by JC Ryan
“The story is that they were searching the house and grounds for explosives,” the butcher told them. “And they accidentally found some. May Allah receive them and give them peace. Our country will not be safe for our children and our children’s children if these terrorists and their bombs are not discovered and eradicated.”
Marissa thanked him gently. Not every Afghani citizen was a bad guy. But those who were surely succeeded in giving all the others a bad name.
“Can you give us the location of the explosion?” she asked. “We’d like to pay our respects.”
The address the butcher gave matched the information they had. So far, they’d learned nothing to convince them their intel was false.
Marissa had a growing dread that the samples they took at the scene really would match Dalton’s DNA. She had a fondness for John Brandt that had nothing to do with the fact he was her employer. He was a decent man who’d been dealt a hard blow in the death of his wife. He’d lost his faith in a career that had betrayed him and his old-school CIA cohort. He’d lost agents before, but none as personally close to him as Dalton. She didn’t want to be the one to tell him his favorite agent, someone he looked on as the son he’d never had, had also died.
Chapter Thirteen
IF DIGGER’S THOUGHT processes had been like a human’s, they probably would have run along the lines of, “What am I supposed to do now? My alpha and my meal ticket has been taken away, and I have no idea where I am.”
Or maybe not. Digger was an exceptionally intelligent dog, not given to futile kvetching. So, what he did was follow the policeman as he marched Rex down the street at a discreet distance. Rex had commanded him to hide, but there was precious little cover in this desert environment. Digger wasn’t hungry – he’d taken time to eat the rest of Rex’s sandwich after emerging from the hedge and before following the scent of his human leader. He wasn’t thirsty now, but the heat beating down on his thick black coat would make it imperative for him to find a source of water soon.
When Digger arrived at the building, he saw Rex being put into a car. Rex didn’t see him, so he didn’t give another command. Digger continued to hide. When the car began to move, Digger moved, too. At first, he was able to keep up. Then the car got to a road where it speeded up. Digger had to cross under an overpass with no cover, but there was also no traffic, so he made it without incident. After that, he ran as fast as he could, but the car was too fast.
All Digger could do was follow the road, hidden by some shrubs that appeared here and there. Within a minute, he was far behind the car, but he kept going in the direction the car went. The car slowed to turn a corner, and Digger caught a glimpse of it. Immediately, he turned and began dodging through a field of sand and rock to intercept the car. It was a mistake. He lost sight of it. Then thirst overtook him, and he detoured to the smell of water, finding a fountain where he drank deeply.
A sound overhead attracted his attention, and he looked up. Digger of course didn’t have a word for the thing in the sky, but he knew what it was. Something like it had carried him to this place, not long ago. He lowered his head and looked in the direction from which it had come. He cut across another big field and saw the car that Rex was in, now pointed in the opposite direction on a road that led to the flying-thing place. He began to run faster.
By the time he reached the road, he was confused. There were many cars, and some looked like Rex’s car. They were all going in one direction, though, so he followed beside that road and lifted his snout in the air to search for Rex’s scent, but he couldn’t find any. It was only the smell of gas coming from the cars.
At last, a faint trace was familiar. Rex was somewhere ahead. He moved closer, ignoring the people who saw him and yelling at him. His friend needed him. He crept closer, hiding while he did so, until he saw the right car. It was not moving, and no one was in it. He knew it was the right car because it had Rex’s scent. He crawled under it to wait for Rex.
***
INSIDE THE AIRPORT police station, Rex was worried and angry as well. Worried because it was beginning to look like a bigger deal than he’d thought and concerned about Digger’s whereabouts and safety. Angry at the situation and at himself for the misstep. He hadn’t visited Saudi Arabia before, but he couldn’t help but believe being arrested here was not a good idea.
When he heard the policeman who’d arrested him saying ‘blasphemy’, he got really worried. The punishment for blasphemy in Saudi Arabia was in the discretion of the presiding magistrate and could range from a warning, a heavy fine and lashes to the death penalty — public beheading. Despite his intention to be compliant and not make waves, he couldn’t let that stand. He protested, loudly, that he had not intended to blaspheme. It had happened only because he was not Muslim and had not realized it was Ramadan. Of course, he had only the highest respect for the Muslim religion.
When his protests fell on deaf ears, he took another tack.
“I am here to complete a business transaction with a member of the royal family. I demand that I be brought before a magistrate immediately to plead my case. The prince is expecting me.”
It might have worsened his plight, but his situation couldn’t get much worse. He hoped it would make them show their intentions and speed up the process. He was not going to allow them to hold him for years, or months, or even weeks. He had a responsibility to Digger, and he’d made an implicit promise to Akshara Gyan to rescue her daughter. He intended to keep both obligations and if it meant to do so he had to break out of custody and in the process break a few necks and limbs, then so be it.
The policemen in this station were more familiar with laws foreigners were likely to transgress. They saw it happening every day, and most of the time it was overlooked, settled with the payment of a fine, or someone above their pay grade received a bribe and released the miscreant. Occasionally, it was more serious, and more often than not, it somehow involved a member of the royal family.
Rex had inadvertently cited the one circumstance that the police tried to avoid like pork — getting on the left side of a member of the royal family.
There was a magistrate on hand to deal with foreigners right in the airport. That way, their cases could be heard right away, and the offenders deported immediately if the infraction warranted it.
Rex was brought before the magistrate and allowed to plead his own case. Back in the US and other first-world countries the general wisdom was he who has himself for a lawyer has a fool for a client. Rex believed it to be very wise council, but in Saudi Arabia justice could sometimes be swift and attorneys tended to interfere with rapid legal processing. He wasn’t given the option to call one.
However, he had an advantage over many Americans who’d found themselves crosswise with the law in a foreign country. He spoke the language. Fluently.
In eloquent terms, he apologized for his accidental offense. He admitted the infringement. There was no way he could truthfully say he didn’t take a bite out of his sandwich – the policeman had caught him red-handed. Furthermore, he knew the law, at least the core of it. He wasn’t a Muslim, as he’d said before, he respected their religion and would never consciously do anything to dishonor the religion. He knew Ramadan was holy and he knew what was expected of Muslims during this time. What he didn’t know was that the laws pertained to non-Muslims. Had he known that, he would never have committed such a monstrous transgression.
The only lie he told was that he hadn’t known it pertained to non-Muslims. Having lived in Afghanistan for more than a year, he did know that. He also knew the best lies had an element of truth. Everything else he’d said was true.
It helped also that in questioning him, the magistrate asked his business in Saudi Arabia. Truthfully again, he said he had a business transaction with a member of the royal family. He didn’t say it would be a one-sided transaction.
At this juncture, he saw another opportunity to strengthen his plea, and solemnly promised to the magistrate that as soon
as he met with the prince, he would make sure to apologize and ask for forgiveness for embarrassing the royal family and his eminence the King.
Whether it was his eloquence, the fact that he made his plea in perfect Arabic, or because the magistrate was impressed or perhaps intimidated by his claim of business with one prince Mutaib bin Faisal bin Saud, Rex would never know. All he knew was that his potential death sentence was commuted to five lashes, which the honorable magistrate suspended for a period of three years. Meaning, the magistrate explained, Rex would not receive the punishment now, but if he were to be found guilty of a similar offense in the next three years, the five lashes would be meted out to him on top of whatever sentence he would get for the new offence.
Rex was relieved. He had no intention to stay in Saudi Arabia for three years. However, he wasn’t so sure he could promise that he wouldn’t break any laws or anything else for that matter, in the next week or so of his planned visit to the kingdom. He intended to not get caught again, and if he got caught, not to submit to an arrest as timidly as he did earlier.
***
REX SUPPOSED IT wouldn’t be good form to ask for a ride back to the park, a distance of perhaps eight or ten miles by road. His rented SUV was still there unless it had been impounded. He had no idea where Digger might be. After collecting his cell phone and other items that had been confiscated upon his arrest, he walked out by the same door from which he’d entered.
The sun was high in the west, and the door was on the south end of the northeast-oriented terminal of the airport. Rex, whose sense of direction was flawless even in a foreign country, figured the racetrack was almost due east or perhaps a little north of that, and maybe five miles as the crow flew. In the distance, he could see structures that might be an office park or light industrial complex, perhaps a mile away across the airport complex’s roads.
He debated whether to call a taxi from his current location or to walk across to the other buildings first. He was about to walk through to the other side of the building where the passenger areas were, when a movement under a nearby squad car attracted his attention. Two black paws, followed by a familiar black snout, emerged. Rex looked around quickly, giving Digger a hand-signal to wait.
Seeing no one nearby, he gave the signal to come, and Digger wriggled out from under the car. He ran to Rex and jumped, landing with both front paws squarely on his chest. Rex staggered and then righted himself.
“I’m glad to see you, too, buddy,” he said in a low voice.
Digger whined his agreement and then jumped again, landing a lick on Rex’s cheek before gravity pulled him back down.
Rex kneeled down, took Digger’s head in his hands and pulled it to his own face. Digger licked his face while he was scratching him behind the ears. “Thanks for waiting for me buddy. Okay, let’s get out of here.”
His decision was made for him. He couldn’t take Digger through the building without a crate or a leash. The fact was, he probably couldn’t get him into a taxi without a leash, either, even if he could find a driver willing to take a dog at all.
“Can we get back to the Jeep, boy?” He called every vehicle a Jeep, because Digger recognized the word.
Digger gave a soft woof and turned in what Rex had decided was the right direction. He walked a few steps, then turned his head back to look at Rex. The message was clearly, “What are you waiting for?”
Rex had walked farther in worse heat than this. It wasn’t his favorite idea, but he could do it. “Lead the way,” he said to Digger. He followed as Digger set out. A few minutes later, he regretted the choice, as Digger started to cross a wide area of macadam. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was a runway.
“Digger, no!” he called, but he was too late. The dog was halfway across. Expecting to be shot, Rex sprinted after him. They’d never have gotten away with the stunt in America. Maybe because of Ramadan there were fewer planes taking off and landing. Rex didn’t know. He just thanked his guardian angel when they made it without being run down by a plane or shot as a terrorist.
Across a wide expanse of sand, they found the onramp to a raised highway, followed it up and across, and back down the offramp on the other side to the road that led to the buildings Rex had seen earlier. Those turned out to be a private jet-port, almost deserted. They passed by and continued in a slight north-easterly direction. Digger seemed confident of his direction.
By the time they reached the racetrack and the small park on its grounds where Rex had been picked up, Rex was drenched in sweat. Digger had taken another drink from the fountain he’d found before, but Rex hadn’t. He was parched. He saw his SUV where he’d left it and was soon drinking water from a bottle that had been in the cooler. He found it difficult to pace himself but knew that guzzling it would probably cause an equal and opposite reaction.
He was also half-starved, but the sandwich he’d been eating was gone. He looked at Digger. “Did you eat my sandwich?”
Digger dropped his head and avoided Rex’s eyes. He recognized ‘eat’ and ‘sandwich’.
Rex interpreted the gesture as “what are you talking about?” or “What sandwich?” But Digger’s body language proclaimed his guilt. Either way, he didn’t dare take another bite of anything, in case another police officer was lurking nearby. It wasn’t yet sundown. If any policeman or anyone else had tried to bust him for drinking the water, also forbidden during daylight hours of Ramadan, he’d have done some busting of his own.
Chapter Fourteen
REX WAS BEHIND his planned schedule because of the interruption. He’d meant to be in Dammam by this time. It was a four-hour drive, with few options for stops along the way. Judah was his best option, but he could find no indication that there would be restaurants or that they’d be open when he got there.
He hoped to find a place where he could get food well before he reached Dammam. If there was no food to be had beforehand, at least he was certain to have some options in the resort city. He’d make the best of his delay, find a hotel, and begin his search for the prince tomorrow.
He tried to find some philosophical well-being in the realization he’d dodged not a bullet but a howitzer round. But hunger and philosophical musings didn’t go together for Rex. He was grumpy. More than grumpy, he was ready to knock a few Saudi heads together.
Digger seemed to sense his mood. Instead of sitting upright in the passenger seat, he’d squirmed in the harness until he could get comfortable lying down and was now snoring. Rex was even grumpier not to have companionship. Still, Digger had done his best to help. Rex was still puzzled about how Digger was able to find him at the airport police station because he couldn’t have possibly followed the police car the entire way.
As he drove, Rex tried to think of how Digger had done it. He concluded that Digger must have taken the route he led them back on, since he seemed to know exactly where that fountain was. He’d never know, not until Digger learned to talk in a language Rex could fully understand or vice versa. These thoughts made him feel a little better about the dog falling asleep. It had been a long day for Digger, too.
After seeing the difference dropping his target’s name had made to the police and magistrate, Rex fleshed out his next steps a little more as he drove. Two hours later, he approached the village of Judah, or so the signs said. He could see no evidence of occupation, not even a light in a window. Dammam it was, then, and he hoped he didn’t run out of gas before he got there. The indicator said he had half a tank. If the gauge was true, the SUV must have had a larger tank than he thought.
Maybe in Saudi Arabia they fit bigger gas tanks because of the long distances between towns. Ironic, come to think of it. The country is located on top of the largest lake of oil on the planet, yet I might run out of gas.
Two hours after that, it was nearing midnight when he entered Dammam. Several phone calls finally located a hotel where there was a vacancy and he could check in. He had to bribe the desk clerk to get Digger in despite his service-dog papers.
> Nothing had gone right since I landed in this accursed country. Well, maybe I should be grateful I’m not sitting in a jail cell in Riyadh or worse, waiting for dawn to come so they could chop my head off in public.
***
REX WOKE IN a better frame of mind. He’d found a vending machine in the hotel and though he’d paid an exorbitant premium to the clerk to change some of his dollars for the Arabic coins he needed to purchase some sandwiches, nut and chocolate bars. Not entirely the meal Rex would have liked to have, but the food had been welcome.
Digger agreed.
Rex had also remembered the pre-stuffed kong when they got to the room, and Digger was transported by joy when he saw it. Rex had actually been able to break free of his somber mood and laugh at Digger’s antics. Fortunately, they were on the first floor, so they had no one below them to complain about the thuds as Digger pounced on the toy, ‘killing’ it for the dried meat stuffed inside.
A long shower to clean the dried sweat from the afternoon’s hike relaxed Rex enough to sleep, though he was keyed up about the next day’s tasks. He managed about four hours before the alarm on his phone woke him in time to have breakfast at the hotel restaurant before sunup. This would be the last day of Ramadan, thankfully.
Rex spent another hour in his room after breakfast, taking advantage of the hotel Wi-Fi to research what else might be forbidden. He didn’t see anything forbidding business, so he checked out of the hotel and went to explore the marketplaces in the city. In the Middle East, markets are where people meet and socialize and gossip. Markets are fountains of information if one knew how to ask the right questions, and Rex knew.