Dogstar Rising

Chapter Forty-One




Makana came to as the smell of kerosene hit him. It made him feel nauseous. It was everywhere, all around him, on his clothes, on his skin. He was drowning in the stuff. When he tried to open his eyes he felt them sting. Where was he? It felt like a bad dream. Fuzzy spiders crawled around inside his head. He knew this place, but somehow he didn’t. A moment later he realised he was at home, on the upper deck, in his favourite chair. A sinking feeling told him this was not a dream. He managed to lift his head. There was a ringing pain over his right ear. Someone had hit him. He remembered now. His clothes were wet. He shook his head to clear it and looked around him. When he tried to move he discovered that his hands were tied to the arms of the wicker chair. There was kerosene sloshing about. He turned his head as a large, yellow plastic jerrycan appeared, dousing everything in sight. A face loomed into view.

‘Just in time,’ said Yousef, setting down the jerrycan.

‘What are you doing?’ Makana didn’t recognise his own voice.

Yousef clicked his tongue. ‘You disappoint me, you know. We could have been such a good team. Do you ever ask yourself what the point is, of what you are doing?’

‘What I am doing?’ Makana followed his eyes across the deck to the bed pushed against the wall. Rania lay there, her hands and feet tied, a gag covering her mouth. Her eyes were wide with fear. ‘All of this just to protect Sheikh Waheed?’

‘Waheed? Waheed is a fool,’ Yousef said. ‘I don’t care about him. You see, that’s the problem. You’re always trying to look beneath the surface. Waheed is a clown. What do I care? No, this is about me. That’s the way it should always be, right? It could have been about you, too. But then . . .’

‘You killed Meera.’

‘Rocky killed Meera. It was necessary. If you don’t understand why then you are stupider than I thought. People have a right to protect their investments, don’t you think?’ Yousef squatted in front of Makana.

‘You and Rocky?’

‘I came across him in my time in the Military Police. I was ordered to arrest him for beating a conscript half to death. I realised that someone like that could be very useful, if directed in the right way. Rocky was an animal. I made sure he got off the charges and he was very grateful. Of course in time he got out of hand. People like that always do. No control.’ Yousef bounced to his feet again and carried on splashing kerosene about. ‘To tell the truth, it’s a relief he’s gone. Rocky was a liability. And how do you get rid of someone like that?’

‘Meera found out what you were up to, moving money through the Blue Ibis accounts. Nobody noticed because the books were in such a mess, not even Faragalla.’

‘Faragalla’s an idiot. I mean, why take on a woman like that? Women who think they know something, they’re the worst. Like this one.’ He went over and stroked Rania’s thigh. She squealed and tried to turn away, which only seemed to increase Yousef’s enjoyment. ‘Women should know their place. In the kitchen . . . or in the bedroom.’ He caressed her again, taking his time now. ‘Think of how far that would go to solving the world’s problems.’

‘Let her go, Yousef. She’s no threat to you.’

‘There, you see, that’s where you’re wrong.’ Yousef came back over. ‘She is very much a threat, maybe even more than you. She has the facts. I thought we were finished with all that when Hikmet went out of that window, but no. She had to come along and find his other computer. Who would have that?’ Yousef kicked an object lying on the floor. ‘Well that’s all taken care of now. By the time we’ve finished here it won’t be any use to anyone.’

‘Why are you doing all this? For a group of army officers who are making themselves rich. You think they care about you?’

‘You see that’s where you’re wrong.’ Yousef had a distant look in his eye. ‘These people, Waheed, Serhan, all the other big fish up there, they know they would be nothing without me. Nothing. I make them and I can bring them down any time I want.’

‘They could find someone to replace you in an instant.’

‘No, you’re wrong. It’s about commitment. Just like in the military. You have to be prepared to make sacrifices. That’s what people respect. This country is made by people like me. No one can claim to love Egypt more than I do. These kids don’t understand. Can you imagine what would happen if we handed the place over to them?’

Yousef stood off to one side, looking out, his face in the shadows, lit only in part by the white glow from the buildings across the river.

‘The little men. Where do you think all those politicians and businessmen would be without us? Even the president. They all depend on people like me to make things happen.’

‘They use you because you are expendable,’ said Makana, suddenly weary of this raving lunatic. ‘Even the Zafrani brothers. They were already onto you. How much longer did you think it would last?’

Yousef snorted his derision. ‘I can’t expect someone like you to understand. Like I said, you and I could have made a great team. Maalish, you’ll have to excuse me now, I have work to do.’

With that he picked up the jerrycan and disappeared down the stairs. The awama was as dry as a tinderbox. It wouldn’t take much to set it alight. But Yousef obviously wasn’t taking any chances. Makana wrestled with his bindings but Yousef had done a good job. He thought about smashing the chair, but although it was old he had the feeling it would still take a lot of punishment before it gave way. He looked over at Rania, who was watching him with a look of terror in her eyes. Her hands were tied behind her back, but perhaps she could untie his knots.

‘Try to sit up,’ he said. Then he managed to lift himself and shuffle forwards. His feet were untied. He made it in about ten moves, sliding the chair across the deck, trying to make as little noise as possible. By now Rania had managed to turn over on the bed. She twisted until she had her back to him and was almost sitting up, her shoulder against the bedstead. It didn’t look like much, but at least she could move her fingers.

It didn’t take long to discover that it wasn’t going to work. The knots were too tight and Rania couldn’t get a proper grip. She tried and tried and then with a cry of frustration she fell back. In her eyes he read resignation; the realisation that death was inevitable. Makana could hear Yousef down below, moving around the lower deck, splashing fuel over everything.

Then a glint of light caught his eye and looking towards the gangway he saw a figure crouched there in the half shadow. Aziza. The little girl looked around the room carefully and then stepped boldly up and came slowly towards him. In her hand was a nasty-looking curved knife that Umm Ali and her able children used for slicing the stems off artichokes, freeing aubergines from the earth. A general all-purpose tool. It had a rough wooden hilt wrapped tightly with grubby cloth and a blade that was sharpened on a stone. Aziza, despite her young age, handled it like a professional but it still seemed to take ages for her to slice through the ropes holding Makana’s left wrist. When it was done he took the knife from her and cut his other hand free, then he released Rania.

‘Wait here,’ he said. ‘Don’t forget the computer.’ He took the knife and slipped off his shoes, then went down the metal steps as quietly as possible. At the bottom he waved them both down and pointed towards the gangway. He waited until they were ashore. He still had the knife, but there was nothing to indicate where Yousef was. Then he heard a sound that stopped his heart in mid-beat – the faint rasp of a lighter. It came from the stern of the boat. He leaned around the side and saw the figure standing close to the railings at the far end. Yousef’s face was briefly illuminated by the glow from one of his cigarettes. A few puffs and then he would casually toss it aside as he stepped ashore to watch the whole thing burn. There wasn’t time to think and no way of separating Yousef from the glowing end of his cigarette. So Makana charged, gaining speed with every step. Yousef had time to look up, his face registering surprise as the curved knife buried itself in his shoulder and Makana thudded into him. There was a whoosh and Makana recalled that his clothes were doused in kerosene. He felt the heat flare up around his face, enveloping him in blue flame, but by then his momentum had propelled both of them over the railing and into the water.

The river was a great muddy fish that reached up to swallow them whole. He felt Yousef wriggling in his arms, sinewy and strong, like a powerful reptile that he couldn’t contain. A cold current seemed to suck both of them deeper and deeper until finally Makana knew he was going to drown. He was no longer fighting to contain Yousef, but to break free of him. The water was cold, far colder than he had imagined. Beneath the calm surface of the river he knew there were turbulences, stirrings, undercurrents that could whip even a strong swimmer down. Miraculously, Yousef’s grip loosened. One arm disabled, he was flailing about like a man who could not swim. Makana felt the creature release its hold and he began to rise just as Yousef was drawn further into darkness. He kicked and clawed his way towards the surface.