The Battle of Algiers Page #3

4ALI'S ROOM. INSIDE. DAWN.

The room is badly lit. There is a mattress on the floor, and another on

the table, a cupboard against the wall, some chairs. Nothing else. At

the back of the room to the left, there is a dividing curtain hung by a

cord at medium height. The curtain is drawn and a large bed with brass

headboards is visible. The Algerian points in that direction; the

captain signals for him to go there.

They go forward silently, and push aside the curtain. There is a small

light bulb hung on the wall beneath a small shelf covered with

postcards and photos.

The baseboard all around is more than three feet tall and is covered by

majolica tiles.

The Algerian points to a spot in the brick structure, on the back

wall, between the headboard of the bed and a corner of the room.

Marc and the captain have their machine guns ready. The captain goes

near the wall, his breath drawn, and begins to examine it.

He runs the fingernail of his thumb along the wall horizontally,

between one row of tiles and another.

He taps the tiles at different places until he hears the plaster in the

interstices crumble. He looks at the bit of plaster that is left in his

nail.

He squeezes it in his fingertips; it is soft, newly laid.

Then he bends over, places his ear to the wall, and listens.

Suddenly he smiles.

5ALI'S HIDING PLACE. INSIDE.

There isn't enough air in the hiding place. The four are forced to

breathe deeply. And in that small space their laborious breaths

resound like splashes.

Ali la Pointe has his eyes fixed upon the square patch of wall that

seals the hiding place. His eyes are large, black, slanted, his eyelids

heavy, somewhat lowered, so that the black of the irises appears even

blacker in the shadows, deeper and more sullen.

Petit Omar is with him, a boy of twelve, and Mahmoud who is eighteen.

There is also Hassiba, a Kabyle girl, blond, blue-eyed, and fair

skinned.

The hiding place is only five feet high, and hardly holds them. They

are sitting or stretched out on the ground, close to one another.

The entrance to the hiding place is blocked by the small patch of wall

which matches exactly the rest. It is held firm by a bar through an

iron ring attached at the center. On the other side of the cell, above

them, there is a hole for air.

They are tense and do not move. Their lips are dry, half-open, and

their breasts rise and fall in a difficult attempt to breathe.

CAPTAIN:

(off)

Ali la Pointe ... the house is surrounded.

You haven't got a chance. Surrender. Let

the child and the girl come out, then you

and the other one. Leave your weapons

inside. It's useless to try anything. Our

machine guns are ready to fire -- you

wouldn't have time. Do you understand?

Ali's face is motionless and hasn't changed its expression.

CAPTAIN:

(off)

Ali, do you hear me? Listen! You are the

last one. The organization is finished.

All your friends are dead or in prison.

Come out. You'll have a fair trial. Come

out, surrender.

SOUND OF FOOTSTEPS, OTHER VOICES, CHEERFUL, INCOHERENT:

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