An Ordinary Day (38 page)

Salem’s eyes narrowed. ‘How did you find me here?’

‘It’s the anniversary of your daughter’s murder,’ Dahdi said quietly. ‘I knew you would be in no other place.’

‘I have much to give thanks for.’

‘Indeed, you were never charged with murder. A
R
10000 fine for possession of false identity documents. It’s almost a travesty of justice.’

Salem nodded. ‘An anonymous benefactor paid it.’

‘I paid it, Salem.’

‘You paid it?’

Dahdi nodded.

‘All the negotiations, the bargaining, the back-channel work – that was you?’

Dahdi shrugged his shoulders.

‘Why?’

‘I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. I don’t believe you deserved to be punished.’

‘I have been punished. From the day that bomb took my daughter from me. My punishment will never end.’

‘Well, Salem, perhaps we have a lot in common after all.’

‘The money? The million dollars I transferred to your account?’

‘It wasn’t my account. It went to an organisation which looks after victims of terrorism in Jerusalem. It was bad money. It had to be used for good. I think God will forgive me. He’s forgiven worse sins.’

Salem smiled and sighed. ‘When you lose a child, or anyone you love, it changes you. It turns you into someone else. Your whole existence is dependent on finding the person responsible and making him pay. It’s the only way to redemption. It would normally be wrong, but it feels right to me. I had to do something.’

‘When the Libyans took my wife it also turned me into somebody else. I like to think it turned me into a better person. The terrorists’ aim is to make us hate and seek revenge. I won’t grant them that courtesy.’

‘I’ve learnt that lesson, Mr Dahdi.’

‘I saved you for your daughter’s sake. For her memory.’

Salem cast his eyes downwards.

Dahdi went on. ‘So that every year you can come here and pray at the Wall for forgiveness and absolution, rather than rot away in a South African prison.’

‘An intangible reward.’

‘Something like that. Shalom, Benjamin Salem. I hope you find redemption some day.’

Dahdi walked away briskly and didn’t look back.