Why was a young woman making this enquiry? Did she even have the money? Abdul adopted the condescending tone of a man advising a foolish woman. ‘You should leave that to your husband.’
‘My husband is dead. So is my father. And my brothers are in Sudan.’
That explained it. She was a widow alone. She had a child, he recalled. In normal times she might have married again, especially as she looked so lovely, but on the shrinking shores of Lake Chad no man wanted to take on the burden of a woman with another man’s child.
He admired her courage but, unfortunately, she might be even worse off in the hands of Hakim. She was too vulnerable. Hakim could take all her money and then cheat her somehow. Abdul’s heart went out to her.
But this was none of his business. Don’t be a fool, he told himself. He could not befriend and help an unfortunate widow, even if she was young and beautiful – especially if she was young and beautiful. So Abdul simply pointed to the garage and said: ‘In there.’ He turned his back on the widow and opened his car door.
‘Thank you, and may I ask you another question?’ she said. She was hard to shake off. Without waiting for consent she went on: ‘Do you know how much he charges?’
Abdul did not want to answer, did not want to get involved, but he could not be indifferent to her plight. He sighed and yielded to the impulse to help her just so far as to give her a little useful information. He turned back to her and said: ‘Two thousand American dollars.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, but he got the impression he had merely confirmed something she already knew. She did not look dismayed by the amount, he saw with surprise. So she did have the money.
He added: ‘Half on departure and half in Libya.’
‘Oh.’ She looked thoughtful: she had not known about the instalments.
‘He says that includes food and water and overnight accommodation, but not luxuries. That’s all I know.’
She said: ‘I’m grateful for your kindness.’ She gave that smile again, only this time there was a hint of triumph in the curve of her lips. He realized that despite his efforts she had controlled the entire conversation. Furthermore, she had smoothly extracted the information she needed. She got the better of me, he thought ruefully as she turned away. Well, well.
He got in the car and shut the door.
He started the engine, then watched her walk past the tables under the palm trees, across the filling station, and up to the repair shop.
He wondered whether she would board the bus ten days from today.
He put the car in gear and pulled away.
*
The cigarette seller had clearly not wanted to engage with Kiah, for some reason, and he had acted cold and indifferent, but underneath that she suspected he had a good heart, and in the end he had answered her questions. He had told her where to find Hakim, he had confirmed the price, and he had told her the money was payable in two instalments. She felt more confident now, not being completely ignorant.
She was puzzled by the man. Back at the village he had seemed a typical street vendor, ready to say anything, flatter and flirt and tell lies, just to separate people from their money. But today there had been none of that bonhomie. Obviously it was an act.
She walked to the garage behind the gas station. Three cars were parked outside, presumably being worked on, though one of them seemed beyond repair. There was a pyramid of old bald tyres. A side door of the building stood open. Kiah looked in and saw a small bus with no glass in its windows.
Was this the vehicle that would take people across the desert? Kiah was seized by fear. The journey was long, and people could die. A puncture could be fatal. I must be mad even to think of this, she told herself.
A plump young man in grubby Western clothes slouched into view. She noticed his grigri necklace, made of beads and stones, some of them probably engraved with religious or magical words. It was supposed to protect him from evil and bring suffering to his enemies.
He looked her up and down with a greedy expression. ‘What can I do for this angelic vision?’ he said with a grin.
She knew immediately that she would have to be careful how she dealt with him. Clearly he thought he was irresistible to women, despite his unprepossessing appearance. She spoke politely, hiding the contempt she felt. ‘I’m looking for a gentleman called Hakim. Would that be you, sir?’
‘I am Hakim, yes,’ he said proudly. ‘And all this is mine – the filling station, the repair shop and the bus.’
She pointed at the vehicle. ‘May I ask if this is your desert transport?’