Darkness at noon

As Yussef al-zahar8217;s gray Mitsubishi pickup truck wends its way through the crowded streets of Gaza City, there is no obvious sign of the men who want him dead. 8220;Quiet day,8221; he says,

As Yussef al-zahar8217;s gray Mitsubishi pickup truck wends its way through the crowded streets of Gaza City, there is no obvious sign of the men who want him dead. 8220;Quiet day,8221; he says, glancing out the window during his regular afternoon patrol. At a busy intersection, he jumps out to chat briefly with a clutch of bearded, black-clad men cradling Kalashnikovs in the Gaza heat. But the field commander in the territory8217;s Hamas-controlled 8220;executive force8221; doesn8217;t linger anywhere for long. 8220;We have to expect anything,8221; Zahar says once he8217;s back in the truck and on the road again. 8220;It8217;s a battle of the gangsters now.8217;8217;

Gaza is a long way from the days when a militant knew clearly who his enemies were. At one time, Israeli troops seemed like Zahar8217;s most formidable foe. They8217;re still a grave danger, of course; just hours after Zahar8217;s patrol last week, Israeli warplanes attacked the home of another Hamas leader elsewhere in the same neighborhood, killing two, including a 2-year-old girl. By late last week the death toll had surged to 18 after more Israeli raids.

Yet the most immediate threat to Zahar8217;s life might now come from his own countrymen. After ten Palestinians were killed and 100 wounded in running gun battles two weeks ago8212; the bloodiest episode of infighting since the Islamist group took power8212; Fatah militants issued a leaflet calling for the assassination of Zahar and two other key Hamas figures.

The power struggle has been intensifying for months now, fuelled by frustration in Gaza over unpaid salaries and Israel8217;s economic stranglehold. Add to it an upsurge in crime, itself partly a byproduct of rampant unemployment, and the violence threatens to evolve into something altogether more amorphous. 8220;We8217;re getting close to Somalia,8217;8217; says a senior Palestinian intelligence officer, who didn8217;t want to be identified discussing the strife.

The Fatah-Hamas tensions came to a head two weeks ago, when protesters began setting tires ablaze in downtown Gaza as a part of a demonstration over unpaid salaries. Zahar now calls the day 8220;Black Sunday.8221; Another 10 people were injured last Friday in continued clashes.

Such internecine violence is exactly what Zahar8217;s 5,000-member paramilitary force was originally created to prevent. The group8217;s leaders boast about its mixed membership; its ranks include members of Fatah and other Palestinian factions.

At the moment, however, Arafat8217;s Fatah Party heirs aren8217;t having much success stopping the bloodletting. Zahar and his counterparts in Fatah8217;s security forces have been nursing grudges for years. In 1996, Zahar was arrested by the Fatah-controlled Preventive Security forces over his membership in Hamas. In prison, he says, his captors hung him upside down, and beat the soles of his feet with a metal mattress spring. Zahar says he came out of prison 8220;swearing to kill somebody.8221;

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At one of his patrol8217;s last stops, Zahar meets with 53-year-old Ahmad Helou, an old friend who runs Gaza8217;s EgyptAir office. Helo nervously fingers a string of white worry beads as he explains how a group of armed men driving a jeep with no license plates cut him off in traffic the day before, and then packed him into their car. His kidnappers beat him, he says, and then stashed him in a room filled with rats. The men forced Helou to call his secretary and tell her to hand over all the money in the airline8217;s office, about 9,500. Then they made him write a check for another 20,000 from his private account, which the attackers promptly cashed.

Zahar listens intently. 8220;We8217;ll work on it,8221; he says quietly. 8220;We8217;ll do our best.8221; Nobody in the room seems particularly convinced. Helou8217;s face turns red, and his eyes fill with tears. 8220;I8217;m finished,8221; he says. 8220;I want to emigrate.8221; Zahar sits silent for a moment. Then a smile creeps across his face. 8220;You think you can live in luxury all the time?8221; Zahar needles his friend. Helou smiles wearily and coughs out some laughter. In unforgiving Gaza, sometimes comic relief is the only thing that keeps a dead man walking.