it, of course, claiming he was simply selling more paintings than anyone else. He had a mysterious buyer in the Gulf. But everyone knew it would take an awful lot of canvas to pay for his new lifestyle. Now that he was friends with the regime he spent his time with entrepreneurs, army men, unsavoury types who met in shabby hotels and drank only when they thought no one was looking, prayed when they thought they were.
‘I had doubts, just like you, but things have changed. Now there are opportunities. Great opportunities. The boom has just begun. There is enough for everybody now that petroleum is finally flowing from the wells. The Chinese are building roads, pipelines, refineries. And they are not the only ones. Malaysians, Indians, Turks. We are on our way to becoming a developed nation.’
‘A few people making themselves obscenely rich doesn’t make a developed nation.’
Damazeen reached for his glass and twirled the wine around it. ‘You should get over yourself, you know? And stop poisoning the boy’s mind with all your paranoia. He’s talented.’
The sound of Bunny’s laughter echoed across the room. The cook had provided her with another appreciative audience. A handsome man in a tall white hat, he seemed to amuse her, flirting openly, wielding a carving knife in the air like a mad dervish.
‘Why did you turn against me? I never understood. We were friends once.’
‘That was a long time ago. Things change.’
‘You don’t trust me. I get it. But you can’t live here in isolation for ever, like some exiled king awaiting his glorious return home. It’s over. The world has moved on. The sooner you accept that, the better for you, believe me.’
‘Why are you really here?’
‘I told you,’ said Damazeen, refilling his glass. ‘I’m here to support Talal.’
‘That sounds very generous.’
‘I like to help people,’ Damazeen said. His eyes were tinged with red from the wine. ‘What if I said I could help you?’
‘I’d tell you to go and peddle your stories elsewhere.’
‘You haven’t even heard what I am offering.’
‘I don’t need to hear. And stay away from the boy.’
‘What if I told you I can give you your life back?’
But Makana had heard enough. As he pushed back the chair to get to his feet, Damazeen tried to block his way, putting a hand on his arm to restrain him, which was a mistake. Hassan Saleh, the man who taught Makana self-defence in the police force, had been trained in East Germany. Descended from a long line of wrestlers in the Nuba Mountains, Hassan was short and squat and as hard to budge as a well-oiled boulder. For some reason they had become friends and Makana had been one of his best pupils. One of the first things he taught Makana was to act on instinct. When an opportunity is set before you, don’t think, just act. Makana acted. He grasped hold of Damazeen’s hand and twisted it in a clockwise direction, pressing outwards. It didn’t take much force. Damazeen was off balance to begin with and the wine probably didn’t help. He lurched back into the next table, tipped over a chair before tumbling to the ground. The bald waiter raised his eyes to the heavens. All that fuss about wine and see how it ends. Still, it pained Makana to see the disappointment on Talal’s face. He patted him on the shoulder and smiled at Bunny, who twirled a ribbon around her finger.
Chapter Ten
Makana was left standing on the pavement in front of the Binbashi feeling annoyed with himself as much as anything else. He shouldn’t have used violence. It was an unnecessary and vulgar display. He regretted having Talal witness it, but he knew why. Damazeen had triggered an old and deeply buried anger in him. Talal’s father, Abdel Aziz, was arrested on returning from a trip to Cairo and charged with conspiring against the government. Makana had always suspected that the person who had tipped off the intelligence services about Abdel Aziz having met with members of the opposition in exile was none other than Damazeen himself.
A taxi was parked up under a large banyan tree and he climbed in without further hesitation and asked the driver to take him downtown. At that hour the traffic was light and in a little more than fifteen minutes he was in Aswani’s. The garish white light from the flyspecked neon tubes that buzzed angrily on the walls was a welcome relief after contemplating dinner in a place