I stayed in the kitchen setting everything up for the rest of the guests. The voices from the study kept getting louder as if Fouad and Rauf were arguing, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Minutes later Fouad came to the kitchen.
“Is everything Ok?” I asked.
“I want you upstairs right now.”
“What about the food?”
“I’ll take care of it. Our conversation is not over. I’ll deal with you after my guests leave.”
As I headed upstairs, Rauf asked, “Are you going to be joining us?”
“No, I‘m a bit tired. I nibbled on some food while I was heating it up. It’s delicious, thank you. I’ll be upstairs if you need me,” I said turning to Fouad.
I stayed in my room most of the evening, but I managed to go downstairs and listen in on another mysterious conversation. The guys were sipping Scotch, smoking Cuban cigars, and playing cards but Fouad was M.I.A.
Quietly, I went down the hall and heard Fouad’s voice coming from the guest bedroom. He was on the phone and the door was ajar.
“They’re all still here. Be patient, just a little longer. After tonight, we’ll be closer than we’ve ever been to our goal. Tonight will mark the beginning of our reign.”
Something was definitely going on, but what? I returned to the bedroom and managed to fall asleep until I was awaken by lightning at 1:30 am. It was storming. I heard Fouad speaking to Rauf. I was surprised he was still here. Fouad was insisting that he spend the night. He was concerned because the mountain roads were dark and had many sharp turns. Rauf was very stubborn and insisted on leaving.
Right after he left, Fouad was on the phone. It was becoming obvious the earlier conversations had to do with Rauf. I went back to bed and pretended to be asleep although my head kept spinning trying to figure out what this all meant.
At 3:45 AM., the phone rang. Fouad started to pace up and down as he spoke. He progressively got more and more emotional. He hung up and started getting dressed.
“What happened?” I asked.
“It’s Rauf.”
“What about Rauf?”
“He’s dead,” Fouad said in tears. “He was driving and talking on the phone with Abdul. When they abruptly got disconnected, Abdul and a few other bodyguards decided to head towards our house to make sure Rauf was alright. As they drove up the hill, they saw his Ferrari up in flames.”
“But how? Did he leave our house drunk? Please tell me you didn’t let him drive drunk.”
“Of course not. I even asked him to spend the night because of the bad weather. You know Rauf. He’s hard headed. Apparently his car went off the road and exploded on impact. His body was burned beyond recognition.”
“Are they sure it was Rauf?”
“Yes, the platinum ring he wore was still on his finger. It was his favorite ever since college. His mother gave it to him as a gift on his twentieth birthday. It was engraved with his initials,” Fouad said, breaking down in tears. “I should have hidden his keys and not let him out of this house.”
Fouad appeared to be very distraught with the news, almost vulnerable. I actually felt sorry for him. I was devastated by this news. Rauf was a good man. So young, so full of life; it was truly a tragedy.
“It’s not your fault. Where are you going?” I asked as he grabbed his car keys.
“I have to be there when the President arrives. He’ll need my support.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“Not now, Fatima. I need to do this alone.”
As I walked Fouad to the door, I sensed the tension. He was nervous and stressed out. This was unusual for a man who always kept his composure through tense situations. His best friend had just died but my gut told me something wasn’t right.
“Be careful out there. Please give the president and his family my condolences.”
With Fouad gone, I let all my emotions overflow and started to cry inconsolably. Now that I was getting ready to be a mother, I could start to understand what Rauf’s parents had to be going through. I really felt for President Saeed and his wife. They had lost their only son. The young man they had groomed from childhood to take over the presidency one day, so many hopes, dreams, and expectations had come to a meaningless end without a warning. I could only imagine his mother’s anguish. Her first-born child was dead at age thirty-two with so much to live for. Outliving a child had to be an unbearable pain. I wondered if their faith was strong enough to pull them through this. Only God had the answers to all my questions. I had to believe there was a divine reason for all of this to happen yet it was so difficult to make sense of his loss.
Sleep was out of the question, so I went to the kitchen to make a cup of baboonesh. I hoped the chamomile tea would soothe my nerves. As I opened the cupboard and pulled out the box of tea, a small, plastic bottle fell on to the floor. When I picked it up, I realized it was a bottle of eye drops. As I wondered what the drops were doing in the kitchen, I got a chill up my spine and a strong feeling that something was wrong. The mysterious conversations, Fouad, Rauf… I followed my instincts and proceeded to put some drops of the substance on a swab to take to the lab for testing. Afterwards, I placed the bottle back where I found it.
Fouad hadn’t made it back home. At sunrise, I took the sample to the hospital lab. They were very backed up so, I couldn’t get the results immediately. I was terrified to confirm my suspicions, that my husband, a man that I had once imagined a future with, was a murderer.
Later that day, I met Fouad at the Presidential Palace. There was a private intimate ceremony for those closest to Rauf. I walked up to a distraught President Saeed and a pale, weak first lady to express my deep sorrow for their loss. The mood was so grim. His mother nearly fainted a couple of times. His sisters were by their parents’ side giving them strength. Fouad stood behind the president and his wife like a son. He held Mrs. Saeed’s hand as a sign of solidarity in her darkest hour.
The whole country was in mourning. President Saeed was beloved by most. He wasn’t perfect, but he had done good and made a difference for his people. Everyone had expected for Rauf to rule the nation one day. Now, with his death and no brothers to fill his shoes, there was an air of uncertainty. All Antarah took to the streets to pay their last respects to Rauf and to offer support to the presidential family.
The roads were barricaded by military vehicles. A motorcade escorted the vehicle that carried the body all over the capital city. All throughout the country, people showed their compassion for a life taken too soon. Fouad rode with the president and his entourage. I followed in a separate car with his mother and sisters. As we rode all over town, the people held up handwritten poster boards with pictures of Rauf and slogans: “God Bless Our Hero,” “Our souls and our blood for our Hero,” “A Palace in Heaven awaits for you, our Hero.” Rauf’s mother was extremely emotional as she observed how an entire nation had united in memory of her son. All their personal grief had turned public.
While the women waited outside the cemetery, I saw a small hill with a shrine built to lay the body to rest and to accommodate the men to pray for his eternal life. Everything was so grandiose. It was, after all, the president’s only son. The moment was sad. Seeing the oversized pictures of Rauf made me go back to the day when I first met him. He was such a charming and charismatic individual. He probably would have made a good president, and I’m sure a good husband and father with the right woman by his side.
When the men came out, I saw Brahim. Immediately, Fouad came by my side and wrapped his arms around me. This whole experience reminded me that life was too short, and that I had wasted too much time being unhappy.
Fouad sent me home while he accompanied the president.
There, I cried for a while thinking about my parents. I spoke to them and told them they would soon be grandparents. I would have given anything to have them before me and see their jo
yous reaction to my news. Unfortunately, I was all alone. It had been a long, depressing day.
A few days later, I got a call from the lab. They had found traces of diazepam, better known as valium, on the swab. I had an eerie feeling. There weren’t many people I could trust, but I knew I could count on Brahim. He was in surgery, so I waited patiently in his office. Finally, he came in.
“I know we haven’t been speaking, and I know I was wrong to slap you, but I need your help,” I said. “Tell me everything you know about a drug called diazepam.”
“Slow down. What’s this all about?”
“Please Brahim, just tell me.”
“Diazepam is used to relieve anxiety, insomnia, and nervousness, as well as certain types of seizures and muscle spasms. In the States, most people know it as Valium, and you require a prescription for it because it’s highly addictive. In this country, on the other hand, it’s readily available over the counter,” Brahim said.
“What are the side effects of an overdose?”
“You’re scaring me Fatima. Did you…?”
“No, just answer my question.”
“Sleepiness, drowsiness, dizziness, hallucinations, severe confusion; the person might appear drunk or unconscious. Fatima, does this have anything to do with Rauf’s death?” Brahim asked.
“Thanks, Brahim. I can’t talk about it right now.”
My worst fear was confirmed. Something had bothered me from the beginning about Rauf’s death. He was an avid car racer. Although he loved speed, he was a very safe driver and he knew that road like the palm of his hand. He wasn’t one to take unnecessary risks. He knew his father was depending on him to take over the leadership of the country. He took that responsibility very seriously. I know he wouldn’t have done anything foolish.
I was scared. If Fouad was capable of murder, my life was in jeopardy.
“Fatima, wait,” Brahim said as he followed me to my office.
“Lock the door,” I said frantically. “Fouad knows about us. I think he killed Rauf and we could be next on his hit list.”
“Slow down. What do you mean he knows about us? Did you tell him?”
“No. Apparently he had us followed by his lover. She paid off some people to spread rumors about the both of you being engaged…”
“Why didn’t you just ask me and we could have cleared this up?”
“It was easier to slap you. I was crazed, enraged with jealousy. I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m sorry. Now, I’m terrified. There is no telling what he can do.”
Brahim held me tight in his arms.
“I love you and I swear I won’t let that bastard harm you. I promised you once that I would take care of you and that’s what I intend to do. Regrettably, all we have is speculation. We need to find concrete evidence to link him to this crime.”
“Greed, power, those are the motives. Fouad is second in command to the most powerful position after the presidency. Rauf’s death left the door wide open for Fouad to slide in and take his place, not only as the head of the Republican Guard, but also, as a son to a president that needs to fill a void. Fouad has worked hard throughout the years to earn the president’s trust and he is considered part of their family.
I think he sees the president as a surrogate father because he lost his dad at a young age. Yet, Fouad knew he would always play second fiddle to Rauf. The only way he could achieve his goal was murder. That night Rauf was at our house. I’m sure Fouad laced his drink to guarantee he’d fall asleep behind the wheel and lose control of the vehicle. It makes perfect sense.”
“I guess it’s very possible. How about an accomplice?”
“Maybe Esmaa, his lover. She seems to share his passion for deceit. I don’t know. All I know is that we have to be very careful. We can’t be seen together. Fouad is under the impression that I broke it off for good. I need you now more than ever.”
We just hugged each other tight.
“I want to be with you so bad it hurts,” Brahim said.
“Me too, but we’ll have to wait for the right time.”
Spy Games
The next steps I took were aimed at uncovering Fouad’s involvement in Rauf’s death. I decided to plant a voice- activated recorder in his study, hoping to tape an incriminating conversation. While Fouad spent time with the president, trying to secure Rauf’s position, I snooped around and planted my own traps.
“What’s so important? Am I looking at the new head of the Republican Guard? Oh, no. What the hell happened? I thought it was a sure thing,” Esmaa said.
“So did I,” a furious Fouad replied as the sound of things crashing was heard. “That old son of a bitch. I’ve been like a son to him, and this is how he repays me.”
“So who did that bastard appoint to your position?”
“His brother.”
“His brother! His brother is a loser; the biggest asshole in town. He has as much military experience as I have in brain surgery. His notoriety consists in seducing women and making fast money. The only reason he’s gotten this far is because of his last name. This is fucking unbelievable. I guess blood is thicker than water after all.”
At that moment, a piece of glass was thrown against a surface.
“Saeed and his family are going to pay dearly for this.”
“I’m sure they will. You just have to say the word, my darling. All our key players are in position awaiting your instructions. We are ready at any time. ”
“Patience, dear Esmaa. Soon, very soon, President Saeed will regret ever meeting me. I swear on my father’s grave,” he said slamming his fist on the desk.
I had listened to the first in a series of tapes that would help me build the necessary evidence to bury my husband. Still, I needed more tangible proof if I wanted to expose him and his lover. Lately, Fouad was in a foul mood. He couldn’t get over not being promoted. Even his appetite for sex had diminished. I wasn’t complaining. Every evening, he locked himself in his study for hours, probably plotting his next move. I hoped he’d bring home files that might uncover his future plans. For days, I looked in his study for any valuable information unsuccessfully. The following day, I went to his office. I knew he wouldn’t be there because I overheard him scheduling a lunch meeting.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Aziz. It’s been a while since you’ve come by the office,” his secretary said.
“Hello Leila, I came to take my husband to lunch,” I said.
“The Major General is not in. He had a meeting.”
“Will he be long?”
“I really don’t know.”
“I’ll wait in his office for a few minutes. Hopefully he’ll be back
shortly.”
I entered Fouad’s office and closed the door. I could smell Esmaa. The scent of vanilla and sandalwood had become synonymous with repulsive.
Having no time to waste, I started looking in his drawers, file cabinets, anywhere I felt might hold the answers. Behind a small table, I found a safe box. I reached over and realized I needed a key. I went back to his desk to retrieve a series of keys hoping one would open the box. As I was ready to start trying the keys, I saw the door handle turn. I put the keys in my pocket. A woman entered.
“Fatima, what are you doing in Fouad’s office?” Esmaa asked.
“I’m his wife. Remember?” I said.
“I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just surprised to see you here.”
“Fouad has been working so hard lately, I wanted to take his mind off things. You know what I mean. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get ready for my husband.”
I could see the jealous rage in her eyes. It felt good to make her green with envy. She knew I was a formidable opponent and that Fouad wouldn’t resist me. This was just the beginning of my payback for all the betrayal that had kept me from my happiness. By now, I felt I had wasted too much tim
e and it was too risky to attempt opening the safe. I quickly put the keys back and looked forward to another opportunity.
“I heard you came looking for me today,” Fouad said when he got home.
“Who told you? Esmaa?” I said. “She’s extremely protective of you.”
“That’s Esmaa’s way. So, what were you doing in my office?”
“I thought we could have lunch. Lately, we’ve barely spent any time together.”
“You’ve missed me?”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“Let me take you to dinner.”
“That would be nice.”
I had no choice but to go along. At the restaurant, I complained about feeling ill to avoid any intimacy that evening. Fortunately, it worked. The next morning, he had an early start. He was going out of town for the day. I made him breakfast in bed and massaged his feet. I tried to distract him promising an unforgettable night of passion. It worked. He was running so late, he left without his briefcase. I hoped my visit to his office had prompted him to bring home something of interest. I rushed to the study and went through his briefcase. I found what I was looking for. It was a bombshell. Fouad had been keeping a detailed journal since his teenage years. It was odd that a man like him would express his emotions on paper. I anticipated unraveling many secrets. First and foremost, why did he marry me? And last, but definitely not least, why did he murder Rauf?
As I turned the pages, I found, tucked between two pages, a yellowish envelope containing a letter. I immediately opened it, hoping it would be a key to the past.
My dearest Fouad:
If you are reading this letter, it’s because I’m dead. Just know that I loved you and your sisters very much. You are now the man of the house and I expect you to take this task very seriously.
The man responsible for my death is General Gaffar Abdul Aziz, the head of the military police and an associate of mine. His position is among the most powerful in the country. He can make people disappear without a trace and make anything happen. He controls the borders and its patrols.
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