Hasan, and dumped them into the rocker screen for his brother to sift.
Lily and Drury were working in the soft brown soil near an alcove in the back of the cave when they heard a cry from Tariq. “Ayeee! Ayee! Bismillah rahman rahim . In the name of God the merciful and compassionate.”
Lily and Drury rushed to Tariq and found him sprawled across the trench, one leg sunken through the floor of the cave.
“He’s fallen through.” MacAlistair began tugging at Tariq’s arm.
“It’s the djinn,” Tariq cried, thrashing and twisting, “pulling me down to the center of the earth.”
“Stop caterwauling and climb out of there,” Drury said and grabbed Tariq’s other arm.
Together, MacAlistair and Drury yanked at Tariq, wrenching him this way and that while he bellowed and clamored for the mercy of Allah.
With one final jerk, they hauled Tariq clear of the trench.
Drury peered down through a funnel-like hole that opened to a glimpse of wild surf eddying against the rocks below. “He’s broken through to the Lower Cave.”
They released Tariq and he fell forward. His right arm shot out, clutching at MacAlistair’s belt for balance. The other gripped MacAlistair’s pants leg, near the pocket.
MacAlistair’s keys spilled out. He reached for them, clutching air and lost his footing. Dazed, he watched the keys disappear into the foaming sea.
“Now how do we get home?”
“It was the djinn,” Hasan whined, “the djinn.”
“I’ll deal with that irritating creature right now,” Drury said.
He brushed his hand through his hair and stalked to the alcove in the back of the cave.
“Ayee!” Hasan whimpered. “He goes to the Bureau of the Djinn.”
They heard Drury’s voice roll and echo in the alcove. He argued and bargained in high-pitched Moghrebhi Arabic, answered in his normal tone in English and French, and searched through his pockets twice. Tariq watched from the cave entrance.
When he finished, Drury returned from the back of the cave. “Everything’s fine. Convinced him to move the bureau to another cave. Snatched some hair from his head.” Drury waggled a few strands of hair before Hasan’s stupefied face. “Paid him for his trouble, of course.”
“How much did you pay?” MacAlistair asked.
“Twenty centimes and a chocolate mint.”
“And some kif,” Tariq added.
“Is danger,” Hasan told him.
“Nothing to worry about.”
“Ayee. You must say prayers every day. Must fast on Ramadan. Must never drink alcohol, must never be unfaithful to your wife, never lie, never steal.”
“I don’t steal,” Drury said. “And my wife doesn’t give a damn.” He waved the hair in the air and shoved it into his pocket. “If he bothers us again, I’ll burn his hair and order him to leave.”
“Bismillah rahman rahim,” Tariq said.
Drury checked his watch. “Four o’clock,” he said. “Time to go.”
“How will we start the car?” MacAlistair asked.
But Drury had already left the cave and strolled down to the car.
He had crawled under the dash, hot-wired the Hillman, and then drove them back to town.
***
“Better not mention the Office of the Djinn,” Drury was saying, looking over Lily’s shoulder in the cramped space behind her desk. She crossed out the sentence she had just written.
“Remember, the Prophet himself preached to the djinn. Even converted some to the faith.” Drury picked up the pages she had just finished.
Lily wondered if he could make sense of the ink splotches, arrows and additions in the margins, and the splattering of crossed-out words. “The pages look like they were wounded in the war. I’m not a great typist.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He reached for the pile on the side of the desk, leafed through the pages, straightened the stack and arranged it neatly on the desk. “They can retype it.”
At five o’clock, they left the Legation together. Outside the medina, they skirted the Grand Socco and approached a side street where Zaid
Lily and Drury were working in the soft brown soil near an alcove in the back of the cave when they heard a cry from Tariq. “Ayeee! Ayee! Bismillah rahman rahim . In the name of God the merciful and compassionate.”
Lily and Drury rushed to Tariq and found him sprawled across the trench, one leg sunken through the floor of the cave.
“He’s fallen through.” MacAlistair began tugging at Tariq’s arm.
“It’s the djinn,” Tariq cried, thrashing and twisting, “pulling me down to the center of the earth.”
“Stop caterwauling and climb out of there,” Drury said and grabbed Tariq’s other arm.
Together, MacAlistair and Drury yanked at Tariq, wrenching him this way and that while he bellowed and clamored for the mercy of Allah.
With one final jerk, they hauled Tariq clear of the trench.
Drury peered down through a funnel-like hole that opened to a glimpse of wild surf eddying against the rocks below. “He’s broken through to the Lower Cave.”
They released Tariq and he fell forward. His right arm shot out, clutching at MacAlistair’s belt for balance. The other gripped MacAlistair’s pants leg, near the pocket.
MacAlistair’s keys spilled out. He reached for them, clutching air and lost his footing. Dazed, he watched the keys disappear into the foaming sea.
“Now how do we get home?”
“It was the djinn,” Hasan whined, “the djinn.”
“I’ll deal with that irritating creature right now,” Drury said.
He brushed his hand through his hair and stalked to the alcove in the back of the cave.
“Ayee!” Hasan whimpered. “He goes to the Bureau of the Djinn.”
They heard Drury’s voice roll and echo in the alcove. He argued and bargained in high-pitched Moghrebhi Arabic, answered in his normal tone in English and French, and searched through his pockets twice. Tariq watched from the cave entrance.
When he finished, Drury returned from the back of the cave. “Everything’s fine. Convinced him to move the bureau to another cave. Snatched some hair from his head.” Drury waggled a few strands of hair before Hasan’s stupefied face. “Paid him for his trouble, of course.”
“How much did you pay?” MacAlistair asked.
“Twenty centimes and a chocolate mint.”
“And some kif,” Tariq added.
“Is danger,” Hasan told him.
“Nothing to worry about.”
“Ayee. You must say prayers every day. Must fast on Ramadan. Must never drink alcohol, must never be unfaithful to your wife, never lie, never steal.”
“I don’t steal,” Drury said. “And my wife doesn’t give a damn.” He waved the hair in the air and shoved it into his pocket. “If he bothers us again, I’ll burn his hair and order him to leave.”
“Bismillah rahman rahim,” Tariq said.
Drury checked his watch. “Four o’clock,” he said. “Time to go.”
“How will we start the car?” MacAlistair asked.
But Drury had already left the cave and strolled down to the car.
He had crawled under the dash, hot-wired the Hillman, and then drove them back to town.
***
“Better not mention the Office of the Djinn,” Drury was saying, looking over Lily’s shoulder in the cramped space behind her desk. She crossed out the sentence she had just written.
“Remember, the Prophet himself preached to the djinn. Even converted some to the faith.” Drury picked up the pages she had just finished.
Lily wondered if he could make sense of the ink splotches, arrows and additions in the margins, and the splattering of crossed-out words. “The pages look like they were wounded in the war. I’m not a great typist.”
“Doesn’t matter.” He reached for the pile on the side of the desk, leafed through the pages, straightened the stack and arranged it neatly on the desk. “They can retype it.”
At five o’clock, they left the Legation together. Outside the medina, they skirted the Grand Socco and approached a side street where Zaid
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