“Do you have a pen handy?” When Trish said she did, the voice rattled off wiring instructions. “When your fee slash deposit is confirmed, I’ll send you a confirmation, and I’ll start working on your case. Is that acceptable?”
“It is.”
“Then we should hang up. I’ll be in touch.”
Trish’s hands were shaking when she placed the cell phone on the table. She opened the coffee carafe. The coffee was cold. She called room service and ordered a fresh pot. Then she paced around the suite until the coffee arrived. She gulped at the first cup she poured. Then she opened up her laptop and flexed her fingers. She squeezed her eyes shut. So much money, and she was breaking the law in the bargain. She knew she could still back out if she wanted to. All it would take was a phone call to Ernie.
Before she could change her mind, Trish tapped out the letters and numbers that would allow her to transfer five million dollars to a man she didn’t even know, so he would do something that could put her in jail for the rest of her life.
Done!
Still dressed in the hotel robe, Trish reached for one of the hotel’s notepads and pens. She scribbled numbers, then added them, subtracted some, added more, until she was satisfied that she had something worthy enough to run by her sister. If the numbers worked for Emma, they would work for Clare, Robin, and Alice.
Trish was momentarily distracted when her cell pinged, the signal that a text was coming through. Malik. Two words.
Good morning.
Trish supposed it was a good morning. Did he text her because he’d just been informed that she had wired out a very large sum of money? Probably. The thought annoyed her. She grew more annoyed, the more she thought about her husband being apprised of everything she did the moment she did it. He probably wouldn’t even mention it unless she did. She decided to ignore the text for the moment.
Trish concentrated on her pad and the numbers she was scribbling. The marital home Emma had lived in with Jeff and Missy had been sold for three million dollars when Jeff took it back. Emma’s half should have been half of that. Five years’ salary of roughly sixty thousand dollars had been lost. If she had worked at her modeling career, it would have been more. Perhaps a small bonus on top of the salary. A new car. Medical insurance. Wardrobe. Miscellaneous costs.
Trish totaled her numbers. She stared at the bottom line—$2.5 million. She pursed her lips, then chewed on the end of the pen. The number sounded good, but it wasn’t enough. She decided to round it out to an even three million. The girls would need good tax attorneys. If they invested their money wisely, they would be able to get by in the years to come without worrying about going on a breadline. Especially Clare, with her perilous health condition.
Satisfied that she’d done all she could for her sister and her sister’s friends, Trish closed her laptop, ripped up the papers with the columns of numbers, and flushed them. She decided she had had enough coffee for one morning and wheeled the cart out to the hallway, then headed for the shower. She heard her cell ping just as she was stepping into the shower. She knew the incoming text would be from Soraya. Just enough time had gone by since Malik’s for him to have gotten in touch with his sister.
Under the needle-sharp spray of the shower, Trish’s thoughts were all over the map. For sure, she wasn’t happy. But she wasn’t sure if returning to Dubai would make her happy, either. She felt like she was in a no-man’s-land. The bottom line was that she would have to return and talk things out with her husband before she had a chance at the happiness she’d once had.
It wasn’t that the love she had for her husband had wavered. She still loved him heart and soul. But she had to be sure Malik still felt the same way. If she had to leave the emirate, then she would leave. It was that simple.
Trish took her time toweling off and getting dressed because she didn’t want to have to look at Soraya’s text. Or reread Malik’s.
Dressed now for the day in wool slacks, boots, and a turtleneck sweater, Trish felt brave enough to face the world, her sister, and her sister’s friends, to update them on the latest. At first she had thought she’d keep her activities secret, but she had nixed that idea pretty quickly. The women had a right to know that the wrath of one Trish Holiday Mohammed was bearing fruit. Not for the first time, Trish realized the power of money and what it could do. And yet, she’d give it all up, every single penny, if she could just go back to the life she’d had with Malik before.... Before ... what?
Her head hurt from thinking about her husband. Still, she had to read Soraya’s text. It was so like her sister-in-law. The message was simple. Are you all right? Can I do anything? Is it snowing?
Trish knew she couldn’t answer Soraya unless she also answered Malik’s text. They were both being so political by not asking her when or even if she was coming back.
Trish looked out the window. The flurries were gone. Now it was actually snowing. She hoped there would be no accumulation to prevent her from flying out tomorrow morning.
Trish drew in a deep breath and prepared to send a text to her husband.
Good morning to you, too, Malik.
The second message was a tad longer.
I’m fine. No, there is nothing for you to do for me. Thank you for asking. It is snowing as I type this.
Trish’s last text was to Ernie. It read, Tell your friend the amount is three million each. For now, offshore. I’m going to be unavailable for the rest of the day. I’ll see you tomorrow, upon my return.
A soft knock sounded on the door. She heard the maid say, “Housekeeping.”
Trish gathered up her jacket and purse. She looked down at the two cell phones and decided to leave them on the desk. At the last second, she picked up the Dubai phone and put it in her purse. She might need it if an emergency cropped up out on the road. She wanted to spend her last day with her sister without interruptions. Who knew when she’d see her again?
It was dusk when Malik walked out to his own personal garden and sat down. He was tired, and there was no point in hiding it. The relief he felt showed on his face when he sat down and put his feet up. Rashid was there in an instant. He had two bottles of beer in his hands.
“I have corrupted you, have I not?” Malik said.
“You have, but I allowed it. Have you taken your meds this evening? Dare I ask if you are permitted to drink this beer?”
“You dare, and the answer is yes. I have taken the medicine. It makes me very tired. But there is no pain. Yet. We must make plans, Rashid.”
“Have you heard from your wife?” Rashid asked bluntly.
“A few moments ago. But it was in response to a text I sent her. I wished her a good morning, and she wished me one back. I still don’t know when she’s coming back or if she’s coming back. I had no idea I hurt her so badly, if what my sister tells me is true. She has spent so much money these past few days, it boggles my mind. Just an hour or so ago she transferred four million dollars to some offshore account. That’s on top of the nineteen million she spent yesterday. I, of course, replenished it. What do you think she’s spending it on?” Malik asked fretfully.
“From what I know of your wife, she isn’t spending it on herself. Off the top of my head, if I had to guess, I would say it’s her family. She has a sister and a niece, does she not?”
“That’s what I thought. But why?”
“Ask her.” Rashid smiled.
“I can’t do that. I promised her I would never ask what she did with her money. She’s so frugal. I think you’re right. I am also wondering if something is wrong, and if that’s why she returned to the States.”
Rashid snorted. “There might be something wrong, but she just worked that into her return because of what you did. I now know things about women I didn’t know before. You are at fault here, and it doesn’t matter the reason, so just accept it and go from there.”
“I can’t do that if she doesn’t return, now, can I? I’d make the trip to the States, but I’m just not up to it. This . .
. this thing is sapping all my energy. I hate the pills. They just make me sleepy. I do not want to sleep away what’s left of my life. Tell me, how goes it with you and my sister?”
“You know damn well how it is going. All you have to do is say the word, and I am back in her good graces. What kind of friend are you, anyway?” Rashid grumbled.
“I did that an hour ago. You are free to go to your apartments, where your wife is waiting with open arms. Do not look at me like that. Go now and tell her the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. That is an order, Rashid.
“But before you do that, would you mind fetching me another beer? No, wait. I think I’ll go to the cave, and I can open my own beer. You’re still standing here. Go!”
“Wouldn’t it be better coming from you, Malik?”
“No, my friend, it wouldn’t. She will need to weep and feel your arms about her. Tomorrow she can squeal at me. Be brave, in case she hits you. She might, you know. Pregnant women do strange things. Speaking of pregnant women, the council has agreed with me that the law my father initiated is archaic, and it has been rescinded. Trish and I are in the clear on that. I should have done that years ago, and I take responsibility for my wife’s angst these past years. I hope she can forgive me.”
“Forgiveness is an act of love, Malik.”
“And you learned this . . . where?”
“From you, that’s where. Come along. I’ll walk you back to the cave. I want to see you settled before I go before the dragon lady.”
Rashid hated leaving Malik alone, but he desperately wanted to see his wife and children. When he left Malik, his feet had wings on them as he raced to his apartments. The children were already in bed, and his wife was standing in the doorway, her arms folded over her protruding stomach. She glowered at him.
Rashid shuffled his feet and bit down on his lower lip as he struggled to find the words he needed to say. Finally, he just blurted it out, then reached to take his wife in his arms. “I am so terribly sorry. Malik swore me to secrecy. I had no choice, my love. I begged him to tell you himself, but he said you needed to vent to me first. Tomorrow morning will be time enough. We now need to sit and talk. We have to call Trish and tell her to come home. I think you are the one to do that. Can you? Will you?”
“Of course. Of course I will, but that is not something you speak of on the phone. I will send her a very carefully worded text. But, Rashid, I’m not sure where she is. She could be with her sister in Princeton, New Jersey, or she could be in Las Vegas. I know. I will call Ernie,” she blubbered into her husband’s chest.
“I’m not sure I like that idea,” Rashid said glumly.
“Do you have a better idea? You need to get over your jealousy of Ernie. I just used him for practice. You got the benefit of all my practice. Come, come. Let’s go to the sitting room. While I do this, will you get me some peach juice? That way, you won’t have to hear me sweet-talking Ernie. By the way, Rashid, Ernie is married now to a lovely young lady.”
Rashid grumbled some more just to keep in practice as he sought out one of the maids to fetch the peach juice. He stopped in his children’s bedrooms and smiled as he brushed their hair back from their foreheads. He bent over to kiss each of them on the cheek. “I am so blessed,” he whispered to each of them.
When Rashid returned to the sitting room, Soraya was smiling through her tears. “Trish is in New Jersey with her sister. I sort of explained things to him, but I made him promise not to tell Trish. He did promise. Now, what you have to do is make arrangements for a private plane to bring Trish home. Do it now, and I will text her. I need to be alone to do this. This is girl stuff. Do you understand?”
Rashid didn’t understand, but he said he did. He trotted off a second time so that his wife could compose the message to Malik’s wife.
Tears streaming down her cheeks, Soraya knew that what she was about to write was probably the most serious message she would ever write during her whole life.
Dearest Trish, I wish I wasn’t writing this to you, but Rashid has said I must. Arrangements are being made as I type this for you to return to Dubai. Just go to Newark Airport. Do not delay. You must return immediately. Please, do not think for one instant, one moment, that this is a ploy or a trick to get you to return. It is urgent that you return immediately. I have the answers to all your questions and mine, as well, but I have been forbidden to discuss them at this time. Rashid has informed me that the silly pregnancy law has been done away with. He said he saw the council’s declaration himself. It has been stamped and so ordered. I know you are full of questions that I cannot answer right now. I know how mysterious this must sound to you, but Rashid has said you are not, I repeat, you are not, to get in touch with Malik before your return. Please text me when you are on the plane. As you Americans say, my one true friend, fly with the angels. Much love from me, Rashid, and all the little ones, who miss you.
Soraya’s fingers were shaking so badly that she had to hit the SEND button twice before her text made its way across the world. She felt drained as she tried to imagine Trish’s reaction to the message once she got it.
Rashid returned, a glass of peach juice in his hand. Soraya waved it away.
“I just sent you for that to get you out of my hair. I sent it, Rashid. Now we wait. Sit here by me. Put your arm around me. Oh, the baby just hopped from one side to the other.” Then she burst into tears. Rashid’s eyes were wet as they snuggled close, waiting for a return text.
Trish cut the engine, gathered her purse and gloves, and was about to get out of the car when she heard her cell phone ping. Thinking it was either Ernie or the nameless, faceless man she’d spoken to earlier, she clicked it to read the message. She blinked, then shook her head to clear it. She read the text a second, then a third time. She looked out through the windshield, which was suddenly full of snow. She thought she could see her sister standing in the open doorway of her new house. The cell in her hand, she got out of the car and ran to the door.
“Look at this! I don’t know what to do. God, Emma, what do you think it means?”
Emma closed the door, turned on the foyer light, and read the text. “I think it means just what it says, Trish. You need to go right now. Wait, wait! First you have to respond. Tell her you’re on your way to the airport. Another few hours, and everything will be delayed. Do you hear me, Trish?”
“Yes, of course I can hear you. Something terrible has happened. I just know it.”
“Maybe not terrible, just serious enough for you to return. You need to go now.”
“Okay, okay. I have to stop back at the hotel to get my things. I’ll call you from the airport. I have to turn the car in.”
Emma was crying as she hugged her sister. “Call me as soon as you know something. Promise me, okay?”
“I will. I promise. I had other stuff to tell you. It will have to wait, Emma.”
“Whatever it is, it can wait. This is more important,” Emma said, tapping the cell phone. “Go now. Thanks again. God, how inadequate that sounds.”
“Say good-bye to your friends for me. Okay, okay, I’m going. I love you, Emma.”
“And I love you, Trish. Like Soraya and Mom always said, fly with the angels.”
Trish opened the door and ran down the steps and out to the car. Emma stood in the doorway, the snow spiraling inward to wet the wooden floor. Emma didn’t care. She watched her sister until the rental car’s back lights were just faint pinpricks of pink light. Only then did she close the door and clean up the floor. Her shoulders drooped as she made her way to the kitchen, where she put on a pot of coffee and called her friends. “Please come now. Unexpected emergency.” Then she mumbled a sincere prayer from her childhood that things would go well for her sister.
Chapter 17
RASHID LOOKED AT MALIK AND SMILED BECAUSE HE LOOKED fresh, bright-eyed, and alert. He knew for a fact that Malik hadn’t taken any of his medicine, because he wanted to be seen as strong, even though he knew that rumor
s about his health, which he and Rashid had tried to squelch, had already circulated.
“I’m glad you had the good sense to call this meeting in Dubai, instead of in one of the other emirates. Even I am feeling the stress, and don’t tell me it’s because Soraya is about to give birth. Are you absolutely sure, Malik, that the other emirs are going to vote with you?”
Malik threw his hands in the air. “They assured me they would. When I explained the whole world would be coming down on us over here if we didn’t put an end to what’s going on, I think they saw the light. Look, we’re never going to stop the money laundering, but we can certainly scale it back. I, for one, have always taken umbrage at the fact that Dubai is known as the Little Switzerland. And as much as I hate to have to admit it, we’re in the position my father put us in. I owned up to that little fact with the others. If our facts and figures are correct . . . and, Rashid, we went over them time and again, until we were blind . . . The bottom line is, numbers don’t lie.”
“The others are old, Malik. They like the status quo. They don’t like upheaval. They could switch up at the eleventh hour. Then what do we do?”
“We talked about this, Rashid. We simply refuse to sign and renew the contract with those thieves. That’s what we do. International Alliance Capital has ripped off the emirates, taking over a billion dollars. That’s a billion, with a b. Remember that American phrase we learned when we first went to the States? We didn’t understand until Zack explained it to us.”
Rashid laughed. “Money talks and bullshit walks. Those four are snakes.”
“Right, and what do you do when you find a snake in your midst? You cut off his head.”
“Hold on, Malik. A text is coming in.” Rashid scanned the brief text and frowned. It was from the pilot of Trish’s plane.
We’re grounded in London due to severe weather. Twelve hours more on the ground before we can take off, and even that’s not certain.
Rashid typed a terse reply. Keep me apprised.
A Family Affair Page 16