A Fire in the Sun (22 page)

"Too bad." I didn't know what was on the other side of the door, but I wasn't going to get anywhere standing in the hallway with her, so I grabbed the doorknob and went through.

Neither Reda Abu Adil nor his secretary, Umar Abdul-Qawy, heard me come into the office. Abu Adil was in his hospital bed, as he was the previous time I'd seen him. Umar was leaning over him. I couldn't tell what he was doing.

"Allah grant you health," I said gruffly.

Umar jerked upright and faced me. "How did you get in here?" he demanded.

"Your servant brought me to the door."

Umar nodded. "Kamal. I will have to speak to him." He looked at me more closely. "I'm sorry," he said, "I don't recall your name."

"Marîd Audran. I work for Friedlander Bey."

"Ah yes," said Umar. His expression softened just a little. "The last time, you came as a policeman."

"I'm not actually a cop. I look after Friedlander Bey's interests with the police."

A little smile curled Umar's lips. "As you wish. Are you looking after them today?"

"His interests and yours also."

Abu Adil raised a feeble hand and touched Umar's sleeve. Umar bent to hear the old man's whispered words, then straightened up again. "Shaykh Reda invites you to make yourself comfortable," said Umar. "We would have prepared suitable refreshments if you'd let us know you were coming."

I looked around for a chair and seated myself. "A very upset woman came to Friedlander Bey's house today," I said. "She represents a revolutionary government that's just socialized the Glorified Segu Kingdom." I opened my briefcase, took out the envelope from the Songhay Republic, and tossed it to Umar.

Umar looked amused. "Already? I really thought Olujimi would last longer. I suppose once you've transferred all the wealth there is in a country to a foreign bank, there's really no point in being king anymore."

"I didn't come here to talk about that." The Half-Hay's moddy was making it difficult for me to be civil to Umar. "By the terms of your agreement with Friedlander Bey, this country is under your authority. You'll find all the relevant information in that packet. I left the woman fuming outside in the hallway. She seems like a cutthroat bitch. I'm glad you have to deal with her, and not me."

Urnar shook his head. "They always try to order and reorganize our lives for us. They forget how much we can do for their cause if we're in the right mood."

I watched him play with the envelope, turning it around and around on the desk. A weak, drawn-out groan  came from Abu Adil, but I'd seen too much real pain in the world to pity the suffering of a Proxy Hell maggot. I looked back at Umar. "If you can do something to make your master more alert," I said, "Madame Akwete needs to speak with him. She seems to think the fate of the Islamic world rests on her shoulders alone."

Umar gave me an ironic smile. "The Songhay Republic," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Tomorrow it will be a kingdom again or a conquered province or a fascist dictatorship. And no one will care."

"Madame Akwete will care."

That amused him even more. "Madame Akwete will be one of the first to go in the new wave of purges. But we've talked enough about her. Now we must discuss the matter of your compensation."

I looked at him closely. "I didn't have any thought of payment," I said.

"Of course not. You were fulfilling the agreement, the compact between your employer and mine. Nevertheless, it's always wise to express gratitude to our friends. After all, someone who has helped you in the past is more likely to help you again. Perhaps there is some small service I may do for you in return."

This was the whole purpose behind my little jaunt into Abu Adil's part of town. I spread my hands and tried to look casual. "No, I can't think of anything," I said. "Unless ..."

"Unless what, my friend?"

I pretended to examine my boot's rundown heel. "Unless you're willing to tell me why you've installed Umm Saad in our household."

Umar pretended to be just as casual. "You must know by now that Umm Saad is a very intelligent woman, but she is by no means as clever as she believes. We wished her only to keep us apprised of Friedlander Bey's plans. We said nothing to her about confronting him directly or abusing his hospitality. She's antagonized your master, and that has made her worthless to us. You may dispose of her as you wish."

"It's only as I suspected," I said. "Friedlander Bey doesn't hold you or Shaykh Reda responsible for her actions."

Umar raised one hand in a rueful gesture. "Allah

gives us tools to use as best we can," he said. "Sometimes a tool breaks and we must discard it."

"Allah be praised," I murmured.    ,

"Praise Allah," said Umar. We seemed to be getting < along just fine now.

"One other thing," I said. "The policeman who was $

with me the last time, Officer Shaknahyi, was shot and i

killed yesterday."      I

Umar didn't stop smiling, but his brow furrowed. "We       I heard the news. Our hearts go out to his widow and children. May Allah grant them peace."

"Yeah. In any event, I greatly desire to have the man who killed him. His name is Paul Jawarski."

I looked at Abu Adil, who writhed restlessly on his hospital bed. The plump old man made a few low, unintelligible sounds, but Umar wasn't paying any attention to him. "Certainly," he said. "We'll be glad to put our resources at your disposal. If any of our associates know anything about this Jawarski, you'll be informed immediately."

I didn't like the way Umar said that. It was too glib, and he looked too unhappy. I just thanked him and stood up to go.

"A moment, Shaykh Marîd," he said in a quiet voice. He stood up and took my arm, guiding me to another exit. "I'd like to have a private word with you. Would you mind stepping into the library?"

I felt a peculiar chill. I knew this invitation was coming from Umar Abdul-Qawy, acting independently, not Umar Abdul-Qawy, the secretary of Shaykh Reda Abu Adil. "Fine," I. said.

He reached up and popped the moddy he was wearing. He hadn't spared so much as a glance at Abu Adil.

Umar held the door for me, and I went through into the library. I seated myself at a large oblong table of glossy dark wood. Umar didn't sit, however. He paced in front of a high wall lined with bookshelves, idly tossing the moddy in one hand. "I think I understand your position," he said at last.

"Which position is that?"

He waved irritably. "You know what I mean. How much longer will you be content to be Friedlander Bey's

trained dog, running and fetching for a madman who doesn't have the wit to realize he's already dead?" "You mean Papa, or Shaykh Reda?" I asked. Umar stopped pacing and frowned at me. "I'm speaking of both of them, and I'm sure you goddamn well know it."

I watched Umar for a moment, listening to the trilling of some of the songbirds that were caged all through Abu Adil's house and grounds. It gave the afternoon a false sense of peace and hopefulness. The air in the library was musty and stale. I began to feel caged myself. Maybe it had been a mistake coming here today. "What are you suggesting, Umar?" I asked.

"I'm suggesting that we begin thinking of the future. Someday, not long from now, the old men's empires will be in our hands. Hell, I run Shaykh Reda's business for him right now. He spends the whole day chipped in to ... to—"

"I know what he's got chipped in," I said. Umar nodded. "All right, then. This moddy that I use is a recent recording of his mind., He gave it to me because his only sexual kick is jamming himself, or an accurate facsimile of himself. Does that disgust you?"

"You're kidding." I'd heard much worse in my time. "Forget that, then. He doesn't realize that with his moddy, I'm his equal as far as tending to business is concerned. I am Abu Adil, but I have the added advantage of my own native skills. He is Shaykh Reda, a great man; but with this moddy, I am Shaykh Reda and Umar Abdul-Qawy together. Why do I need him?"

I found this all terrifically amusing. "Are you proposing the elimination of Abu Adil and Friedlander Bey?" Umar looked around himself nervously. "I propose no such thing," he said in a quiet voice. "There are too many other people depending on their judgment and vision. Yet there may come a day when the old men themselves are a hindrance to their own enterprises."

"When the time comes to push them aside," I said, "the right people will know it. And Friedlander Bey, at least, will not begrudge them."

"What if the time is now?" Umar asked hoarsely. "You may be ready, but I'm not prepared to take over Papa's affairs."

 "Even that problem could be solved," insisted Umar. "Possibly," I said. I didn't let any expression cross my face. I had no idea if we were being watched and recorded, and yet I didn't want to antagonize Umar. I knew now that he was a very dangerous man.

"You will learn that I am right," he said. He tossed the moddy in his hand some more, his brow furrowed again in thought. "Go back to Friedlander Bey now and think about what I've said. We'll talk again soon. If you do not share my enthusiasm, I may need to push you aside along with both our masters." I started to rise from my chair. He raised a hand to stop me. "That is not a threat, my friend," he said calmly. "It is only how I see the future." "Allah alone sees the future." He laughed cynically. "If you think that pious talk has any real meaning, I may end up with more power than Shaykh Reda ever dreamed of." He indicated another door on the south side of the library. "You may go out that way. Follow the corridor to the left, and it will lead you to the front entrance. I must go back and discuss this Songhay Republic business with the woman. You needn't worry about her. I'll send her back to her hotel with my driver."

"Thank you for your kindness," I said. "May you go in peace and safety," he said. I left the library and followed Umar's directions. Kamal, the servant, met me along the way and showed me out. Again he kept silent as we walked. I went down the steps toward the car, and then I turned to look back. Kamal stood in the doorway, staring after me as if I might be concealing stolen silverware in my clothing.

I got into the sedan. Kmuzu started the engine and swung the car around and out through the main gate. I thought about what Umar had said, what he'd offered me. Abu Adil had exercised his power for almost two centuries. Surely in all that time there had been many young men who'd filled the position Umar now held. Surely some of them had had the same ambitious ideas. Abu Adil still remained, but what had happened to those young men? Maybe Umar had never considered that question. Maybe Umar was nowhere near as smart as he thought he was.

Chapter 11

Jirji Shaknahyi had been killed on Tuesday, and it wasn't until Friday that I was able to go into the station house again. It was, of course, the Sabbath, and I toyed with the idea of passing by a mosque on the way, but I felt hypocritical about that. I figured I was such a crummy person that no amount of worshiping could make me acceptable to Allah. I know that's all hollow rationalization—it's the sinners, after all, who need the benefits of prayer most, and not the saints—but I just felt too soiled and guilty to enter the House of God. Besides, Shaknahyi had set an example of true faith, and I'd failed him. I had to redeem myself in my own eyes first, before I could expect to do the same in the eyes of Allah.

My life has been like a rolling ocean, with waves of comfort and ease followed by waves of adversity. No matter how peaceful things get, I know more trouble will soon sweep over me. I've always told everyone how much I preferred being on my own, a solitary agent answerable only to myself. I wished I meant it half as much as I pretended.

I needed every bit of the inner strength and confidence I'd achieved to deal with the obstinate forces around me. I was getting no help at all from Lieutenant Hajjar, Friedlander Bey, or anyone else. No one at the station house seemed particularly interested in talking with me on Friday morning. There were a lot of part-time office workers there, Christians who filled in for the religious Muslims on the Sabbath. Lieutenant Hajjar was there, of course, because on his list of favorite pastimes, religion finished down somewhere between oral surgery and paying taxes. I went immediately to his square, glass-walled office.

Eventually he looked up to see who was looming beside his desk. "What now, Audran?" he snapped. He hadn't seen me in three days, but he made it sound as if I'd been badgering him non-stop all that time.

"Just wanted to know what your plans for me were."

Hajjar looked up from his data deck. He stared at me for a long moment, his m6uth twisted as if he'd just chewed a rotten date. "You're flattering' yourself," he said in a quiet voice. "You don't enter into my plans at all."

"I was just volunteering to help in the investigation of Jirji Shaknahyi's death."

Hajjar raised his eyebrows. He leaned back in his chair. "What investigation?" he asked incredulously. "He was shot by Paul Jawarski. That's all we need to know."

I waited until I could speak without shouting at him. "We have Jawarski in custody?"

"Whe!" demanded Hajjar. "Who's we? You mean, does the police department have Jawarski? Not yet. But don't worry, Audran, he won't slip away. We're closin' in on him."

"How do you expect to find him? This is a big city. You think he's just sitting in a room somewhere, waiting for you to show up with a warrant? He's probably back in America by now."

"Good police work's how we'll find him, Audran. You never have much faith in good police work. I know he ain't left town. He's here somewhere, and we're tight-enin' the net around him. Just a matter of time."

I didn't like the sound of that. "Tell that to his widow," I said. "She'll be heartened by your confidence."

Hajjar stood up. I'd made him angry. "You accusin' me of somethin', Audran?" he asked, jabbing a stiff forefinger into my chest. "You hintin" that maybe I'm not pushin' this investigation hard enough?"

"I never said nothing, Hajjar. I just wanted to find out what your plans are."

He gave me an evil grin. "What, you think I got nothin' better to do than sit around and worry about how to utilize your special talents? Hell, Audran, we were get-tin' along fine without you the last few days. But I suppose now you're here, there must be somethin' for you to do." He sat down again at his desk and riffled through a stack of papers. "Uh yeah, here we go. I want you to go on with that investigation you and Shaknahyi started." I wasn't happy about that. I wanted to be directly involved in tracking down Jawarski. "I thought you said we were supposed to lay off Abu Adil."