Lion of Babylon Read Free Page B

addressed him as he would another religious leader. Throughout the room, eyes went round.
    â€œSayyid,” Jaffar repeated, shaking Sameh’s hand. “A matter of great import has arisen.”
    â€œHow might I be of service to the honored teacher?”
    Jaffar gestured toward the door. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to accompany me?”
    Sameh was too skilled a negotiator to let such an opportunity slip by. He grimaced with regret and raised his voice. “Unfortunately, honored sir, I also have a matter that cannot wait. A child has been kidnapped. The information I seek could be of crucial importance. Both for the child and his family.”
    Jaffar’s eyes glimmered with understanding. He turned to the others and said, “Good sirs, I am in great need of this man’s services. Would you grant me a Ramadan boon and allow him the first place in line?”
    From that point, the inquiry took on a dreamlike ease. Sameh approached the counter, where eight file clerks now waited to serve him with an eagerness bordering on panic.
    Sameh made his request and presented them with a photocopied page of the gardener’s passport. The eight clerks all sprang into action. The other lawyers gaped as two clerks actually ran for files stacked in another room. In all his years, Sameh had never before seen a clerk run. He turned to the cleric. “Might I ask you to return with me next week?”
    Through the laughter, Jaffar replied, “Unfortunately, I am expected to host a small dinner.”
    This was good for more laughter. The twenty-eighth day of Ramadan was marked by Eid ul-Fitr , the year’s most important feast.
    The room went silent once more as the chief clerk returned. His voice was edged with genuine regret as he said, “Your gardener was indeed a felon released by Saddam.”
    â€œHis crime?”
    â€œKidnapping. Extortion.” The clerk looked pained. “Murder.”
    Sameh might have felt a real sense of triumph had it not been for the anguish this news would cause the family. “Might I have a copy of his records? And his fingerprints?”
    Such appeals normally meant yet another visit to the chief clerk. If the clerk deigned to grant him another tethkara from his coveted permit book, Sameh would normally have to wait a month and return three or four more times. Today, however, the copies were produced almost before the requests were formed.
    Sameh accepted the file, stowed it in his battered briefcase, and said to the room at large, “I am breathless with gratitude.”
    â€œSayyid, if you please.” Jaffar stood in the doorway. “This matter is both urgent and pertains to those with whom I have no connection.”
    A murmur passed through the room as Sameh departed. El Americani , the gathering said. The Americans. Sameh was known for having been a go-between in the past. And what was more important, he had survived.

Chapter Three
    A s the limo pulled away from his home, Marc asked, “What about my job?”
    â€œYour job,” Walton scoffed. “My former chief aide, reduced to the role of bookkeeper.”
    â€œI am a forensic accountant. I’m good at it.”
    â€œYou’re dying. Another year of this and they could measure you for your last suit. You’re an operative. The best. It’s the work you were born to do.”
    â€œWe’re not talking about what I want to talk about,” Marc replied.
    â€œAt my request, a White House official was in touch with your company’s director. You have been hired as a consultant to the federal government. For the duration. Your boss is thrilled. This is a foot in the door for his company.” Walton loaded his next words with scorn. “You should receive a hefty bonus.”
    â€œPretty good,” Marc conceded, “for a supposedly retired guy.”
    Walton’s voice turned hoarse with the delicious flavor of conspiracy. “The current