Djibouti: a novel by Elmore Leonard

Author:Elmore Leonard [Elmore Leonard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Policier
ISBN: 9780061735172
Published: 2010-11-14T08:00:00+00:00

HARRY WAS WITH QASIM again later that evening, the Toyota rumbling, bumping along, night inside behind dark-tinted windows, Qasim close beside him. Harry turned his head to him and caught the odor of the Arab’s breath, spaghetti and spiced camel, and said to him, “I understand you know Jama’s American name.”

Qasim stared at him.

Harry held his breath waiting, counting almost to ten.

Qasim said, “Yes…?”

It felt good to be talking again.

“Can I ask, why you want to know?”

He won’t tell you, Qasim thought. He has to set you up first. Finally get around to the reason he’s talking to you. Then he’ll tell you.

“Let me point out,” Harry said and took a breath, “you haven’t performed much in the past seven years. Let’s see, an embassy—”

“Two embassies and a consulate.”

“Most of the past decade, though, you’ve been a Qaeda fundraiser. The American Rewards people are going to say, ‘That’s all he’s done lately?’ I’ll bet if they don’t drop your reward they reduce it considerably.” Harry lighted a cigarette.

Qasim took his time, staring in Harry’s face before he said, “You have to give me up to find out what I’m worth. Take my word, the Americans can’t wait to get hold of me, show me off to the world. They can make what I did two decades ago seem like yesterday.”

“Yes, they will,” Harry said, “display you to their hearts’ content, congratulate themselves and throw you in prison.”

Qasim said to this fellow Arab who wanted to be an Englishman, “For what exactly, acts of war or what you call terrorism?”

“For being you, you idiot. Do you know how many you’ve killed?”

“Tell me.”

“And mutilated? Many of your own people, Saudis?”

“Some became blind,” Qasim said.

“You sound like you don’t believe you’re going to prison.”

“You have me, that’s all.”

“You’ll be our gift to the Americans.” Harry dropped the cigarette between his legs to the floor and placed his boot on it. “But your partner, Jama the Amriki? I’m betting the Americans will pay more than ‘up to a million,’ once they discover he’s a traitor. What do you think?”

“Why do you say I’m going to prison,” Qasim said, “and not be executed?”

“You’ll get life for crimes against humanity,” Harry said. “Federal courts in America rarely decide on the death penalty. You’ll spend the rest of your years in a prison cell by yourself. One hour a day of recreation, rain or shine. They allow you to walk about in an enclosure about the size of a decent hotel room. Then back to the cell. You know what you’ll look forward to each day? Eating the dog food they give you on a tin plate and evacuating your bowels in a bucket. Ahhhh,” Harry said, “until one day you die of old age, finally a happy man.”

“You say they won’t pay anything for me,” Qasim said. “Then why turn me in?”

“I like to think of you as a lifer.”

Harry opened his window to inhale fresh air rushing past—a bit cool—and closed it again.

“Or,” he said, “I decide not to hand you over.

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