No Way Home

by M S James

  Out in the car with Angelo I decided, reluctantly, that I would have to visit the Madrassa and explain the situation to the mistress-in-charge. ‘To the Madrassa, please, Angelo.’ He was surprised.

  ‘Not to the desert, ma’am?’ Angelo had been visibly distressed when we told him the news. He had become very attached to the children and cared for them as if they were his own.

  ‘I have to tell them what happened and excuse myself from work for however long it takes to find Anna. They won’t be very pleased with me.’

  The mistress-in-charge was bustling her way across the playground when I appeared through the gate.

  ‘Ah, Mrs Kate!’ Her face was full of concern which completely undermined the brave face I had put on. ‘Mrs Sarah told me this morning your little girl has been lost in the desert.’

  As soon as I tried to speak, tears welled up and sobs jumbled what I was trying to say. Somehow, I described the picnic, the sandstorm, Anna vanishing and our, thus far, futile search for her. ‘I am so sorry to let you down,’ I snuffled, ‘but my husband and I are moving heaven and earth to find out where she is.’

  ‘We will pray to Allah that she is found. You come back then.’ She gave me a sympathetic pat on the arm as I turned to the gate.

  ‘Shukran,’ I replied.

  Angelo and I returned to the office to rendezvous with Philip and make a plan of action; Angelo was to collect Jake from school and take him to Jenny’s office. She would look after him for the rest of the day. Archie and other members of the architectural team would go to the area where the purse had been found. Also, they would take fliers to Al Murabah to hand out to the residents. I would be surprised if the filling station attendant posted one up. Perhaps Mahmud, whose wedding I attended, would be able to extract more information from him. Philip and I would visit the British Embassy.

  The embassy was in the Diplomatic Quarter to the west of Riyadh. All the embassies were within a short distance of each other, modern angular buildings nestling within a plantation of date palms. The Saudis kept all the embassies in the same area, the better to keep an eye on their activities. We saw a sign to the consulate so decided to start there. In fact, it was the right place to go since the consular officials dealt with problems that the UK citizens in Saudi encountered. After making ourselves known we were quickly ushered into the office of the consular duty officer. He had already heard on the grapevine that a child was missing so was expecting us. We quickly outlined the circumstances of Anna’s disappearance and the searches that we knew about so far.

  ‘You have informed the police?’

  ‘Yes, but we don’t know how much energy they are expending in finding her,’ Philip said.

  ‘We have asked for a helicopter search,’ I added, ‘but we don’t know if anyone has actioned it or if it is possible.’

  ‘Well, it would be possible, but the police are a fairly bureaucratic outfit and it would take time.’

  ‘We haven’t got time,’ I insisted. ‘Can you make representations to the Saudi government to try to speed up a decision?’

  ‘We could, but they don’t like interference. But we can ask diplomatically.’ He smiled at his little joke.

  ‘We have lost a child of three and a half years, three days ago. She has spent two nights alone in a freezing cold desert,’ said Philip with some asperity. ‘We would hope our diplomatic service would use every method possible to encourage the authorities to carry out a large-scale search for her. She’s out there, somewhere!’

  The duty officer noted our rising temper. We had to tip-toe around the Saudis but we were damned if we were going to be less than forceful with our own people.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he assured us, ‘we’ll get on to it straight away.’ He noted down all our contact numbers, including Archie’s, and said he would update us of any developments.

  We were heading out to the car park when we bumped into John and Becky McCartney. They had come to the consulate to organise an independent passport for Claire. Their faces were ashen when they heard that the missing child was Anna. They had already heard that a child had been lost in the desert but no more than that.

  ‘Give us the location of the picnic and where the purse was found. We’ll collect Claire from school and get out there straight away.’ We gave them some fliers and after tearful hugs we sped off back to Al Murabah.

  In daylight Al Murabah looked to be a miserable huddle of houses, all made from clay of the same colour as the surrounding desert. Despite the fabulous wealth that existed only a few miles down the road in Riyadh, little of it had permeated as far as this community. Either side of the road was a dusty area in front of the houses, which served as a place to park cars and pickups and for the children to play on their cycles. There were no children playing when we arrived – presumably they were at school. The children in Riyadh coolly wandered along the streets near our villa on their way to school with school bags confidently balanced on their heads. Here, in Al Murabah, the children must have been collected by bus; there were no school-sized buildings anywhere in the vicinity.

  A flier handed out earlier by Archie was tucked under the windscreen wiper of a Datsun pickup. We banged on the metal gate of the house and waited interminably until there was the sound of someone unlocking the gate. The man who opened the gate looked surprised to see us, but not unfriendly. He wanted us to come in but we explained in our limited Arabic and with his limited English, that we were the parents of the girl in the photo and that we must ‘shoof al bint (look for the girl).’ ‘Inta shoof al bint?’ I asked.

  ‘Aiwa, Alhamdulillah. (Yes, thanks be to Allah.)’ The owners of the other houses likewise agreed to ‘shoof al bint’. Through the gates of some of the houses we could see in the background black-veiled women looking curiously at us with small children clinging on to their mothers’ dresses. None ventured forth to take part in the discussions.

  Finally, we made our way to the filling station. The same attendant was still there, this time tinkering with something under the bonnet of his pickup.

  ‘Marhaba,’ we called to him. He ducked out from under the propped-up lid and gave us a disdainful glance. He really had an unpleasant sneer. That, together with his hooded eyes, made me feel we were dealing with someone who was going to be totally obstructive. I held out a flier to remind him who we were but he scarcely looked at it let alone offer to take it from me.

  ‘Photo in window?’ I asked him, pointing to the window of his shack cum shop.

  ‘Put,’ he replied pointing to the plastic chair outside. I put it on the chair with a lump of concrete on top to stop it blowing away.

  ‘Binti mish hinna? (Our girl not here?)’

  ‘La.’

  I left the two men by the pickup and wandered into the shop. There was a room at the back so I darted in to see if there was anything that would indicate Anna had been there. There was a bed, table, a couple of plastic chairs and a radio playing Arab music. As I was poking around the owner entered the room and angrily asked me what I was doing. At least that’s what it sounded like. I held out my hands questioningly. ‘Mafi hammam? (No bathroom?)’

  I understood the next bit, ‘Imshi yallah! (Get out!)’ I shrugged and made my way past him, half expecting physical violence on the way. Outside I walked over to Philip who raised his eyebrows. ‘Mafi hammam,’ I explained. I strolled back to the owner who was now propped against his door.

  ‘Hinna – shoo ism hathihi balada – Al Rumaniya? (What is the name of this place – Al Rumaniya?)’

  He didn’t answer. ‘Al Rumaniya?’ I repeated. No answer. ‘Al Murabah?’ Silence. If I thought I could induce him into some sort of reaction I was mistaken.

  ‘We’d better speak to the police about this,’ I said to Philip loudly enough to be overheard. If he really couldn’t understand English, he would recognise ‘police’ which is much the same in any language. Right on cue
a police car drove onto the forecourt. The inspector I had seen earlier got out accompanied by the rotund officers who had come to the place where the sandstorm had struck us.

  ‘Salaam aleykum, again,’ I said.

  ‘Wa ’alleykum, as’salaam once more,’ he replied.

  ‘This is the man who doesn’t seem to know the name of where he lives,’ added Philip, indicating the owner, who had decided to join in. ‘We’ll leave you to it. We are going off to search this area of the desert.’ We waved as the men went into the shop. Philip got into the car whilst I peered into the interior of the pickup looking for anything that would catch my eye. There was just the usual jumble of rubbish lying around, though interestingly, none on the passenger seat. He had driven somebody recently.

  ‘Come on, you’ll get us into trouble,’ hissed Philip through the car window, so I got in beside him.

  ‘I’m sure he knows something,’ I muttered.

  As we bumped our way along the desert track Philip remarked, ‘Just because he looks like an axe-murderer, he isn’t necessarily involved in Anna’s disappearance. Perhaps he has a strong dislike of Westerners descending on his country, swanning around in flashy American cars whilst he lives in a shack in the middle of nowhere.’

  ‘Well, if I see him swanning around in a flashy American car, I shall know where he got his money from.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘It’s obvious! He found her and he’s sold her on!’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. How could he have done that so quickly? Besides, he is still working at that filling station.’

  ‘Yes – for now.’

  ‘Well, don’t mention your suspicions to the police. They would take your allegations of child trafficking as a massive attack on their country and the integrity of Saudis in general.’

  As we approached the escarpment where the purse was found there were several cars parked by the trees. I recognised both Archie’s and John’s cars. People were conferring with each other and pointing in different directions. They paused as we got out of our car and joined them.

  ‘No luck, I’m afraid,’ said John. ‘None of us have seen anything that might have belonged to Anna.’

  A low thudding, thumping sound came from the north and we watched with enormous relief as a helicopter headed towards us.

  ‘Thank God.’

  ‘Hang on,’ said Philip, ‘it may not be part of the search.’ But the aircraft circled around us and finally landed some distance away so that we wouldn’t be pelted with sand.

  Two tall, slim, handsome pilots walked over to us, removing their helmets but not their sunglasses. It was rumoured that only princes from the House of Saud were trained as pilots since they were less likely to organise a coup against the King. These two were urbane and spoke excellent English. ‘Marhaba, you are looking for the missing child?’ one asked.

  ‘Marhaba, yes,’ replied Philip. ‘I am the little girl’s father, Philip Thomas and’, turning to me, ‘this is my wife, Kate Thomas. This is a photo of our daughter.’ Philip passed them one of the remaining fliers. We needed more printing.

  ‘Can you show us where the party took place? I believe you have spoken to Bedouins who have information?’

  ‘Yes, one of the men found Anna’s purse in this area here so it is possible she somehow got here from the picnic site. We were caught in a sandstorm on Thursday night so she might have been blown here by the wind.’

  ‘Can you come with us to the place where she went missing?’

  Philip turned to Archie. ‘You’d be better at directing them. Can you go?’

  ‘We can take two passengers,’ said the other pilot.

  As they walked off towards the helicopter, I called, ‘Look out for the shepherd and the flock of sheep – or goats – that appeared during the dancing. He was in the same area when the storm hit us. I think the police want to talk to him as well.’

  John added, ‘Philip, you go home with Archie and we’ll take Kate back with us.’

  The helicopter blades thumped their way into the distance whilst we decided who would go in which direction. Mahmud and the others from the office took charge of the area towards another clump of distant greenery whilst we opted for the opposite direction.

  ‘Mahmud, did you get any information from the people in Al Murabah?’

  ‘No, no one had seen Anna.’

  ‘What about the chap at the filling station? I thought he was particularly hostile towards us.’

  ‘Some people are like that, but no, he had no information.’

  ‘Thanks for asking,’ I said, not hiding my disappointment. We were hitting one blank wall after another. ‘See you back at the office.’

  The McCartneys and I bumped our way across the barren waste. I had hitherto thought the desert was rather wonderful in its vast openness, but now I hated it. We all peered into the distance, looking and looking. From time to time we got out and searched around rocky outcrops or into gullies. I frantically stared at every bump and boulder, willing it to be my huddled child. She must be out there. Why couldn’t we see her? My cries of despair at each thwarted search was affecting little Claire who began sobbing and clung to her mother. Despite not wanting to further upset the child I could do nothing to keep myself in check.

  John urged, ‘Try not to distress yourself further, Kate. The situation is bad but you’ll soon be exhausted.’ He put his arms around me which steadied me up. Becky looked stricken, reflecting the anguish she could see on my face.

  Eventually, leaning against the side of the car, staring across a yellow-brown moonscape, we all sighed and I wiped away yet more tears.

  ‘You know,’ commented John, ‘you are only as happy as your least happy child. Having a child makes you hostage to their fortune.’

  As the sun set and quickly plunged beyond the horizon, we reluctantly made tracks for home. I had another unhappy child waiting for me there.

  We collected Jake from Jenny’s apartment and were dropped off at the AAC office to give everyone an update and ask for more fliers to be printed. Everyone was very sympathetic and wanted to help.

  ‘What more can we do?’ asked Hani. ‘We have put the word out to everyone but so far…’

  ‘Why has there been no mention of Anna on Saudi television or in the press?’ I demanded.

  ‘Perhaps they have not been told. Perhaps they have been told and are waiting for good news,’ Hani suggested.

  I thought this very odd. ‘You are telling me that this story is not being covered until there is a successful outcome? Why wouldn’t they want to mention it? The more coverage, the quicker someone will find her.’

  ‘The authorities are very sensitive about bad news. They don’t want people to draw the wrong conclusion.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Well…’ Even Hani wasn’t prepared to say what that might be.

  However, I was. ‘I am beginning to think someone has got her.’

  Again, Hani havered in his opinion. ‘It is possible…’

  ‘We’ll see what the air search finds, but if she is lying dead or injured then surely someone would have spotted her by now?’

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘you’d think so. Perhaps, insha’allah, we shall have good news tonight.’

  Jake and I waited several hours until Philip finally came home. His face immediately showed that there was no good news. He sat down next to me on our sofa with Jake on his lap. Jake was really too big for lap-sitting but he sorely needed the comfort of his parents at that moment.

  Philip recounted the events of the past few hours. They had flown to the picnic site and slowly circled it in a series of ever-larger circles. No visible sign of life. They then located the Bedouin encampment and landed to talk to them. The three men who had taken us to the escarpment where the purse was found again confirmed that they hadn’t seen any child then or
since. Yes, they knew of a shepherd with a flock who was in the area but they had no idea where he was now. Yes, they would keep on looking for her.

  By helicopter, they then made a wide search of the area between the Bedouin camp and the escarpment. Again, they found nothing.

  ‘However, the pilots decided to look around the areas we have already driven over and we eventually spotted the shepherd and his flock. We landed and went to talk to him. Both Archie and I recognised him, and the pilots translated for us. He said that during the sandstorm he and his sheep hunkered down in a huddle and stayed static until the wind had subsided. He had found Anna bewildered and lacerated, tucked in with his sheep as he moved off on Friday morning.’

  At this I cried out in relief. ‘She’s not dead? Where is she? What has he done with her?’

  Putting a calming hand on my arm, Philip continued, ‘He guessed that she had been with the “dancing party” but said that he could find no one there.’

  ‘But we were there!’

  ‘He said he couldn’t search for long because he couldn’t leave his flock. He and his flock headed off in the direction of Al Murabah so that he could pass Anna on to someone who could deal with her.’

  ‘So where is she now?!’

  ‘Someone in a white Datsun pickup came past him so he flagged him down. The other chap said he would take her to the police station in Al Yarmuk.’

  ‘Who was the man in the pickup? Was he the filling station attendant?’

  ‘The shepherd didn’t know who he was or where he came from. Everyone in Saudi seems to own a white Datsun pickup so that’s no help. He didn’t take the registration number. In fact, I don’t think he knew what we were talking about.’

  I got up and paced about, almost beside myself with frustration. We now knew that Anna had survived the storm but had no idea who was holding her. ‘Do the police know about finding the shepherd?’

  ‘The pilots said they would report our conversation to Police HQ as soon as they got back to their base. We’ll go to the police station first thing. I’ll pop over to the Fillies’ villa now and ask Angelo if he can take Jake to school and collect him later, just in case.’