Free The Burning Gates by Parker Bilal

his feet and stepped to the window. Downstairs he could see Sindbad pacing about the big car as the boys gave it a quick wash.
    ‘We’ll borrow that monster for the time being. Can’t you find a Datsun just like that one of his but in better condition?’
    ‘It’s an idea,’ nodded Ali, sucking his pipe stem. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
    ‘Maybe we can fix it so that Sindbad won’t know the difference.’
    ‘Now you’re asking for miracles.’

Chapter Six
    On the phone Marwan had insisted they meet somewhere neutral. Makana suggested a roadside stall just off Maidan Sphinx, famous for its ful . The national dish. Mashed-up fava beans sprinkled liberally with olive oil and cumin were ladled into a couple of tin bowls and set on the narrow slanting shelf that served as a counter. A miniature television set had been ingeniously incorporated into the wooden structure of the cart so that diners could keep abreast of world events while they ate. The tiny black-and-white screen was no larger than a couple of packets of cigarettes and the image so grainy it was like staring into a rainstorm. None of it was good. A newsreel played out the unfolding disaster in Iraq. Resistance to the American occupation was gaining momentum. According to the rather excitable commentator the country was firmly on the road to civil war.
    ‘Shia versus Sunni, it’s the kind of thing the Americans have dreamed of for years. Muslims killing Muslims. Rid the world of them once and for all.’
    Makana turned to find Marwan standing behind him.
    ‘I wasn’t sure you would find the place,’ said Makana, scooping up a mouthful of beans with a strip of bread.
    ‘Me? I’ve been coming here since I was a cadet.’ He might have known the place, but he seemed to have other things on his mind than lunch as he stood there with his hands in his pockets waiting. Makana pushed his dish aside and pulled out his cigarettes as he followed Marwan a few paces away from the crowd.
    ‘What’s up?’
    Marwan sized Makana up carefully. ‘This man you’re asking about.’
    They stood under a small tree that was grey with exhaust fumes. The road alongside them was clogged with vehicles jockeying their way onto the roundabout.
    ‘What about him?’
    Marwan rolled his shoulders. ‘I started looking into it, quietly.’
    ‘And . . . ?’ Marwan seemed reluctant. ‘Look, if this is about money.’
    ‘It’s not that.’
    ‘Then what’s the problem?’
    ‘This man is worth a lot.’ Marwan leaned in close. A large man at the best of times, but close up it was easy to see why people might find him threatening. ‘You understand?’
    ‘A lot of money. I get it. There’s a price on his head. That has nothing to do with this.’
    ‘So you say.’ A fat smirk spread across Marwan’s lips. ‘You wouldn’t be trying to cut me out?’
    Makana sighed. ‘Don’t tell me you’re thinking of claiming the reward?’
    ‘He’s worth millions . . . of dollars.’ Marwan’s eyes widened.
    ‘Before you can do that you have to find him.’
    ‘I’m getting to that. I may have something.’ Marwan looked away, suddenly coy.
    ‘Have you thought how you are going to collect your reward?’
    Marwan shrugged. ‘Just deliver him to the American embassy. What could be easier?’
    ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’
    ‘Like what?’ Marwan’s brows knotted together.
    ‘If he’s in this country then someone has their hand over him. He’s being protected.’
    ‘Sure, I realise that.’
    ‘If he suddenly disappears, his friends are going to want to know who sold him out.’
    Marwan sniffed. For all the swagger and bluster he wasn’t the kind of man who liked to go out on a limb. ‘Are you saying you’re not interested in the money?’
    ‘You’re welcome to it. If you want to go after him for the reward money, that’s fine by me. Just let me get out of the way first.’
    Marwan’s head rocked from side to side as he weighed up the