A FLYING START
Nothing significant occurred the last two days. Telly called and told me to address myself to a Hassan Riad at the airport and I made arrangements at work, telling them I would be away for a few days. On Monday bright and early, I left with a taxi for the airport. In those days, travel was restricted to foreigners and Egyptians who had official business abroad. Resident holders of foreign passports, as I was, were free to travel but could not take foreign currency out of the country. In fact just holding foreign money was a crime. The money I was carrying could put me away in an Egyptian jail for at least a few years. I had an old leather hand bag and unstitched the bottom part, spread the dollars, themselves wrapped in a soft plastic bag to eliminate the rustling of the paper and stitched it back again reasonably skillfully. That little bag I filled to the brim with my shaving equipment, lotions, shampoo and deodorants. Despite that, the little uneasiness that lingered was to be expected.
At the airport, I went straight to the Misrair counter and placed the two suitcases on the weighing balance, presented the two tickets and passports and the employee assigned two seats. The bags were moved to the customs and I went and presented the passports to the official. He told me to open both bags and he searched cursorily from the sides. He asked, 'Where is your wife?'
I answered vaguely, 'Maagouda,' she is present, and looked around as if searching for her. He asked nothing more. He pointed at the handbag and I opened the zipper and held it open for him. He came over it and looked inside, saw the densely packed mess and asked me to empty the bag. I started to spread the contents on his bench. Half way through he was bored, had another look inside and told me to pack the things back in again. With a piece of chalk, he signed on the two suitcases and the handbag. A porter hauled the suitcases on a luggage cart. Next, I moved to the passport desk and asked for Hassan Riad. They pointed to an office nearby and I went in. Hassan Riad was a junior officer dressed in a black police uniform and was very businesslike.
'Can I have the two passports,' he asked right off. Took them, left the room, and a minute later brought them back stamped. He did not smile or say anything by way of courtesy. I wondered what sort of dealings he might have with Telly.
I went to the passenger lounge wondering if my happiness showed despite the expressionless look I tried to maintain. So far, so good. So very, very good. The flight took off half an hour late. The delay was due to a discrepancy in the number of passengers on the plane. The Misrair personnel consistently counted one passenger less than their lists showed. In the end, they decided not to delay the flight any longer concluding that the missing passenger never boarded the plane. Which was correct.
Lizzie was already in Arabia. Due to the late take off, we landed at Mahasal Airport at one thirty. I left the plane with a feeling of elation. I had finally arrived very close to Lizzie, to my goal, hardly considering the terrible consequences of failure. Outside the airplane, the weather was sunny and noticeably warmer than Cairo. The airport in those days was still quite primitive and the services were definitely more casual than Cairo. I hurried in line for passport control afraid that if the crowds thinned out the absence of my wife might be noticed. At the counter, I presented the two passports and our entry into the country was duly recorded.
Outside the customs, at a bank counter, I changed a hundred dollars to local rials and then proceeded to the Misrair offices. There I confirmed our return date and asked what would happen if we missed the flight. The employee assured me that there would be no problem. The planes were rarely full and we could always book for next day.
With my suitcases, I moved to the taxi stand and just stood there on the side listening to their talk and accents. There was a continual turnover as people hired the taxis went off to their destinations and new cabs arrived. By and by, I heard a familiar pronunciation and I approached the driver. He was Egyptian. I entered his cab and asked him to take me to a decent hotel in the city. He said the Safir was the best but was very expensive. 'And it's not that good, either,' he added. He gave me some details about the country and I told him that I needed him all day tomorrow and the day after.
We entered the dusty city and drove past suburbs of one and two-storey houses, studded regularly with mosques. A drowsy city of less than half a million souls seemed on the point of waking up. Its alarm clock was the sound of petrodollars clinking as they poured into its coffers and the evidence of this arousal were the huge cranes erecting, here and there, multi-storied buildings. The cars circulating were mostly American models both new and in various stages of dilapidation. One would have imagined that this was solely a city of men until one noticed now and then inverted sacks circulating. As we neared the city center, the traffic thickened and the buildings and shops were cleaner, neater and less dusty.
We stopped at the four-storey building that housed the Safir. We went up a few steps, Salah, the taxi driver, helping me with the luggage, and at the reception desk, I checked in and collected the key to my room. A man who was obviously the bellhop did not bother to come and help with the luggage and the two employees at the desk showed surprising tolerance to his indifference. Salah carried Lizzie's bag and I carried mine together with my precious handbag up two floors to my room, the elevator being out of order. It was a few minutes before four and I sat on the bed contemplating my surroundings. The Safir was a third rate hotel with luxury rate prices. Still, the rooms had private bathrooms of debatable cleanliness and telephones of unreliable efficacy. I figured soon enough the Hiltons and the Marriotts would arrive and would upset the pleasant and carefree existence of the bellhops and porters. A quarter past four, I picked up the phone and dialed Sarah's number and, lo and behold, she answered.
'Sarah, hello. This is Michael.'
'Michael! An hour late! I started to worry.'
'Are you well?'
'Well enough.'
'Where shall we meet?'
'At the shopping district. At the door of a shop called Abu Hajjar. It is on the central avenue called Tarik Soliman. Everybody knows it.'
'Shall we make it five thirty?'
'Righto. I'll be there.'
I stretched a little on the bed, which had a musty smell. I thought, God, I can pick up the phone and call Lizzie. So close and yet so far. She is waiting for me.
Praying that I shall come! We might yet die together in a public square, our heads separated from our bodies at the stroke of a sword. They say all you feel is the chill of the metal as it touches your skin. A comforting thought! Oh, rubbish. It will not happen. The plan was sound. The ruse was in the timing. I got up and picked up my handbag, emptied it and released my dollars. I separated a thousand and put them in my trouser pocket and secured the rest with a rubber band and into the inside pocket of my jacket. On one side the money, on the other the two passports. They were my Beretta, my only weapons. I took my jacket off, hanged it on a chair and locked the door although Salah assured me that there were no thefts in this country. The punishment was, to say the least, forbidding. Convicted thieves had their hands chopped off. Just as convicted wife- thieves their heads. I stretched again on the bed and tried not to go to sleep. I dozed off in ten-minute, anxious intervals till five, when I got up, washed my face, put on my jacket and descended two floors to the entrance to find Salah waiting, as agreed.
As we were driving to Abu Hajjar, I tried to get my bearings as well as I could. It took a ten-minute ride in reasonable traffic. The driving speed was slow due to the very individualistic driving of the populace. Just one rule kept: one drove in the right lane. Apart from that, one had to be ready for any eventuality. Much more so than in Cairo. When we reached Abu Hajjar, I went and posted myself at the entrance of the shop, while Salah moved on to find parking space. It was not yet five thirty. The shop was a large clothing store for men and women and had a large section for cosmetics and toiletries. I glanced inside and was pleased to note that the shop twisted and turned. Further down, on the other side of the street, I spied a small kiosk with the word Cambio on it. Although my Italian was rudimentary, I guessed its function. I had some minutes to spare, tripped along to it and saw that I was not mistaken. The moneychanger had masses of coins of all sorts in neat piles right there in the open; so easy to be snatched. Then I remembered. One could attempt it at the risk of losing a hand. I gave him the thousand dollars and after inspecting them fussily and holding them against the sun, he told me the rate. He wanted to haggle and waited for a response. Yes, yes, I thought, come on, it is the least of my worries, a few rials more or less.
He saw it was no go and he bettered the rate on his own.
'For the sake of Allah,' he said. I took the money, tapped him on the shoulder by way of thanks and regained my post. A tall European woman approached me in a long gray coat and a kerchief covering her head and overlapping the top of her face. She wore sunglasses.
'Hello Michael.'
'Hello Sarah, dear. I suppose I risk jail if I kiss you.'
'Yes, don't. The Morality Police's eyes are ubiquitous.'
'I am so happy to see you.'
'And I am so worried to see you. And happy too, of course. And relieved. A whole jumble of emotions.'
'What news of Lizzie? Does she know I arrived?'
'Yes and she's ecstatic. I called her about an hour ago. I told her the new employee at the embassy has arrived. I shall meet her tomorrow at about the same time, here.'
'Will she be dressed like you?'
'No. She will be wearing a jibbah with a hood. She will be more anonymous.'
'So, is this the shop? '
'Yes.'
'It was open when I arrived.'
'Yes, some open at five, others at five-thirty but most open at six.'
We entered and slowly moved around pretending to look at the clothes and then stopped at the perfume counter. A man came along to serve us. There were no women employees. Sarah started looking at the different bottles and smelling the scents. I strolled inside, found the second door, which led to an alley and out to a side street. I quickly stepped out down the alley to the side street, which joined the main road a little further away from the shop's main entrance. Okay, I had the plan. I went again inside and found Sarah had chosen a scent, the sales clerk had given her the bill and was wrapping the bottle up. I took the bill, paid and we took the perfume. We left the shop and I showed Sarah the side street and the alley. I told Sarah I would be waiting there for Lizzie, at the corner. Once I saw her, I would start walking and she should follow. I would go to the taxi and sit next to the driver and she should get in at the back and lie as low as possible. 'Have you got all that, Sarah?'
I asked Sarah to take me to the second shop. We returned at a leisurely pace to Tarik Soliman and walked some way down the road from Abu Hajjar on the opposite pavement. We entered a large electric appliance store. The store was huge and packed with refrigerators, washing machines, fans, radios, all descriptions of lamps and chandeliers. We strolled along contemplating the merchandise and when we reached the second entrance and, once again, we fixed a spot where I would meet Lizzie, if the first attempt failed.
'Sarah, is there some discreet place where we could sit and drink some tea or coffee?'
'No, Michael, this is a man's world. Coffee shops are out for women.'
'Then let's just walk a little. There are one or two things I want to tell you. We'll have to talk while walking. Perhaps it's best.'
'Yes. Go ahead.'
'One, the day after tomorrow, please stay home after work because we might need you and we have to know where to find you. Do not answer the phone unless I ring once and then, immediately, call again. Just in case it is Abdullah calling, asking awkward questions.'
'Right.'
'Secondly, tomorrow, when you see Lizzie, make sure she understands the danger we are facing. Apart from the taxi, which we shall take together, we must keep apart. If for any reason we are caught, there must be no linkage between us. In other words, if she is apprehended and I am in the vicinity, I shall not make the slightest move to intervene. It sounds too horrible to contemplate but it would be futile and would only place us in an untenable situation, endangering our lives even more.'
'Oh dear, I do hope this never happens.'
'I don't expect it to but it's something that must be understood. The false passport will be with me until the last moment, hidden in my handbag. Tell Lizzie to think up any number of plausible explanations that might come in useful if she is detained. Especially if she is caught at the airport. And lastly, the day after tomorrow, on the twentieth, I shall be at the Abu Hajjar corner at five waiting for her.'
'Righto, Michael.'
'I shall not start to thank you because whatever I say won't be enough. Good- bye, Sarah.'
'Thank you for the perfume. Good bye and the very best of luck to you both.'
A handshake and off to her solitary existence. Two lonely, lost years for the price of a house. Was it worth it? At least she was not a prisoner. It was of her own free will. I walked back to Abu Hajjar and saw Salah sitting on a ledge outside the shop. He was relieved to see me. He thought I had lost my way.
Tuesday the nineteenth of January was a wasted day. Well, not really wasted. I would have liked to make the attempt immediately but Lizzie had to be briefed and since Sarah worked in the morning, the briefing had to take place in the afternoon. In any case, Lizzie would have been hard pressed to find excuses to leave the house morning and afternoon and risky ventures of this sort ought not to be hurried. We just drove around the city with Salah. I called Sarah in the evening. She assured me Lizzie's briefing had taken place without a bodyguard trailing them and everything was dandy.