Chicago, Alaa Aswany [first e reader .TXT] 📗

apply a new idea to the research, so he examined my slides and discovered what I had done.”

Safwat Shakir remained silent and Danana began to beg again, “I beseech you, Safwat Bey, I’ve been serving the state since I was a college student. I have never been lazy and I’ve never hesitated to carry out what you’ve ordered me to do. Don’t I deserve that you stand by me during this ordeal?”

“We don’t stand by forgers.”

“I implore you, sir.”

“If the university doesn’t expel you, we will. You cannot keep your position when you’re a forger.”

Danana opened his mouth to say something, but his face trembled and he started to weep. “All this hard work for nothing! All those nights I burned the midnight oil, for what? For a scandal and expulsion?”

“Shut up,” Safwat, visibly annoyed, shouted at him. Danana took that as a slight glimmer of hope, so he persisted anew. “I beseech you for the memory of your parents, may God have mercy on their souls. Please, Safwat Bey, you are my boss and my professor and I am your disciple. You have every right to punish me when I make a mistake. Do anything you want to me, Your Excellency, but don’t abandon me.”

Perhaps that was what Safwat had been waiting for. He sat back in his comfortable chair, raised his head, and kept staring at the ceiling in silence until he said, “I’ll help you. Not for your own sake, but for the sake of your unfortunate wife.”

“May God give you long life, sir.”

“When is the investigation?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Go to them.”

“I could get a letter from a doctor and postpone it for a week.”

“No. Go tomorrow as they want you to.”

“Sir, Dr. Baker is well respected in the department and they will definitely expel me.”

“Let them expel you. They have to send us your expulsion decision. We can bury the decision here and the educational bureau will not know about it.”

“May God give you long life, sir, but I’d no longer be enrolled.”

“Once things calm down, I’ll try to get you enrolled in another university.”

That was more than Danana had hoped for. He kept staring at his master’s face then said in a hesitant voice, “I’ll consider that a promise from you, sir.”

Safwat shot him a disapproving look that almost transfixed him in his place, and then said in a bored tone of voice, “Go back now to Chicago and finish the tasks I assigned to you. Our revered president’s visit is drawing near and we don’t have much time.”

Danana tried to start a spiel, however short, of thanks and gratitude, but Safwat Shakir once again started reading the reports scattered on the desk in front of him and said, “Don’t take up my time. I have a lot of work to do.”

Danana sighed and his features relaxed. He turned to leave, but before he reached the door, Safwat’s voice, in a different tone, stopped him. “By the way, I have a request for you.”

“I am at your disposal, sir, upon my life.”

CHAPTER 26

Carol was so terrified she looked pale. Her heart raced, her breathing became irregular, and she almost fainted as she, with her friend Emily, entered the crowded elevator in a skyscraper overlooking Michigan Avenue. Emily whispered something to the elevator operator and he pressed the button for the thirtieth floor. The elevator made a musical sound before it started up. Carol and Emily remained silent; they had talked so much that nothing was left to be said. Carol posed many questions. She hesitated for a long time and almost changed her mind more than once, but Emily reassured her. She looked at her with a mother’s smile and said, “This is the opportunity of a lifetime. If I were in your place, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

“I can’t help feeling ashamed.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of if you look at it from a purely aesthetic point of view.”

They left the elevator. Emily proceeded with Carol, following her to the end of the corridor to the right. She stopped in front of a tinted glass door on top of which was an elegant sign: FERNANDO ADVERTISING AGENCY. Emily pushed the button and said her name into the intercom. The door soon opened and out came a forty-something man with his hair in long thin intersecting braids. It seemed from his soft movements and the light makeup on his face that he was gay. He was smoking a fat cigarette from which came a strong smell of marijuana. He exchanged cries of welcome with Emily, who hugged him warmly and kissed him on the cheeks, and then said cheerfully, “My friend Carol. My friend Fernando.”

“Happy to meet you.” Carol shook his hand and struggled to feign a smile.

The apartment was big and furnished in a modern, luxurious style. On the walls Carol now saw enlarged snapshots of faces and landscapes that she guessed had been taken by Fernando, who led them through a long corridor, on one side of which was the open door of a bedroom bathed in a soft red light. At the end of the corridor they entered the studio: a small round room with a very high ceiling in the four corners of which cameras of different sizes were placed. In the middle there was a chair, a small table, and a sofa. From the ceiling hung floodlights casting yellow, blue, and red light. Fernando invited them to sit on the sofa while he sat on the chair in front of them. Then he said in a friendly tone, “Sorry for this mess. I’m a disorganized person.”

“Like all artists.”

“Would you like an excellent joint?”

“No, thank you,” Emily mumbled while Carol remained speechless.

“What would you like to drink?”

“Anything cold.”

He opened the fridge and brought out two cans of Pepsi, and then he said in a practical tone, “Okay, Carol, I don’t want to waste your time. I think Emily has told you.”

Carol nodded. Fernando went on, “I