Welcome to Dubai (The Traveler)

by Omar Tyree

  He took the opportunity to relax and reflect on his life and his trip for a minute. It felt good to be able to travel again for leisure. He had been locked into focusing on finishing school, getting trained in marketing and business, before committing himself to years of military survival skills training under the watchful eye of Jonah. And he had quickly lost track of time. Five years had flown by him in a blink.

  With no family, job or major responsibilities, Gary saw no reason not to travel more. He wanted to see the world, to visit its most exotic corners, to understand its various cultures, to experience its foods, smells, sounds and people. There was only one major obstacle: a new girlfriend.

  Maybe it won’t be a good idea to settle down with Karla. Would she allow me to travel wherever I want without her? Or would I take her with me sometimes?

  He still had a lot of thinking to do, but first he owed her a catch-up phone call.

  By this late afternoon, she should be up, he mused. Maybe I’ll call her around six, which would be around ten in the morning DC time.

  As he thought about making the call, his cell phone rang and startled him again. He looked down at the screen and read Johnny Napur’s local number. He hesitated.

  “Do I really feel like hanging out with this guy again?” he mumbled out loud. He had a long day of sightseeing ahead of him, and outside of another tour, who would know Dubai better than Johnny?

  “Hello,” Gary answered.

  “Hey, man, good morning. I’m back in business at the airport, and I’ve made over five-hundred dirham already. What are you doing, up eating breakfast?”

  Gary looked down at several plates of mostly finished food. The cold eggs and potatoes had fared the worst and were still there.

  “Yeah, you’re late. I had breakfast already, but I’m still sitting here.”

  “Well, after around three or four, I can take you out to the Dubai malls today. They’re packed on the weekends. But I have to make some more money out here first. Unless you could pay me a tour fee,” he added.

  Gary thought about it and didn’t have a problem with Johnny as a tour guide, especially since they had gotten away from the recreational women and drugs talk. Johnny was just a fun-loving, fast-talking normal guy.

  “All right. I’ll pay you … I don’t know, a thousand dirham for the day.”

  That was roughly three hundred dollars. Johnny jumped at it.

  “Okay, that’s a deal.”

  “But don’t pick me up until after two. I might go and hang out at the pool today, or take a walk along the waterfront or something.”

  “Go do it. Enjoy yourself. I can make another four-hundred dirham by then.”

  “Knock yourself out.”

  Gary hung up the phone and exhaled. Another day with Johnny. What did I just get myself into?

  *****

  Ramia walked into the revolving doors of the Hilton Dubai Creek with anticipation and excitement.

  What if I actually see him? she asked herself of the handsome, green-eyed American. And what if he’s with a woman?

  She thought about it quickly and concluded, I’ll just walk on by then.

  After nine in the morning, the breakfast room was the obvious place to look. After that, she planned to check the swimming pool.

  *****

  As soon as Gary stood up from his chair to leave the dining room, he spotted the same young Jordanian woman with the magnificent hazel eyes from the desert tour.

  “Oh, shit!” he responded, but he couldn’t remember her name.

  She stopped her walk halfway through the dining room and noticed him as well. They stared at each other for a few seconds as if both hypnotized.

  “Hey, aren’t you from the ah—”

  “Yes, Dubai Safari Tours. Ramia,” she told him, grinning.

  “I’m Gary,” he responded.

  She nodded and said, “I remember.” If only he knew just how much I remember him, she thought.

  “So, what are you doing here?” Gary asked. “You have a room here?”

  She chuckled. “No, I applied for a job.”

  “Another one?”

  She continued to smile. Even at thirty-one, with his five years of military focus, Gary’s boyish charm was apparent.

  “Yes,” she said. “I want money to go back to school.”

  Gary had heard that before. It seemed that many foreign women were trying to pay for school. But Ramia was indeed working at it.

  “Okay. The American University of Dubai?”

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  “I guessed,” he lied. There was no benefit in telling her the truth, that other women in Dubai had expressed the same thing to him.

  “So, how do you like it here?” she asked.

  “What’s there not to like?”

  Their comments could have meant many things, so Ramia smiled and looked away, bashfully. She was thinking much faster than he was. Then there was an awkward pause between them.

  “So, did they hire you?”

  It was sarcasm intended for a laugh. He could tell now that she liked him, and there was no urgency for her to leave.

  “Not yet. But I filled out an application also at the International Suites not far from here.”

  “But you like this one better, right?”

  “Of course. It’s the Hilton,” she told him.

  “Well, are you in here to eat?” he finally asked her.

  “No, I was actually just taking another look around the hotel.”

  “Oh.”

  Awkward silence again.

  “Well, you want me to walk with you? I was just about to head out to the waterfront.”

  Ramia grinned. “Yes, the waterfront would be a good walk.”

  “So, you’ll show it to me?”

  She paused to calm her eagerness. “Yes, but I have to be back at the International Suites for an interview.”

  “What time?”

  “Before one.”

  “Well, we better get to walking then,” he told her. “That’s a good three hours. And I’ll treat you to lunch.”

  “Really?” she asked with sincerity.

  He shrugged. “Yeah, why not?”

  *****

  In Abu Dhabi, Hamda Sharifa Hassan prepared herself and her son, Rafi, for a big visit at their honorable uncle Sheikh Al Hassan’s home. Abdul had already gotten dressed and ready that morning while on his cell phone with his investigator and counsel, Tariq Mohammed. Abdul was downstairs, dressed in the traditional all-white Muslim garb topped by a checkered red turban.

  “So you have not found him yet?” he asked as he paced the room.

  “We will find him soon enough,” Tariq said.

  “And you have no clues where he and his men may strike?”

  There was silence over the phone. Tariq answered, “We were certain you would be well prepared for any uprising in Abu Dhabi, but we do not know where else he may strike at this moment. However, we are now convinced that he has an expert killer amongst the group. There seems to be a lead enforcer here among the amateurish men.”

  Abdul stopped his pacing to think. “So you believe that he may have someone else to execute his plans?”

  “From what I have discussed with the chief of police and other witnesses in Deira, Mohd continues to be a riddle—a wise man of peace surrounded by younger men with guns. So I am not certain of anything at this moment, but there does seem to be a more passionate motive here than what Mohd seems capable of. Although he does have a tremendous amount of respect from the immigrant workers in the area,” Tariq added.

  Abdul began to pace the room, in thought again as his wife and son appeared at the top of the staircase.

  Hamda smiled and said, “You are going to wear out your shoes, Abdul. Walking back and forth in circles will not help to solve anything. You are only showing more of the tiger spirit in you.”

  Abdul smiled back and was impressed with the beauty of his wife and son. She had adorned herself and Rafi
with dark beads and gold jewelry.

  “You look fabulous, both of you,” he expressed in contrast to their bitter argument from the night before.

  Hamda continued to grin until she witnessed the large group of armed security men outside of her home. They were stationed at practically every window and door. But at least they were not inside the house.

  The security is a bit much, she told herself. But she did not want to discuss it around her impressionable son. I will discuss this with Abdul when we have a minute of privacy later. I feel like a prisoner.

  Seeing that his family was now ready to leave, Abdul ended his phone call.

  “Please update me on this matter throughout the day with texts or e-mail,” he informed Tariq. Cells phones were indeed a priceless asset all around the world.

  Hamda overheard her husband and shook her head. When he was done with his call, she told him, “You are to give the honorable Sheikh your undivided attention, or else you set a bad example for your son.”

  Abdul looked at his son and did not imagine that he would be in the same room with the elders when they spoke in private. Surely there would be a small council of sheikhs there to speak to Abdul about the recent events of his construction, and Rafi would definitely not be included in the room to hear them. So Abdul took it as another lapse in his wife’s judgment to be so outspoken in front of their son. Hamda was far too eager to express her opinions, no matter the cost.

  She is such a smart and beautiful woman, but she needs so much more training in good manners, he told himself.

  They walked outside and into the center of armed men.

  “Let’s go,” Abdul repeated to them all.

  Half of the two dozen armed men headed for the Cadillac SUVs that surrounded the family Rolls Royce. The other dozen continued to guard the house.

  Abdul climbed into the car with his son placed between himself and his wife. It’s better to be safe than unfortunate.

  At the same time, Hamda frowned and thought, Will I ever learn to get used to this?

  Chapter 24

  As time ticked away on Saturday morning inside the warehouse in Jebel Ali, the plan to act became urgent.

  Mohd looked down at the clock on his cell phone and saw that it was after ten. He then told himself, The time is now!

  He quickly walked out of his second floor office room and stood at the top of the stairs to signal to his loyal protector. The tall Arab man below had been waiting for the signal all morning, with his assault weapon in hand. A nine-millimeter pistol and a seven-inch army blade were both in holsters at his side. The man was fully loaded.

  Recognizing the signal, he immediately fired his assault weapon into the unsuspecting bodies of the relaxed men who surrounded him inside the room.

  Three of the seven other men were hit, while the remaining four ran for cover behind the trucks and various obstacles inside of the warehouse.

  “Bakar, what are you doing?” one of the men shouted at him from behind a cargo truck.

  But there was no reason to answer. Bakar meant to kill them all, or they would likely kill him and imprison Mohd. So he moved into a better position to shoot and to protect himself, while Mohd ducked back into his office upstairs and found a pistol of his own.

  The heavy artillery continued to splatter throughout the warehouse.

  “Bakar has lost his mind!” the men continued to yell as they took cover.

  More bullets were released from three directions. Another man was hit and killed instantly when Bakar’s shot cut through his neck. With three men remaining, Mohd took aim from the top of the staircase with his pistol and a clean shot that Bakar did not have.

  In an instant, Mohd decreased their number down to two.

  “What is going on?” the remaining Arab men shouted. “Mohd, why are you doing this?”

  Mohd listened and breathed deeply before he answered, “Because I do not believe this is the correct way to make our point. In fact, I should not have allowed it to go this far.”

  The remaining men heard his reasoning and were close enough to eye each other. They had no problem with surrendering.

  “We can put our guns down, Mohd. You do not have to kill us.”

  Mohd paused as Bakar looked up at him to await his response.

  “Yes, Mohd. We were not included with the rest of the men for a reason. Many of the men do not agree as well. But your son, Heru, he is very convincing.”

  “Yes. You either agree with him or you die.”

  Bakar continued to await Mohd’s response. He knew exactly how intimidating Ra-Heru had been with the men, and he would not have even dreamed of attacking him. Heru was that impassioned and lethal. Despite his average frame of five foot ten, they all considered him to be invincible in his skills of combat and assassination.

  As Mohd continued to contemplate the fate of the two men, he admitted to himself that he had allowed his son to advance in his plans because he secretly wanted to feel the energy of vengeance for his wife and family himself. Abdul Khalif Hassan, with his selfish determination to build at all cost, had brought great pain to the Nasir family and to the families of many other immigrant men who had toiled for him far below their value. So it was Heru’s idea to wound the young Emirati developer where it would hurt and embarrass him the most—at his cherished hotel of international tourism.

  Abdul Khalif Hassan would not only lose the honor of his family and his name, but he would lose the faith of the Emirati council and live for the rest of his life at the center of international bloodshed. With Mohd’s immense understanding of the angry, disrespected and underpaid immigrant workers, their uprising at the hotel would also serve as a statement to all of the Emirati rulers that their policies for cheap foreign labor would no longer be tolerated.

  However, as they neared the execution of their plans, Mohd’s reservations increased until he could no longer agree. He then devised his own plans of a counterattack from the inside to thwart his son Heru and his loyalists.

  After deep thought, Mohd nodded, agreeing to spare the men their lives.

  “Put down your guns and walk forward with your hands up and in front of you.”

  The remaining two men placed their assault weapons on the ground and walked out from their barricaded positions in the room as Bakar covered them.

  *****

  Outside the warehouse in Jebel Ali, several shipment workers overheard the volley of heavy gunshots and immediately called to alert their superiors on their cell phones.

  “Yes, we just heard many gunshots coming from a warehouse we passed.”

  “Where? Where are you?”

  “It was a few minutes before we reached the entrance to the docks, on a back road.”

  The shipment authorities on the other line hung up and immediately called the police.

  “Yes, a couple of my workers just heard gunshots coming from a warehouse right outside the docks in Jebel Ali.”

  “They heard gunshots in Jebel Ali?” the police dispatch repeated.

  “Yes, on a back road outside the docks.”

  The shipment supervisor named several roads in the area of Jebel Ali where some of the men would usually drive. “Thank you.”

  The UAE police dispatch called Chief Ali Youssef as instructed. The chief had been on standby for any breaking news that morning, and he had directed all of the dispatch officers to be on keen alert for any and all incoming calls.

  At the time of the call, the chief had just pulled up to join his force of police officers and investigator Tariq Mohammed in Sharjah.

  “Yes, Chief Youssef,” he answered through his squad car radio.

  “There was a report of gunshots a few minutes ago at a warehouse right outside the shipment docks in Jebel Ali.”

  “Send ten squad cars there, and tell them to alert us immediately.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you continue to call me directly on anything else.”

  Tariq read the urgency in the chief’s voice and bo
dy language as he climbed back out of the car.

  “Did they find something?”

  “Gunshots at a warehouse outside Jebel Ali.”

  Tariq’s face lit up on a strong hunch. “That’s it. A warehouse is large enough for many men with guns and supplies for an uprising.”

  Ali’s response was more measured. “I thought of that myself, of course. But something tells me that is far too easy. So we let my men check there first, and if it is indeed what you believe, we will send our whole force there. But if it is not, we do not want to be fooled again into another distraction. They could be simply pulling us away from something much bigger.”

  Tariq nodded and understood the chief’s point. He had an entire force of men to lead and his reputation to uphold. He was not allowed to jump to fast conclusions. However, they had found nothing there in Sharjah that morning after hours of searching, and Jebel Ali was just the place to hide a large group of men who could remain out of sight for weeks. There were large enough warehouses there to play a full game of soccer, so surely many men could remain there comfortably.

  So Tariq wasted no time in heading to his car to drive there quickly.

  “Where are you going?” the chief asked him.

  “To Jebel Ali. You cannot make that decision, but I can.”

  Several of the surrounding police officers cleared a path so he could reach his car and back out of his parking space. The chief followed after him.

  “If they are so organized and discreet in their plans to strike out, then what would be the purpose of shooting off their guns inside of a warehouse? It makes no sense.”

  “That is exactly why I’m going there to find out. There may be more clues there.”

  The chief nodded while admitting to himself that he did not have the energy of Tariq.

  “You call me if you find something,” he told him. He was actually pleased that his friend was heading to the warehouse. He knew that Tariq would be more thorough in his approach than his men would be.

  “I will,” Tariq promised.

  As the private investigator and counsel drove off in his car, Ali continued to stare and think about him. You really need to be the next chief of police, my friend. And I am fortunate to be working with you again.