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\;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
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