Even though I was running late, I couldn’t ignore the signal. I took a detour through one of Algiers’ less reputable districts, and made for the docks. Behind me, a motorized bicycle roared off, startling a flock of pigeons into flight. The man on the bike was wearing a pair of goggles and a silk scarf, and I briefly cursed the bourgeois French population that had become so comfortable in the city.