward

meand

decidestolance

theboil.

"What

doyou

want

toknow

?""How

much

theyforked

outtoreelyou

in.""They

didn'thave

to.lwould

havesold

mysoul

tobe

apart

ofit.They

thinkthey

manipulated

me,and

somuch

thebetter.

Infact,Iplayed

thegam

ebecause

thesetup

fitme

likeaglove."

"Throw

mealine

here.IthinkI'm

beginningtogounder."

arrnstoshow

thatI'm

notcarrying

aweapon.

"Inyour

eyes,Superintendent."She

offersmeaplace

onthe

sofa.Westand

facingeach

other,she

onone

sideofthe

bigtable,

Iinthe

middle

ofa

Persiancarpet.

"Iwasvery

happytowork

withyou.

Butnow

it'sover.

Weboth

move

on.""You

usedme,"

Iretortabruptly.

.Missed!

Shedoesn't

move

amuscle.

Shegives

meadistant

smile.

"Wemade

adeal,

Superintendent.""Youhad

ahidden

agenda.""Perhaps,

butthe

goaldidn't

change.Wesucceeded

inour

mission.

Now

it'suptoeach

ofustomake

useofitas

wesee

fit."Herself-assurance

isirritating,

itchipsa,vay

atmycom

­posure.

It'sasifshe's

thumbing

hernose

atme,telling

meto

gotohell.

369

371

Yasm

inaKhadra

Dead

Man's

Share

"The

water

isn'tdeep

enough,Brahim

.Allyou

haveto

doisput

yourfeet

downand

you'llsee."

"Unfortunately,

I'n1flaton

myback."

"Idon't

believeyou.

You're

theone

making

yourlife

complicated.

Wecreated

thunder,andwe've

everyreason

tobe

proudof

it.""P

rideisavvay

ofconsoling

oneself,butitdoesn't

settleanything

much;

itsonly

valueisthatitflatters

ourdisaffection

bymaking

atravesty

ofour

aspirations,since

itcan't

investin

them."

"Probably.Asfaras

I'mconcerned,

mygoals

havebeen

achieved,and

Icongratulatemyself

I'veplayed

apart

input­

tingthe

Iowest

scumthat

usedto

flourishin

ourcountry

outof

commission,

sohe

canno

longerdo

anyharm

.""Scum

likehim

arelegion.

One

discarded,ahundred

recruited.I'm

afraidthat

eliminating

himmay

well

favortheproliferation

ofthespecies."

Shesm

iles.W

hatagem

thatsm

ileis.W

hydoesitcause

mepain?

Why

doher

immense

eyes,her

generousfeatures,

hervoluptuous

figurecreate

inmesuffering

thatisunbearableand

inexplicableat

thesam

etim

e?What

makes

poisonfrom

thefruit

ofso

much

grace,deathfrom

theopacity

ofwhatshe

isconcealing?Inotice

thatn1y

fistisclenched,

111.yjaw

sare

tense,that

Ifeel

likebeing

unpleasant.I'1n

afraidof

what

isscam

per­ing

aboutin

myhead,

I'msuspicious

ofthe

sensationthat's

insidiouslytaking

meover,

contaminating

myinner

selfand

cuttingoffm

ybreathing.

Ifeellikeacuckold

who

beginsto

sensehis

unhappinessinexorably

intruding,to

thepoint

thatevery

beatofhis

heartrips

outapiece

ofhis

soul.Soria

isan

experiencedwom

an.She

knowsher

subjectbetter

thananyone,

anddoesn't

needan1ap

towork

outwhat

isdisturbing

myvoice

andclouding

1nyeyes.C

oolly,shefishes

acigarette

outof

amahogany

case,lightsitand

staresatthe

cloudof

smoke

corkscrewing

gentlyup

tothe

ceiling.After

afew

emphatic

puffs,shelies

backon

thesofa,

revealingthe

curveofher

long,well-toned

thighs.She

paysno

attentionto

thisdisplay

ofnudity,but

goeson

smoking,

hereyes

rivetedon

mine.

"Why?"

Iask

herbluntly.

"I'mahistorian.

Certain

historicalfacts

weren't

inthe

rightplaces.

Iputthem

where

theybelonged."

"What

isyourplace

inourhistory?"

"Whatever

I'vechosen

toallocate

toit."

Suddenly,hervoice

failsher,while

distressspreads

bitbybit

overher

lips,hereyes,

hercheeks,

herwhole

being.She

startsher

story:"A

lln1ylife

I'vebeen

waiting

forthis

mom

ent.Infact,I've

onlysurvived

becauseof

it.Ichose

theleastrew

ardingsubject

atuniversity.They

wanted

meto

domedicine

oreconomics.Isaid

history.Iw

antedto

knowwhere

Icamefrom

,who

Iwas

andwhere

Iwas

going.Ihad

ascore

tosettle

with

mycountry'spast,w

hichwasruining

mypresent

andcom

promising

myfuture.A

sahistorian,Ihad

achance

ofobtaining

themissing

piecesofmypuzzle,

which

feltlikeopen

wounds

tome.T

hat'show

Iknockedatforbidden

doorsand

tookmyplace

inthe

courtof

thegods.

Those

who

ruleour

countryhave

theirlittle

weakness:

glory.Iw

entto

seethem

andmagnified

theirfeats

ofarms,

andthey

lovedmefor

it.Idedicated

wonderful

articlesto

them,sem

inarsassensational

asrhetoricaljousting

matches,

andtold

theirstories

inkingly

tornes.Suddenly,Ihad

becometheir

eternity;their

happinesshung

onthe

finestlock

ofmyhair.T

hat'show

Iconquered

Che,

thepresident,

thezaim

sand

alltheireunuchs.

And

yetthere

wasone

godwho

neverfound

favorinmyeyes.Ididn't

370

373

YasminaKhaâra

DeadMan's

Share

hideit,

sothat

thewhole

world

would

know.B

ecauseIknew

thatone

daymybrooding

would

leadhim

tohis

downfall."

"HajThobane?"

"The

lateH

ajThobane,

may

herot

inhell...."

"Was

ityouthat

killedhim

?""I

causedhis

death,and

that'sgratifying.

Iexpected

himto

disappear,but

hewent

onebetter:

hekilled

himself

Likethe

coward

healw

ayswas."

"Soyou

believein

thesuicide

theory?""Y

ou'renot

goingto

tellmehe

killedhim

self'byaccident?

That

would

spoilmyday."

Her

sincerityleaves

noroom

fordoubt:

Soriabelieves

inthe

suicidetheory.

"Did

youknow

hisdaysw

erenum

bered?""Ihoped

so."With

allmy

strength.And

hisday

came.H

isenem

iesneeded

helpinghands

tounseat

him.Iw

asone,m

adeto

measure.

You

were

theother,

Superintendent.History

andthe

Law.Tw

omarvelous

marionettes.

You,

tosave

yourlieutenant.M

e,to

rehabilitatethe

revolution....

Acharism

aticman

hadchosen

toraise

hispedestalon

amass

grave.Wasthat

thebest

foundation?What

was

inthat

mass

grave,what

secret,what

glory?People

hadbeen

executed,without

trial.Likediseased

animals.

Iwanted

toknow

whether

theywere

comfortable

inthat

placeor

ifthey

feltcram

ped.Did

theydeserve

todie

inacom

rnunalditch,

with

nogravestone

orepitaph?

Orto

betransferred

toaproper

cemetery,

with

decentburials;

acem

eterywhere

onecould

goand

meditate

overtheir

graveswithout

havingto

knockdow

nwalls?

These

questionstorm

entedme

dayand

night.Iwasn't

certainof

anything.Ihad

tosettle

itonce

andfor

all.Ihoped

togetjustice

forthem

.Iwould

havebeen

unhappyifIhad

doneanything

else.Rabah

Ali's

revelationsthe

othernight,

atSidiBa,

exceededmyhopes.

I

don'tregret

havingcheated.

Alittle,

with

you.Not

enoughforitto

botherme.

Asfar

asthe

othersare

concerned,we're

even.They

luredmein.

Itook

thebait

with

pleasure.They

followed

myresearch

likeasighting

line.The

addressesthey

gavemeled

straightto

theirvictory.

Except

theydidn't

knowitw

asmine

too.Right

now,they

thinkthey

usedme.

I'dlike

themto

goon

thinkingso

forever."

"You

thinkthey

knewallabout

thiskilling

business?""Sorne

ofthem

eventook

part.""W

hydig

upthe

deadnow

,after

decadesof

silentcom

plicity?""B

ecauseH

ajThobane

wasbecom

inganuisance

andwas

jeopardizingtheir

plans.""W

hatplans?"

"The

devilonly

knows."

"IfThobane

was

suchaproblem

,why

notjustkill

him?

They

hadan

embarrassm

entof

choices:an

accident,poison,

anynum

berof

dirtytricks

would

havedone

theneedful.

Why

allthe

rigmarole,

thehistorical

shit-stirring,the

intolerablescandal?"

"Revolutionaries

havetheir

ownways

ofsettling

scores.Anaccidental

death,or

amurder

blamed

onsom

enutcase'

would

havebrought

theinan

down,

butnot

hislegend

orhis

followers.

Hehad

todie

bothin

theflesh

andin

therespect

ofothers.W

ho,today,could

describehim

selfas

amem

berof

theHajThobane

faction,who

would

dareboast

thathe

was

hisfriend

orconfidant?

The

scandalhasdestroyed

everythingaround

him,like

aradioactive

cloud.Even

thosewho

usedto

spongeoff

himwill

haveto

goelsew

hereto

sharpentheir

fangs.HajT

hobanewill

arousedisapproval

wherever

hisnam

eismentioned.

History

hasrejected

him,the

nation'smem

orydoesn't

want

tohear

anyrnore

ofhim

.He's

notjustagreat

Yasmina

Kliaâra

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FO

UR

375

traitorany

more,he's

alreadyforgotten.

Hísem

pirewill

leaveno

ruins,itnever

existed.That

way

ourglorious

revolutioncan

recommence

itsmartial

progress,its

consciencerenew

ed,proud

asayoung

bride.""W

hatIdon't

understandisyour

ferocity.Why

somuch

hatredfor

aman

who's

nomore

reprehensiblethan

most

ofthe

peoplewhose

braveryyou

paradein

yourbooks?"

Shestubs

outher

cigarettein

aglass

ashtrayand

standsup.

Herbreath

envelopsn1e,her

noseisup

againstmine;

herlips

lookas

thoughthey're

gettingready

todevour

111e.She

says:"O

nthe

nightof

thetw

elfthto

thethirteenth

ofAugust

nineteensixty-tw

o,amem

berof

theTaibi

family

managed

toescape

thekilling.

The

murderers

huntedhim

formonths,

maybe

evenyears.

Sometim

es,they

passedright

besidehim

without

recognizinghirn.T

heywere

lookingfor

alittle

boy.But

thesurvivor

wasn't

aboy,itw

asagirl."

Thor's

hammer

wouldn't

havehit

meso

hard.Myvoice

isunrecognizable

when

Icry,"Y

ou?"

Itw

istin

mybed

likeaworm

initsfruit.In

myhead,

thepen

thatbroke

inSoria's

handsinthat

hidden-away

cabinin

thedepths

ofthe

forest,som

ewhere

nearSidi

Ba;

andher

voice,which,just

ahandful

ofhoursago,seem

edto

emanate

frombeyond

thegrave.M

ybrothers'screams

stillringin

my

ears.Iran

intothe

woods,ran

andrau,Branches

scratchedm

yface,slashed

atmy

legs,toreoutm

yhair

butdidn'tslow

downm

yheadlongflíght.

Them

oonuras

asbig

asafuneralurn

thatníght.Itshone

itsbeam

sdown

onm

e,directing

my

pursuers.H

owevermucli

Iran,

itwas

alwaysthere,

abovem

yhead,

likea

badom

en.IfIhad

hadu>íngsI

couldn'thave

runany[aster,

lookingback

atthe

clearingwhere

theywerejustfinishing

ojJthemassacre

ofeverythingthatwasdearto

me

inthe

world.I'venever

beenable

tolook

straightaheadsince

thatníght.

Wherever

Igo,whatever

Ido,

Ican'tlook

away.At

theorphanage,

atuniversity,

inAlgiers,in

Barcelona,stu.dyín,g,

teaching,niy

headrem

ainedstubbornly

turnedtoward

thatclearing,my

neckcricked

with

apainthat

cutintom

elike

ayoke....I

hadto

goback

intim

e,back

tothat

boxthat

wasthe

sourceofmy

unhappiness,dig

upthe

mass

grave,tear1nyfam

ilyfro1·1·1itsgrip,free

themfro

nitheirs1ef.fering,let

themrestatlastand,

atthesam

etim

e,soothemy

soul...."W

hyaren't

yousleeping?"

groansMina.

"Maybe

becausethat's

allI'vedone

all1nylife."

375

Yasmina

Khadra

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FO

UR

traitorany

more,he's

alreadyforgotten.

His

empire

will

leaveno

ruins,it

neverexisted.

Thatw

ayour

gloriousrevolution

canrecom

mence

itsmartialprogress,

itsconscience

renewed,

proudas

ayoung

bride.""W

hatIdon't

understandisyour

ferocity.Why

sornuch

hatredfor

ainan

who's

nomore

reprehensiblethan

most

ofthe

peoplewhose

braveryyou

paradein

yourbooks?"

Shestubs

outhercigarette

inaglass

ashtrayand

standsup.

Her

breathenvelops

me,her

noseis

upagainst

mine;her

lipslook

asthough

they'regetting

readyto

devourm

e.She

says:"O

nthe

nightof

thetw

elfthto

thethirteenth

ofAugust

nineteensixty-tw

o,amem

berof

theTalbi

family

managed

toescape

thekilling.

The

murderers

huntedhim

formonths,

maybe

evenyears.

Sometim

es,they

passedright

besidehim

without

recognizinghim

.They

were

lookingfor

alittle

boy.But

thesurvivor

wasn't

aboy,itw

asagirl."

Thor's

hammer

wouldn't

havehit

me

sohard.

My

voiceisunrecognizable

when

Icry,

"You?"

!tw

istin

mybed

likeaworm

inits

fruit.In

my

head,the

penthat

brokein

Soria'shands

inthat

hidden-away

cabinin

thedepths

ofthe

forest,somew

herenear

SidiBa;

andher

voice,which,just

ahandful

ofhoursago,seem

edto

emanate

frombeyond

thegrave.1vfy

brothers'screamsstillring

in1ny

ears.Iran

intothe

woods,

ranand

ran.Branchesscratched

myface,slashed

atrnylegs,toreoutm

yhair

butdidn'tslow

downmyheadlong.flight.

Themoon

wasas

bigas

afuneralurnthat

night.Itshone

itsbeam

sdown

onme,

directingmypursuers.

How

evermuch.I

ran,itwas

alwaysthere,

abovemyhead,

likeabad

omen.!fI

hadhad

i11ingsI

couldn'thave

runany

faster,looking

backatthe

clearingwhere

theywerejustfinishíngoffthe

massacreofeverythínj!.thatw

asdearto

mein

theworld.

I'venever

beenable

toLookstraightahead

sincethat

night.Wherever

Igo,whatever

Ido,

Ican't

lookaway.

Atthe

orphanage,atuniversity,

inAlgiers,

inBarcelona,

studying,teaching,

myhead

remained

stubbornlyturned

towardthatclearing,

myneck

crickedwith

apain

thatcutinto

melike

ayoke....I

hadtogo

backin

time,back

cothat

boxthat

wasthe

sourceofm

yunhappiness,

digup

themass

grave,tear

myfm

nílyfrom

itsgrip,freethem

fromtheirsuffering,let

themrestat

lastand,atthe

sainetim

e,soothemysoul....

"Why

aren'tyou

sleeping?"groans

Mina.

"Maybe

becausethat's

allI'vedone

allmylife."

Yasm

inaKhadra

Dead

Man's

Share

376377

Ithrow

backthe

covers,put

onmyslippers

andgointo

thekitchen

toget

aglass

ofmilk.

Ifind

thefridge

andplenty

ofglassesonthe

drainingboard,but

notadrop

ofmilk.O

neofmyoffspring

haseven

gonesofar

astoeat

theorange

Ihad

putaside.

Igoback

intomyroom

.Mina

istwisted

upinthe

sheets,her

facetorm

ented.Idecide

notto

spoilher

sleepand

retreattothe

livingroom

.Ismoke

cigaretteafter

cigarette,stretched

outonthe

paddedbench.

It'stwoo'clock

inthemorning.

Outside,

sorneoaf

honkshishorn

atsom

e­thing,

with

noconsideration

forchildren

asleepwith

theirfists

buncheduporfor

peoplerecovering

fromillness.

Igo

tothewindow

.The

oafcarries

onmaking

hisracketfor

two

minutes

andthen

launcheshis

cararbreakneck

speedacross

theneighborhood.

It'sprobably

adrunk

whocan't

findhis

wayhorne.

The

silence,dazed,

returnsfrom

adistance.

Onthe

sidewalk,

abeggar

womantries

towrap

afewrags

aroundher

childrentokeep

themwarm

.Adog

walks

pasther,pretending

tolook

elsewhere

intheface

ofthis

incomprehensible

human

destitution....

MyGod!

It'sso

saditm

akesyouwanttodie.

Andyou,

Algiers?

Why

areyou

sosad

tobe

alive?Igo

backtothe

benchand

stubout

mycigarette

inasau­

cer.Ihold

myhead

inn1y

handsand

trytoget

1nythoughts

inorder.IfSoria

wasBelkacern

Talbi,the

survivor,and

thereal

Belkacem

Taibi

wasdead

andgone,

whowasSNP?Aceleb­

ritywithout

anam

e,ofcourse!

Avirgin

past,ablank

pageonwhich

anystory

couldbewritten.

Sohewaslent

thestory

ofthe

massacre

victims.And

everythingfellinto

place.Justas

theywanted

itto.A

llthat

remained

wastobelieve

it..And

Ibelievedit,tothe

hilt.What

anidiot!

Iwhoprided

myself

onhaving

gotthe

hangofallthe

countlesswheels

thatnearly

***

groundmedow

n,whothought

hehad

seeneverything

andcould

neverend

upblind,

hereIwas,back

on1nyass.

"Would

youlike

metomake

youacup

ofcoffee?"Mypoor

Mina!

Always

making

herownlife

difficultbecause

ofmytorm

ents."DidIwake

youupagain?"

"Don't

worry

aboutit.

Iwasn't

sleepyanyw

ay.""Corne

andsitbeside

me."

Sheobeys.

Iwrap

anarm

aroundherneck.

Ipressher

tomychest.

Hesitantly,

modestly,she

putsher

armsaround

my

waist.

Iburymyface

inher

neckand

letmyselfm

eltintoher

breathing.Outside,

theoafstarts

honkinginthe

streetagain.

Hecan

goonstirring

upthe

city;I'n1already

losttothe

world.

Mina

slumpsinmyarm

s.With

allpossible

care,Ilay

herdow

non

thepadded

bench,cover

herwith

ablanket

andgo

intoour

roomtochange.

Cost

what

itmay,

Ihave

tolance

theboil

too.

Idrive

throughthe

sleepingcity

without

stoppingattraffic

lights.Thedeserted

streetslend

rnewings.

With

myfoot

tothe

floor,Iplunge

rightahead.

Atabout

fouro'clock

inthemorning,

Iarriveatthe

asylum.

Iparkmycarin

thelotand

jumpout.A

nepileptic

wind

cornesdow

nfrom

themountains,

heavywith

dustand

deadleaves,

andpounces

onthe

treeslike

anaddict

onhishallucinations.

Inthe

sky,where

amass

ofswollen

cloudsisjust

beginningtodisperse,

thernoori

imagines

itisbigger

thanitsfear.

It'sasifthe

nightdoesn't

inspireitwith

anythingworthw

hile.Along

way

away,

onthe

horizon,astorm

isattem

ptingto

379

Yasmina

Khadra

Dead

Man's

Share

Helooks

atmewith

hishangdog

expression."Y

ouseem

disoriented,Superintendent.

What's

wrong?"

Iofferhim

achair.

"Sitdow

n,Professor.

You

won't

beable

totake

thisstanding

up.""Is

itthat

serious?""Please,

sitdow

n."Hehesitates,

thenobeys.

"Yes?"

Iholdmyfinger

up,asking

himto

bepatient.

Heraises

hishands

toindicate

hisconsent.

Mybreathing

isragged.

Ipause

brieflyto

bringitunder

control.Once

focusedon

my

subject,Iopen

thehostilities:

"Stopmewhenever

youwant,

ProfAre

youready?"

createadiversion;its

hullabaloodoesn't

evencover

thesound

ofthe

orchards.Leaning

overagainst

thegusting

wind,

Istagger

among

thedark

huts.Ifeelas

ifI'm

crossingthe

no-man's-land

ofmyfolly.Iarrive

infront

ofProfessor

Allouche's

office-bedroom.

Nolight

shinesbehind

theshutters.

Ibang

onthe

doorfit

toscrape

theskin

offmyknuckles.

"Allright!"

avoice

spluttersfinally.

"I'mnot

deaf."Akey

turnsin

thelock.

The

professoristaken

abackwhen

hesees

meon

histhreshold.

"Brahim

?W

hatare

youdoing

here?""I

wasjust

passingthrough.

An1

Idisturbing

you?"Helooks

overmy

shoulder."A

reyou

alone?""Like

agrow

n-up,Professor."

"Doyou

knowwhat

timeit

is?""I

thoughtfriends

didn'tneed

anappointm

ent.""Y

es,butthere's

noneed

topush

it.Iassum

eyou

havea

goodreason

todrag

meout

ofbedso

early?""I

couldn'tclose

myeyes

athom

e."Helooks

atrnecuriously,

thenstands

asideto

letmeby.

"What's

happened,Brahirn?"

hesays,

switching

onthe

ceilinglight.

Heisin

hispyjam

as,with

thetrousers

revealingaconsid­

erableam

ountofhis

buttocks.Hissheepskin

jacket,worn

toacouple

ofstraps,

hangsover

theprom

inentribs

ofhis

paletorso,

which

revealthetoll

takenby

hisadvancing

years.My

friendthe

professorisalreadyan

oldstory;

I'malm

ostasham

edto

haveto

bringitup

again.

''''

"Wetake

aprisoner

with

nomem

ory,whom

we'll

callSN

P.W

egraft

ontohim

apast

thatsuits

ourfriends,

andtogether

wearrange

forhimto

begranted

apresidential

par­don.

Inparallel,

we

stirup

thecity

tothink

thatthis

releaseisagrave

step,because

theperson

concernedis

apotential

dangerto

society.Result:

everyoneis

onthe

alert.Starting

with

acertain

superintendentof

police.Then,

themachine

swings

intoaction.

Once

onthe

outside,our

SNP

suddenlygets

hismem

oryback.

Herem

embers

theman

who

causedhis

disappearance,along

with

hisfam

ily's,andtries

tokill

him.Unfortunately,he

misses

histarget

andkills

hisvictim

'sdriver.

But

it'snotjust

anyvictim

.HajThobane

isin

areal

state,andthe

statedoesn'tknow

which

way

isup.

The

finestsleuths,

whole

teamsof

them,are

chargedwith

findingthe

killer.They

goone

better:they

eliminate

him.E

xceptthat,

amid

allthe

chaos,it'salieutenant

ofpolicewho

getsitin

theneck.Since

noone

knowshow

hisgun

cameto

befound

onthe

killer'sbody,

thecom

plicitytheory

findsfavor.

Good

oldSuperintendent

Llobisforced

toextract

hisdeputy

fromthe

378

Yasm

inaKhadra

hornet'snest

he'slanded

upin.

He'll

tryto

establishalink

between

thetarget

andthe

killer,in

orderto

exoneratehis

colleague.And

that'sw

herethe

pastthatw

asgrafted

ontothe

prisonerw

ithno

mem

ory,w

hom»re

calledSN

P,com

esin.If

youneed

tocreate

am

ade-to-measure

historyforson1eone,

there'snothing

betterthan

anam

nesiac,isthere?

And

if,what's

more,

hehas

norelatives

andno

friends,you

canget

ridof

himw

ithoutleaving

atrace.Piece

ofcake!The

perfectcrim

e.E

speciallyw

henthe

Superintendenthas

otherw

orries:his

palislanguishing

inthejails

ofnoreturn.

The

more

time

goesby,

them

orethe

poorbastard

rots.Urgentm

easuresare

required.W

em

ustpulloutallthe

stops,cutstraight

tothe

heartof

them

atter.The

groundw

aspreparedagesago,and

alltheold

cophas

todo

isfollow

directions,to

thekilling

groundat

SidiB

a.W

hata

horror,thatkilling

ground;and

what

ascandal!

The

macabre

discoveryisdescribed

intechnicolor

onthe

TV

news,

andthe

newspapers

takeon

thetask

ofspicing

itup,

asusual.H

ajThobane,

who

hadm

assacredSN

P'sfam

ilyand

couldn'thandle

hispast

asa

monster,

comrnits

suicide.O

fcourse.

What

elsecould

hedo?

He's

hadit,no

way

out;the

nationspits

himout.

SoG

oodgets

itsrevenge

onEvil.Just

likein

theeducational

leaflets.The

crookisburied

likeadog.

Justiceis

served.The

lieutenantofpolice

isrehabilitated.The

curtainfalls,

theshow

isover,everyone

goeshom

e...."W

hatdo

youthink

ofm

ysynopsis?"

"Idon't

seew

hatyou'regetting

at,Brahim

.""R

eally?""W

henIsaw

youturning

upatan

impossible

hourin

them

orning,Isaid

youm

ustbe

goingsoftin

thehead.

Iw

asn'tw

rong."H

e'staking

itwell,the

profis.

As

ifsomeone

hasbriefedhim

,

Dead

Man's

Share

He

runshisfingers

throughhissparse

hair,grimacing.H

eis

embarrassed,

allthesaine.

"How

longhave

we

known

eachother,A

llouche?""W

ego

backa

longw

ay,"he

sighs."Y

ou'vehad

yourups

anddow

ns,haven't

you?""It

hasn'tbeena

walk

inthe

park.""H

as1ny

attitudetow

ardyou

everchanged

oneiota?"

"You're

agood

man,

Brahim

.Y

ou'vealw

aysshow

nm

ethe

same

kindness,through

thebestand

thew

orsttim

es.""D

oyou

thinkit's

down

tocongenital

stupidity?""W

hydo

yousay

suchaterrible

thing?""B

ecauseit's

exactlyw

hat1'111

askingrnyself,

Professor.I'm

askingm

yselfwhether

my

uprightnessisn'tjust

proofof

my

idiocy.Because

youhave

tobe

ahell

ofa

foolto

goon

lovingand

trustingin

acountry

where

everyoneelse

doeshis

utmost

toabuse

everyoneelse

tosurvive."

"Oh

dear,oh

dear!Y

ou'regetting

depressed-"

"Putyour

white

coataway

andstay

onthe

sofa,Professor.Ididn't

come

herefor

asession

ofhypnosis."

"Sow

hatdidyou

come

herefor?"

avoice

explodesbehind

n1e.Iturn

round.Chérif

Wadah

isstandingin

thedoorw

ayofthe

roomnext

door,w

earinga

dressinggow

nhe

hasn'tquite

doneup.

Hís

face,stillpuffyw

ithsleep,

twitches

spasmodically.

"Mr.

Wadah?"

Isay."Ithought

youw

ereabroad."

"My

eriemies

thinkso

too,and

som

uchthe

better.""So

thisisyour

hideout?""M

indyour

own

business,Superintendent.

What

storyare

youtelling

theprofessor?

What

isthis

rambling?

Do

youhave

anyidea

howincoherent

yousound?"

He's

tryingto

intimidare

me.I

don'twalk

intohis

trap.

381

383

Yasmina

Khadra

Dead

Man's

Share

"The

incoherenceis

inthe

factsas

theyhave

recentlyem

erged,Mr.W

adah.Sovery

awkw

ard!"ChérifW

adahdoes

upthe

knotofhis

dressinggow

nand

walks

toward

n1.e.1-Ieisfurious,buttries

tokeep

hiscool.

He

picksup

analarm

clockand

turnsitover.

"Shit!It's

fouro'clock

inthe

morning.Y

ouhave

tobe

illto

comehere

atthis

hourand

talknonsense

topeople

who

justwant

toget

somesleep."

Hetries

tostare

medow

n,his

featuresengorged.

"You're

losingthe

threadof

thestory,

Mr.

Llob.Iknow

you'vegone

throughaparticularly

distressingperiod

oftur­

bulence,butthat's

overnow

.IfIw

ereinyour

shoes,I'dthink

aboutsom

ethingelse.A

newlifeisbeginning

inour

country.You

shouldrejoice.Y

ou'vedone

amasterfuljob,Y

ou'vebeen

fantastic.Why

besuspicious

ofwhatyou've

undertakenwith

self-denialand

intelligence?""C

areful,you'reflattering

me.

Imight

havean

attackof

thevapors.""Y

oudeserve

alltheworld's

respect,Superintendent.

And

you'llget

itfrom

oneand

all.Noone

will

miss

thecall.

I'lltake

careof

itpersonally.

Thanks

toyou,

anew

erawill

beushered

in.Don'tlook

forthe

answer

where

thequestion

isn'teven

beingasked.

That

willdistance

youfrom

theessence,

andfrom

people'sesteem

.Forget

thisstoryand

goto

Bulgaria-"

"Well,

well,so

youknow

!""I'm

theone

who

intercededwith

Mr.

Ghali

Saadon

yourbehalf."

"You

couldhave

askedmyopinion."

"Iwanted

ittobe

asurprise.''

"What

surprisesmeisthat

Ican't

shakeGhali

Saadoff

He's

everywhere

Igo.After

awhile,

itbecomes

wearing."

"You're

barkingup

thewrong

tree,Superintendent,Iprom

­ise

you.There's

noconspiracy.H

ajThobane's

pastcaughtupwith

him.W

edecided

notto

helphim

,that's

all.Hewasjust

adirty

beast.Hehas

causedour

homeland

enormous

trouble,stopped

itprogressing,stood

inthe

way

ofreform

,of

everymeasure

thatmight

improve

working

andliving

conditionsfor

ourcitizens,

andheld

thepeople

hostage.Hesaw

everypolitical

oreconom

icproposal

asan

attackon

his.financialem

pire,andfocused

hisefforts

onkeeping

societyin

astate

ofstagnation

andmentaldecay.Iassure

you,yourwork

isblessedby

thegods.

Corn

eon,you

knewhim

!You

can'ttellmeyou

feelsorryhe's

gone.That

man

hadto

go,one

way

oranother.

Itwashim

orAlgeria.

History

made

itsdecision.

The

coward

putabullet

inhis

head,andlife

goeson.''

"Sohe

didput

abullet

inhis

head?""W

hy,do

youdoubt

it?""M

aybesom

eonehelped

him."

Chérif

Wadah

explodes.His

cheeksstart

quivering.Suddenly,

hegrabs

thealarm

clockon

thetable

andsm

ashesitagainst

thewall.

"Now

you'rereally

talkingnonsense,

Superintendent.What

yousay

isvery,

veryserious,

sowatch

yourstep!

The

pathologist'sreport

was

definitive:Haj

Thobane

committed

suicide.That's

officialandfinal.A

ndit's

thetruth.

It'sdanger­

ousto

putforw

ardfantasy

theorieswhose

irnplicationsyou

don'tgrasp."

His

eyesare

bloodshot.Froth

ferments

inthe

cornersof

hismouth.

Something

givesway

insideme.A

ninvisible

lockcloses

overmyguts,

andmycalves

gosoft.

Ican'trecalleverfeeling

sooverw

helming

afearascom

esovermenow

,

Yasm

inaKhadra

ProfessorAllouche

isembarrassed

forme.I'n1disappointing

him.I-lestands

up,goesallthe

wayround

thetable

andsinks

backinto

hischair,doubtless

worn

outbymy'ram

blings.'"I

begyou,

Brahim

,"he

saysshakily,

puttinghis

fingertohis

temple,

"SyChérif

istelling

thetruth.

You

shouldbe

happy.Whatyou've

doneisextraordinary."

"And

youaprofessor,an

educatedman,"

Isay

tohim

."H

owdid

aman

with

yourlearning

lethim

selfem

barkon

thisbusin

ess?"Hesmiles

sadlyand

givesmeaharassed

look."Aneducated

man,

Brahirn,

aprofessor?

Doyou

knowwhat

thatmeans,in

acountry

dominated

bymegalom

aniacsand

richbulim

ics?Learning

istheworst

misfortune

thatcan

befallaman

inacountry

ruledby

charlatans.You've

seenthem

atwork,

Superintendent,you've

seenthem

demolish

meand

demolish

anyonewho

isn'tlike

them.Myups

anddow

ns,Brahirn

?The

occasionalapplause;

alot

ofabuse.

Ifanyone

shouldbe

thefirst

todive

into'this

business,'it's

me.

It'smore

thanaduty,it's

anobligation,

aquestion

ofsurvival.Have

youever

beendragged

outofbed

atsomeabsurd

hourofthe

nightby

abunch

ofpumped-up

goonswhojust

bargeinto

yourhouse

andgetyour

wife

andchildren

firstupset

andthen

frightened?Every

night,foryears

onend?

Doyou

havethe

slightestidea

what

kindof

hellthat

is?They

shoveyou

downthe

stairs,barefoot,

inyourpyjam

as,while

yourchildren

soband

hidetheir

facesbehindtheir

fists.And

you,youtry

toreassure

thembutyou

can'tbecause

sornepooridiot

ishittingyou

andcalling

youadog.

How

marry

times

was

thiscircus

showput

on,inthe

middle

ofthenight,bringing

theneighbors

outonto

theirbalconies

towatch

thesecret

policebundle

me

intothe

trunkoftheir

carand

driveoffattop

speed,throughn1y

delirium?Iw

astortured,

shackled,hum

iliated,show

ered

DeadMan's

Share

with

urineand

draggedthrough

myow

nexcrem

ent.Iwas

forcedto

sitdow

non

bottles.Iw

asso

disfigured,sowretched

thatmywife

couldn'ttake

itanym

ore.She

couldn'tbear

tosee

mereduced

toapiece

ofshit,Brahim

,she'd

hadenough

ofsharingmyanxieties.

Onemorning,

shetook

mykids

anddisappeared.She

nevercam

eback,

nevershow

edany

signof

life.Formore

thanten

yearsIhaven't

knownwhere

sheisor

what

she'sdone

with

thechildren.

And

youask

mewhat

thehell

aneducated

man

isdoing

inthe

middle

ofthisbusiness?

This

businesswouldn'tm

akesense

withouthim

...Idon'twant

thebestofus

tobe

persecutedby

theworstw

ehave

anymore,

Idon'twantm

ywork

tobe

usedas

asubstitutefortoiletpaper

inlatrines

anymore.B

ecauseit'shappened,

Brahim

.I'vebeen

forcedtowipe

myselfw

ithmyow

nbooks.

Toapologize

tomytorturer,

tocalllow

lyjailers

'sir.'Allthis

becauseIw

asan

educated,honest,conscientious

man

who

offeredhis

servicesto

guruswho

didn'tknow

what

tomake

ofthem

.Well,

it'sover,the

reignof

thephilistines.I

don'twant

suchabuses

togo

on,Idon't

want

goodmen

toshit

themselves

whenever

somecrook

looksatthem

tooclosely."

SinceIdon'tsayanything,he

looksdow

nand

leansforward

overthe

table.Hecan't

quiterouse

himself

again,sohe

givesup

andcontents

himself

with

sharinghis

conclusion:"Y

ou'rewrong

toletyourselfgetdiscouraged,

Brahim

.Ipromise

you,you

haveevery

reasonto

rejoice.Sy

Wadah

isn'tjustflatter­

ingyou.

What

youhave

doneispriceless.

Thanks

toyou,

ahealthy

metabolism

isestablishingitselfin

ourcountry.

Good

isfinallygetting

theupper

handover

Evil."

"Gd'"

OO

.

"Y,

Gd."

es,oo

."So

tellmewhy

Ifeellikethrow

ingup

everytim

eIthink

aboutthe

peoplewho

proposeto

dispenseitto

us.Tell

me

385

YasminaKhadra

why

theirgoodness

horrifiesnie,w

hyI'n1

afraidto

seethem

tryto

saveus?"

Inthe

distance,astorm

breaksout,renew

ingthe

wind's

assaultson

thehuts

ofthe

asylum.

ChérifW

adahnods.

"So,you

don'tnotice

thetransform

a­tion

thenation

waswaiting

for-"

"Nobody

believesyour

pitch,Mr.Wadah,"

Ibreak

in."I-laving

beenroyally

fuckedby

yourdem

agoguery,hope

nolonger

hasthe

strengthtojoin

inyour

games.

And

don'ttalk

tomeabout

thenation,

whatever

youdo;

youdon't

knowwhat

itis.The

country'sonly

remaining

chanceisfor

youto

leave,the

soonerthe

better.You're

drivingusm

adwith

yourlousy

speeches.The

world

ischanging,

that'strue,

butonly

where

you'renow

hereto

befound.

The

obstacleisin

yourmind.Ifyou

thinkthat

Thobane's

deathisthe

bestthing

thatcould

havehappened,

followhis

example

andlet

theyounger

generationtake

controlofits

owndestiny.Y

oucan't

make

afeastout

ofyesterday'sleftovers,

Mr.W

adah.""It's

ourAlgeria,"

hethunders,

rushingatme.

"Which

one?"Iroar

todrive

himback.

"The

onethat

usedtoinspire

poets,orthe

onethatsends

achill

downone's

spine?The

onewhere

foreigndelegations

usedto

bereceived

bypainters

andwriters,

orthe

onewhere

minstrels

arelocked

upinjails?

The

onewhere

giantsused

tocorne

andbow

down

beforeits

monum

entsor

theone

whose

colossuseshavefeet

ofclay?

The

onethat

reveredTito,

Giap,

Miriam

Makeba

andChe

Guevara,

thereal

one,or

theone

thatharbored

Carlos

andterrorist

organizations?"He's

takenaback.

Hishand

goesbriefly

tohis

heart;he

recovershim

selfand

challengesmeto

theend.

"Ifeelsorry

foryou,

SyBrahim

.Idon't

thinkwehave

anythingmore

tosay

toeach

other.Leavenow

."

Dead

Man's

Share

"That's

what

Iwas

intendingto

do,monsieur.Ijust

carnetorem

indyou

thatnocrim

eisperfect.Y

oucan

coverupyour

tracksandshuffle

thecards,m

ixup

theclues

andthe

evidence,blind

people'sminds

andeyes,but

soonerorlater,

inevitably,like

HajThobane,

thetruth

will

catchup

with

you.""W

hattruth

areyou

talkingabout,

SyBrahim

?There

neverwas

one."That

slippedout.

His

flarednostrils

twitch,

I-lisforeheadglistens

with

sweatand

hisjawsgrind

silently,likemillstones.

Hecan't

decidewhether

tokeep

arguingor

leaveitalone.

Tothe

professor'sgreat

displeasure,he

optsfor

theleast

profitableof

initiatives:speechifying.H

ecom

esoverandshoves

hiscarnivorous

leerin

myface.

Hisbreath

besiegesrne

ashe

triestomeltm

ein

thefurnace

ofhis

eyes."W

e'rejust

atissue

oflies,Mr.Llob.

Webelieve

weknow

where

we're

going,but

noone

canguessw

hatawaitsusaround

thecorner.W

eproceed

hesitantlyinbroad

daylight,dazzled

byour

shimmering

vanities-that's

when

we're

notbeing

seducedby

themirage

ofour

perdition,trusting

onlyinour

hallucinatoryinstincts,

likegnus

gallopingflat

outtow

ardunfeasible

pasturesriddled

with

traps,violentdeath

andmad­

ness.We're

asmuch

tobe

pitiedasthose

gnus,Superintendent.The

trapsof

thepast

havetaught

usnothing.

Our

mem

oryretains

nothingabout

thethings

thathavedestroyed

us.We've

neverstoppedlying

toourselves.M

aybethat's

where

thesecret

ofour

survivallies,in

ourrefusalto

correctourselves."

Heraiseshishand

levelwith

myface

andmoveshisfingers

inaway

thatsuggestsaspideron

itsback,thenform

shishandback

intoavengeful

fist."W

hathas

changedsince

thefirst

murder,w

hohas

settleddow

nsince

Noah's

flood?Wecontinue

torace

toour

deaths,caring

notadam

nabout

what

might

becomeof

us...onewarafteranother,

sufferingon

allsides,

387

Yasm

inaKhadra

Dead

Man's

Share

more

drainas

andaccidents

thanyou

canhandle.

Why?

Why

somuch

unhappiness,so

much

terribleand

pointlessmisery?

That's

thequestion.

Unfortunately,

theman

who

knowsthe

answer

wouldn't

beable

toim

plement

thesolution."

Hisfist

relaxes,turningon

itselfsothat

thefingers

come

free."So

where

thehell

isit,

Superintendent,this

saintedTruth

ofyours?

Inthe

lessonsmen

havenever

managed

tolearn?

Inthe

trivializationof

tragedies,to

thepoint

where

thesurviving

generationsfeelleftout

anddem

andtheir

shareof

damnation?

Inthe

pietythat

expectsto

getfromthe

starsthatw

hichthe

earthoffers,in

vain,everyday?

IfTruth

carneto

seeus

onemorning,w

e'ddie

ofboredombefore

nightfall.It'sfalsehood

thathelpsus

keepgoing.

It'sthe

onlything

thatunderstands

us,thattakes

pityon

us...falsehoodisour

salva­tion.

What

arehope,

tolerance,dream

s;what

arefraternity,

equality,loyalty;

what

areforgiveness,

justice,repentance,

ifnot

exquisitefalsehoods

thatallow

usto

experiencethe

same

setbackseveral

times

without

registeringthat

something

isout

ofkilter?"

Hisperoration

haslefthim

outofbreath.

Hedraw

sback

tocatch

hisbreath.Idon'tlethim

offthehook.

Look

inghim

rightín

theeye,

Itellhimpoint

blank,"Y

ouspend

toomuch

time

inthis

asylum,M

r.Wadah."

Atthat

mom

ent,as

ifpushedover

theedge

bymyinso­

lence,Joeappears

fromsom

ewhere

with

ahunting

rifieaim

edatm

ytem

ple."Shall

Iblowhis

brainsout?"

Heismad

with

rage.His

faceiscraw

lingwith

nervoustics,and

hisfinger

hastrouble

keepingstill

onthe

trigger.¡'Put

yourgun

down,son,''

hisprotector

advises.

"Heshow

edyou

disrespect.Iw

on'tallowanyone

toshow

youdisrespect.

Not

evenn1y

mother,H

e'sjustabastard

cop.Hehas

noright

toraise

hisvoice

toyou."

"Putyour

gundow

n,Isay!"

Joetrem

blesat

hisgodfather's

order.His

eyesact

likea

scourgeon

myentrails.

IfeelasthoughI'm

vanishingin

apuff

ofsm

oke.A

coldsw

eattrickles

downmyback.A

fteralong

tremor,

thefinger

fallsstill,

moves

offthe

triggerbit

bybit

andfolds

backon

itselfNevertheless,

it'snot

untilthe

barrelisw

ellawayfrom

mytem

plethat

Ifeelm

yselfagain.

Joesteps

back,reluctantly,and

disappearsbehindadoor,

furtiveas

aghost.

"Isee

everyone'sup

forafight,M

r.Wadah."

"Itold

youhe

wasn'tallthere."

"He's

notthe

onlyone,

alas!""Letthings

taketheir

course,Superintendent,"saysthe

pro­fessor."A

trainisgetting

readyto

setoffintoanew

landscape;ifyou

standin

itsway,it

means

youaccept

thatitwill

chewyou

upand

spityouout.T

hereare

somethings

theordinary

taxpayerdoesn't

knowabout.H

eoften

doesn'trealize

it'sfor

hisow

ngood,

forthe

goodofgenerations

tocorne.T

hedeath

ofoneman

shouldn'tkill

awhole

nation'schances.A

live,Haj

Thobane

wasblocking

themall.Prom

nowon,it's

essentialtomake

gooduse

ofour

roomto

maneuver,

That's

what

we're

goingto

doright

away."

"Inyour

shoes,"Chérif

Wadah

adds,to

showIbelong

tohim

,"I'd

gohom

eand

packmybags.B

ulgaria'sabeautiful

country.""I

don'tneed

thistraining

course.""W

ecan

findother

destinationsfor

you.France,

Italy,Russia,

theUnited

States-"389

Yasm

inaKhadra

Dead

Man's

Share

"I'llhave

nothingtodowith

thatkindofthing,

monsieur!'

"Pit"

ly.

As

Ireach

thedoor,

thesound

ofWadah's

voiceholds

meback.Headdresses

mewith

thefam

iliartu:"Y

ouhave

noreason

todoubt

ourproject,B

rahim.It'sinspired

byour

mistakes

andprom

isestorecapture

losttim

e.The

countryisgoing

tobe

reborn,beautiful

andhealthy.Experts

willhave

somewhere

towork

again,andmerit

willbe

sacred.Anew

politicsprom

isestoelevate

usinthe

symphony

ofnations.Genius,

forcedinto

exilebecause

ofthe

self-centerednessand

banalityofcertain

leaders,willcon1.e

backtous.

Our

schoolsand

universitieswillrediscover

thenobility

oftheir

vocations.Our

artistswillhave

awonderful

time,and

alltalents

willhave

ways

ofexpressing

themselves

fully.Everyonewillhave

hischance.The

bestwillrise

tothe

heavens.We're

finishedwith

despotismand

cant,nepotism

andpreferentialtreatm

ent,favoritism

andexclusion.

Partieswill

springup

everyvvhere-this

isnot

autopian

dream:som

eare

alreadyform

ingin

secret,Iprom

iseyou-and

thoseinpow

erwillhave

aneffective

opposition,which

will

demand

accountabilityand

keepaclose

eyeon

them.D

emocracy

isthe

mature

stateofrepublics,

it'sthe

realsolution.

You're

wrong

torem

ainaskeptic,

Superintendent.Salvation

ishere,w

ithinreach;

allyouhave

todo

isgrab

it.""Youmust

admitthat

falsehoodisthe

bestseducer

inthis

casetoo,

Mr.Wadah."

Hissm

ilefades.

Iopen

thedoor.

Outside,

aradiant

moon

whispers

sweet

nothingsto

thedrought-parched

orchards.The

weather

ismarvelous

forsleepwalkers

andinsom

niacs;asforthepeasant,

with

hisshredded

hands,it'salready

obviousthat

theharvest

willbe

catastrophic.

Before

Igetback

tomycar,Ifind

rstillhave

thestrength

toturn

backtothe

guruofall

ourunhinged

tomorrow

sand

saytohim

,"Allthat

glittersisnot

gold,that's

thelaw

.Ilovemycountry

andthe

peoplethat

gowith

it.I'munhappy

when

thingsgo

badly,and

Ioften

findmyselfpraying

forustoget

outofatight

cornerwithout

toomuch

damage.

Likeyou,

Idream

ofabeautiful

andhealthy

country;I'mprepared

towork

likeamaddog

forthesake

ofasmidgen

ofimprovem

entin

thegrayness

ofourdays,but

however

ferventmyfaith,Iw

illnot

permitmyselfto

beallied

wich

propheticmovem

entsthat

legitimize

murder."

Idon'tknowwhat

Ididforthe

restoftheday.Irem

ember

onlythat

Iwalked

aroundsom

ewhere

likeamadm

an,1ny

handsbehind

myback

and1ny

eyeshooded.Ihadaheadache,

andaterrible

stomachache.

The

soundsofthe

cityrum

bledaround

me.

Ididn't

knowwhere

togo,

andyet

Icontinued

towander,

convincedthat

itwasthe

onlywaytoget

some

distancebetw

eenmeand

n1yuncertainties.

PerhapsIthought

Icouldstep

backsom

ewhatfrom

myown"convictions,"

asa

wayofchecking

whether

theycould

catchupwith

me.N

ightcaught

meleaning

overaslipw

ayon

thewaterfront.

Ittook

meforever

torem

ember

where

Ihadleftm

ycar.Iw

entback

homelike

ainan

whohasjourneyed

farfarawayand

isn'tclosetoseeing

lightatthe

endofthe

tunnel.Itisafter

eleveno'clock,

andAlgiers

issuffocating.

It'sasifhell

isatthe

gatesofthe

city.Slum

pedinmyarm

chair,with

mylap

supportingmysagging

bellyand

aworn-out

footstoolsupporting

myfeet,Ican't

stoptrying

togetm

yselfblind

drunkwith

aHarnoud

Boualem

,alocalsoda

which

isour

prideand

joybut

can'teven

getustipsy.

Through

thewindow

Ican

seethe

lightsofthe

Casbah.

Night,in

thisancient

quarter,islikearenunciation.

Stunned

391

YasminaKhaâra

DeadMan's

Share

bythe

sweltering

heat,people

findtheir

minds

heatedwhite

hot;their

mem

oriesare

tossedabout

bytheir

cares,their

sighsare

headlongflights.

They

havespent

theirday

over­loading

theircredit

atthe

cafes,cursing

boththe

dishwater

they'reserved

inthe

nameofa

cupofcoffee

andtheir

future,which

islookingthe

otherway,T

healleyw

aysare

empty,and

crushinglysad;

ifthey

rushtogo

toground

where

thefoun­

dationsbegin,

it'sonly

tohide

theirdreadful

crawling

fromthe

stars.The

shopkeepershave

pulleddow

ntheir

shutter's,the

curtainsare

drawnon

allgossip.

Silencehas

takenover

theplace;

that'swhat

youhear

rattlingfoolishly

againstthe

blinds.Further

down,

Bab

ElOued

isguzzling

downher

bile.She

lurksinthe

shadowsand

waits,

with

aspider's

patience,to

ambush

arguments.

Ifthe

lamps

arenot

litit'snot

outof

modesty;

blackisthe

preferredcolor

forconspiracies.

Bab

ElOued

hasan

oldscore

tosettle.

Shedoesn't

giveadam

nwhat

peoplethink

ofthe

rulesgoverning

hersensitivity

orthe

hygieneofher

self-respect.She

gathersher

resentments

andignores

therest.

Shehas

themeans

ather

disposal:afew

roughand

readyprinciples,

rudimentary

pride,stirringtenac­

ity.Not

enoughtoerect

anobelisk,

butenough

toload

agood

number

ofgibbets.

Infront

ofrne,

theMediterranean

stretchesout

asfar

asarejected

dream,dark

asafretfulornen.

Afew

shipsplay

atstation

masters,

waving

theirlights

abouttokeep

theirspirits

up,while

alighthousecasts

itsevil

eyeonthe

shadows,look­

ingforspells

tobring

tolife.

Norm

ally,when

Iused

tolean

overthe

edgeofmybal­

cony,Algiers

would

move

me.Iwould

lookatthings

wich

affection,and

thenoises

ofthe

neighborhoodwould

holdmespellbound.

Ifounditdifficult

tolook

atastreet

without

seeingthe

senseitgave

tomylife.

Ifeltasthough

Iknew

allthe

buildings,feltthe

heftofeverypaving

stone.Ididn't

evenneed

toleave

hometotravel.A

lgierswasajourney

ofwhich

onenevergrew

tired.The

fragranceofnierguez

andthe

dinof

therestaurants

would

fillmythoughts

with

awolfìike

hunger;Ihad

onlytolook

deepinto

theeyes

ofthe

streeturchins

toquench

1nythirst.

Algiers

wasbeautiful,

inthe

dayswhen

theseasons

were

blue.The

slightestthingwould

pumpusright

up;thesmallest

scrapofsong

would

make

usproud.Wewere

young,likeour

ideals,and

wetook

themost

hare-brainedprom

isesatface

value.Wehad

greenfingers,w

eput

ourhearts

intoour

work'

andour

naivetywaspure;

ourambitions

were

humble

andour

hopesconfident;

wejustw

antedtolive

andtolove

beingthere

amidst

theprayers

ofthemosques

andthe

drunkards'shouts,

tolook

forour

image

inthe

affectionofothers,

totouch

ourchildhood

dreamswith

ourfingertips,

with

onehand

topick

aflow

ertooffersom

eoneand

with

theother

tokeep

allourprom

ises.Wewere

sohappy

with

thedays

thatwere

bornin

frontofus,amazed

thatwecould

recognizethem

despitethe

chaosofour

nights;wewere

somoved

when

someone

saidthank

youtous,

fornothing

healedour

scarsbetter

thana

simple

smile.W

hyhas

everythingchanged

today?What

isthis

bitternessthatruinsour

lives?What

warns

Mina

offstirringup

thepast;w

hatturns

themares

inthe

rneadowsinto

she-asses?How

many

murderous

interrogations,corne

theevening

ofthe

dayofreckoning,

howmany

immense

disappointn1ents

atthe

endofwasted

labors....There

isno

trenchworse

thanamouth

thatwants

tobite,

there'snothing

more

incautiousthan

tolend

ityourear.

Tonight,

andthis

isaprornise,

when

Mina

cornestobed

Iwillhold

herhand

tillmorning,

393

Yasmina

Kliadra

***A

fewm

onthslater,

onthefifth

ofOctoberofthesam

eyear

(1988),after

astrange

speechby

thepresident

inw

hichhe

incitesthe

nationto

riseup,

hugeprotest

movem

entsdevelop

acrossallthe

bigcities

ofthe

country.The

resultoftheconfrontationsisfive

hundredcivilians

killed.In

responseto

massangerand

populardeinandsforjobs

anda

minim

umlevelofdecency,

thegovernnientojfersa

multi-party

systemand

asulphurous

democracy

thatwill

encouragethe

riseofIslam

ist[undam

entalism,thuscreating

theidealconditions

forthe

unleashingofone

ofthem

ostappalling

civilUl(1rsthe

Mediterranean

basinhas

everknown

....

ABOUT

THEAUTHOR

Yasnüna

I{hadraisthe

pseudo-nyrn

ofthe

Algerian

authorMoham

med

Moulessehoui,

who

wasborn

in1956.A

highranking

officerin

theAlgerian

anny,he

wentinto

exilein

Francein

2000'where

henow

livesin

seclusion.In

hisseveralw

rítingson

thecivil

war

inAlgeria,

Khadra

exposesthe

currentregim

eand

thefunda­

mentalisr

oppositionasthe

jointguilty

partiesin

theAlgerian

Tragedy.B

eforehis

admission

ofidentity

in2001,

aleading

criticin

Francewrote:

"Ahe

orashe?

Itdoesn'tm

atter,What

matters

isthat

Yasm

inaKhadra

istoday

oneofA

lgeria'smost

important

writers."

395

Yasmina

Kliadra

Other

worksby

Yasm

inaKhadra:

Autu111n

ofthePhantom

sDouble

Blank

Inthe

Nam

eofG

odM

orituriWolfD

reams

396

li111111~1~if~î(íl~~íl~\lilll~~\Î[~1111liili3

115300981922

.8

7'

~..~3

'r

v•

11111111111111111111liililiI13046725R

00233M

adein

theU

SACharleston,SC13

June2012

••-

-'#-

·--

~---

~-~-,-

~~~~--~~

0-(1_U

E£.~S

'-ºL..""°(.t.

Reserve

Library

111is\IJ\aterialcanne

usedfor

3Hours

on\V

Q\/eràueF,nes:

$6.00per

nourcom

putedon

a24-nourperiod111isitern

rnustbereturned

direct\to

c\er\<atoesK

PQ3989.2.K386P37132011