CAIRO: The Americans are trying to bomb me. Out of courtesy, they warned me first. “Look, we’ve known each other for years, and I really feel bad about it, but the decision comes from higher up. You know too much, you sell weapons to the wrong people, and with your constant peace plans, you’ve become part of the problem, not the solution, Dan was calling from Lebanon. I could tell from the sound of explosions in the background.
“Gee, thanks Dan. You’re such a good friend. Did you receive my smart bombs? Is there anything else I can do for you before I go underground or die?
“Actually there is one little thing. My superiors keep complaining that you vary your schedule too much and tend to hide among the civilian population. To get you, we’ll probably have to hit 25 major sites in Cairo simultaneously, including two five-star hotels, six falafel joints in crowded markets, two night clubs filled to the brim every night, as well as the headquarters of the Arab League and the Ministry of Interior. It’s a bit too drastic and we don’t want to inflame public opinion right now. So I am thinking perhaps you can give us exact intelligence on your movements, or at least stop hopping in and out of taxis. You still have the limousine, don’t you? Can’t you use it more often? We already rigged it with a tracking device. We can wait until you reach a less populated area, then bomb you at, say a traffic light, killing only 100 civilians or so. My superiors agree that would be acceptable collateral damage.
“I know, I know. I shouldn’t be living in Cairo to start with. The crowds and the heat. You know what Dan? I think I’ll die from the heat alone if you give me just a day or two. Are you really in a hurry?
“Come on. It’s not about you dying. It’s not personal at all. We just want to claim this one moral victory. Think of the headlines: the elimination of the world’s top arms dealer, the liquidation of the man who had meat balls with Nasrallah minutes before the recent outbreak of hostilities.
You flatter me.
“No, I’m serious. The media will lap it up. Your death by heat or car fume poisoning wouldn’t do. We have to nail your ass with a smart bomb. The PsyOps guys cannot wait to show the world the grainy black and white image of your motorcade being blasted to smithereens. The image, they say, will restore confidence and stability across a troubled region. They’ve been asking me if you have a statue for the mobs to tear apart in a public square, Saddam style. When I said that the only statue you have is a five-inch piece of avant-garde pottery, they were crest-fallen at first. But now they say that with 3D imaging they can simulate a scene featuring your statue as a 40-foot high structure being taken apart in downtown Cairo. The guys in graphics say they’ll need to examine the statue first. Do you want to sell it? I know you get sentimental about your possessions, but for a million pounds, it’s really not a bad deal. Please think about it.
“Tell you what Dan. I am really not into collateral damage these days. My life isn’t worth it man. I don’t want to make civilians suffer for my sins. Look, I was planning a trip to Siwa in a couple of months. If you can wait that long, you’ll be able to catch me during the safari, blow me to pieces along with a couple of camels and call it a day.
“Sounds like a good plan. You must be the kindest person I ever met in my life. Can you take your cell phone with you and make frequent calls, so we can pinpoint your location?
“Of course I can take the cell phone. But there’s a problem. The safari I was planning to take goes all the way to the Sudanese-Libyan borders, near Al-Gilf Al-Kabir. As far as I know, the reception is really bad around that area. And I may accidentally run out of battery power. So why don’t you just keep a good satellite watch on the area. And when you see Harba, my one-eyed camel with the blue and red tassels tied in the shade near two Bedouins playing the tambourine, just bomb the hell out of the wool tent nearby. I am usually resting inside, but sometimes I go swimming in the hot spring nearby before dinner. Sometimes I go afterwards. You know how it is when you’re in the desert. Very hard to keep a tight schedule. So that’s the best I can offer you right now.
But you know what? If you don’t get me this time, chances are you’ll destroy my dinner, my plastic sandals, and my sun lotion. Call it the dismantling of my infrastructure and come back next year for more. That’ll teach me a lesson. Don’t you think?
