Abduction (16 page)

Lowering his voice: “…Far more than you could imagine… And some of them are very important…”

While his spread fingers mimicked the presence of numerous stars on imaginary epaulettes, he repeated vainly, “Important… Yes, very important…”

With a cigarette in one hand, the informer pushed in the cigarette lighter.

“Let's get down to business. Show me this wonderful building plot of yours first and we'll talk about our arrangement afterwards.”

Giving me a faint, knowing wink, he took a long drag on his cigarette. This podgy fifty-year-old man with his receding hairline and teeth that could have done with seeing a dentist suddenly struck me like an ugly, old whore who promised more than she could deliver. I had expected to feel sickened, but I was overcome with pity instead. I bent over the dashboard to hide my strange pain at knowing this individual's likely fate…

So, little man, you're hoping to cheat me out of a few dinars, whereas I'm preparing to cheat you out of your life! I have no idea what horrors you've been involved in before now, but no one deserves to die by the hand of another man, that I grant you!

…And right then I knew that this grief, this hideous compassion, would in no way prevent me from carrying out my plan to murder him!

“Let's go,
Si
Abdou! I'm sorry I expressed any doubts; I am so afraid of greedy people who do not recoil from the dishonour dishonesty brings. But I am convinced that is not the case with you. I often see you on your way to the mosque, and that proves that you fear God and his prophets.”

My voice was so soft that my surprised companion shot me a severe, questioning glance.

I smiled, intoxicated with sadness.

“Why are you smiling?”

“Life's funny sometimes. But often at the wrong time!”

The passenger studied me uncomfortably before deciding not to let it show. As I manoeuvred the car, I looked over my shoulder to check that no one had seen me take my passenger on board. The surrounding area was deserted. In passing, my eyes spotted the bag I had thrown on the back seat.

“Let's go.”

We drove towards the airport for a good quarter of an hour. Night had fallen and the clouds intensified the darkness. I now knew where I was heading.

The informer and I had struck up a classic Algerian conversation, carefully avoiding the main subject of our meeting. He asked me about my health and that of my family, then about how many children I had. “One,” I replied.

“Girl or boy?” he continued.

“Girl.”

“Oh, a girl,” he sighed with a slight note of compassion. “But you and your wife are still young.”

I hastened to pose the question the idiot was waiting for.

“How many do you have?”

“Three boys – and God alone is merciful! They have all left home. Both the elder ones are married; the youngest is doing his military service. I didn't see enough of them! You'd think that time passed only to cause regret…”

The man sighed again. I turned to look at him; he thought I was wondering how old he was.

“In my time people married young and quickly got down to having children. Times were hard, you never knew whether your luck would change or not. I'm a shade over fifty-eight. Maybe God will spare me long enough to see the rottenness around me turn to honey?”

His laughter rang out unpleasantly in the car.

“Top-quality Algerian shit turning to honey; now that would be some miracle! Anyway, that'll soon be your case, if I'm not mistaken?”

“You'll see for yourself,” I replied, flicking the right indicator on.

We drove along a track before arriving at a vast, abandoned building site scattered with rusting containers and the skeletons of industrial machinery.

“Is this it?” said Abdou, surprised.

We had got out of the car and were looking out over a desolate landscape of structures and heaps of scrap iron that stood out in the headlights.

“Yes, this is it. But not just this. Follow me.”

“But we can't see a thing!”

“I've got everything we need.”

I rummaged around in the glove compartment and pulled out an electric torch. Bending forward, I reached out towards the back seat. My hand hesitated between the hammer and the screwdriver before opting for the former. When I stood up again, I had time to slip the hammer into the inside pocket of my raincoat.

Knife on the left, hammer on the right.
I felt my hands becoming moist. In contrast, my mouth was so dry it didn't seem to belong to me anymore.

“I've got the torch,
Si
Abdou.”

“Why are you shouting? I'm standing next to you.”

I turned off the headlights and got out of the car. While my hand smoothed out any bumps in my raincoat, I pretended to struggle with the torch switch.

“Ah, here it is!”

I pointed the beam of light at the informer's face. He blinked, but the mask of mistrust contorting his features had not disappeared.

“Is this your wonderful building plot?”

“Yes, but this is only part of it,
Si
Abdou. I told you it was worth a fortune. Let's go up there and take a look at the other two plots – both farmed – that are also part of the land.”

The man snorted.

“But this building site belongs to a state-owned company!”

I adopted a light-hearted tone.

“Belonged… belonged,
Si
Abdou! In actual fact, the land this building site is on belongs to my family. It was nationalised by Boumedienne in the seventies. We pursued the matter through the courts for a long time; my poor father ruined his health doing it. The good news is that the courts have just recognised us as the undisputed owners of this land and some of the plots around it. The state-owned company thought we would win in the end. That's why they abandoned the building work.”

“So why do you need me?”

“
Si
Abdou, you know very well that it's not enough for an Algerian court to find in your favour. Its decision still has to be implemented! I need money, but you know all about how troublesome all the bureaucracy can be – it could drag on for years and years. I need someone to ‘iron out' some of the problems with the council departments, find a way around the jealous people at the land registry, mollify the jackals at the tax office… you know, that sort of tricky operation. Otherwise I'll only enjoy the benefits of my property in a decade's time, maybe even longer…”

The man's expression was still dubious.

“
Si
Abdou, this used to be farmland. But some of it is going to be serviced. We're not far from the airport here. You know what that means: they could build a hotel, a shopping centre or some other thing! I don't know many people at all in Algiers–but you do. Imagine the price per square foot…”

The word ‘airport' had an almost immediate effect on the informer.

“If I help you to… to solve your problems with your land, how much of the sales price would I get?”

His voice quavered slightly. I once more turned the torch on my companion. I would have laughed if I hadn't been so scared; distrust, though it had not entirely disappeared, had given way to good old greed.

“Don't waste any time, do you? Before I answer, I'd rather you got some idea of the size of the plot. At the other end of the building site there's a two-storey building. Let's go up to the top and I'll show you the land we're owed. Don't worry, I know the place well.”

That was true; I knew the place because I'd been here once with Meriem! It was in the middle of the terrible nineties. We were supposed to meet some friends at the airport, but their flight from the interior of the country had been cancelled. Pro-FIS staff at the departure airport had walked out on strike, demanding the suspension of the company's flights during the great Friday prayers. In those times of furious hounding by the Islamists, this incident, though minor, had nevertheless dampened our spirits. On the way home we had been seized by a desire for consolation and revenge. The building site was already abandoned, but it didn't seem as ghostly as it did now. Most of the machinery had been looted or, if its weight or volume didn't allow this, meticulously stripped.

It was spring, a beautiful light softened the wounds left by man's plundering, and small yellow and blue flowers had colonised the space between the wrecks. I presented some to Meriem and she had joked that I was trying to buy her favours. I had whispered while I nibbled her ear that I was passionately interested in this transaction but that I was wondering where we might conclude it without ruining our backs and our bums. With a smile, she pointed to the small two-storey structure that used to be offices. The building seemed to approve: come in, lovers, so that the three of us may cheer each other up amid all our country's misery!

A lump of sorrow rose in my throat. To escape the trap of memory, I recalled the kidnapper's phone call. I asked Abdou to follow me. When I reached the entrance, I almost fell into a pothole. Mockingly, but already in a slightly fawning manner, Abdou caught hold of my arm.

“
Si
Aziz, this is no time to go breaking a bone, just when you're about to become rich!”

I muttered gratefully, suddenly panicked by the all-too human touch of his hand on my arm. I felt a vital need to hate this man even more strongly. I went over my reasons in my mind for the umpteenth time since selecting this man: this friendly Abdou had helped to have teenagers imprisoned, he had tortured and raped them, and it was for these crimes that I saw him as the least bad ‘solution'.

There was no front door anymore. In the hallway, I had a momentary scare that the staircase might also have vanished. Apart from some litter and shards of wine and beer bottles, the place was less dirty than I had expected.

“Where are you taking me?” the informer enquired at the top of the first flight of stairs with palpable disquiet.

“To the second floor. We'll be overlooking the building site and I'll show you my land. Walk in front of me. I'll light the way for you.”

“No, I'd rather you led the way.”

His voice had grown suspicious again.

“Worried a rat might jump at your throat?” I sniggered, realising my tactlessness.

“Yes, I'm scared of rats. Aren't you?”

I didn't answer his question, which had an aggressive tone to it. We were already on the threshold of the second floor. The man's breathing was husky, like an asthmatic's. I hoped he hadn't noticed that I was trembling and that my teeth were starting to chatter. The witness I permanently lugged around with me squeaked:
Are you really going to murder this bloke in less than a minute from now?

I turned to look at Abdou.

“Here we are.”

“Almighty God, how did they do that?”

I knew, since I had already been so myself, that he would be impressed by the sight: the second floor was made up of a single large room and in the place where the window must originally have been, an entire wall was missing!

“Did those sons of bitches really make off with a wall? But why take one from the second floor?”

I held out the torch, which he was requesting with impatient gestures. Approaching the drop with careful steps, he shone the light on the wall that used to form an angle with the one that had disappeared. Abdou gave a short chuckle of admiration.

“Seems like those rogues cut through the concrete like butter. The man who pulled this off deserves the Nobel Prize for plunder!”

He turned to face me, shining the beam of light into my face. I blinked, dazzled.

“You're scared of heights by the look of it. Come on, come over here, there's nothing to fear. Look, hold on to me and show me this great building plot of yours that is going to make us rich!

He pointed the torch out at the black horizon. My hand plunged into the inside pocket of my jacket. My heart was beating so fast that I felt quite dizzy, as if too much blood were suddenly rushing to my head. Misreading my hesitation, the man came over to me and put a protective arm around my shoulders.

“Come on,” he said, “there's really nothing to fear. After all, it isn't the edge of the Grand Canyon!”

My hand was pinned in my inside pocket by his arm. As I tried to free the knife, I actually made a movement that span me so that my back was pressed against the informer's stomach. He stiffened with surprise, waiting for my reaction. I didn't dare pull away immediately for fear that he would discover the knife before I could get into position to stab him with it. My neighbour misunderstood the reason behind my docility. He moved his pubis closer to my backside and, his voice suddenly shrill, mumbled, “I think you and I will get along just wonderfully. I know how to go about it, I'll do you nothing but good…”

I felt his erect penis rubbing against my behind. Taken aback, I burst out laughing. The man pressed himself further against me, in doing so bringing us closer to the drop. He pulled out his penis with the hand holding the torch while frantically searching for my belt buckle with the other.

“Laughing, eh… You've got a nice backside… Prepare for paradise to enter into you…”

I laughed even harder until tears started to blur my vision. All of a sudden, I pulled away. He didn't spot the knife immediately. I was still laughing.

“So while I'm planning to kill you, all you can think of is screwing me?”

“What? A knife? So you don't like…? What the hell's going on?”

I ripped the torch out of his hand. Making the most of his astonishment, I drove him back with the point of my weapon to within a few inches of the edge. Eyes bulging and penis dangling, the man glanced behind him.

“Hey, stop mucking around, I thought you wanted to… You were the one leading me on, for fuck's sake! Watch out – I'm going to fall off!”

He sized up with his eyes whether he could make it past me. I shook my head, waving the knife about. He scolded me, more in amazement than fear.