The Jokers - Albert Cossery [46]
“According to the report of the agent who visited you, it appears that you are working. You make kites. Is that right?”
“It’s hard to make a living, Your Excellency. I do what I can.”
“Well then, tell me a bit about these kites. What do they look like?”
Hatim’s suspicious look—on top of this stupid question—was the height of bad melodrama. Karim hadn’t predicted this. Did the officer imagine he used the kites to photograph military targets? Why not? Anything’s possible in the realm of police fantasy.
“They’re small kites, Your Excellency. Completely humble. What did you think they were?”
“Don’t worry about what I think. But tell me what they’re for.”
“For entertaining children, nothing more.”
Hatim didn’t seem convinced, and Karim was choking painfully from holding back an enormous outburst of laughter. The officer continued to stare suspiciously; he didn’t believe the simple story. These kites had to have some secret purpose, but the terrain was tricky and he hesitated to go too far; there might be traps, and he risked losing ground. He moved his hand as if to swat a fly; it was how he dealt with thorny cases.
“Let’s forget about that for now,” he said. “And tell me what you think of the situation in general. Speak frankly.”
“I think that everything is going well, Your Excellency. Really, I don’t see anything going badly. My impression is that the people are content; they’re the picture of perfect happiness.”
“Well, let me inform you that you’re too optimistic. There are still plenty of bastards out there, bitter people who continue to complain. It seems they’re not content with the new regime, either. What do we have to do to make them happy, I ask you?”
“I don’t know, Your Excellency. I don’t bother with politics anymore. I’m about to get married.”
These last words had a catastrophic effect on Hatim.
“You’re going to get married?” he asked, his face twisted in disgust.
“Yes, Your Excellency,” responded Karim, in the voice of a man who was about to commit suicide.
Hatim snapped his file shut; he seemed to banish the young man from his universe. Already his gaze was distant as he said:
“Well, for the moment you may stay where you are. But watch out: the slightest prank and I’ll make you vacate your apartment.”
Karim was about to thank him when a door opened and the governor himself appeared. Hatim rose, followed by Karim and the whole ensemble of characters who’d been prostrate on the benches. For a few seconds, the governor remained on the threshold of his office, surveying the room with bulging eyes; then he began to walk, trotting on bent legs as if riding a horse. He was just passing by, when Karim—as if moved by a sudden impulse—intercepted him, seizing his hand and kissing it while murmuring a few unintelligible words. Karim returned to his place, panting shamelessly with excitement, as if crushed by the weight of an undeserved blessing. The governor wasn’t the least bit offended nor did he break his pace; he was accustomed to such signs of veneration. Superb on his invisible horse, he trotted on, until at last he left the room.
Karim’s unsettling act had left Hatim totally distraught. Expecting an attack, he’d tried to stop it, but what he’d seen instead was far worse: it was the world turned upside down. This Karim, whom he thought he knew so well, had suddenly become incomprehensible to him. He stared with horrified eyes, as if at a monster. Karim, for his part, was in seventh heaven. He’d risked everything for this simple pleasure: leaving Hatim thunderstruck, with irrefutable proof of