The Godless One (33 page)

"Terrible," Ari agreed. "I hope you
don't think I have anything to do with them."

"They would try and trick me into
saying something to a stranger." Joe's eyes narrowed. "They would
want to know if I'm telling others about them." His hands began to
run faster up and down his apron.

A loud gasp that verged on a scream
came from the other end of the shop. Fatimah had left the lunch
counter and stepped over to a small window next to a frozen yogurt
dispenser. She was pointing a shaking finger at Abu Jasim’s
Astrovan.

"Saddam! It’s him! It’s him! It’s him!
It’s the same license!"

Had Ari been healthy, he would have
been the first out the door. As it was, he was hard on Joe’s heels
as he raced to the parking lot. Yet he was too far behind when Joe
pulled a gun from under his apron.

Abu Jasim was sitting in
the passenger seat, as befitted a prominent man waiting impatiently
for his chauffeur. Hearing someone approach, he worked up his
dreadfully accurate version of the famous Saddam Hussein sneer,
guaranteed to make impressionable girls fall into his arms or pee
in their pants, whichever came first. Turning in his seat, he saw a
gun aimed at his head and gave a kind of squeak before flipping
backwards over the consul. There was a loud
crack
and the passenger window
shattered. Ari tried to chop the gun out of Joe's hand but was
elbow-jabbed out of the way. Distracted briefly when Fatimah came
running, Joe yelled, "Go back in!" before firing another shot into
the panel.

"Saddam!" Joe sobbed. "Come out you
devil! You coward! You destroyer of innocents! You murderer of my
wife!"

"It's not me!" Abu Jasim yelled from
inside. "I mean, I'm not him!"

"He's telling the truth!" Ari yelled,
feeling weak and useless. He saw a blue pickup truck passing
slowly, the occupants gaping at the scene just within sight of the
road. "Hello!" Ari yelled, offering a friendly wave. The truck sped
on. "You have to stop this, Joe!" he cried out, staggering forward.
"You'll ruin everything!"

"Ruin! What do you know about ruin? And
you're with him!" He turned the gun on Ari.

Abu Jasim cracked the side panel and
poked out his face. "See?" He whipped off his moustache. "Just
acting!"

He ducked back inside as Joe swiveled
in his direction. "Colonel, I'll have to shoot him!" he called
out.

"You do and I'll kill you!" Ari found
just enough panicky strength to fall down on the man. The gun
clattered on the blacktop.

"I don't care if it's
acting! Anyone who wants to
look
like him has to be shot!"

Abu Jasim leapt out of the van and took
over the manhandling. But Ari kept his face close to
Joe's.

"You thought it was him at first,
didn't you? You believed because you saw his son here! Uday is
here, isn't he? Just up the road? You were afraid to say his name,
but you saw him! He even shops here, doesn't he! It's impossible
that he's alive, but he is, so you thought the father—"

Joe yelled, almost shrieked. "He'll
kill us! Both of us!"

Fatimah ran up and began trying to tug
her father away from Abu Jasim, who had lifted Joe to his feet. His
Saddam-signature beret flopped off onto the ground.

"Let him go!" She gave him a good kick
on the shin.

With a grunt of effort, Ari retrieved
Joe's .38 and stood. "Let him go."

"I think he wants to die," Abu Jasim
said doubtfully, managing to hold onto Joe while hopping on one
foot.

"I don't think so," said Ari. He held
out the gun to Joe. "Let him go."

"Shit," Abu Jasim spat, and released
the proprietor. Joe did not lunge for the gun, but fought to regain
his breath. Fatimah clutched him and tried to drag him away. He
gently pulled her in the opposite direction, so that they both
ended up staying in place.

"What's this about Uday Hussein?" Abu
Jasim said angrily, shaking. "He's dead. There are the dental
records, the DNA tests, the pictures..."

"But he's here, isn't he?" said Ari,
looking closely at Joe. "Isn't he?"

The blue pickup truck had returned,
going in the opposite direction. The driver and passenger wore the
same stupid gape as before. Ari embraced Joe. "Everyone," he
hissed. Abu Jasim and Fatimah closed in for a group hug. The blue
pickup gained speed and disappeared around the corner. They let go
of each other and stood back, staring.

Ari kept one eye on the road, concerned
that the locals might find hugging Arabs more alarming than
murder.

"Yes," said Fatimah, "you're right.
Uday is here."

"No, no, no," said Abu Jasim with a
stomp. "You've got him mixed up with Latif Yahia, that idiot who
wants to be a movie star."

"I don't think so," said Joe, his dread
palpable.

"Good," said Ari. "Excellent. Then we
have him."

Both Joe and Fatimah made incredulous
sounds.

"See these bruises? They were inflicted
by one of his henchman before..." Ari bit on the sour grape.
"...Abu Jasim saved me. I want him...I can taste it...I want
him...once he's in my hands..."

Seeing murder in Ari's eyes, Joe
gingerly retrieved his gun. It was true that Ari was experiencing a
sense of wish fulfillment, yet he was very much aware this was the
kind of emotion that frittered away advantage and put at risk the
thing so ardently desired. What he wanted, however, was to convince
Joe and Fatimah that he was on their side, to recruit them to his
cause.

"Let's go back inside," he said, taking
Joe by the elbow. "It would not do if Uday came by here and saw his
'father'."

Joe’s gun had disappeared under his
apron. It had taken courage of extraordinary blindness to attack
the man many believed to be Satan incarnate. Now he looked drained
and depressed. Ari understood the let-down, and intended to take
advantage of it.

"Uday my ass," Abu Jasim groused as the
store’s bell chimed their entry. Then he was distracted by some
interesting items on the shelves and began perusing the
aisles.

"Are you all right, now?" Ari asked
Joe. He was also concerned about Fatimah, but the air was still too
tense to show her undue notice.

"He was in here only two days ago," Joe
said, looking out the front window.

"What is he like, now?"

Joe didn’t answer right away. His hands
worried across his apron, rasping Ari’s nerves. But the proprietor
was not reaching for his gun. It was a nervous habit. Those hands,
which for so many years had hauled heavy-laden nets out of the
delta, still needed something to pull at. His caution was like a
wound. A wound he shared with much of the world. A few years ago,
Western pop psychologists had made a great to-do about
inappropriate shame. There was no need for shame. Just forge ahead.
Uday was shamelessness incarnate. Certainly, Ari thought, that was
not the kind of society they were panting for. One Uday was too
much.

Yet this very man was a regular
customer in Joe’s bucolic filling station. Hell had gobbled up him
and his daughter before giving them the chance to die.

Ari's sympathy could not be stretched
out forever. If any of the men guarding Uday happened into the
shop, one look at Abu Jasim, even without the moustache and Iraqi
Army beret, would send them flying back to their employer with news
of his father's lookalike. They might not make any critical
connection between his presence and Ari's designs against Uday, but
there were already too many weak spots in the plan to take
unnecessary chances.

"Does he still look like he used to?"
Ari prodded Joe.

"We didn't have any televisions in my
village," Joe said. "One man had a radio. That was the only news we
got. The first time I ever saw his picture was on a playing card
the Americans showed me. There were other cards, too. The face did
not stick in my mind."

"Uh-huh," said Abu Jasim on overhearing
this.

"But we all heard about him. He and his
brother were the ones commanding the soldiers who poisoned our
water. We heard that he was insane. And this man who comes to my
shop is truly a madman."

"They're everywhere," Abu
Jasim commented as he studied a bag of
gaz
. "You've got one in the room
with you right now."

"Enough!" Ari commanded.

Abu Jasim shrugged and drifted to the
rear of the store.

"The other day he tipped over one of
the wire displays and started shouting that we didn't have fresh
hummus. I'm filling up my shop with things no one else around here
wants, just for him and his men. There's hardly room for Wonder
Bread, and then that goes stale and moldy because other people stop
coming. I owe money on the loan and the only reason they pay me
sometimes is because there's no one else around who sells...well,
as you see."

"The police were here while he was
ranting," Fatimah said in a quivering voice. "Parked right by the
window. They saw him knocking things over and yelling. He didn't
care, and they didn't come in."

"He's always with his bodyguards," Joe
added. "Half the time they don't bother hiding their
guns."

Not
good
, thought Ari. But it was not unusual
for Uday to have local authorities in his pocket.

"Does he call himself 'Uday' around
you? Do any of his men call him that?"

"They call him 'Boss'."

Abu Jasim's head shot up. "Hey, that's
my...that other guy's name."

Uday Hussein had been the presumed
successor until his behavior alienated even his father. Saddam had
made Uday's brother, Qusay, the designated heir—which triggered
even more violent behavior from the reject. But with Qusay and
Qusay’s son now cinders, it was a legitimate
appropriation.

Having heard nothing that convinced him
Uday was alive and well in Cumberland County, Abu Jasim began to
make grumpy noises. Ari found himself mentally comparing him to a
walrus. He couldn't say if he was fond of walruses.

"We plan to get rid of him," said Ari
abruptly.

Joe's hands stopped midway down his
apron. "What are you speaking of?"

"Deport him if we can, kill him if
there's no other way. I understand why you would want him gone," he
continued as Fatimah drew close, eyes vast with doubt. "I have my
own reasons. The world has reason enough."

Abu Jasim made a derisive
noise.

"Most of the world, and
he's only mocking me because he doesn't believe it's Uday. He most
of all would want Uday gone. He was Saddam's
fatid
before he escaped. He knows
that family like few others."

Abu Jasim was watching Ari closely. "I
think you've told them enough."

"What's the harm, if that man isn't
Uday?" said Ari breezily. "This poor sod had to stand up before
huge crowds, pretending to be the President, knowing at any minute
a sniper could clean out his brain or the balcony could explode
under his feet. A true hero."

Abu Jasim replaced a Snickers Bar in
its tray and came over. "Colonel..."

"Colonel!" Joe pulled back. "You were
in the Army!"

Ari gave Abu Jasim
a
thank you very much
look and quickly moved to repair the damage.

"Yes, I was in the Army. At times I was
proud of it. At others, I was ashamed. I saw Uday at work during
the Uprising. I knew a young soldier who killed himself rather than
slaughter his own people. He has stayed in my mind for many years.
And yes, he was a better man than me. But now I want to make
amends. Uday will pay, and you can help. In fact, your help is
critical. And I think there is no risk to either of
you."

Joe took another step back. "You sound
like an insurance salesman."

This drew such a laugh
from Abu Jasim that Joe and even Fatimah broke into smiles. Abu
Jasim had been in North America much longer than Ari and knew the
subtle weaknesses that could produce laughter. And for an instant,
it was as if Saddam Hussein had sprung back to life and
said,
Hey, everyone, it was all a joke!
And look, no one was really hurt
!

"What do we have to do?" Joe asked,
still holding a glimmer in his eye.

"Receive one phone call—from me—and
make two outgoing calls," said Ari hurriedly, amazed but thankful
that it had been Abu Jasim who had broken through to them. "I'm
afraid you will be talking to the police in person,
again."

The glimmer went hard.

"And you will have to lie to
them."

Joe nodded, as though this was a matter
of course. "Well, we talked to them before. Lied to them before.
And no harm came as a result...except Uday came to ask us what it
was all about."

"Uday again!" Abu Jasim threw up his
hands. He was so convinced that Joe and Fatimah exchanged bemused
glances. Had they been plagued by a phantom?

"What will you want us to
say?"