Beyond him I saw the same white car that had taken Ustath Rashid. This time it was parked in front of our house. 'That's the same car…' I heard one of the boys say from behind. I wondered what Kareem was thinking. I expected him to rush beside me, take hold of my arm and say, 'Now we are one, brother.' Adnan walked past the white car, looking only at the ground, pushed the garden gate to his house open and let it swing shut behind him. I could see only one head in the car. I looked back. All the boys were gone except for Kareem. He stood still, looking at me. I wanted to run to him, but turned instead towards the car and began walking forward. I tried to think of Scheherazade, her bravery, but no matter how hard I tried I kept hearing Mama's words: 'You should find yourself another model. Scheherazade accepted slavery over death.' I thought of Sinbad, but I never liked him because he was a thief. I thought of the slaves clapping in unison, but they had each other, one person clapping wouldn't do; besides, hadn't they also accepted slavery over death? I was close now to the car. The man spotted me in his side mirror. When I reached his window and saw his face I froze. I remembered him. He was the one with the old woman's voice who had stood in the doorway of the sitting room, blocking the way, looking down at me sitting on the floor beside the tray of food, shaking my head and waving my hand close to my chest as if to say, 'It's not me, I swear, it's not me,' the one who had slapped Ustath Rashid, the one who had followed Mama and me from Martyrs' Square. His skin was etched with small holes, like tiny chisel marks. His eyes were narrow and the white in them dull. His lips were dark, as if they were painted with blue dye. He could have been eating mulberries or drinking blood. Tight curls formed a helmet on his head. He smiled at me.

'Suleiman,' he said lazily, as if my name was chewing gum in his mouth. 'We meet at last.'

I couldn't stop looking into his eyes, a strange force within them seemed to be pulling me. I thought of the flames of Hell Eternal licking the sides of the Bridge to Paradise, how they will seem like a familiar voice to the unfaithful who will turn towards them the way you can't help but turn when you hear your name called, because, as Sheikh Mustafa said, 'Fear enters the hearts of only those who have a cause to fear.' 'Who are you?' I asked.

He placed his palm against his chest and said, 'My name is Sharief. I am a friend of your father.' I knew he was lying. 'You don't remember me?'

'You searched our house.'

'Yes. I needed to ask him an important question.' He faced forward and smiled to himself. He almost looked embarrassed. 'I suppose I was in a bit of a hurry.'

'So you weren't going to take him away like you did Ustath Rashid?'

'Ustath who?'

I pointed at Kareem's house. 'I saw you.'

'Oh,' he said as if it was something he had just remembered, then laughed. 'No, no, no. Your father is not like that. He's a good friend of mine. We have known each other for years, like brothers really. In fact, it was he who sent me to see you. I had heard so much about you, Slooma.'

I knew he was lying, but how did he know my nickname? I remembered the way he had pushed Mama's medicine bottle against her stomach. He knew our secret, I thought, knew it and chose to keep quiet. 'Is Ustath Rashid a traitor?' I asked.

'Yes,' he said without hesitation.

'And Baba, is he…'

'That's why I am here. I am trying to defend him, but I need evidence.' The word 'evidence,' so full of needles.

'Is that what you wanted to search for?'

'Exactly.'

Unlike Mama and Moosa, he answered my questions. He didn't treat me like a child.

'Where's Baba?'

'I can't tell you,' he said, digging in his pocket. 'He asked me to give you this.' He handed me one of Baba's English fiery mints. I took a step towards him. Then, on the seat beside him, black and fat, I saw a gun. I stepped back.

'Come, come,' Sharief said calmly in his thin, coarse voice. And I did. I walked to him. He handed me the gun, handle first, and said, 'Here, touch it.' As I extended my hand, he said, 'Men are never afraid. And you are a man, aren't you?' The gun metal felt as cold as a dead fish. He placed it on the seat beside him and said, 'Here, take the candy, it's from Baba.' My head was practically inside the car now, and the smell of old socks and cigarettes made me dizzy. The weight of the stench struck me as a sign of manhood, and so there was some excitement in being so close to it. Perhaps to be a man was to be heavy, I thought. The V of his safari jacket revealed the beginning of his chest. His skin was brown-red from the sun, glazed in sweat. Anyone seeing us like this would have thought us friends. I took the mint. Kareem was gone. Did he leave in disgust when he saw how close I and the man who had taken his father were becoming, I wondered.

'You know, it is very bad what your mother is drinking,' Sharief said, looking at me with half a smile, his eyes almost regretful. 'She could go to jail.'

He could see from my expression that I understood. I wanted to beg him not to tell.

'Her secret is safe with me.'

I was so grateful I could have kissed his hand.

'But you, Suleiman, will have to help me.'

'Anything, anything.'

He looked ahead, smiling. 'I require a list of Baba's friends, as many names as possible, to vouch for him.'

My mind raced to remember. 'Can't I vouch for him?'

He laughed. 'No.'

'Why?'

For a moment I thought he was annoyed, then he smiled again. 'We need men, adults,' he said and the smile vanished. 'Come on, Slooma, you must know at least one name.'

I nodded in the way people do when they are busy searching their memory but wish to offer you a silent assurance that they are close to arresting whatever it is that was now clinging to the tip of their tongue. At that moment if a name was unlucky enough to be remembered it would have been spoken, given up. I thought of the book below my mattress. '1 can't remember any names,' I said.

'What do you mean, you can't remember? Try.' He was irritated. His breath was hot and smelled of rust.

My body trembled. I was surprised at how close to tears I was. 'I have a book,' I heard myself say. 'I saved it from the fire.'

Then I heard my name being yelled. It was Mama. I saw her pale face inside the shade of our house, standing in the hallway. I ran to her. As soon as I was inside she slammed the door shut. She went down on her knees and gripped my arms hard. 'What were you doing with that man? I saw you, don't lie.' She tightened her grip. I never saw her so frightened. 'What has he been telling you? Is this the first time?' I pushed her and ran. The moment I pushed her I heard her give a gasp, the sound of it made me see a small red balloon ebb in the sea's deep blue. When I entered my room I recalled it several times, and every time it made my heart ache. I wished she would come after me. I wanted to apologize. I wanted to show her what the man had given me, the English fiery mint that Baba bought on his travels; it had to be his because it couldn't be found in our country.