The Haj - Leon Uris [152]
‘Decent gesture? He has penetrated a secret military installation. Get him out of here before he is in serious trouble.’
‘I will take the responsibility,’ Bagley pressed on firmly.
Ibrahim became enchanted by the exchange between the two. It was apparent that Bagley, despite his lower rank, was indeed the true commander of the fort. Colonel Jalud did not wish to ruffle his feathers, much less take a risk of being left in charge of the defenses himself. Jalud continued to argue along a slim borderline. As Bagley persisted, Colonel Jalud wove a spiderweb of defenses for himself so he could be absolved of any future blame.
The exchange having run its course, Jalud gave Ibrahim a disrobing examination with his eyes. Men in rags often disguised their true wealth. Ibrahim had prepared for the possibility of a strip search. He hid his money in a field near the bus stop before going to the fort. The only thing of value that showed was the bejeweled dagger. Jalud’s eyes stopped their wandering and became fixed on the weapon.
‘It is a serious request,’ Jalud said. ‘I am taking a great risk. Therefore it must be as important to me as it is to you. A gesture for a gesture.’
I should have hidden the damned dagger as well, Ibrahim thought.
‘I have nothing to make a gesture with,’ Ibrahim said. ‘Allah knows, you cannot strip the naked.’
‘Perhaps my eyes are playing tricks with me,’ Jalud answered, never taking his eyes from the dagger.
‘It is my honor.’
‘Men with golden threads in their robes are the custodians of honor.’
The insult was biting. ‘It is a price I cannot pay,’ Ibrahim said.
‘Of course, I could take it from you and you would have no honor left at all. Where was your honor in defending your village? Get out of here while you still have your tongue and your fingernails.’
‘Colonel Jalud, I am going to insist that you allow this man to see his village.’
Jalud leaned back in his chair and draped an arm over the back where he had slung his pistol and belt. ‘Oh well, this seems to be my day for shit. Let the dog go to the roof and bark at his village. He has five minutes.’ With a gesture of the wrist denoting ‘royal’ dismissal, Jalud returned to the papers on his desk.
Ibrahim spat on the floor, the spittle running down the toe of the colonel’s boot. As he made for the door, Jalud leaped to his feet. ‘Your mother’s cunt is an oasis for camels!’
Ibrahim returned to Jalud’s desk and put his fingers on the hilt of the dagger. It lashed from its scabbard so quickly that neither of the others could reach for his pistol. The point burrowed into the colonel’s desk, striking so hard the wood split. Ibrahim’s fingers rested on the edge of the desk, his eyes looking directly into Jalud’s.
‘Take it,’ Ibrahim challenged.
Jalud’s eyes shot over to Chester Bagley, who wore a wispy smile. Bagley always hovered over him with his soft, sweet persistent ‘requests.’ They were not requests but orders! He seethed at the British having the authority over his troops. On the other hand, he did not wish to go through another defense of the fort without Bagley. Now the Englishman had the worst of all blackmails over his head. He, the great Colonel Jalud, had been cowed by a peasant. If Bagley wished, Jalud could be mortified and humiliated.
The colonel tried to summon the courage to reach for the implanted dagger, but the courage was not to be found. He slumped down in his chair.
‘Come along,’ Bagley said, freeing the danger and returning it to Ibrahim. ‘I will personally escort you to the roof and then back to your bus.’
Colonel Jalud’s hand reached for his phone threateningly, but the Englishman took it gently from his hand and replaced it in its cradle. As Ibrahim passed from the office, Bagley turned at the door and glared at Jalud, who remained in semishock.
‘Why in the hell do you people have to make a bloody game out of everything!’ he said and slammed the door behind him.