by Asen Djinah
The waiter showed Karim a card for a bateau mouche – excursion boat.
‘My cousin runs a bateau mouche that does a three-hour cruise along the Seine where you can see all the famous landmarks along the river. A three-course lunch is included, all for sixty euros. If you show this card and tell him that Henri has sent you, he’ll give you a discount and charge only fifty-five euros,’ he volunteered.
‘The cruise starts at 12.00 p.m. at Pont d’Alma. There is a map, and directions at the back of the card,’ he added.
‘Most certainly, I would love to do the cruise; it will save me a lot of walking,’ Karim replied, pocketing the card.
‘D’accord, monsieur, je vais l’envoyer un sms pour qu’il réserve une place pour vous. La croisière est très populaire et les places sont vite prises,’ Henri said with a broad smile, already thinking about his commission.
He hurriedly took out his phone and sent a text message to reserve a place for the young tourist. Karim was grateful for the little chat with Henri and felt his nerves settling down; he definitely felt more relaxed than when he got up this morning. Grabbing his suitcase, he went to the hotel reception in the main lobby to check out.
La Basilique du Sacré Cœur was one and a half kilometres away and Karim was already beginning to feel hot as he stood out in the sun in front of the hotel.
‘Sofiane had not anticipated that spring would come early in Paris,’ Karim thought.
The walk to La Basilique would take about half an hour and Karim resigned himself to the fact that he would be uncomfortably hot under the leather jacket.
‘I’ll keep to the shade as much as possible,’ he told himself.
But first Karim turned left away from the Basilica and walked the short distance to the Peugeot to put the suitcase back into the boot. Sofiane had arranged for someone to dispose of the car later that afternoon. With his body sweating profusely, the thick material of the vest was already clinging to his skin as he walked back towards Boulevard de Clichy. He crossed over at the lights to be in the shade and immediately felt better. As he walked at a leisurely pace, hands in his pockets, Karim tried to keep his mind blank. He looked into the shop windows to distract himself and would stop whenever he saw anything that caught his attention. The passers-by also diverted his mind from the task ahead as he played the game of guessing ‘who did what for a job’.
He watched a short and portly, middle-aged bald man scurrying along in short, brisk steps.
‘With his thick moustache and worn-out suit, he must be an insurance clerk,’ he thought, imagining the man in his shirt tail, talking on the phone while drinking coffee.
As Karim made his way down Rue Caulaincourt he suddenly became aware of a young woman ahead, leaning against the windows of an estate agent. She was staring directly at him. Karim’s heart started pounding and he felt even hotter. He briefly wondered whether he should cross to the other side of the road.
‘This will make me look suspicious,’ he decided.
So he kept walking, looking straight ahead and holding his breath. He felt the woman’s eyes burning a hole through him as he walked past. He was a couple of steps past her when he heard her voice.
‘On va faire un coup, mon chou? – You want to come with me, sweetie?’ the woman said.
Karim turned around, his ears ringing. He could not understand what she had said and simply stared at her. The woman must have seen the mystified look on Karim’s face.
‘On va faire un coup, mon chou? J’habite tous près,’ the woman repeated, adding that she lived nearby.
Karim felt sheer relief; the woman was just a prostitute, touting for trade.
‘Non merci, je suis pressé,’ he replied, unable to think of anything else to say.
Keeping in the shade, Karim soon reached Rue du Cardinal Dubois and turned left onto the Parvis du Sacré Cœur. There, in front of him, lay the stairs leading up to the Basilica. It had taken him exactly thirty minutes. There were groups of tourists and locals walking up the steps. For a moment, Karim hesitated as he looked at the many children running up ahead of their parents.
‘Sofiane was right when he told me that at the last minute Satan will get into my head and try to stop me,’ he thought, relieved that he had been prepared for such an eventuality.
Shaking his head to dismiss the image of the children, he started climbing. Sofiane had told him that there was a mass at 11.15 and therefore the crowd would be larger than usual. Karim was to go into the central nave of the Basilica, right into the middle of the congregation, before detonating his bomb to maximise the number of casualties.
Stopping under the shade of a tree midway up the flight of steps, Karim took out his cell phone and went into the online folder where he had uploaded his video message. After sharing the file to Kalil’s email address, he then composed a short message to his brother and included the link to the recording.
‘Kalil must be driving now and will not access his messages until later,’ Karim thought as he sent the email.
‘Even if he does read the email now, he doesn’t have my number to contact me.’
He was ready for the final stage of the plan. As he resumed climbing the steps, Karim felt the sweat dripping down his back. He cheered himself that very soon he would be inside the cool building.
Chapter 5
Alphonsine Duportail was excited despite feeling tired from being up so early. A taxi had dropped her at the bottom of the stairs and the old woman had painfully climbed up a step at a time, leaning on her walking stick. She had woken up before dawn and had not been able to get back to sleep, too excited by her plan for the day. At seventy-two years old, she had never done anything like this before. She wanted to celebrate the twentieth anniversary of her husband’s death by attending the 11.15 mass at La Basilique, before visiting his grave at the cimetière de Montmartre. Every now and then, Alphonsine had to stop and catch her breath before carrying on. She turned around and looked at the spectacular view of Paris in the spring sun.
‘Oh mon chéri, si seulement tu étais à mes côtés. C’est tellement beau,’ she spoke half-aloud, wishing her husband was by her side to appreciate the panoramic view.
She could have asked her son Laurent to take the morning off from his important job to accompany her, but had decided that it was something that she had to do for herself. Alphonsine had always been headstrong and independent. She had taken after her mother, who at fifteen had run away from home to join La Resistance and fight the German invaders. Leaning on her walking stick, she slowly made her way up, a step at a time.
After the second set of steps, Alphonsine paused again to catch her breath before starting on the final few steps to La Basilique.
‘Mes vieux genoux ont grand besoin d’un repos avant que je gravisse les dernières marches,’ she decided to give her old knees a rest before continuing on.
She turned around to let the morning breeze blow in her face as she watched the other people coming up. Alphonsine was glad she had taken particular care to dress appropriately. She had carefully chosen a light cotton flowery dress, a white thin shawl – to protect her shoulders and arms from the sun – and a straw hat. She noticed that other visitors had been sensible too. Most women wore similar light, summery dresses or sleeveless blouses and skirts, whereas the men were wearing t-shirts with shorts, or light cotton trousers. It was then that she noticed the young man in the leather jacket.
‘How odd?’ Alphonsine thought, ‘at least he could have taken his jacket off.’
As the young man got closer, she noticed he was sweating profusely and that he was wearing a sweatshirt underneath the jacket. She had bought a similar one as a present for her grandson and knew that it was quite thick. The young man had a strained look on his face as if he was in pain and kept wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. Alphonsine was puzzled that he still kept his jacket on.
The old woman kept watching the young man as he climbed up the steps, until Karim finally rea
ched the same place where Alphonsine was standing. As there was no one else around, Alphonsine decided to ask the young man for assistance.
‘Jeune homme, pouvez-vous me donner le bras pour gravir les dernières marches?’ she asked Karim for help to climb the last set of steps.
‘Avec plaisir madame,’ Karim replied as he put out his left arm for the old lady to lean on.
Alphonsine leant forward and stretched her shaking hand inside Karim’s jacket to feel the sweatshirt. She immediately felt something hard beneath it.
‘Alerte, il a une bombe!’ Alphonsine Duportail shouted in her frail voice, suddenly having an epiphany about the young man’s intention.
She was relieved that there was no other person nearby.
Karim swiftly reached into his right-hand pocket and pressed the detonator. With his last thought, he pictured the open gates of Paradise waiting for him.
THE END
Coming Soon!
(Based on true events)
The inhabitants of a paradise island are evicted from their native land as the result of a conspiracy between two of the world's most powerful nations. Without money or support, they are dumped on a strange land and endure terrible sufferings while their plight is kept hidden to the outside world.
The novel tells the story of one particular islander, Serge Bisson and how his life and dreams are irrevocably broken by this incredibly shocking crime against his people.
Visit: www.asendjinah.com for more details or to leave a comment.
