Lion of Babylon Read Free

murabiah ’s grasp and flew out the door. By the time she was able to follow him outside, he was already a tragic statistic.”
    Those waiting their turn played the choir, shaking their heads and bemoaning Baghdad’s lawless state. Kidnapping had become a favorite tool of criminals. The banks and businesses all employed armed guards.
    Despite himself, Omar was ensnared by the tragic drama. “How old is the boy?”
    â€œFour,” Sameh replied. “Today is his birthday.”
    â€œThis is the truth? The kidnappers stole him away from his celebration?”
    â€œYou know me,” Sameh replied. “I do not lie.”
    â€œIt is true,” several murmured. “Sameh is the most honest man in Baghdad.”
    â€œBut I am just a clerk,” Omar said, palms raised. “What can I do?”
    â€œThe family’s gardener vanished the same day as the child,” Sameh said.
    The choir went silent.
    Sameh said, “The murabiah is the mother’s aunt; she has arthritis and is overweight. Even so, she claims it took her less than three minutes to follow the boy outside. Perhaps a carload of criminals happened to pass at this same moment. But neighbors do not recall seeing a car, and the street in front of their home is a quiet one. I wonder if perhaps the gardener had been waiting for just such an opportunity.”
    The clerk said, “You want to know if the gardener has a record.”
    â€œIt is possible, no? One of Saddam’s parting gifts to Baghdad.”
    This drew a knowing murmur from the audience. In the closing days before the war, Saddam had released all violent criminals from prison. Why, no one knew. Even the members of his cabinet had been baffled by the action.
    Sameh went on, “Perhaps the man decided to use the recent chaos as an opportunity to improve his economic position.”
    Omar pursed his lips. “I suppose it is possible. But to discover this would be most difficult. So many of our archives from the Saddam era have been either lost or destroyed.”
    Sameh knew the man was asking for a bribe. But Sameh was one of a growing number of people who felt corruption should die with the old regime. He said, “You wish they had all been destroyed. But they were not. So could you request a search of those we still have? Please, brother. For the sake of a lost and frightened child.”
    Omar obviously realized that argument would do him no good. Sameh el-Jacobi was known far and wide as a man who stubbornly refused to offer a sweetener.
    The clerk sighed noisily, wrote hastily, and tore the coveted slip from his pad. He handed it over without meeting Sameh’s gaze. “For the child.”
    â€œI and the child’s parents offer our deepest thanks.”
    Sameh bowed to Omar. He shook hands with the other petitioners, accepting their best wishes in finding the child. He walked down the long hall to the central file office. Behind the counter, file clerks clustered about the few functioning computers and avoided even glancing toward anyone seeking help.
    The office’s lobby area was filled with people long used to waiting on bureaucracy. They formed a sort of club, bound together by grim humor. People slipped out for a smoke, supposedly forbidden during Ramadan, and returned. There was humor about that. Even after twenty-three days of daylight fasting, still the banter continued. Sameh was greeted as a member in good standing. A space was made for him on one of the hard wooden benches lining the walls. Sameh asked how long the wait was. Even this was cause for laughter. Days, a lawyer replied. Weeks, another responded. The old man seated next to Sameh said he had been there since the previous Ramadan.
    But this day, Sameh was fated not to wait at all.
    â€”——
    A few moments after Sameh settled himself, two men stepped into the room. Instantly the lobby’s atmosphere tensed. Like all bodyguards to Baghdad’s