African Heat ebook

Wind chill: 30 degrees centigrade

After another sleepless night spent at Maison les Cas, the morning coffee put me on my feet, but its taste seemed different than the usual one. I couldn’t sleep and had smoked too many cigarettes. I appeared to be unable to sleep well anymore. I looked in the mirror, taking a deep breath, and with trained persuasion I recited before my own reflection: I would do it the way I was supposed to and I would come back. I was being tormented by contradictory emotions: curiosity, fear, commitment, ambition and, at the same time, serenity and joy. Justremember to stick to your plan and know the answer to everyquestion. The hours of training had paid off. Indeed: perfection, performance, organisation, the knowledge and skill that Jean had been teaching to me for years. He had spotted me in the crowd at the Palasis de Papes in Avignon during a theatre festival.

We began to talk and that’s how it started. Then he trained me. At the same time I was studying and I worked on the assigned rescue missions around the world. The perfectly mastered time management was something I’d learnt to live with. It was something acquired. Some said that this attitude was synonymous with a neurosis… to hell with those short-term plans. I put my last meticulously prepared notes in the bag and then put on comfortable shoes. It was in the middle of the night and the house was quiet. I kissed the sleeping family, whispering quietly – see you soon, and I went out. The car was waiting. Having left behind the awareness of what was awaiting me, of all the things and even of the very essence of myself, I closed the door.

It is interesting that we sometimes travel to faraway places in order to find what we have been looking for and to find the answer to questions that we didn’t even know existed.

Claude’s familiar face was grinning behind the window.

“Good morning, Monon! How much time do we have to arrive at Charles De Gaulle Airport? Will you explain to me one day why you keep disappearing like this?”

“Dear Claude – of course I will, provided that you do the same. Only then could I promise I will explain it to you and we might as well talk the whole night away. But now, pedal to the metal – let’s go!”

I loved driving along the empty streets of Paris in the wee small hours and exceeding all sorts of speed limits. Funnily enough, Highwayto hell was on the radio.

“Slow down, Claude! You’re way out of line!”

“It’s for you. I care about you!”

I couldn’t help loving that half-sly, half-mischievous grin of his. He knew me well and seemed to know what it was I was short of. He’d always been like that.

Back at the university we would hang around along the streets of Paris for hours, visiting galleries and attending concerts, envisioning our far-reaching plans and careers. Etudes, scripts, sketches and unfinished canvasses we experienced together. “You will always be running away from someone or something, but you will never escape from yourself,” he had told me once. He lived in an abandoned flat, while I stayed in extremely comfortable residences. It was his own choice. He would disappear for some time, going on that he was just sick and tired of Paris and how he was sick and tired of everything. Then he would just leave. But after some time he would simply come back out of the blue with a solemn announcement. “I’m back”.

His world? At the moment he was an acclaimed director who happened to be successful as well. But still, he was trying to talk me into going back, since he knew how much I used to love to get carried away by the Bohemian lifestyle.

Yes, I did that with pleasure, but the problem was that the most difficult scenarios were those which I had to deal with in my real life. If only he knew… Hard to believe, but in spite of all those years I didn’t really know anything about him at all.

It was a peculiar friendship, but its beauty was in the fact we would go through hell and high water for each other. It seemed not up to us. He was my best friend that I couldn’t be fully honest with. But we could have a good laugh, though. Well, he was also the only driver I could trust.

What was I thinking about at the moment? The truth was that I couldn’t focus at all. Before every action there was a moment of clarity in which my mind was just turned off. We arrived and got out of the car.

“Come back soon.” I miss you already!

“Yes, Claude. I’ll come back.” I had to say those words out loud – it was a ritual of ours. “I’ll come back and seize my day!”

Two, Three, and Five were waiting in the hall. Four was not there yet… Paul had been fooling around as usual and was going to turn up just in the nick of time. The day before he was at Maison les Cas too… Adam was giving out doughnuts. We were going to get some coffee together. The plane was due to leave in an hour, but Paul still hadn’t arrived and hadn’t been returning our phone calls. Would we need to reorganize the flight?

“Lauren, have you got the camera?” I asked anxiously. “You’re working with me, then.”

“We change planes at Thessaloniki and then fly to Tripoli. Massimo is already awaiting you,” announced Adam.

Massimo was our guardian angel and an interpreter at the same time. We were supposed to collect materials and go back.

“Monon, your job is to keep us posted.”

I checked my phone, everybody’s names had been entered, reported at the headquarters and at Jean’s. It seemed to me that Paul suspected I showed certain overzealousness when it came to trips – I had to be more careful in that case. One – Monon, Two – Bastien, Three – Laurent, Four – Paul, Five – Michael. We were getting ready for the departure.

It came as no surprise that I had too much luggage, so I was moving some of it to the suitcases belonging to my numerals. I had to admit I’d never been able to take control over my own luggage since everything seemed to come in handy for me. Paul arrived at the last moment. I was trying to focus, but I was far too furious with him…

“Paul, could you possibly explain why you are always late while I seem to be on time with no exceptions?”

“Monon, oh, I’m sorry!”

“All right, it’s so you, Paul. Now, listen carefully. Now that the Libyan parliament has introduced sharia law, you’ll have to pretend to be my husband. Firstly, your job is to document this story properly. We’re collecting data on the stabilisation progress while the new state is emerging.”

“Sure thing, don’t worry!”

Above all, my task was to confirm Victoria’s whereabouts and to find out what her aims were. She’d recently been seen in Benghazi and that was where I was supposed to find her in the end. From the moment of our arrival at Tripoli on, my name was to be Miriam. I had earplugs on and I was listening to the details about the lost girl. She had joined the General National Congress. Her family had been begging the police to locate her and bring her home. The story seemed trivial and ordinary, but it was to turn out to be quite unique. In Algeria she had met Roomi, got married and having ignored all the warning signs, she had brought him to France. She paid for the ticket and the rest. In turn, he stole everything from her, beat her up, threatened to kill her and finally abandoned her. Shortly after this, she’d disappeared. The police had been looking for her with no success. If her name hadn’t been mentioned by a Czech correspondent in his conversation with Jean, we wouldn’t even know that she was still alive somewhere in Libya. The case would have been closed.

“Who are you, Victoria? I will find you!” I thought to myself.

Paul was cuddling up to me…

“Damn! What are you doing?! Get your hands off my legs!”

“Relax, Monon, don’t get so upset!”

“Listen to me now, you’d better behave according to my new image. Otherwise we won’t have accomplished anything.”

“Hey, I’m taking care of you! And I do worry as well – 24/7.”

“You have no choice, but you needn’t worry about me!”

“But I do, Monon… My wife. Listen to your husband and be nice so I won’t have to whip you myself!”

“I’m so speechless! Let me tell you something, Paul. I know it’s a sort of thing you’d willingly do and let me take it as an exhilarating love confession. I’ll do my best to deserve it, but don’t forget to dowry me with a tonne of gold and a house at least! I’m afraid life could be too short for you to attain those, so anyway… But if I do get those, you can whip me then… Provided you do it the way I like it!”

“You got it, Monon! I’m looking forward to it. You will have it in the marriage contract, but beware! You might be surprised!”

“All right, we will take it from there. Well, it’s such a shame that I’ll never sign the contract with you, so, all in all, no whipping!”

“Just my bad luck – it’s in my karma perhaps!”

“Jokes aside, Paul. No touching policy, especially once we get there, remember about it. Get some rest, we’re stopping over at Thessaloniki in a second.”

I turned around to have a look through the window, I could see the airport. All I could hear at the moment was Jean’s voice: “Monon, contact us as soon as you arrive. If something goes wrong, we’ll just pick you up from there.” But how was he going to do it? The sudden realisation struck me. Time was passing quickly. After the stopover at Thessaloniki, we soon saw the Tripoli sky and landed. We took out our passports and visas as well. Four was standing next to me with his camera. Two, Three, and Five were behind us and I could see Massimo waving to us. He’d returned to his ancestors’ country because he had to. I didn’t trust him. We had to go through numerous customs controls. It was February, but still scorching though. It wasn’t something usual in that season. It didn’t make it easier for me, that was all I knew.

The wind “chill” was thirty degrees centigrade and that peculiar gust of hot wind was making it hard for me to breathe. Massimo took us to the car. Paul was in the front, I sat in the back. This situation was a perfect example of the cultural exoticism that always made my face purple with irritation. I could see the satisfaction it was giving him.

It was like another chapter in his own version of The Lion King that he was going to share while drinking beer with his mates right after he got back. The name of this scene was How to kill anantelope. This was the reason why after I’d got in the car, I made a loud announcement that he oughtn’t to forget about the gold he’d just promised. I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to share that piece of news with my femalefriends. The insolent Gladiator-like types of smile vanished from his face, so finally I was able to focus on the ways of dealing with the annoying temperature.

“Welcome to Tripoli. I’m going to be your guide, do not do anything without asking my permission. How has your journey been? Remember to keep your phones free of any personal photos, notes or contacts – only flowers and butterflies can stay. The real information should be stored in your heads.”

Behind us there was a group from Greece, I could see the same sort of people there. At the hotel there was a group from the Czech Republic and Germany waiting for us too. I sent a quick text message to Adam and another one to Jean: “We’ve arrived. I’m here. Gonna drop a line later.”

The dust and the unbearable heat. Every face seemed to be exactly the same as we were passing the buildings in Tripoli. We arrived at a luxurious hotel in one of the main streets in the very centre of the city where all the official delegations from the country and abroad stayed. Massimo got out first, then Paul and me. The rest had to wait, they were going to drive up in an hour or so. Massimo came over to the reception desk, said hello and said something in Arabic. Paul passed our passports and my automatic reaction was to shake a hand, but I wasn’t allowed to do even that. I was pretending to be Paul’s shadow – it was hilarious. Scene Two: ObedientWife.

I was exhausted when we arrived in the rooms. Two sleeping rooms, good. Both of us could go could our own way. In an hour we had to go to Room 205 downstairs. I took off my clothes to take a shower. Some brown and yellow liquid started to leak out of the tap. I was furious. It was hot and dirty there. At least the middle-sized air-conditioner appeared to be in working condition. Foul air was coming out of it. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if I saw bats. The whole business reminded me of my Belgrade room…

Someone knocked at the door. I put on a shirt and shorts. It was Massimo. He wanted to examine the room carefully. He commanded me to leave and told me to keep quiet. Having finished, he said: “Everything is fine. I know the water is not working. Have a shower in the room nearby, but be quick!”

Then he entered Paul’s bedroom and followed the same procedure. Finally, I had a shower.

In the hall I passed a tall brown haired man. His name was Peter. He dropped a little bag and its contents came out.

“Miriam, at eleven in the restaurant down there. Mission Back kicks off!”

I kept telling Jean that pretending to be running into each other as a communication method seemed to be a bit prehistoric and that it was high time he changed it. But it had to suffice for now…

Jean had sent him there to support me. He had arrived with the Czech group. Before the departure I’d only managed to read his short dossier. It was all I could retrieve. He was a son of a Serbian woman and a Czech man. He was found in 1993 while wandering about the streets of Sarajevo. His father was killed in Sniper Alley trying to pick him up from school. Peter had seen it. His mother had her possessions taken away and had had to escape to the present-day Montenegro to gain the status of a stateless person. She was convinced that her son was dead. Nevertheless, having been saved, as a teenager he was forced to join the special forces. Then he had found his mother and brought her to Prague two years ago. No man in any organisation was more vehement or loyal than him. I felt deep relief after I’d found out that he was to support me.

It felt good to have the warm water running down my body and cooling it down. I had time to come up with methods to collect our materials. Room 205 was tiny and crowded with people. I was the only woman there. I could see Two, Three, Four, and Five, the Germans and the Czech people, including Peter. Massimo welcomed everybody and instructed them at the same time…:

“Tomorrow at ten thirty a.m. we have some Europeans visiting Pottery Stalls of Gharyan. We’re meeting them. It’s already been discussed with the guides.”

“It’s quite hard to believe that there still are some people willing to come here. It’s pure madness and plain irresponsibility. First of all, I don’t believe in any so called touristic groups,” I silently whispered to Andreas.

“Neither do I. It’s an intriguing place, but I feel that we could learn to fly here… I’ve always dreamed about it!”

“Ha-ha! It’s good that one! Andreas, while you are flying up there, be nice and screw that lightbulb in for me!”

“Sure thing, I’d do everything for you!”

“Take it easy, Andreas. If the sun keeps being such a pain in the ass, I’ll jump to it myself. It was such a torment to get here and be here, not to be mention actually doing something.

You’ll have your news and I’ll go down in history as the one who has screwed the lightbulb in. Perhaps I should use this energy to do something good for the environment…”

“Yeah, yeah. By contrast, apart from my reporter’s call which I pursued as a dragon slayer in Bin Laden’s hiding places while being exiled to Bangladesh, I’ve always dreamed about saving whales…!”

I just couldn’t help bursting out laughing.

“I’m sorry, Massimo, I’m really glad to be here and I have at least one reason to feel so. What’s more, what you’re saying is really engaging too, boss. Don’t you worry about a thing, we’ll do everything as we’ve been told by you – according to both your instructions and the Decalogue. But tell us, have you considered getting us some parachutes? In case we get blasted up there by chance due to a momentary eruption of the local volcano (which happens to be the smallest one in the world). We could be in serious trouble without proper gear… Andreas, for instance, wants one that would allow him to locate whales in Alaska!”

“Yes,” said Hector. “Etna and Vesuvius erupted due to the accumulation of… elements. In this case we may be the ones responsible for the eruption… then they will blame it on the fundamentalists…”

It got out of control. With that herd of eccentrics it just couldn’t have been any other way. Everybody shared their vision of the incoming flight together. Even Paul presented a short display of his satirical talent. Houston, we have a problem! Wedo! Massimo was baffled by that display and finally gave up and had to wait through our collective post-flight horseplay. He remarked politely that we should be as conscientious and persistent in our investigation as we were in being nutty at that moment.

“Dear astronauts, we’ve arrived in Pluton,” Massimo whispered. “Let’s finish if we want to make it. Tonight we’re having the official press conference at nine in the reception hall downstairs. Please, try to be punctual, keep to the schedule and just stay extremely careful,” he added, and then gave all of us a detailed timetable with the course of the conference and the order according to which we had to ask questions.

Personally, after 2013, I had some serious doubts concerning every single government official I’d come across.

I had a list of questions “uncomfortable and banned” I wasn’t supposed to ask, which I received before the departure. They were updated every single minute, but it was no use hiding the fact the uncomfortable questions were the only ones which actually were worth asking…

We politely listened to what he had to say and made for our rooms. I had one hour to get some sleep, then I had to do a simple analysis of the situation and the tactical plan for the day. Paul was fooling around the room, checking out the lenses. He took a couple of photographs through the windows.

“The street is crowded… Miriam, do you have it ready? I’m able to take only a few photos.”

“Yes, Paul. Yes, I do have a set of questions, we will be sitting in the first row. I’m the next but one to ask my questions. However, I know that I won’t get all the answers here at the conference, so we’ll have to go outside to obtain them.”

“OK. Ready?”

“Yes. And you?”

“Yeah. Let’s go downstairs”

“Do you feel like having a drink?”

“Where did you get it? Are you nuts?! We’re not on holidays here. Do you wish to put us in prison for this? Prohibition here is as strict as in Saudi Arabia. When will you finally come to your senses, Paul?”

“Did you think I actually brought it here? Come on, Massimo arranged it!” He opened a bottle of pure banana juice.

“All right, give me some. I can’t stand this pompous atmosphere. And you have the ice too! Paul, you’re always prepared. Cheers! For the right answers!” We drank and went downstairs. Everybody was carefully inspected… Obviously, I was searched by the only woman there. She asked me if I had any metal on me. “No, I don’t.” She made sure anyway. In front of the hotel there were army and police.

“Paul, look there…”

“I can see that and I know all that I need to know: we have to get what we came here for and get out of here!”

Two and Five are keeping their eyes on us and reassuring us that everything is fine and we can go inside.

The room was crowded and filled with familiar faces, a lot of undercovers too. Paul looked around nervously, someone discreetly pointed out to us our seats. The people from the groups were ready to work. Something was going on in the corridor – the general had arrived. His silhouette emerged. The press spokesman welcomed us and promised an open discussion. After the first round it was our turn. Paul pointed the camera at the general.

“True Today”. – “ General, what steps have been taken after establishing new authorities? How do you cope with the terrorist threat and control the influx and external infiltration of new members into organized crime groups?”

The last question wasn’t on my list. The general frowned and the corners of his lips moved a little upwards.

“I can assure you and the public opinion that we are doing our best to guarantee your stability and security. We are putting a lot of pressure on potentially dangerous individuals to seize them and nip their actions in the bud. We are also trying hard to solve the issue of the armed groups.”

“What do you mean?”

“It means that we are using new information systems and all other available methods of fighting terrorism. I have a network of well-trained agents. The priority is, however, to stabilise the situation in the country, including attempts to control extremists from the islamist Maghreb.”

“How would you describe the cooperation with the Ministry of Internal Affairs?”

I could see Paul squinting his eyes and the sweat coming down his forehead. I was starting to feel as if I was breathing under water myself – what a fucking aquarium! I just had to ask that question…

“Madam, the Ministry of Defence and Internal Affairs is creating new formations in order to provide order and stability in the state. At the moment we have control over competing tribes, ethnic groups and self-proclaimed units of the armed groups. Our aim is to eliminate all terrorist groups. But it’s not the same as to say that we are heading for civil war. This is an encouraging call to cooperate in this struggle. We are full of hope and waiting for the response from other countries. We’ve also received some optimistic signals from the partner states.”

“Can you confirm that it was a mistake to leave the ex-militia units armed?”

“These units have been transformed into police forces over which we are currently trying to gain control.”

I took a deep breath to ask another question as it seemed logical to delve into the issues related to logic in the methodology of the actions that had been undertaken. What he really wanted to say was that they had completely got out of control, displacing the army and posing a serious threat for defence forces in their attempt to create sustainable peace….

Two dropped his pen. It was to be my last question. The press spokesman asked another correspondent.

I sent a sensitive smile, nodding to show my gratitude, but inside I was going bonkers. The questions revolved around the fights with the Islamic fundamentalists. I didn’t envy them since they had such a hard task to accomplish. I guess that the formula was more appealing to the government officials here.

The atmosphere in the conference hall was starting to be too thick. I saw Peter out of the corner of my eye. I knew that in thirty minutes we were starting the mission.

I felt way too tired to be worried – but my heart was pounding like a drum. We went out and were replaced by a local television crew. Damn it! He was going to make an official statement. I couldn’t miss that! I tried to turn back and stay there, but Two and Five had successfully blocked the entrance. Paul started to preach in the lift:

“You’re out of your mind, Miriam! So you fancy asking tough questions, do you? We’re simply supposed to report the conference, make that interview in the field tomorrow, one day in Benghazi and we’re going back! We have to send them what we’ve had so far. I almost dropped my camera when you started probing into the formation and the cooperation between the ministries.”

“Stop shouting at me, Paul! I know what I’m doing! – Can’t you see that something is not all right here? Have you seen the army and police forces at the hotel and in front of it?”

The door of the lift opened, it was quiet, so we headed for the room.

“Paul, how predictable and superficial of you!!!”

“What did you expect to hear? That it’s a hiding place for all the fundamentalist groups? Or that none of the pretenders to the throne – present or future – has no control over the situation!?”

“Yeah, Paul. They control everything to such a degree it seems to be some sort of collective hallucination, right? Are you under this spell as well? This sort of male beating about the bush is not unheard of. Men like you always have to compete. You don’t analyse the situation and that’s why you focus on rivalry more than the problem itself…”

“Are you trying to criticise me, or the general? Or perhaps all the men in the world? Would you like World War III here? Damn it! You don’t really care, do you? This place is another Afghanistan. People are killed and kidnapped here every single day. Attacks and executions are performed too. After bringing down the government, the power is held, in fact, by self-proclaimed paramilitary groups.”

“Yes, Paul. Currently a new army is being formed as we speak. Attempts are being made to disarm those brigades. The television appearance which is taking place at the moment, if I’m not misguided by my intuition, means imminent changes and riots, possibly. How can that be a coincidence? Why is the television statement on the day of the conference? You know what I think? This revolution is eating itself and metastasising like a cancer. Just look what is happening around here…!”

“Let’s do what we have to do and get out of here – with the speed of light!”

“Yes, Paul. All I need is a genuine story and the truth is that guns have replaced words here… And now you ought to tell me these are the ways of the world since time immemorial and it’s not going to change? Those who have guns are in power? Is that supposed to be the Arabic version of democracy? That there is no other way? Because this is who reigns here… Even the greatest governments, political systems, states, kingdoms, and armies were brought down by ordinary mortals. Have you any idea, why? Because those great leaders were fooled by their own pride and over-confidence, which in turn led to them making tactical mistakes and forgetting about the crucial role of secret services and Trojan horses.”

“Miriam, we need to give an objective account without playing the philosopher here. It’s not our task, so don’t ask questions the answers to which you don’t want to hear!”

I calmed down a little. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll just add a couple of lines. Sent – add the photos. I’ll be finished and down in the restaurant in a quarter, Paul.”

“Be quick, OK? Do you want something to drink?”

“No, because I don’t want to be sent to jail. It’s too risky, they could scent it out. Bye, see you in a bit.”

Wind chill: 39 degrees centigrade

The restaurant was closed, of course. The hall was crowded. Peter wasn’t here yet. The television crew was just coming out of the conference room.

“Hi, Miriam!” Andreas is waving to me. “Have you seen that? Live on the local station? He’s just finished his speech… he’s announced the suspension of the General National Congress and called into being themovement of a new road map to save the country. I’m wondering what the prime minister is going to say… It’s going to be interesting, that’s for sure. Miriam, I’m finishing my work and getting out of here. You should do the same thing if you ask me… remember Egypt?”

“Andreas, I can’t do it, not now… Go home and keep your fingers crossed for me. It’s been great to see you again. See you!”

My mouth went dry, I needed to drink. He turned around and disappeared. I tried hard to pin down Peter in this mob. There was a shop across the street, I wanted to go there and get a bottle of water. I had five minutes.

I had to worm my way through the cordons of armed police and soldiers. Showing my permit, I said that I was going to the shop and immediately I went out into the street. I literally ran inside, took out some dinars from my pocket and with my broken Arabic I asked for a bottle of water. My skirt and jacket were already dirty – I had to go back to the room.

Water! I opened it immediately and had some quick gulps. All I could see was the police cordon which was blocking the way into the hotel and the people outside.

I was trying to get out, but I felt somebody pull me with their hands on my back. Then, cold metal against my head. I tried to turn round, but I couldn’t as my arm had been blocked. Somebody whispered to me, “Don’t move!”

I could feel neither my legs nor my arms. I stopped breathing. Was this meant to be some stupid joke? Most likely not since the gun was still against my head. Unable to think and speak, I was standing still.

“Ha-ha, you are afraid of me? You feel this…”

“No, I’m not afraid. Think about it, see the army there? What now? What do you want me to do?”

“You can’t do anything…”

I could hear him at the back of my head. In the mirror on the wall I could see a man. I could recognize him – the same man who had been standing in the hotel while we were checking in.

“And your clothes. You like to dress, you whore!”

Was this really happening? I took a deep breath and whispered:

“I am sorry, I will not do it again. I understand my mistake… Let me go… Otherwise, I won’t have a chance to mend my ways” I could feel the barrel moving away from me.

“Go back where you came from!” He let me go and ran away.

In the distance I could see Peter and a police officer rushing towards me. They split up. I had always wondered as to the difference between fear and terror – they couldn’t be the same thing. Now I knew. Fear, which is a positive incentive, forces you to react and actually do something. Terror, however, paralyses the body. My procedural memory might not have worked.

I was so effectively startled and blocked that I couldn’t move – the verbal persuasion was the only mechanism I could use and at that point I was a mere automaton controlled by fear…

Peter grabbed my arm and we ran towards the hotel. I couldn’t make out his words. The whole business took only several seconds and I felt as if I’d been still for ages, like in some kind of a dark tunnel with no way out of it. With tears in my eyes, my legs went from under me. All I could hear was: “Miriam, Miriam! Are you all right?” I couldn’t remember anything. I woke up in the hotel… only there did the fear and terror I’d felt before stopp getting on with each other so well… Peter was talking to me all this time and at last I was able to make out his words:

“Tell me Miriam, why did you have to go out? Your back is slightly hurt. He cut your jacket and wounded you. Nothing major, luckily. I’ve dressed it and called the doctor.”

“I didn’t feel that… don’t talk to me for a moment, please, I’ll get over the shock in a moment. And where have you been?”

“I went to Paul and said that you were going to have a cup of coffee with me.”

“Excuse me, what for? Since when have you talked to Paul?”

“I wanted to stop him from going after you.”

“So I’m not able to do that myself?”

“The general has announced the suspension of the National Congress. We’d better hurry up. I’m not sure if we can get to Benghazi. Viki might disappear again.”

He was interrupted as Laurent brought the doctor. It was a woman. It was him who had noticed the entire situation and reacted quickly. Peter was in the hall while I was standing across the street.

“I’ll examine you. Follow my instructions. Are you able to walk on your own?”

“I’ll give her a hand.” Peter took me in his arms and carried me to the room.

“Everything seems fine, no seams. Just have a little rest and please don’t go out without any protection”

“Sure thing, thanks a lot.”

“Peter, how could this have happened with the army and the police in the streets? It hurts like hell. I still can’t speak.”

“Miriam, the revolutionists haven’t given up having weapons, everybody has one here. They claim the situation is still dangerous. Here they pose a threat to each other. It reminds me of the Balkans – when a son is born, he is given a gun under his pillow as a gift. It’s become an element of the culture. Well, the world is not short of idiots, is it? They don’t respect their own lives, they just don’t care about the,… It’s their daily bread, you can’t exist without guns…”

“Don’t bullshit me about the Balkans now! Let me say that once again: How could this have happened right under the general’s nose? Never mind, take me to my room, I have to fill in the report and send it to the editor’s office. And I perhaps should calm down Paul, but I’m still furious. What a country! And how reckless of me…”

“Take some anaesthetic now and focus: tomorrow at five a.m. Officially, Viki is not a member of the Congress, but she is cooperating with the armed group. She is of huge importance to us. This photo was taken a year ago. Tomorrow at point zero you’re going to meet a person who has left the Congress and is going to tell us where to look for her. However, Miriam, I’m a bit afraid that you’ve been spotted. You’re sticking out like a sore thumb, so they’ll be following us…”

“What am I to do? Which way to run? Chill out, don’t panic, I’ll deal with it. At present they’re way too busy with the television statement and with what’s in the air to pay attention to such rubbish. We have to go the room. Otherwise, Paul will call the embassy and put France on its feet.”