by Omar Tyree
Gary hesitated. He had been around the guy enough for a while. He needed a ten-hour break, or maybe a day or two.
“You’re not planning on going are ya?”
“Aw, heck no. It’s Friday! I’m not leaving the airport until I make two thousand dirham. Then I’ll go home and kick up my feet for an hour or two,” Johnny said. “Those desert tour things take all day. They’re just fun to do when you have the time for it, especially if you take a girl with you. You got her all day and night, and everything is already paid for. That’s the best date ever.”
Gary laughed. “You’re something else, man. If I would have met you six years ago, we could have really had some fun. But I’m a little older now.”
“You’re only as old as you allow yourself to be, my friend. You remember I said that. But I gotta go now; I’m back at the airport. Time to get back to busy.”
Just like that, Johnny was off the phone and back to his lifestyle.
Gary mumbled, “That guy probably has a heck of a life over here. But let me get my day started.” He climbed out of bed and headed toward the bathroom for a shower.
*****
The Dubai Safari Tours picked up three or four passengers in white Jeeps from various locations around the UAE and drove them all out to a desert tour ground. Once the tourists arrived in as many as twelve vehicles, the group formed a caravan to drive up, down and around the sand dunes in the desert. But before the drivers could start their fun in the sand, a tour guide asked them all to climb out of the vehicles for an official introduction and a chance for the tourists to meet each other.
A middle-aged British-Indian man addressed the group of thirty-six with an introduction in English while they all stood out in front of the white Jeeps.
“Hello, everyone. My name is Conrad Murymar, and I want to personally thank you all for signing up to enjoy the Dubai Safari Tours. In addition to the buggy rides through the sand dunes behind you, we have a fun-filled day planned for you all with sand skiing, camel back riding, belly dancing, flavored hookah pipes, a full-course meal, fireworks and plenty of photo opportunities to share with your friends and loved ones back home.
“But before we start our packed, fun-filled day, at this time we would like you all to greet each other, as we have participants from ten different nations,” Conrad said. He wore a tan bucket sand hat with a matching Dubai Safari Tours T-shirt. The other drivers were all dressed identically, except for their different pants, long shorts and shoes.
Conrad then read from a printout, “According to my list of participants today, you all are from Australia, Japan, Brazil, the U.S., the UK, Italy, Germany, South Africa, Canada and France. So we definitely have a good mix of people.”
Representing the U.S., along with a couple from Florida in their forties, Gary looked around and assumed that he was the only lone tourist in the large group. As they began to shake hands, greet each other and take pictures, the other tourists were mostly couples, families with children, or good friends on a vacation.
“Hi, I’m Gary, from the U.S.”
“You came alone?” an Italian woman asked him. She was in her late thirties and had come with her slightly younger girlfriend.
“Ah, I’m afraid so,” Gary answered sheepishly.
“Would you like to ride with us?” she asked him.
Wow! Gary thought. They waste no time with that. He didn’t even know their names.
One of the young tour guides overheard their forward invitation to him and beamed right into Gary’s eyes. It was the understanding of awkwardness, and they shared an international moment of connection that needed no words.
“Ah, sure, I don’t see why not,” he answered. “What’re your names again?”
The older Italian woman chuckled and reached out her hand. “I’m Sophie, and this is Anastasia.”
Anastasia was not only younger but shorter, with light-brown hair that was in contrast to Sophie’s jet black. But they both had the deep-tanned skin and robust bodies of proud, fit Italians.
“What part of Italy are you from?”
“Venice.”
Gary angled toward the young tour guide to include her in the conversation. Tour guides were people too, so he didn’t want to leave her out, especially with her striking hazel-colored eyes that dazzled like a rainbow in the sand.
“And what country are you from?” he asked the young Dubai Safari Tours woman. Her sand hat covered her hair.
“Jordan.”
Gary reached out his hand to hers. “Are you a driver?” She looked too young and fragile to drive, but she could have surprised him.
The young Jordanian giggled. “No, I’m actually in training. This is my first day.”
“Oh, this is Maria. She came with us,” Sophie interjected. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”
The young woman smiled graciously and said, “Ra-mia,” to correct her name.
Cat fight brewing, Gary thought.
“Oh, so close,” Sophie commented with a snap of her fingers. “Ra-mia.”
The young woman nodded and continued to smile. “Yes.”
Before they knew it, it was time to climb back into their vehicles and get started.
“Ramia, can you please take our picture,” Sophie asked, practically jamming her camera into the young woman’s hands.
“Sure.”
Sophie grabbed Gary by the wrist. “If you don’t mind,” she said.
“Okay,” Gary agreed.
Anastasia jumped in on the other side of him, creating a sandwich, while Sophie dictated her terms.
“Okay, now take a few long shots of us as well. Gary is very tall.”
Ramia took at least eight different angles with the digital camera before returning it to the zestful Italian.
Sophie forwarded through the pictures on the view screen and nodded, while showing them to Anastasia and Gary.
“She’s good, very good,” she commented.
Ramia was all smiles. “Thank you.”
The tour group all climbed back into the vehicles, with several couples swapping Jeeps as Gary moved in with the two Italians and Ramia, who sat up front with a male driver.
“Has everyone met each other back there? I’m David,” the late-twenties driver introduced himself, mainly to Gary. He was as brown as Johnny. Maybe he was Sri Lankan as well.
“I’m Gary.”
“All right, Gary, well buckle up your seatbelts back there, and get ready for a fun and rocky ride. That means you too, Ramia. We don’t want to lose you to a concussion on your first day of training,” he teased her.
Ramia smiled and said, “Okay.”
The line of Jeeps faced the towering sand dunes as the drivers began to take air out of the tires. A flat wheel was much less likely to flip. In a few minutes, they were all blasting away through the sand.
“Oh, my goodness!” Sophie screamed as if on a rollercoaster ride. A few times she even grabbed Gary’s thigh to balance herself inside the back, as their jeep cut in, out, up, down and around the sand dunes with the others.
All the while, Gary continued to connect to Ramia, who held a secret empathy for the American man. And with every look, grin or eye that she was able to give him from the front, they understood each other.
She really is beautiful, Gary admitted to himself. She has a good spirit. But I wonder how young she is. I know she’s older than a teenager, but she looks that young. I give her no more than twenty-two.
The young Jordanian held his attention the entire time, even while the Italian flirted mercilessly. In fact, Gary couldn’t wait to ask the young woman more questions later, if he was able to. Surely, a young and beautiful woman could relate to being cordial under fire.
After cruising the sand dunes, the Jeeps drove through an ostrich and camel farm before arriving at a campground in the middle of the desert, with tents, tables, food, drinks, a circular stage and a DJ for music. The drivers parked and let all of the tourists out to eat and enjoy themselves at the camp, incl
uding sand skiing down a nearby slope, camelback riding, snake and hawk petting, hookah smoking and plenty of pictures. But Gary didn’t have many opportunities to speak to Ramia again. She was in training with the other tour guides, who continued to show her the ropes around the campgrounds. She also helped to prepare food and tables and collect the trash.
Gary could tell that she watched him. Her hazel eyes continued to glimmer, no matter the distance between them. Gary showed off his athleticism, hoping to impress the beautiful Jordanian as he skied down sand slopes. He also sparred with Middle Eastern swords, held the snakes and hawks and petted the guard dogs around the camp.
Ramia was impressed. The tall American continued to stand out—a lone, handsome and rugged Western man out in the desert. And as the sun began to set, with the DJ playing music for a team of Syrian belly dancers, Gary finally had his chance to get next to her again in the crowd.
“This is really a great tour. I’m enjoying myself,” he told her casually.
She gushed. “I know. This is the greatest job in the world.”
Gary was overtaken by her spunk and happiness. However, he was also leery of singling her out too much in the crowd. She was so young and exotic, but she was also an Arab woman in the Middle East. So he remained cautious not to offend anyone. With her sand hat off in the dim light, her auburn hair, just a shade darker than his own, along with her perfectly toned and flawless skin, she looked even more beautiful. She was a young goddess in the desert sand.
Now I see why they cover their women up, Gary joked to himself.
Ramia looked into his green eyes again and smiled, as if waiting for more of his conversation. That only made his desire to talk to her burn stronger inside of his heart.
Okay, I need to get away from her before I make a fool of myself out here, he mused. The urge made him feel very uncomfortable.
Finally, he said, “Okay, well … enjoy your training.”
“Thank you.”
Only Gary was not able to force his legs to move away.
“Where are you from in the States?” she asked him.
“Louisville, in Kentucky.”
She nodded. “Yes, the basketball team.”
That surprised him. “You know about Louisville basketball?”
“Kentucky, my cousin likes to watch them online.”
Gary smirked. “Oh yeah, it’s a big state rivalry between Louisville and Kentucky.”
Just as he had warmed up enough to think about asking her how old she was, Conrad Murymar called her away.
“Oh, excuse me,” she said as she left.
Gary could feel a strange cloud of loneliness in her absence. He hoped that she would return. And she did, but only for a second.
“Enjoy your stay in Dubai,” she told him with a smile.
“Oh, you’re leaving?”
She nodded. “Yes, I train again tomorrow or Sunday.”
“Okay, well enjoy your Friday night,” he said.
“I doubt it. I don’t live in a fun neighborhood,” she responded.
But before he could say anything else, she moved away to say her goodbyes to the other tourists, including the two Italian women. And as she walked toward the Jeeps in the dark, Gary took a deep breath.
Can’t have everything, he thought.
“There you are, Gary. You disappeared for a while,” Sophie said with a flirtatious glee, swaying her hips and grabbing his arm. “We wanted to get some more pictures of you in case we don’t see you again. Where are you staying, by the way?”
Not even her sexy Italian accent could tempt him. He felt alone, staring in the dark at tourist tents lighted with fiery torches. His mind was definitely not with Sophie or any of the others on the tour.
“I don’t even know the name of the place. I’m just over here on a whim. I’ve been hanging out all night anyway.”
Sophie was ready, with her information written down on the back of a business card. “Well, in case you want to hang out again with us, here is the hotel and my phone number to contact me.”
When he looked down at the card, it was the International Suites, again.
Chapter 16
Abdul sent his man Hakim to the Palm Deira district after work that evening to check in on the investigation of the recent murders. He wanted Hakim to find out whatever he could on his own and report back to him. Abdul desired all of the information that he could get and from as many different sources.
When Hakim arrived in Deira, he found the UAE police steadily combing through the area with random questions for some and detailed interrogations of others. With a mostly immigrant population who spoke several different languages, the police had their work cut out for them. And they were far behind what was already known by Abdul’s construction site overseer, as well as his private counsel and investigator, Tariq Mohammed. Both of Abdul’s men had an inside track on what to ask and who to look for.
A big Arab man with a neatly trimmed beard in casual street clothes, Tariq was an imposing and respected figure. He was also very sharp. He recognized Hakim, snooping around the crowd outside of the gray cement buildings, immediately. In his white garb, Hakim stood out amongst the uniformed workers like a sore thumb, but Tariq did not bother to speak to him.
As long as he doesn’t get in my way, he told himself.
There were plenty of immigrant onlookers that night. They were all amazed by the three cold-blooded murders all in one treacherous night.
“This is impossible,” a young Indian worker commented with his hands to his lips in prayer. “Three murders in the same night, all within two blocks of each other. What’s going on?”
The crowds had gathered around a dozen police cars that encircled the area. UAE police officers and investigators were everywhere, with many of them attempting to control the crowds.
“Move back! This is police work!”
The crowd retreated reluctantly as Tariq flashed his special investigations badge on his way inside of the building. Hakim watched him from the crowd, while continuing to listen in on chatter from the streets and sidewalks.
“Why would someone want to kill two old men?” a bystander asked rhetorically.
Maybe they knew something they were not supposed to tell, Hakim thought, particularly considering the details of the murders. Two slit throats of wise old men was obvious, even to a construction worker. They knew too much.
As Tariq walked into the five-story building to investigate the scene for himself, he listened in on a few of the police interrogations inside of the hallways.
“You did not see any strange men enter the building last night?”
“Not any who looked unusual, no,” a young laborer answered. He was still in tan uniform.
“What does ‘unusual’ mean?” the officers asked him.
The laborer shrugged. “Any man who would look ready to kill someone,” he answered. “Most of the men who live here are peaceful workers and laborers.”
“Where do most of them work?”
Tariq listened in as well. How many of the immigrant men in Deira have worked for Abdul at one time? he wondered.
“All over Dubai,” the laborer answered the police. “It is much cheaper to live here in a small room that is close to where we work. We only have to cross the main bridge back into Dubai.”
With the majority of the tenants working daytime shifts, the police had no choice but to ask the same questions of various residents as they began to arrive at home that evening. Not even a double murder inside of their building would stop them from getting up and heading to work. Work was the only reason for them to be there. Few immigrant laborers could afford to enjoy the luxuries of Dubai. The affluence of the United Arab Emirates only served as an opportunity to create a living for their families, many of whom lived far away in a dozen foreign countries.
Once Tariq had ascended the floor of the murders, he found more of the police asking questions of some of the few women who lived in the building.
�
�Did you hear any men fighting or screaming from inside your room last night?”
The young woman was a Somalian in her mid-twenties, with smooth brown skin and long braided hair.
“I was asleep,” she answered. And she was now irritated that three separate teams of officers had knocked on her door to question her.
“Are you sure you did not hear anything?”
The murders had occurred right across the hallway from her door.
“Yes, I am sure,” she snapped.
One of the officers began to peer into her apartment in curiosity. He asked her, “Who do you live with?”
“I live with my cousins, and they are all women. I told the police this earlier.”
The officers all looked at each other, suspecting prostitution.
“And what work do you do?” one of them asked suspiciously. There were four of them, all local Arabs.
“I work at the mall,” the woman answered. “I have today off.”
“In what store do you work?”
By that time, Tariq had heard enough. The woman did not know anything, and harassing her would only make it harder for them.
“That is enough,” the private counsel spoke up. “She does not know.”
Three UAE officers turned to face Tariq and immediately paused in a show of respect. But that didn’t mean they liked him butting in.
“We are only doing our jobs, as you do yours,” the lead interrogator piped up. They were all familiar with Tariq Mohammed and his experienced work, and they envied him.
“And your job should never be to harass innocent women.” Tariq liked to make strategic friends with any witnesses who could grow to like and trust him. It made his job as a private investigator and counsel a lot easier.
The Somalian woman took note of him and nodded. “Thank you.”
He nodded back. “It is my honor. How often do guests take the stairs instead of the elevators?” he asked. “These elevators appear to be slow and overused.”
The woman grinned. “They are slow. So we use the stairs a lot. It keeps you in shape.”
Tariq looked to the exit staircase to his left and decided to take another look. He had already gathered plenty of information during the day, including a look inside of the apartment of the double murder. But he did not want to compete with so many hands and bodies from the police force that had arrived earlier. The evening shift of police was lighter and more manageable, but they were also less experienced.