Free ARAB by Jim Ingraham Page A

pus.”
    “And you haven’t seen Bashir since?”
    “If I do, I’ll kill him. Then you’ll have a real reason for breaking into my apartment. What is the manager going to think?”
    Nick didn’t care. He asked, “And why are you angry at Bashir?”
    “He said he would take me out to dinner. He said he would bring me roses. He’s a liar. He has no honor, no consideration, no respect, no character. He is a worthless liar.”
    “And he just walked off?”
    “He walked out on a beautiful woman like you?” Habib said, his eyes round with wonder, getting a laugh from Nick .
    She rose to the flattery, no doubt as Habib had expected. “More like he was led off,” she said. “They put him into a green car.”
    “They?”
    “There was another one waiting up the street. They put Bashir in the back seat—you know, held the door open and shoved him in.”
    “And this Diab. How do you know him?”
    “There isn’t a single woman in Cairo who doesn’t know that pig. Why don’t you arrest him? Is it only women you harass?”
    “You’re being questioned, Miss Za’im, not harassed.”
    “And you asked my permission to come in here, didn’t you.”
    “We do what we have to do,” Nick said. Every day, he noticed, it became easier to pretend that he was a policeman.
    “If I find him and tell you where he is, will you arrest him?”
    Nick smiled. He got up and took a few steps toward the door. “I suppose you have no idea where Bashir Yassin is at this moment.”
    “Try to imagine how much I care,” she said.
    “Do you know where we might find this Diab?”
    “Try the sewer,” she said. As Nick turned to leave, Nuha said, “You know a place called Lalime’s?”

Chapter Six
     
    Uthman al-Ajami, a small man with a narrow face, a full beard, and small nervous eyes, was sitting with his friend Rashad Sabri, on a bench outside his villa. He was wearing a belted dishdasha and leather sandals. His legs were outstretched and crossed at the ankles. He was sucking on the mouthpiece of a water pipe, expelling smoke from his large nose.
    “Acting as ombudsman for the government?” Rashad said. “Isn’t it dangerous?”
    “What isn’t these days?”
    “But handling complaints against government officials?”
    “If the complaint is against someone powerful, I set it aside. If it’s against a man of little consequence, I act on it. I have to satisfy an occasional grievance or I lose my credibility.”
    “With the people or the People’s Assembly?”
    “Oh, I have no problem with the legislature. Some members dislike me, I’m sure. But I provide valuable information. That is my principal function, of course.” He removed the pipe from his mouth and wiped the mouthpiece on his robe.
    “‘City eyes’ at the edge of the city,” Rashad said.
    “Oh, my network extends into every corner of misr , I assure you.”
    “And you get paid at both ends?”
    “I make a living,” Uthman said, tiring of the topic. “So, tell me, why did Shkaki want to find this pilot, this Bashir Yassin? Was it for himself? Is he flying off somewhere? How could he get clearance? He’s an alien, a criminal.”
    “My man wasn’t close enough to hear. He heard the American accuse Shkaki of making the call. He didn’t hear anything more. But he knows that Shkaki spoke to someone about getting funding from Syria. Maybe this Yassin is connected to that.”
    “But he’s certain Shkaki was taken to the army base in Helwan?”
    “He followed them.”
    “And you have men there?”
    “Of course.”
    Uthman remembered that a unit of the army that had gunned down Anwar Sadat had been purged, but the loss was only temporary. “I don’t imagine Shkaki can be broken,” he said, “but letting the police have him would not help our cause.”
    “There could be an accident….”
    “No. He’s too valuable. Can’t you spirit him across the border?”
    “It can be arranged,” Rashad said.
    “And Khartoum will send someone to replace