The Jokers - Albert Cossery [34]
She was distraught, on the verge of tears, pouting like a child who’s been mistreated by an adult. But it was an act, a way of playing the victim to get his sympathy. She never knew if he was happy to see her or not. He never told her he loved her. He was always impassive, even in the throes of passion, with the same wry smile on his lips, the same expression of bottomless pride—not so much remote as willful and controlling.
“You really are mean to me,” she said again, pounding at his chest with her fists.
Heykal laughed.
“Come now, let’s stop the theatrics,” he said, taking her by the arm and escorting her along the beach.
The truth was, he didn’t want to make love to her there because he was afraid of ruining his clothes. He had to be in the casino soon, on a mission requiring utmost discretion; an unkempt outfit would make him stand out. And at the moment, anyway, he felt an excitement that was quite different from carnal desire as he contemplated the web he had woven for the governor and the inevitable repercussions of the postering campaign.
They stopped where the casino’s private beach had been roped off. Soad sat on the rope pretending to swing. Heykal remained standing, looking at her, then sat down next to her and put his arm around her waist. From here the darkness seemed infinitely opaque; the only light was the glimmer of the stars reflected in the sea. The music had stopped, and with the sudden silence the faintly glowing buildings of the casino were plunged into a catastrophic remoteness. Heykal felt they were the only survivors in an annihilated world; suddenly possessed by a strange feeling of power, he pulled Soad firmly and desperately to him, as if to defend her even from death.
Then he let go and asked:
“Is your father here?”
“Yes, he’s with the governor. How’d it go tonight?”
“Very well. The posters will be up by tomorrow morning. The portrait of the governor is so good it’s frightening; it’s even more lethal than the accompanying text. What I’d like is for you to pay close attention to the governor’s reaction. Do your best!”
“That’s all I am to you, a spy,” she said, pouting. “You’re so cruel!”
It was partially true; Soad had often spied on the governor when he met with her father. The governor still thought of her as a young girl and had no qualms about divulging official secrets in her presence. There was a time when the two men’s conversations made the young girl yawn. She found it dull to hear them go on about such stupefyingly serious matters of state. But ever since she’d known Heykal, she’d become quite curious about all the things that the governor, thanks to his studied stupidity, carelessly let slip. Whenever she could (and it was to amuse herself as much as to please him), she’d report back to Heykal, revealing the details of the governor’s plots and plans.
She got up and stood before him imploring:
“Do you love me?”
Coming from the mouth of a little girl this banal question was especially poignant. Heykal felt sobered; he wouldn’t allow himself to be sucked down into love’s murky waters. What he felt for her was nothing like the ferocious passion she seemed to harbor for him. She mistook the real and incomparable complicity that bound them together for a mere sentimental bond, made up of nothing but platitudes and habit. But how could he explain the difference to her? She had no idea, and it would be cruel for him to disabuse her. She was a woman, after all, and he couldn’t ask her to deny her nature.
“Of course I love you,” he responded with a bitter, pained smile—smiling not at the lie but at the sadness he already felt knowing he’d lose her someday.
“What a man I have!” she cried out, thrilled. “The fact that a man like you even exists is a miracle!”
In her delight she jumped off the rope onto the sand, but Heykal grabbed her and made her sit next to him again. Then, caressing the back of her neck, he said:
“Listen, I have a job for you. The next time you come to see me, bring a typewriter. I’ll dictate a letter to you.”
“What are you