against attack. Twenty-three strategic sites have been pinpointedagainst the Italians and Germans. Cairo is shrinking into itself. Who knows if we will get out alive? And all the while, we are being entertained by the up-and-coming cultural elite of the city. We are enjoying a drink and good company. Perhaps we should be ashamed of ourselves. Perhaps the Almighty has been kinder to your husband than you think.”
Aimee recoiled in horror. She had no patience for the likes of this man. And she had no desire to be lectured. Though she trembled inside, she was determined to speak her mind. As she spoke, she regretted her youth and inexperience.
“My husband was passionate about education, Monsieur. You talk about my husband becoming a soldier and joining the war like all the other young men, but he was arming young Egyptian men with a better weapon to fight injustice—knowledge. You talk about him fighting this war, of perhaps dying a noble death, but he has not been given the chance to serve his country. His life was taken from him by criminals. He will never be able to serve Egypt again, either by educating its young men, or by defeating the Germans.”
Seeing that he had offended her, Farouk bowed and smiled in a conciliatory manner.
“Please forgive me. I suppose I have become unnecessarily hard. Nothing shocks me anymore. My poor beloved Cairo has suffered so much over the years. And death comes to everyone eventually. If I seem brutal, I apologise. You are young after all. Your husband was a good man. He did not deserve what happened to him.”
He bit his lip and their eyes met again. She wondered why he was studying her so closely. She stared into his mesmerising eyes, wondering what secret thoughts lay beneath. If he was the editor of the
Liberation
—a newspaper of some repute in Cairo—he must have contacts in the underworld; he must know someone who might be able to help her find Azi’s killer.
Farouk dug in his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and extracted a card with his telephone number on it. “Here, if you ever need me,” he said with a pleasant smile. “I might be able to be of some use to you, you never know.”
A shudder slithered down Aimee’s spine. She studied the card and slipped it in her handbag.
“Thank you, I’m not sure—”
“You’re French,” Farouk broke in, trying to lighten the mood. “How do you find our city? Does it live up to your expectations, or do you long to return to your homeland?”
“I’m as Egyptian as you,” Aimee said defiantly.
Farouk shook his head in confusion and studied her features more closely. She didn’t look Egyptian exactly. There was something about her that perplexed him, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
“I see. And do you plan to help with the war effort? You will work for the war?”
His inquisitive thin smile put her on edge.
“I’ll do whatever I can. I don’t want to be idle. I owe it to the memory of my husband to do as much as I can. Women should not sit by and let the work be done by men alone. I have no children, and my husband’s family is leaving for America soon. If the people of Cairo can work together to support the soldiers, we must do so. I’m good at languages. Translating, interpreting. I’ll find something to do.”
“Your husband would have been very proud of you. You sound very determined and resourceful—admirable qualities in a young lady.”
A hot, irritated shudder prickled her skin again.
“I must go now, Monsieur. I’ve just spotted my friend Sophie on the other side of the room, and I want to introduce myself to Monsieur Achmed’s wife.”
“Don’t forget to telephone me, Madame, if I can be of service.”
Aimee nodded, offered him a vague smile, and turned to Zaky Achmed. “Would you take me to your wife? I would very much like to meet her.”
Achmed edged away and went to find his wife. Aimee followed. But she could feel Farouk’s eyes on her. Their meeting had
Aimee recoiled in horror. She had no patience for the likes of this man. And she had no desire to be lectured. Though she trembled inside, she was determined to speak her mind. As she spoke, she regretted her youth and inexperience.
“My husband was passionate about education, Monsieur. You talk about my husband becoming a soldier and joining the war like all the other young men, but he was arming young Egyptian men with a better weapon to fight injustice—knowledge. You talk about him fighting this war, of perhaps dying a noble death, but he has not been given the chance to serve his country. His life was taken from him by criminals. He will never be able to serve Egypt again, either by educating its young men, or by defeating the Germans.”
Seeing that he had offended her, Farouk bowed and smiled in a conciliatory manner.
“Please forgive me. I suppose I have become unnecessarily hard. Nothing shocks me anymore. My poor beloved Cairo has suffered so much over the years. And death comes to everyone eventually. If I seem brutal, I apologise. You are young after all. Your husband was a good man. He did not deserve what happened to him.”
He bit his lip and their eyes met again. She wondered why he was studying her so closely. She stared into his mesmerising eyes, wondering what secret thoughts lay beneath. If he was the editor of the
Liberation
—a newspaper of some repute in Cairo—he must have contacts in the underworld; he must know someone who might be able to help her find Azi’s killer.
Farouk dug in his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and extracted a card with his telephone number on it. “Here, if you ever need me,” he said with a pleasant smile. “I might be able to be of some use to you, you never know.”
A shudder slithered down Aimee’s spine. She studied the card and slipped it in her handbag.
“Thank you, I’m not sure—”
“You’re French,” Farouk broke in, trying to lighten the mood. “How do you find our city? Does it live up to your expectations, or do you long to return to your homeland?”
“I’m as Egyptian as you,” Aimee said defiantly.
Farouk shook his head in confusion and studied her features more closely. She didn’t look Egyptian exactly. There was something about her that perplexed him, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
“I see. And do you plan to help with the war effort? You will work for the war?”
His inquisitive thin smile put her on edge.
“I’ll do whatever I can. I don’t want to be idle. I owe it to the memory of my husband to do as much as I can. Women should not sit by and let the work be done by men alone. I have no children, and my husband’s family is leaving for America soon. If the people of Cairo can work together to support the soldiers, we must do so. I’m good at languages. Translating, interpreting. I’ll find something to do.”
“Your husband would have been very proud of you. You sound very determined and resourceful—admirable qualities in a young lady.”
A hot, irritated shudder prickled her skin again.
“I must go now, Monsieur. I’ve just spotted my friend Sophie on the other side of the room, and I want to introduce myself to Monsieur Achmed’s wife.”
“Don’t forget to telephone me, Madame, if I can be of service.”
Aimee nodded, offered him a vague smile, and turned to Zaky Achmed. “Would you take me to your wife? I would very much like to meet her.”
Achmed edged away and went to find his wife. Aimee followed. But she could feel Farouk’s eyes on her. Their meeting had
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