The two men sat quietly now. The idle chitchat about wives, kids, and the typical problems of fatherhood had been exhausted. A cool breeze blew gently in from the Red Sea, carrying the repugnant smell of low tide. The sounds of traffic had almost completely vanished; and the silence of the high-walled courtyard was broken only by the tinkling of expensive china cups gently placed on their saucers.

       The scorching desert sun had given way to the darkness, cooling the earth and giving those who lived in its blast, furnace-like environment a few hours of reprieve from its brilliant face.

       Finally the man in military dress broke the silence. "My king feels we should tell the Americans what we have heard."

       He did not want to seem too pushy, yet he knew his king was anxious to know where his neighbors stood on such an important matter. He hoped to have an answer for him that night.

       "He feels," he continued, "that it will do nothing but harm the relationships between our two countries and the United States. I can imagine what Israel would say against us. Especially if they ever found out that we knew and said nothing to them."

       The host drained his tea and gently placed the cup back on its saucer. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, he again smiled at his guest and said.

       "Yes, the prince also agrees that it would be a bad thing for us to sit by and let such things happen." His voice dropped low as if he were afraid to speak, making him sound more like a conspirator than a minister of defense. But the other man knew it was merely fear of being overheard. The feeling of some invisible force listening in. Deadly, unforgiving, never bending, and centuries -long, this force was the fundamentalist ideology.

       "Someday this business will have to end. The Americans have become friends and good allies. Maybe they should have finished off the Baghdad Bully, but who is to say? This would probably push them to do it, should it happen. It is our duty to tell them so that they can try to stop it."

       "Yes," the military official said. "Someday, all this business must come to an end. The Israelis are here to stay. We have lost the West Bank, and that is all there is to that."

       "I agree," the minister whispered, in a voice that seemed faraway, as if he were deep in thought.

       "Would it not be nice," continued the military official, his American education showing, "if we could at last have peace and settle this Palestine thing?"

       "Yes," the minister agreed, "it would be nice if our children could grow up without the threat of war."

       "I don't really think our children will ever see peace, my friend, until we as nations stand up and make our neighbors to the north stop this war of attrition. And make the rest of our brothers stop all this terrorist activity."

       The minister, smiling, answered, "Inshallah."

       "I also think that if our two great nations joined Egypt we could bring the others in line with us. If we had to, I'm sure, we could also enlist the help of our American friends again."

       "That could be dangerous," the minister replied, "we could all end up assassinated like Sadat."

       "True," the military man said," or we could also find ourselves at the mercy of the fundamentalists if we don't do something."

       The minister looked at his military guest with sadness written all over his handsome and well-tanned face, and reflected, "Millions starve and die from lack of food and simple medicines as the few in power squander their nation's wealth, while trying to find a way to destroy us all."

       "Yes," his friend replied, "there is enough religion in the world to make men hate and kill each other, but not enough to make men love each other."

 

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