The Jokers - Albert Cossery [65]
“No need to talk,” said Karim.
He didn’t look at Taher, keeping his eyes on the kite. The fat cloud had drifted off and now the sun reappeared, blurry, as if enfeebled by a long absence. Its rays glanced off the yellow framework of the kite, which sparkled in the sky like a trail of gold. Karim was ecstatic to be holding all this gold at the end of a string, but his ecstasy was tempered by more realistic concerns. Taher’s presence on the terrace was not particularly to his liking; on the contrary, it was seriously worrying for him. Taher was putting him in a difficult, perhaps even a dangerous situation. The presence of a patented revolutionary in his home could cause no end of trouble, for no doubt the police were following his old friend’s every movement. If by a stroke of bad luck they found out about this visit, they’d cause problems for him, the cruelest of which would be to make him move out. They would drive him out; no question of it. But what to do? He couldn’t forbid Taher to enter his home; that would be improper and completely incompatible with his character. He had a highly developed sense of hospitality, and whatever might happen, he knew he could never bring himself to show his old friend the door.
Taher seemed annoyed by the offhandedness of his reception; he supposed Karim had no time for anything except his kite.
“Forget the kite and look at me,” he said.
“It took me an hour to get it so high,” said Karim, with eyes still lifted up. “Don’t you think it’s beautiful?”
“I’m in no mood to marvel at a kite. Who do you think I am? Come on, stop fooling around, I have serious things to discuss.”
“God, what have I done!” lamented Karim. “There are a million men in this city, and you have to come to me with serious things to discuss! Can’t you just enjoy yourself? Look at this kite, what a marvel!”
“The only reason I came to you is because this is your terrace,” Taher remarked enigmatically.
“My terrace! You want to buy it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I just want to make use of it this evening between nine and ten o’clock. That’s all I ask.”
“To do what? To sleep with a woman? If that’s what you want, I’m happy to let you use my bedroom.”
Without responding, Taher lifted his head to look at the kite, which remained perfectly still in the sky. He’d almost exhausted his patience for capturing Karim’s attention; to make him understand his plan would be even more complicated. This fool thinks he’s an engineer because he can fly a kite! Such degeneracy was beyond remedy, and Taher realized he was up against what he hated most: a joker and his wiles. How was he going to reach him? How could he penetrate his conscience when he was so proud to reject both dignity and honor, those treasures of the soul that even the most miserable beggar held fast beneath his rags? There Karim stood like a dim-witted child, mesmerized by his kite, while the people were suffering and the city stank with the sickness of their pain. Taher wanted to cry, to scream, to lash out, but he contained his rage: he was the people’s proxy, the military wing of their revenge. Duty commanded that he forget his bitterness for now. He must focus on the reason he was here.
“Did you know that there’s a big gala going on tonight at the casino?” he said in a soft, almost friendly tone, as if he hoped Karim would accompany him to the party.
“I didn’t, in fact. I’m not as social as you think.”
“It’s not about being social. I abhor social events, as you well know. But the governor is going; he’s the host of the party.”
“So?” Karim asked, suddenly worried at this mention of the governor.
“He’ll pass by in his car, with his motorcycle escorts—right down there on the cliff road. It’s the only possible route. I’ve studied it.”
“Where are you going with this? I’m not following.”
Taher took his time before responding. He looked at Karim’s tense features, his hand gripping