Beloved Gomorrah Page 9

  “Yeah, you’re right. But they could at least post signs. By the way, we were laying the tracks under water today, and I took a look at Joanna’s site. There’s nothing to it. It drops right off. Did you report it to the committee?”

  “Really? You were at Site 13?” Charlie’s inner alarm went off. What if Gil had gone down the crevice and seen the artifacts? Neither Gil nor Marion was the pillaging type; he was sure they’d behave ethically and report the find the same way he did. But he felt a certain proprietary right to the discovery. Besides, Joanna’s part in it was the best possible gift to offset her suffering, and he didn’t want her to have to share it. “Yeah, I told them it was useless. We’ve already requested another site. It’s no big deal.”

  Marion held up an empty beer glass. “Scheisse. Dying of thirst here and no waiter. I’ll get it myself.” She slid out of the booth but got only as far as the woman who leaned against the bar.

  A few couples had come into the center of the bar to dance to the generic soft-rock music. Well-toned young people, they presumably had come to El Gouna to holiday and snorkel, some to dive. He’d passed some of them on his way into the bar, speaking French, English, German. One of the women, in shorts and a halter top, caught his attention. Pretty daring for Egypt, but she was obviously a foreigner and didn’t care.

  He glanced toward the door. The bearded men in the doorway were gone, and a quick check of the crowd showed they hadn’t come inside. No surprise. The Sun Bar was far too free for the religious. Gil’s elbow jabbed him gently.

  “Looks like Marion’s having a good time.”

  On the periphery of the dance floor, Marion and the woman from the bar were dancing, though not quite together. About a meter apart and not looking at each other, they seemed to be dancing solo, each to her own interpretation of the music. So, Charlie thought to himself, that’s how it begins. Clever.

  He glanced down just as Khadija Saïd appeared, slipping into Marion’s place at the table. “Don’t you guys ever do any work?” she asked.

  “Hey, there.” Charlie clapped her amiably on the shoulder. “What are you doing here slumming with the infidels? I thought you didn’t drink.”

  “I don’t. Disgusting habit that kills brain cells. But I can treat myself to a soft drink after finishing a project, can’t I?” She waved toward the waiter. “Cola, please.”

  “You’re done too, eh? Great news,” Gil said.

  “Yep. Last of the figures delivered to the lot this afternoon. Everything goes down to al medina tomorrow. How’s Joanna?”

  “She’s coming along,” Charlie reported. “We’ve got an extension on her deadline, but I’m sure she’ll want to go down before that to see the other installations. Yours is the ring of children, right?”

  “Women and children, standing around two armed Israeli soldiers.” The cola arrived with a fresh round of beers.

  “Political statement, eh?” Charlie helped himself to a fresh glass.

  “Is anything a Palestinian does not political? We’re being crushed by occupation, after all.”

  “Yeah, sorry to be insensitive. I’m looking forward to seeing it under water. Marion’s work is done too, as well as mine, and last I heard Yousef’s horses were down. Japhet’s “Brothers” statues too. International and multicultural. All we need down there is a miniature copy of the Sun Bar. That would be the finishing touch on our City on the Plain. A shame no one’s thought of it.”

  *

  “They make me sick, these people.” In a café close by, Najjid the barber bent over his coffee and stirred in more sugar. “They come here with their money and their offensive behavior. And the Egyptians around here grovel in front of them, just to earn a few pounds.”

  His cousin Mazhar nodded agreement. “Or dollars. The pigs aren’t even loyal to their own currency. It’s a complete betrayal of our culture.” He scratched his neck under his chin, where his beard was still sparse.

  “Did you see the women? Dancing and exposing their bodies like whores. They don’t care who looks at them. If my sister dressed like that, I’d kill her.”

  “You’ll never have to worry about that,” Mazhar assured him. “Your sister is pious and pure. Anyone can see that. She’s only twelve, but she’ll be ready to marry in a year or two. So maybe now is a good time for me to ask if you think I would be a good match. I mean, I respect and honor your whole family, and if your father was alive, I would be discussing it with him.”

  Najjid reached across the table and squeezed his cousin’s shoulder. “Mazhar, you are like a brother to me, and I would love to give my sister to you, but right now, you can’t afford a wife and children. I know your intentions are honorable, but I have to look out for Djamila’s welfare. Let’s talk about it later, when you have a job, all right?”

  “Fine, but I can assure you, when I do have a job, it will be a good one. I’m studying computers and I’ll be a specialist one day. But I refuse to work for one of those European companies that have invaded the country. Colonialist dogs. It has to be an Egyptian company that’s respectful of God’s laws and allows time for prayer. If a man gives up his prayers for money, he’s thrown his life away. Believe me, I am sincere.”

  “I believe you are, my brother. I too would like to be rid of European and American businesses, or at least force them to follow Sharia. What a disappointment it’s been that the Brotherhood has shown so little muscle against them. Even Al-Gama’a al-Islamiyya seems to have forgotten the meaning of jihad.”

  “They are certainly useless when the tourist hotels keep growing and the bars keep filling up with foreigners and immoral women,” Mazhar grumbled. Sometimes I even see Muslim women drink with the foreigners. A dishonor to their families.”

  “Not only the women. Did you see those two boys at the bar? They were almost kissing. It is a regular Sodom in there. ‘They are a transgressing people. They commit such immorality as no one who has preceded them in all the worlds.’”

  “Ah, I see you know your Quran,” Mazhar said. “My father used to quote that to me when I was young.”

  “Yes, I know the Holy Book very well. I was blind before but now I see all the offenses and I am an angry man.” Najjid braced himself on his elbows. “In the old days, our grandfathers would have grabbed them by their necks and dragged them outside and killed them. But not now. I bite my fist at what has become of Egypt.”

  “It’s the foreigners. They brought their filth with them. What’s to be done?”

  Najjid stirred what was left of his coffee. “I have prayed a long time about this and have read the Quran every night looking for wisdom. More and more I find encouragement to act. Just last night I opened the Holy Book at random and guess what I found.” He did not wait for a reply but continued with upraised index finger. “O believers, fight them until there is no more mischief and the way of Allah is established.”

  Mazhar looked perplexed. “But how are we supposed to fight them? If we draw attention to ourselves, even to do what is right, we’ll be arrested.”

  Najjid held up two fingers now, for greater emphasis. “The Quran also says, ‘If there are twenty among you, patient and persevering, they will vanquish two hundred; if there are a hundred then they will slaughter a thousand unbelievers, for the infidels are a people devoid of understanding.’”

  “But we are not twenty. We’re only two. I have complete faith in Allah and am willing to die if need be. I know that martyrs live jubilant in Paradise and so we should have no fear and no cause to grieve. But it’s just you and me.”

  “What if I knew someone who knew someone who knew how?”

  Mazhar dropped his voice to a murmur. “What do you mean? Someone who could actually strike a blow?”

  “Yes, one that would draw blood so that the infidels would remember it.” He paused, as if to add strength to his remark. “I know someone who has great skill with explosives.”

  Mazhar’s voice became a whisper. “You want to make a bomb?” He let his gaze sweep
around the cafe. “I…I…guess that would strike a blow.”

  “You sound afraid. Remember that the Quran says, ‘We shall put you to the test until We know the valiant and the resolute among you, and test all that is said about you.’ Allah could wipe them out in the blink of an eye, but he calls on us to fight them, in order to test us. Do you have the courage?”

  “Don’t worry about me.” Mazhar’s jaw thrust forward. “I will stand the test, you’ll see. If Allah wishes to punish them by my hands, I will do it, for Allah is all-knowing. I will do even better. My mother’s brother Jibril works for the rich Americans on their yacht. Some Hollywood agent. Jibril goes every day to wait on them like a servant and he complains often about the man who insults him. I’m sure I can convince him to join us.”

  Najjid nodded triumphantly. “You see? Already Allah is giving us the tools. Your uncle will be very useful to us. I have a good feeling about this, my brother. I believe we can do great things.”

  “Inshallah,” Mazhar mumbled uncertainly.

  “Yes, if God is willing,” Najjid repeated. “More and more it looks like you are the right man for my sister.”

  Chapter Nine

  Joanna reached the top step of the circular staircase that, after four days of laborious climbing, she knew intimately. But this time, when Kaia emerged from the galley, Joanna met her with both hands free.

  “Look!” she said, her feet spread apart to steady her. “No cane. I made it up on my own legs. And I can almost walk without lurching.” She demonstrated by carefully pacing the length of the salon and returning. “The limp’s pretty bad, but I’ll get better.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful. You’re really on your way.” Kaia took hold of Joanna’s left arm and slid her sleeve up. “It’s looking better. Just the faintest sign of a bruise and the little scars from the teeth. What about your leg?” She glanced down at Joanna’s jeans.

  “Still a little blue-greenish, but it holds my weight now. Unfortunately, that’s all it holds. It won’t yet support me carrying the air cylinder, the equipment, and the diving weights.”

  “But it’s so warm now. Can’t you dive without the wetsuit? At least then you wouldn’t have to carry so much lead.”

  “Only in shallow water. Below ten meters it’s still cold, and after half an hour down there it gets pretty numbing. I’d love to do a shallow dive to get back in shape. But I can’t go under alone. Too dangerous.”

  “Can’t I go with you? I was meaning to ask if you would teach me anyhow. I can use Bernard’s vest and regulator. We’ve got air tanks, and Jibril can fill them with the compressor.”

  Joanna frowned. “A beginner and a recovering invalid. Not a good combination. Besides, you’re supposed to start in shallow water, not by jumping from a boat.”

  “I know that. But why can’t we do it from the beach? I bet Charlie would be happy to come and help carry your tank. If I do something dumb under water, we can just stand up and walk back to shore. It will be good for you too. One step closer to returning to work.”

  Joanna still hesitated. “I’m not really qualified to teach, you know. That’s more Charlie’s domain.”

  “Well, let’s give him a call and see what he thinks. Is he still working on his project?”

  “I should think that by now he’s probably done. But it still doesn’t seem wise.”

  Kaia half closed her eyes, in the temptress look Joanna recalled from several of her films. “Come on. You know you want to get back in the saddle. I saw how much fun you had the other day snorkeling. And frankly, after all you’ve told me, I want to see your city and your underwater fountain. I can’t do that unless someone teaches me to dive.”

  Joanna let out a long breath, defeated. “All right, maybe we can do a little ‘baptism.’ But only in the shallow water. And only if Charlie agrees to come babysit both of us.”

  “Fair enough. So go and call him while I get Abdullah to make us a quick breakfast.” Her deep-brown eyes grew large and she clasped her hands. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun.”

  *

  “Excuse me, Missus Allen. You want me to do what?” Jibril’s scowl was almost comical when Kaia explained the need for two tanks of compressed air. “I am sure Mr. Allen will not like that.”

  Kaia was already hauling the compressor motor onto the stern deck and checking the gasoline reservoir. It was nearly full. “But Mr. Allen is not here, and he has given no order for you to refuse to fill the tanks. Besides, you work for me too, don’t you? Come on, Jibril, don’t make me do this alone. I might make a mistake.”

  Jibril looked defeated. “All right, missus. I do it for you, so you don’t hurt yourself. Here, this place is for to connect output hose to tank.” He stood the steel air cylinder in its cradle and screwed in the valve of the compressor hose. “This is most important thing,” he said, taking hold of the long pipe jutting upright from the top of the compressor. “This is where air comes in for to be compressed. You must to keep it far away from the compressor motor. Very bad if exhaust gas goes in. You must also to use compressor in open space where is a good wind.”

  “Yes, I understand.” Kaia hauled over the second empty tank and laid it on its side. “That’s the reason the pipe stands so high. Okay, let’s start this thing.”

  With a final sigh to underscore his reluctance to abet the whole endeavor, Jibril started the motor and the compressor pistons began their rhythmic cadence.

  *

  Joanna shaded her eyes as she swept her gaze along the shoreline while Hamad brought the yacht within some three hundred meters of land. They came to a halt and Hamad dropped anchor. The beach that lay in front of them was flat and empty, far from the big hotels. Perfect for kindergarten diving.

  “Look, there’s Charlie. He’s just driving up to the beach now. You gave him good directions.” Joanna kneeled down to fill a large net bag with masks, snorkels, weight belts, and fins.

  “It wasn’t all that difficult, just at the end of Bikar road. Come on then, let’s get going.” Kaia gathered up the two buoyancy-control vests and regulators and went down the stairs to the stern deck where Jibril stood with the newly filled air tanks. With a final grumble of disapproval, he slid them into the dinghy.

  When they were seated, Kaia started the outboard motor, and as they moved away from the yacht, Joanna attached the vests and regulators to the tanks. Soon they were within a few meters of the beach where Charlie already waited with his own equipment in a heap next to him. He waded out to meet them and help tow the dinghy toward shore. Kaia and Joanna slid over the side and splashed through the shallows along with him.

  “It’s good to see you in the water again,” Charlie said over his shoulder.

  “It’s good to be in the water again. Kaia talked me into this, but now I’m glad,” Joanna said as they hauled the dinghy up onto the sand. “I’ve attached the tanks and regulators, so all we have to do is inflate the vests and float them out to where we can hoist them on our backs.” She dropped down onto the sand to put on fins and weight belt and to spit-clean her mask. Kaia followed suit.

  Charlie lifted the tanks and vests out of the dinghy and laid them at the water’s edge, then inflated the vests until the soft incoming waves lifted both kits. Taking hold of her own kit and checking that Kaia had hers, Joanna led the way out into the water. When they were at chest depth, it was easy, even in her weakened state, to slide on her own gear and tank while Charlie assisted Kaia.

  “Did Joanna show you the basic hand signs?” he asked.

  “I already knew them.” Kaia held up index finger and thumb forming an O. “Fine.” Then she spread all the fingers of one hand and made a rocking motion. “Problem.” She crossed her forearms, “End of dive,” and then made a thumbs-up fist. “Back to surface.”

  “Very good,” Charlie said. “What about air supply? Can you read the gauge?”

  “No problem. And the signs are palm over the fingertips for half full, fist plus one finger for reserve plus one bar
, and fist on the head for I’m on reserve. Get me the hell out of here.” She thought for a moment. “Wait, there’s one more.” She tapped the edge of her flat hand against her throat. “Out of air. I guess that’s the most important one of all, isn’t it?”

  “Charlie, Kaia knows all the rules, and she even knows how to empty the mask underwater. She’s really ready. I think we should just sit down together under water for a minute, make sure everything’s in place. Then you and I can stay on either side of her while we swim out in a circle and end up back here.”

  “Sounds good. Okay, everybody: masks on, mouthpieces in, and under we go.”

  They dropped down together in place to sit in a circle. Joanna watched to see if Kaia showed any sign of distress, but she immediately gave the fine sign. To demonstrate her prowess at emptying her mask, she let it fill with water, then tilted her head back and blew gently through her nose, refilling the mask with air. Charlie gave a silent underwater applause.

  With Charlie and Joanna flanking the neophyte, they began paddling in a diagonal out from the shore. Kaia swam with her hands and arms as well as with her fins, like most beginners, but she seemed in her element. Though the fauna were sparse so close to shore, a few cardinal fish passed alongside of them and Kaia pointed, then gestured Fine! like a child learning to talk.

  But Joanna saw nothing childlike about Kaia’s adult body swimming with such natural grace next to her, as she had when they snorkeled. Even the cumbersome air cylinder stayed balanced on her back. A childhood on the beaches of Molokai had obviously taught her to be at home under water.

  For Joanna’s part, her legs and arms began to ache from so many days of inactivity, but it was the pleasant ache that told her she was using her muscles again.

  When they completed their circle and returned to shallow water, Charlie signaled surface and Joanna checked her watch. They had been under water for less than seven minutes.