CHAPTER
NINE
“We may have all
be
conned into this trap,” Black Jack observed as he and
Christine were settling for dinner. They had chosen a quiet seafood
restaurant at the north end of the Dahab boardwalk, away from the busy resort
area, away from any unwelcome ears.
Christine had managed to
shower and change after attempting to tail Yusuf El Shara’s so called
“son”. She wore a loose, short sleeved white cotton shirt with a colorful
sarong and sandals she had purchased at the market after losing the boy to the
traditional, Middle Eastern chaos.
It was sweaty and hot outside,
but she looked fresh and radiant, her face and arms already tanned from being
out in the blistering sun.
Black Jack was wearing a
colorful short sleeved silk shirt, short pants and sandals he had purchased at
the duty free shops at the resort. He had had time to put some of the
events in perspective.
“I get the feeling none of
this is accidental,” he asserted. “They may have planned to trap Clair
well in advance knowing we will be coming with money.”
“You give them a lot of
credit,” Christine remarked.
“We know the El Shara brothers
are collaborating. That’s obvious,” Jack continued earnestly. “The
rest of them are all in on it, including Abdullah. The motive must
be money and whether or not everyone were in on it from the start is actually
no longer important.”
“How did they know about
us?” Christine objected.
“They might have assumed
someone would eventually show up with money. Otherwise, they might have
simple common sense. Our activity, if not headline material, is well
publicized. How difficult would it be to figure an organization like ours
will take an interest in such a case?”
They were both silent for a while,
concentrating on their menus.
“What did you find out about
the boy?” Jack asked after they had ordered.
”As you predicted, he showed
up about an hour after we had left the house,” Christine recalled. “He
came on foot and met with a group of kids his own age on the south side.
They methodically went around the boardwalk through the hotels and back to the
market. That’s where I lost him. The gang suddenly dispersed and I
had no idea where he went. I went back to the south side but he did not
pass by there. That’s when I decided to purchase these clothes.”
“Let’s drive by the house
later, see if we can spot him.” Jack suggested. “I’d put
money
down that he’s not Yusuf's
son.”
“We might also want to try and
find Hussni and Clair’s boy. Clair believes they’re here. The boy
may be tramping around with those gangs,” Christine suggested.
“Do you know what he looks
like?” Jack asked.
“Of
course.
I have a photo. It may be a little out of date
but we could definitely use it.”
“Done,” Jack agreed.
“You go have a look tomorrow. I’ll have another chat with
Abdullah.”
They swung by the house after
they had finished their dinner, finding it lit with both Yusuf and the boy present.
They were seated around the kitchen table, a woman in a black robe serving them
dinner.
Back at the Katarina Inn Jack
retired for the night but Christine felt restless. She remained in the
lobby’s corner bar for a while sipping more red wine then walked out into the
night. She went through the resort’s array of pools among darkened palm
trees and trickling waterfalls to the secluded beach area. There were
still people around particularly couples in isolated corners.
She took off her sandals and
walked on the sand. It felt cool around her feet. She kept thinking
of Clair and how bravely she was handling herself in that wretched place the
Egyptians called prison. She had serious doubts whether she could have
survived a day under such conditions let alone two months.
On a whim she decided to go
there.
Glad that Jack had left her
the keys to the rental since he was meeting Abdullah at the resort in the
morning, she ran back through the lobby and jumped in the car.
The old splintered building stood
dark and threatening as she approached it. A bare lamp lit the only
entrance where a guard sat with his weapon slouched on his knees. She
parked the car and hesitantly walked toward him. He did not move until
she was upon him. Flashing a set of crooked teeth made to look grotesque
in the shadow of the lamp
above,
he stood up and
pointed the gun at her.
She stopped in her tracks.
“I would like to see the
French woman,” she said in English but the guard’s expression did not
change. She tried it in French and his crooked smile disappeared.
He blurted a few words in Arabic pointing the gun extremely close to her
face. She took a step back and took out a wad of bills she had stashed in
her sarong.
She waved it in front of her
face and he became interested. The barrel of the gun was lowered and he
motioned for her to step closer. She peeled off several bills and handed
it over. The guard studied the bundle then motioned for more. She
gave the rest of her French currency to him and stepped to the door. He
opened the creaking prison gate and led her in. He walked quickly through
dark corridors and down a flight of stairs to a reeking round dungeon with jail
cells occupying all sides. It was pitch dark but for the guard’s
flashlight. He flashed it in the direction of one particular cell
illuminating several bodies sprawled on the floor. One of them
immediately got up. It was Clair.
Christine ran to her and
grabbed her hands through the bars. “I can’t stand you being locked in
here,” she whispered in French. Clair squeezed her wrists tight.
“You are completely mad coming here now.”
“I don’t care,” Christine
said. “I’m responsible for this. I should have watched you closer.”
“It’s not your fault.
I’m the stupid one. Now get on out of here before they throw you in with
me.”
“I’ll be looking for Hussni
and Ibrahim tomorrow. I have a feeling you’re right. They are in
town.”
“I’m sure of it.” Clair
said. “They may be hiding in one of the hotels.”
“I’ll make sure and
look. If we find them, they’ll have to drop your case.”
“Watch out, Chris. These
people don’t have to do anything. They can find other excuses to keep me
in here.”
“Be strong. We’ll get
you out.” Christine said. Tears in her eyes she squeezed Clair’s
hands one last time and turned to go. The guard, who had been squatting
by the entrance quietly smoking, demolished his cigarette, turned on his
flashlight, and led Christine back out.
Abdullah showed up
mid-morning. Black Jack waited for him in the resort’s lounge. They ordered
coffee and sat at a corner sofa by a large glass window overlooking the pools
and beach area.
“If anything happens to Clair
it’s your head,” Black Jack said after a few moments of silence.
“She will not be harmed,” Abdullah
said, “but she may have to stand trial.”
“This was a set up,”
Black
Jack complained.
Abdullah remained
silent.
“What’s your share in
this?” Jack persisted.
“I will represent the
accused,” Abdullah said dryly.
“The brothers set her up,” Jack
retorted. “They brought her here so they can extort money.”
“She obviously chased the
wrong boy,” Abdullah remarked.
“I’m not convinced,” Jack
replied. “The boy we met at the house is not Yusuf’s son and I doubt the
house belongs to Yusuf.”
Abdullah raised his hands in
regret, not giving anything away.
“It’s Yusuf who brought her
here you know,” Jack continued, accusingly. “He pointed her to the house,
telling her
her
son was there.”
Abdullah lit a cigarette and
blew the smoke at the large window.
“Five grand,” Jack blurted,
sounding more frustrated than he wanted to.
“I’ll take it up with the
judge,” Abdullah said.
“Make sure the chief is
agreeable,” Jack reminded him.
Abdullah did not
respond. Instead, he flipped his burning cigarette in an ashtray on the
table and got up to leave.
Jack caught him by the
arm. “World opinion would not be favorable, if this gets around.
Tell the judge it’s in your best interest to settle this quickly and quietly.
If you push me, I will turn this trial into a media circus.”
“I’ll see what I can do,”
Abdullah said turning to leave.
“And make damn sure they treat
her right,” Jack uttered behind Abdullah’s back marching out the lounge
door.
Christine had methodically
combed each and every hotel on the Dahab strip by noontime. She looked in
lobbies, bars, restaurants, pools and beach areas with nothing to show
for. She was reluctant to check hotel guest lists knowing word got around
quick, plus she could not think of an appropriate excuse. Once again she
approached the market, mingling with the bustling crowd.
At a fruit stand she saw
several kids from the gang she had followed the previous day. They were in the
act of robbing a banana cluster from a busy market trader. One boy
created a diversion on one side of the stand while the others swiped the
bananas and dispersed in all directions. Christine was positioned in the
path of one of the getaway routes and when a large boy came running her way,
she stuck out her leg and tripped him. The boy flew sprawling on the
ground the banana cluster flying out of his hands. In the mayhem of
escaping looters and angry pursuers, Christine managed to trap the dumbfounded
boy into a corner and threaten with hand language to turn him in. He sat
up stunned, his back to a wooden hut, and looked up at Christine who held a
photo of Clair’s boy, inches from his face.
It took the boy a few seconds
to adjust his focus, but the look on his face when the image registered told
Christine she had hit home. She grabbed the boy by the hair and stood him
up. He gingerly walked the first few steps, wiping the dust off his
clothes,
then
increased his strides leading her
through the maze of narrow alleyways to the south side of the boardwalk.
They left the boardwalk and walked up a plateau overlooking the coast to a
neighborhood of low beach houses, not far from the house where Yusuf and his
so-called “son” were residing. They continued on for about a mile across sand
dunes to a hidden alcove in which a wooden house was raised above a small inlet
with a wooden deck stretched out into the water where a white sail boat with
Arab inscriptions sat leisurely rocking tied to the pier.
The boy stopped, pointing in
the direction of the house and boat, then took off running, back where they came
from.
Christine sat on the sand dune
and surveyed the house. She sensed activity but could not quite detect
it. She edged a little closer, trying to gain a different angle, but
still could not see any people.
Chief Halil startled her when
he appeared out of no-where and sat himself cross-legged in front of her.
“A girl could disappear in
these places without leaving a trace,” he said, smiling slyly.
Christine needed a moment to
catch her breath before she could reply. “You’re too smart for that,” she
managed to blurt.
“Indeed I am,” the chief
asserted, smiling broadly now,
“
which is the
reason I let you visit the woman last night and allowed you to come this close
to the kid.”
“So he is here!” Christine
exclaimed.
The chief
slumped
his head, exasperated. “You Westerners never learn, do you? You
think your noble rules apply everywhere, don’t you? You think you can
come in here and force us to abide by what you think is right or fair.”
“What type of law does apply
here?” Christine asked.
“Laws of the poor and the
hungry, in case you haven’t noticed,” the chief said. “That boy stealing
a banana, it’s most likely his only meal of the day.”
“So you let him steal?”
“Who will stop him?
My men, who earn less in a year than what you earn in a week?”
"Does this justify
throwing a poor mother in a hell hole for two months, treating her like an
animal when all she wanted was her son back?”
“You westerners have made this
place a battle zone, killing tens of thousands of our people over the years, so
don’t talk to me about justice. There is none.
None
for us, none for you.”
Christine became wary the
conversation was going nowhere, at least nowhere that would help her cause, so
she clamped up and said nothing.
The chief looked at her hard for
a long moment then got up, wiping the sand off his trousers. “You tell
your partner to be more cooperative if you ever want to see that woman
again. Now go on, get out of here before I throw you in with her.”