Heykal was almost scared to find so much lucidity in such an unrefined mind. Had he just met his master? And what did Omar want from him? What untold delights did he hope would result from this mad pursuit to which he had just pledged his entire fortune? His entire fortune! That was more then Heykal had asked for. As if it cost a fortune to entertain yourself! All you had to do was look around: the spectacle was free.
Khaled Omar lifted his hand. His rings flashed, and the waiter approached.
“Let’s drink to our mutual understanding,” said Heykal, raising the glass the waiter had set down on the table.
Khaled Omar raised his own glass, and they toasted each other.
The street was packed with evening strollers enjoying the cooler air at the end of the torrid day. There were the working stiffs, upright and formal; the dignified family men flanked by wives and children; the occasional pair of young newlyweds, who clutched each other’s hands in a grotesque show of commitment. But none of the drinkers at the Globe paid any attention to this mundane procession. They weren’t there to look at humanity in all its mediocrity; they were waiting for a luxuriantly curvaceous woman to show up and arouse their desire. From time to time a metallic squeal, sharp and deafening as a siren, signaled the ambling approach of a tram. The drivers of horse carts, who were so skilled at maneuvering through traffic jams, lashed out at the indolent mob filling the street, impervious to anything but the welcome sea breeze. Heykal tried in vain to locate a single bum, a single happy-go-lucky derelict who had managed to escape the clutches of the police. Not one. Reduced to the contributing members of society — in other words, the depressed and overworked — the city’s streets were becoming strangely sinister. Wherever you went, you were surrounded by public servants. Heykal couldn’t help but remember how the beggar had responded to his invitation to come collect his monthly sum at the house. That a starving beggar would refuse to be seen as an employee: what an insult to posterity, which only recognizes those who make careers of following the rules! History’s full of these little bureaucrats who rise to high positions because of their diligence and perseverance in a life of crime. It was a painful thought: the only glorious men the human race had produced were a bunch of miserable officials who cared about nothing but their own advancement and were sometimes driven to massacre thousands of their own just to hold on to their jobs and keep food on the table. And this was who was held up for the respect and admiration of the crowd!
Khaled Omar waved away a fly that had landed on the plate of loukoums and gave Heykal a look full of unspoken expectation. Why was his companion so silent? Why was he pretending to be so interested in what was going on in the street? Was he having second thoughts? Khaled Omar had long imagined this meeting, and he’d wondered whether Heykal would ask for his help right off. Heykal’s silence made him think he was hesitating to reveal his plans. This lack of confidence pained Omar. Hadn’t he just put all his earthly goods at Heykal’s disposal? The young man’s visible coldness, the elegance of his manners, his wary sarcastic smile — none of this displeased Omar. They were the signs of an aristocratic mind. No, Khaled Omar admired Heykal without reservation. If only he’d deign to take his fortune and accept his devotion.
“Thank you for your generosity,” said Heykal. “I will definitely need your help. But it won’t cost a fortune. Much less.”
“Whatever it is, give me your orders. I’m at your service.”
Heykal crossed his legs and let his gaze stray over the passing crowd once more; then he turned to Khaled Omar and said:
“Well, I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that the horror and stupidity of the current governor are completely beyond the pale.”
“I know, and I also know that he’s supported by a revolting clique of newspaper editors who can’t stop singing his praises.”
“That’s not a bad thing. On the contrary: it’ll make our task easier.”
“How?”
“Very simple,” said Heykal. “We’re going to jump on the bandwagon. We, too, will sing the praises of our odious governor. We’ll outdo them in their idiocy.”
“Karim told me that the papers have stopped publishing your enthusiastic letters to the editor. Well, it was a magnificent idea! I want to congratulate you for it.”
“That’s all over. Now we’re going to inaugurate an unprecedented campaign of subversive propaganda, the likes of which no secret police in the world has ever seen. For starters, I’ll print posters featuring the governor’s portrait with some words in his praise. The text will be so ridiculously laudatory, even the most naive citizens will laugh. With the help of some friends, we’re going to put them up on every wall in the city. Do you understand the impact this will have?”
“Of course. Everyone in the city will think the governor had the posters printed to bolster his image.”
“And why not! Has anyone ever known revolutionaries to attack a government with praise? Another thing: the governor himself will assume it’s the work of some well-meaning supporters. He’ll be flattered — that’s for sure. He’s too stupid to get it right away. But even if he did understand, it would be hard for him to take action against us. We’ll go on soft-soaping him indefinitely — and what’s the risk? They won’t dare charge us with praising the governor too much — although I’ll happily praise him in front of any tribunal. But it won’t come to that.”
“Your words fulfill my every hope!” said Khaled Omar. “By Allah, I don’t know what to say!”
“And that’s not all,” Heykal went on. “These posters are only the beginning. I have other ideas. In a word, we’re going to make the governor infamous across the country. He’ll become such a laughingstock that the government will have to strip him of power.”
Khaled Omar was wriggling in his seat, ever more captivated by his companion’s diabolical perversity. And yet there was an important flaw in Heykal’s logic. To plot the destruction of a man as entertaining as the governor: Wouldn’t that work against their common desire? The thought silenced him momentarily.
“Let me ask you: Do you really want him to disappear?”
“To tell the truth, no. Where will we find a buffoon to match him? But in the end, unfortunately, we’ll be forced to give him up. There’ll be no choice.”
“I’m getting the feeling,” said Khaled Omar, “that I’m finally going to have some real fun.”
A young goddess sailed toward the terrace, her breasts bobbing in her blouse like a ship on the high seas. Then, like a fleeting vision of debauchery, she was gone, leaving innumerable passions stranded in her wake. Right away the customers at a neighboring table started analyzing her beauty like real connoisseurs, and when they got to her rear end, it was as if they’d discovered the fundamental truth of the universe. A vigorous debate rich in imagery ensued, and no insult was spared when any disagreement arose in the course of their critique, which extended to the most intimate details of the unknown young woman’s body.
“Women,” said Heykal. “Aren’t they enough for you?”
“I love women,” responded Khaled Omar. “But they’re nothing compared with the delights you propose.”
“Are you married?”
“Of course. I’m a respectable businessman! But I should explain: It’s not always the same model. I’m not one of those rich imbeciles who changes his car each year while keeping the same wife. Me, I change wives each year — and I don’t even own a car.”
“I’m happy for you,” said Heykal.
“Sometimes I get rid of them even quicker. Women age faster than cars, believe me.”