The Caliphate, André Gallo [best books to read ever .TXT] 📗

wine don’t go together with al Khalil. I’ll make it short.”

     He had another taste of the mousse au chocolat. In spite of the topic, the bitterness of the chocolate and the aftertaste of Cointreau liquor that complemented the duck sauce of the last dish satisfied his taste buds. He put his spoon down.

     “I was a student in Brussels when my father was assigned there at the embassy. He captained the American team in the annual diplomatic tennis tournament and recruited me to be his doubles partner. It turned out that al Khalil was playing for the European team and I played against him. When a point went against him, he almost brained the referee with his racquet. His partner was barely able to stop him.”

     “Same deal I guess,” Kella said. “Western rules, rules that have not come from God, don’t have to be honored. In that setting, Mr. al Khalil was a misfit.”

     “You said it. After the match, trophies were awarded and we had dinner. Al Khalil’s intense stare caused one of the female guests sitting across from him to move to another table. Al Khalil doesn’t know how to behave in the presence of free-range western women. Oh, by the way, our team won.”

     Kella took a sip of her Chateau-Potensac.

     “There’s something I’ve been thinking about all day,” she said.

     Steve gestured with his spoon that she go on.

     “I want to take a break from school and go to Timbuktu to see my relatives. On the other hand, I can’t just pick up and leave ENA. I may have to wait for a vacation or a holiday period when the school is closed. Frankly, I’m having a difficult time making decisions right now.”

     “A change of scenery might do you good. Why don’t you come and visit me in Virginia? I’ll be back there in a week or two after my Moroccan trip. I have an apartment, with a guest room.”

    “Thanks for the offer; it sounds lovely. But I do want to spend some time around Timbuktu where I grew up. My stepparents are off to Tel Aviv and they’re busy settling in. They don’t need me underfoot. Anyway, we’re not going to lose sight of each other, right?”

     They got up from the dining room table and went back to the den where they sat on the sofa. Steve put his glass down on the coffee table, and took Kella’s and put it down next to his. Pushing Vera to the back of his mind, he cupped her chin in his left hand and drew closer. They kissed softly.

     She smiled and said, “I see that free-range Western women don’t scare you.”

     Gradually, they slipped lower on the sofa, but then the doorbell rang. They looked at each other and laughed at the timing of the interruption. Like a software program that is open but not currently in charge of the computer’s operations, part of Steve’s mind had been thinking of Vera the whole evening. The doorbell was a welcome distraction. Was he betraying her? It had been just over a year. Was he being callous by being attracted to Kella? The bell rang again and someone pounded on the door with a hard object. He went downstairs and opened it.

     Two policemen held a woman by each arm. She wore a hijab. Steve thought she looked like many of the women he had seen in St. Denis the day before. The older policeman asked Steve, “Do you know this woman. She said she works here.”

     “You better ask Benjamin. He’s the cook. I’ll get him. One second.”

     Steve turned and knocked on Benjamin’s door.

     “Yes, what is it? How was the dinner?” he smiled proudly.

     “Great, but the police want to talk to you.”

     “Again? Tell them I’m not here.”

     “No, you’d better come,” said Steve, gently pulling him by the arm into the hallway. Benjamin looked toward the open door and exclaimed, “Achoura! That’s her!”

     The police asked Benjamin to come outside and Steve joined them. He noticed several police vehicles with their lights on and engines running in the street. He looked to his left, toward the Bois, and saw that the street was closed off. He assumed it was closed at the other end as well.

     “We arrested this woman before she rang your doorbell. She was acting suspiciously. My men had to restrain her. Here is what she was wearing under her clothes.”

     He led them to one of the vehicles and pointed to the open cargo space of one where one of his men was taking photos of an explosive belt.

     Steve went back upstairs and left Benjamin to the tender mercies of the gendarmes. He explained what was going on to Kella.

     “Like you said,” she replied, “these people are serious. I hope your friend Mr. Coogan is all right. Well, I think better go home. I’ll call a taxi.”

     She made the call, and as she gathered her coat and purse she said, “Ever since my father’s reception, ever since I met you, I’ve been on a roller coaster. Going back to school and normal life in Paris is going to be a relief, and a bore.”

     She smiled.

     “I don’t know if I can return to normal. Faridah’s death has changed everything. I’m now anxious to get into the real world. I want to get involved in something more meaningful than studying. I think I’ll actually miss you. Who’s going to listen to me and get me out of trouble?”

     “You’re strong. You’ll be fine. Think about coming to Virginia. But I admit that I’m not being totally altruistic here.”

     Now he smiled.

     “Thanks. First I’m going to go to Timbuktu as soon as I can. I think that spending