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Daniel greeted him in Arabic and showed him his badge. The watchman frowned, pulled his bulk upright, and reached into his pocket for identification.
"Not necessary," said Daniel. "Just your name, please."
"Hajab, Zia." The watchman avoided eye contact and looked out at a distant point over Daniel's left shoulder. Ru
"Are you from Jerusalem, Mr. Hajab?"
"Ramallah." The watchman drew himself up with regional pride. The hubris of a poor man from a rich city.
"I'd like to ask you some questions."
Hajab shrugged resignedly, continued to look away. "Ask, but I know nothing about it."
"About what?"
"Your police matters." Hajab sucked in his breath and began working on the beads with both hands.
"What time did you come on duty this morning, Mr. Hajab?"
"Six-thirty."
"Is that when you usually begin working?"
"Not usually. Always."
"And which road did you take from Ramallah?"
"None."
"Pardon?"
"No road. I live here."
"Here at the hospital?"
"Yes."
"Is that arrangement part of your job?"
"I maintain a beautiful home in Ramallah," said the watchman defensively. "A large garden, fig trees, and vines. But my skills must be easily available, so the hospital has provided me with a room. Lovely, clean, freshly painted, and well furnished."
"It's a lovely hospital," said Daniel. "Well built."
"Yes." Hajab was solemn.
"When is your custom to awaken?"
"Six."
"And your routine upon rising?"
"Ablutions, the morning prayers, a light breakfast, and straight to my post."
"How long have you lived here at the hospital, Mr. Hajab?"
"Thirteen months."
"And before that?"
"Before that, I lived in Ramallah. As I told you." Exasperated.
"Were you a sentry in Ramallah as well?"
"No." Hajab paused, massaged his beads. His brow had glossed with perspiration and he used one hand to wipe it.
"In Ramallah, I was an automotive engineer."
Daniel wrote "mechanic" next to Hajab's name.
"What caused you to change occupations?"
Hajab's meaty face darkened with anger. "The station that employed me was sold. The new owner gave my job to his son-in-law." He looked at his beads, coughed, and cursed in Arabic under his breath: "Zaiyel te'ban." Like a snake.
He coughed again, licked his lips and gazed longingly at the tamarindy.
"Please," said Daniel, indicating the drink, but the watchman shook his head.
"Go on with your questions," he said.
"Do you understand why I'm asking these questions?"
"An incident," said Hajab with forced disinterest.
Daniel waited for more and, when it didn't come, asked, "Do you have any knowledge of this incident?"
"As I told you, I know nothing of police matters."
"But you knew there had been an incident."
"I saw the barriers and the cars and assumed there was an incident." Hajab smiled mirthlessly. "I thought nothing of it. There are always incidents, always questions."
"Up here at the hospital?"
"Everywhere."
The watchman's tone was hostile and Daniel read the covert message: Life has been nothing but troubles since you Jews took over.
"Are you a sound sleeper, Mr. Hajab?"
"My dreams are peaceful. As sweet as roses."
"Did you dream sweetly last night?"
"And why not?"
"Did you hear or see anything out of the ordinary?"
"Nothing at all."
"No unusual movement? Voices?"
"No."
"How," asked Daniel, "did you come to work at the Amelia Catherine?"
"After I left my engineering position I experienced an illness and was treated at a clinic run by the hospital."
"What kind of illness?"
"Head pains."
"And where was the clinic?"
"In Bir Zeit."
"Go on, please."
"What's to go on about?"
"How you came to work here."
Hajab frowned. "The doctor at the clinic advised me to come here for tests. On the day I arrived I saw a notice on one of the walls, soliciting help. Sentry duty and repairs. I made inquiries and when my engineering talents were discovered by Mr. Baldwin, I was asked to join the staff."
"A bit of good fortune."
Hajab shrugged.
"Al Maktoub" he said, casually. "It was written on my forehead."
"How is your head now?"
"Very well, bless the Prophet."
"Good. Tell me, Mr. Hajab, how many others live here at the hospital?"