Whitefly
Page 13
“Beautiful,” said Laafrit. “But this chemical you talked about, where was it made?”
“I don’t know,” said Luis. “What I know is that Carlos has a daughter, Maria, who’s married to a Spanish Jew, and they both now live in Israel. Her husband’s a big tomato farmer, too. He owns an international company that exports tomato seedlings—”
“Carlos’s company,” said Laafrit, cutting him off, “is the one that acted as intermediary last year for a Moroccan farmer who imported Israeli seedlings called Daniella. These carried TYLCV, a virus spread by a tiny whitefly called Bemisia tabaci.”
Luis let out a laugh as if he just heard a joke.
“Where’d you get that?”
“At the time,” Laafrit went on, ignoring Luis’s question, “Moroccan newspapers put all the blame on Israel and Spain without any proof. They thought Moroccan tomatoes were being sabotaged because Morocco’s the largest competitor for your tomatoes and Israel’s. The Moroccan press inflated the idea of a plot, which you know readers love, to boost their sales. But Israel suffered from the whitefly too, and they took serious precautions against exporting these seedlings. I’m thinking that the competitors were inspired by this to make the chemical.”
Laafrit leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment.
“I think I’ve got some vials of the stuff,” he said.
Luis’s eyes widened. He leaned his elbow on the table and put his hand on his cheek, looking intently at Laafrit.
Laafrit told him the details of his trip south to Beni Mellal and how he had discovered the vials and the map of Doukkala. He then told Luis about going to Oualidia and questioning the agricultural engineer. When he said he left the vials with the engineer to run tests on them, Luis slapped himself on the cheek a number of times.
“You crafty devil, Laafrit!” he said enthusiastically. “If your engineer proves those vials really contain the chemical used to destroy the tomatoes, we’ll have the material evidence to convict Carlos and his partners. Once we’ve got that, we’ll unleash the scandal and newspapers around the world will put it on their front pages! It’s such a stroke of good luck. Call your engineer right now and tell him to speed things up!”
Luis suddenly paused.
“Did you at least keep one of the vials?” he asked.
“Take it easy,” said Laafrit. “A cop in Beni Mellal thought they probably just had a folk version of Viagra.”
Luis let out a ringing laugh as Laafrit took out his cell phone and notebook. He looked for the engineer’s phone number and dialed it. An automated message said the phone was out of network coverage. Laafrit put his cell down on the table between them.
“His phone’s off,” said Laafrit, with a nervous hint in his voice.
After such an excited conversation, a state of apprehensive silence hit the two as each was immersed in his thoughts.
“Strange,” said Laafrit, with a hint of disbelief. “Imagine if these people had managed to destroy all of Morocco’s tomatoes and others wiped out all the tomatoes in Spain and Israel. What would happen?”
“What would happen,” said Luis, with the same sense of distress, “is that tomatoes would just disappear from the markets. At that point, these crooks wouldn’t even find what they were competing for.”
“There’d at least be oranges,” said Laafrit sarcastically.
“They’d wipe those out too,” said Luis, “in the name of competition, isolating markets, and preserving prices.”
“And mad cow disease?” asked Laafrit with a shudder. “Maybe they’re lying when they say it comes from cow fodder. Why couldn’t there be some criminal act behind that too? Competition justifies everything.”
“We’re in the age of globalization and the new world order,” said Luis, smiling in agreement and tapping his fingers on the table. “The globe isn’t under the control of states or governments any more. Multinational companies rule the world now and soon they’ll give way to lobbies and even criminal syndicates. Please, please, call your engineer friend.”
Laafrit called again and got the same automated message. The phone was out of coverage.
“He’s probably just stuck in the lab,” said Luis.
“He said he’d call as soon as learns something,” said Laafrit. “Look, you’re my guest. What do you say we go back to my house?”
“Are you crazy?” Luis protested. “I didn’t come all the way here just to see you, my friend. I came for Fifi’s show!”
Laafrit let out a long laugh.
*
They ate dinner at the Pyramids, which gave Laafrit the chance to tell Nadia her ex-husband was now under investigation for failure to pay child support. After midnight, Laafrit and Luis went to Club East and sat at a table right in front of the dance floor. The place was dark and packed to the gills with groups of people at tables with bottles and glasses. As usual, Laafrit took a close look around and waited a while before taking his first sip. He seemed depressed and had a despondent look in his eyes.
Laafrit still couldn’t stop thinking about the case. He realized how hard it would be to write the report for his bosses since the whole case still lacked corroborating evidence. Despite all his effort and help, Luis hadn’t followed official procedure in his investigation. He hadn’t brought any proof. The whole thing now rested on the agricultural engineer, Si Lahsan. And that was assuming he discovered the vials actually contained the chemical that destroyed the tomatoes. Then they’d easily have enough to get a conviction. And the front pages.
The musicians started warming up and the lights went out, indicating the second part of the evening was about to begin, the one reserved for Fifi’s number. The MC presented her to the audience excitedly while striking a tambourine in his hand. Laafrit looked over at Luis and saw him covered in sweat.
Spotlights shone down on the dark dance floor as the musicians’ pulsating rhythm leveled out and then suddenly stopped. After a few moments of dramatic silence, the drummer broke into a solo, cracking beats like a blazing fire. Fifi suddenly appeared, cutting nimbly across the dance floor with incredible turns. She got to the middle and an avalanche of light poured down on her. Her body shook in a feverish race with the drum. As the rhythm sped up, Fifi’s hips shook so fast it seemed like she was being given electric shocks.
The opening number lasted only five minutes, after which the lights came on. Luis immediately stood up like a fool and began clapping wildly. When Fifi noticed him, her face lit up and she let out a sly laugh. At that exact moment, Laafrit’s cell phone rang in his jacket pocket. He couldn’t take the call in the middle of all the noise, so he made his way through the jammed tables toward the exit. When he answered, he heard the voice of a woman who sounded as if she was screaming.
“Detective Laafrit?”
“Yes,” he answered, yelling over the surrounding noise. “Who’s this?”
“Hosna, Si Lahsan’s wife.”
Laafrit could hear the woman’s breathing interspersed with weeping.
“I’m waiting to hear from Si Lahsan. Where is he now?” Laafrit asked worriedly.
“They killed him!” Hosna yelled after a long silence. “My husband was killed! They shot him six times!”
Laafrit took a deep breath, trying to collect himself.
“Please calm down. How’d you get my number?”
“I found it in my husband’s notebook. He told me about you.”
“Where was your husband killed?”
“At the lab. He was conducting tests on the vials you gave him.”
Laafrit’s hand froze on his cell phone.
“What happened?” he asked.
“The killers took all the vials,” she said, her voice cracking. “They burned the computer he was working on and left. What did you give to my husband? What was in those vials?”
She was so overcome by grief she couldn’t go on. The line suddenly went dead. Laafrit was stunned at the news and realized he’d been incapable of expressing a
ny kind of consolation. His first thought was that this woman would definitely blame him for what happened to her husband.
He needed some time to digest the disaster. He looked for a lozenge but he didn’t have a single one. He turned to the closest person to him and asked for a cigarette. Laafrit just stood there, smoking it emotionlessly. He looked into the club and saw Fifi dancing around Luis with a charm and spirit that made him think she was dancing for him alone. He saw Luis suddenly jump out of his seat and begin dancing behind her, pretending to be a slave bound by chains and shackles. The crowd immediately broke out in cheers and applause.
Laafrit knew now wasn’t the time to interrupt Luis. He made his way out of the club as a kind of constriction overwhelmed him. He almost fell over, collapsing on the ground. Once outside, he was about to pass out but he managed to get hold of himself and resist the nausea rising up in him. He left his car behind and started walking, filling his lungs with the cool moist air blowing in from the sea.
The streets were empty except for some staggering drunks. Laafrit watched one of them stumble forward and fall to the ground. The drunk fought hard to get up, but as soon as he did, he fell back down again. All the tragedies this country’s living through are right there, Laafrit thought. We’re just like this drunk who can’t manage to stay upright.
By the time he reached the street where he lived, he’d walked aimlessly for a long time. It was about three in the morning. The walk had cleansed him somewhat of the blame he felt for the engineer’s death.
Before he opened the door of his apartment building, he heard what he thought was the sound of yelling. He looked down the narrow street and saw a light coming from one of the apartments. He was amazed and couldn’t stop himself from smiling when he realized he was hearing the teacher’s husband apologizing to her for what he had done, crying and asking for forgiveness. The husband was observing the police order not to beat his wife. But, Laafrit thought, that’s another case.
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