RAFA

An excerpt of my 18th thriller The Puppet.

Rafa

The Puppet

An excerpt

He didn't even offer me a cup of coffee or a glass of water that arrogant nobody. Baraka fumed on his car's rear seat, on his way back to Nazareth.

But never mind I've done what I'd to do, and I'll send the central council secretary a letter of complaint. He consoled his tortured conscious and his hurt pride.

He was glad to be home at last for a late lunch with his loyal wife Rafa, and he told her in detail all his trials and the humiliation he had to suffer.

'You should call the secretary and tell him how bad you were treated by his aide.' Rafa advised him, she was hurt too; and wished just like her husband that this impudent aide should be taught a lesson.

'Yes my love that's what I've been thinking too, and I'm going to call the secretary right now.'

He dialed the secretary's Smartphone number and it took a few seconds, and the honorable secretary himself answered him.

'I regret I couldn't meet you in person, and I wish you the best of luck and may Allah be with you.' He said and switched off without waiting to Baraka's reply.

'They underestimate us those arrogant Tunisian refugees.' Baraka turned to his wife with a raised voice.

'It's because we're Christians my dearest Munir.'

'They treat Israeli Arabs with disrespect, except the very few that you can count on one hand's fingers; those whom they exploit to push a finger into the Israelis eyes. But you're right my love, Muslims are treated better by them.'

If I wasn't ordered I don't even know by whom yet, to travel to Damascus I would have stayed put; and send them to Gehenem (hell), the lot of those riffraff, which came with Arafat from their exile in Tunisia. If the Americans wouldn't have intervened and would've left those beggars to fade into oblivion, when the Saudis stopped their financial support to that group of opportunists, we the Israeli Arabs would have become the leaders of the West Bank. We could've reached a two states solution and territories swap with the Israelis. Well "if fat mat" (the past is dead). Baraka concluded with reason.

'Let's go to the bed room and rest, I've got a long night of discussions before me.' He turned to Rafa, there was no better way after all to get rid of his frustrations.

'When are you flying to Europe my love?'

'You mean Damascus dearest Rafa, well in about ten days, but come before our daughters will return I want you.'

The days passed quickly and it was time to embark on his flight to the convention in Damascus. It was Monday morning when Baraka took leave of their two daughters, they had to attend school and his wife could accompany him to the airport.

'You'll welcome me when I'll return.' He promised their daughters, who wished to take a day off school and accompany their father.

Four hours later he kissed his wife and sent her back home with his driver, and boarded the plane.

© Haim Kadman September 2015 �" all rights reserved.

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