Atwan sits at his desk nervously tapping his fingers. Two weeks have passed since he gave the lab the sample of uranium for testing. His anxiety level increases with every day, mainly because of the Euros equaling three hundred thousand American dollars that now sit in a mafiya account – and so far, nothing to show for it. Looking at the picture of the prophet Mohammad on his wall, he knows he must have faith. At least that’s what he tells himself.
Finally, he cannot stand it any longer. He calls the lab. “This is Jibril Atwan. Where are the results from the sample I left with you? It’s two weeks now.”
The lab assistant, realizing the importance of the man who is calling, says, “I will get my director, sir.”
The head of the lab comes to the phone. “Jibril, we are just putting our notes together as we speak. You will have a hard copy within the hour. We took our time so we could be absolutely positive of our findings.”
“All right,” Atwan says with a sigh. “I hope that you have good news for me.”
“You will be satisfied, Jibril.” The director hangs up his phone and shakes his head. Bureaucrats, he groans inwardly.
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