Sarai

by Lilya Myers

  The bitter ruminations of earlier began to re-emerge, helping to keep him awake and energize his resolve. The reports detailing the degenerate activities of Aswad made his stomach turn. Aswad and his miscreant sons. They should rot in hell. Hashim grieved for the children who had become the victims of Aswad’s depravity. Even for the girls who survived, the shame would be put on the girls themselves. They could never accuse because they would become the accused. Their fate, at the hands of Aswad, never ended there. Once a girl was sold to a family, she could never reclaim her own body.

  Aswad’s tendrils stung with venom. They had already stretched to Hashim’s doorstep. When his wife, Hasne, died – no, she hadn’t died in childbirth – she was murdered! He knew that Aswad would come after the only other person he loved most. Protecting his child, Sarai, outweighed any objective he had previously for avenging Hasne’s death. There were facts which only Hashim and one other person knew that proved Aswad was responsible – an enemy more vicious, dangerous, and lethal than the socialist ideologies that Egypt had been fighting for many years. Aswad was a fast-growing cancer that was formed from the many factions of various political and religious fanatics and he had grown into a mammoth malignant tumor. That cancer was stalking the likes of Mubarak who, in comparison was more like a long-lingering, benign disease. An Egypt ruled by Aswad would bring about a slow, cruel, and painful death to anything or anyone who stood in his way.

  Hashim made up his mind. He had to protect his daughter. So be it, if it was at the cost of the revolution. But, if they remove the cancer first… That would not be up to him. Hashim’s only part after tonight would be to provide them with intelligence and capital.

  He pulled into Street 27 in El-Agami and parked. Despite the road conditions and earlier diversion, he arrived comfortably ahead of time. Hashim pulled Sarai’s picture out of his wallet. On the one hand, it relaxed him to look at the photo of his beautiful Sarai. On the other hand, it caused the loud and rhythmic beat of his heart to pound in his head. Fear for someone you love will do that. He had to keep one step ahead of Aswad. He realized that sending Sarai away with his parents for any extended time would only put them in danger as well. All his plans usually came with several backup options so that any one of them could be aborted as quickly as they had been set in motion. Experience had taught him that plans had to be flexible and adaptable. They would have to change on a dime, if necessary. That’s why he had been planning ever since Hasne died. He parked and waited. A few minutes later, a set of headlights flashed.

  CHAPTER 10

  DAN THOUGHT WITH despair about his father and Hashim’s father. Les and Sharif had completed their last project and planned their retirements simultaneously. There was going to be one very expensive and high-falutin’ celebration at the Capri villa in late September, just as summer was giving up its last hurrah.

  Les and Sharif had made a lot of acquaintances in some very high places over the years. No telling whose name would have shown up on the guest list. Rubbing shoulders with the rich and famous would have changed most men, but not Les and Sharif.

  Dan shook his head again to clear the wave of sadness that flooded his heart. They would never get to enjoy the retirement they dreamed of. Dan and Hashim would never see their parents again. Hashim would never see Sarai. Birthdays, Christmases, the harmony of voices and laughter that swirled in the air would be no more.

  The dreaded call came in from one of the agents. “Dan, we’ve done all we could to find their bodies. The agency just won’t expend any more resources on it. All they could determine was that the plane exploded over the ocean – a few small pieces of wreckage was picked up to verify that much. With a discharge of that magnitude, we didn’t expect there would be anything left to find… really. The explosion would have scattered…you know…I…I…they believe that there was an electrical fire that started too close to the fuel tanks. There wouldn’t have been any time to… it was fast. They didn’t know what hit them. I’m so sorry, Dan.”

  Dan held onto the receiver long after the line had gone dead. The one time in their lifetimes. The one time they didn’t fly commercial. Sure, they always splurged on anything to do with family but, for the most part, they were pretty frugal and unassuming when it came to themselves.

  It was the first time they’d ever chartered a private jet. The two couples were always malleable when it came to one or the other organizing travel and arrangements for the four of them. One always went along with the other without complaint. When Sharif chartered the private jet, a detail he’d forgotten to share with Hashim, he had done so with the idea that they would have an active toddler in tow.

  Sharif most always handled the flight arrangements. Nadia never made any mention to Sharif about Hashim’s offer to fly them to Capri. Perhaps, she hadn’t heard it after all. The flight was a little under two hours. They had contracted the jet through a small, two-man operation.

  Dan vacillated between the inquiring nature that drove him in his work and having to take some things for what they were. He wondered, what could have convinced them to charter? Then he went through the motions of self-admonishment for being so suspicious, followed by blame for something over which he had no control.

  He tried to make sense of it. Really, Dan. These were normal, hardworking people who always gave to others. Why wouldn’t they want to do something that was out of the ordinary for themselves? Just accept it for what it was. It was a novel idea and a well-deserved pre-retirement gift to themselves. It probably made traveling with a two year-old a whole lot easier. Dear God… Sarai… Hashim.

  In his arguments with himself, no one ever won. It would have been their parents’ last trip before their retirement. It was their last trip before retirement. He prayed this wouldn’t be the final assault that sent Hashim over the edge.

  ***

  “Are you sure?” Aswad’s tone with Omar was uneasy, trying hard not to sound accusatory. All three sons had trigger tempers like their father. But his father’s chosen one would be most offended by this lack of confidence.

  The girl on his lap wiggled against his grip. He made her believe that if she so much as made a sound that his father could hear over the phone, he would slit her throat. “Father, you question me as though I were Saib or Kafele.” Aswad could detect the slightest nuances of mockery in Omar’s voice. Not a good sign.

  “As long as there is nothing that can be traced back to me,” Aswad said flatly, with a touch of vehemence.

  “Unless you were there, father…” Omar was growing impatient. What was that quote? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Usually, he was conscientious in dealing with his father’s painstaking recapitulation of every last little detail. However, the feel of the velvety flesh on his lap was affecting his ability to concentrate on the conversation.

  “You sound distracted Omar. Is something wrong?” Aswad’s voice dripped with accusation rather than concern.

  “No. Well, yes.” He allowed just the right amount of exasperation to float over his words. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong. What’s wrong is that it’s 1 a.m. here, when most people are sleeping unless they are studying for a big exam. You seem to forget the time difference. If you’d like to have this conversation another time, I’d be happy to oblige you. As for right now, I’m saying goodbye so I can get back to what I was doing and possibly get a few hours’ sleep before I have to go to class.”

  It was so unlike Omar to put up a phony argument with such bold assertion to Aswad. And all in one breath. Desperate people take desperate chances, especially when there’s several thousand miles between you and the tsunami.

  “Marsalama, Father.” Click.

  Aswad slammed the phone receiver down so hard that he missed the base. When he picked it up again, he flung it against the wall. He felt his control slipping away. Saib, Kafele, and now Omar.

  ***

  A full week had passed following the accident before Dan was finally able to reach Hashim on the phone. It wa
s the worst conversation of his life. After he told Hashim what happened, it was like he was speaking to a stranger. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for a week, Hashim! A whole week of leaving countless messages for you to call me! Did it even occur to you that I wouldn’t be so relentless unless it was something serious? Why didn’t you return my calls? Where are you?”

  Silence.

  “Are you sick? Are you in trouble?” Dan asked with desperation in his voice. Then, while trying to contain his ire, he asked again with exasperation, “Where are you calling from?”

  More silence. “Hashim!” Dan rarely raised his voice. If he could have reached through the phone at that moment, he would have grabbed Hashim by the throat and shook him until his teeth rattled. “Both of our parents are dead and you have nothing to say? Your daughter, Hashim. Your daughter! You won’t tell me where you are. You know it’s against policy for me to use agency resources for personal inquiries but I swear, Hashim, if you don’t start giving me some answers, I’ll risk everything I’ve worked for just to…are you still there?”

  “Has the investigation been concluded?” came the voice from the other end. The cold indifference in Hashim’s tone sent a chill up Dan’s spine and traveled back down to second guess himself.

  Oh God, am I being half an idiot? In two years’ time, the man has tragically lost his entire family. Dan wanted to scream anyway. That’s what this cocktail of frustration and grief had done to him. Instead, he took a deep breath to muster up his working demeanor and began giving Hashim the details of what he knew.

  “You already know that the plane exploded not long into the flight. They haven’t been able to find any bodies – didn’t expect to.” He paused to open up the police report. “I got a copy of the report which states that have nothing on the charter company…the logbook wasn’t… No flight plan. No ID. No books, no nada. Nada. Nada. Nada. Nothing. Wala shay!” The frustration in his voice was raw and frenzied.

  Dan continued, “Another pilot, about sixty miles out, reported a mid-air explosion to the FAA shortly after that morning. Guessing at altitude and coordinates, it was determined that the plane took off from Geneva. While the cops were investigating a vandalism in one of the hangars, the FBI was interviewing an airport worker who said that a small jet left from the same hangar that morning. After that, it became a ‘who’s the boss’ mentality between the police and the FBI instead of sharing information. From my perspective, I’d bet the two cases are related and it’s the company where our folks chartered their jet. We’re at that stalemate where A knows nothing and doesn’t want B to know they know nothing. All the while there’s a C out there that knows something and won’t tell A or B. It never fails at getting the local police’s backs up when the FBI starts poking around. Then they all go at each other’s throats. Meanwhile, everything comes to a halt while everybody fights it out.”

  “So? This tells me nothing,” Hashim said without emotion.

  “The CIA is not a law enforcement agency, Hashim, so we don’t have any jurisdiction. I’ve got an FBI friend trying to dig up information about the charter company.”

  Hashim continued to listen without interrupting. Dan said, “They did get this much so far. The FBI believes it possible to have been a one man show, in business only a month or two. We don’t know if he was owner/operator or whether or not he contracted his pilots. So if the owner was piloting the plane himself, he scattered as fish bait. If the owner contracted an independent pilot, then that guy’s dead and the owner’s nowhere to be found. From what little I know, it doesn’t add up. It almost sounds like…”

  Hashim had answers to much of what the police didn’t know but he couldn’t share them.

  Dan continued. “The owner of record was traced to Dubai but that’s not an automatic indication of anything. FBI doesn’t have any leads on him either. My office would have to prove it was a terrorist plot. That’s the only way my agency could try to make the case to get involved. And chances of that are slim to none. Your average terrorist isn’t going to target four older people and a child taking a vacation. They’re going to make a statement with something like a DC10 and 300 people on board and hijack it.”

  Hashim knew that it was his turn to carry the conversation before Dan started asking questions again. He had made the call from a phone that he was assured to be safe. Under the circumstances, one could never be entirely sure. It was unlikely that Dan’s phone could be tapped. Keep it together, he reminded himself.

  “Danny –” Hashim hadn’t called him that since they were kids. He could hear Dan swallow air on the other end. “We have nothing to bury except our anger. Enmity is poison that will eat us up from the inside,” Hashim said with a delicate sadness in his voice.

  Although it was truly a heartfelt comment, it had the effect Hashim needed to soften Dan’s ire with him. Dan opened his mouth to tell Hashim that he had already buried all their memories when he heard his father’s voice. It was just a few months ago – the day they were discussing Hashim and then Les told him he had decided to retire. What was it he said? ‘A potion of guilt and death has the power to take someone to the tower of aloneness and hold them prisoner.’ Dan’s father also said that everyone handles death differently. It was obvious that Hashim wasn’t handling it at all.

  “No, Hashim, we can’t bury them but we can celebrate their memory by having a memorial.”

  Dan was still so angry with Hashim he couldn’t see straight. He hoped he could contain his anger enough to understand. He was not a father and it was unfair to equate his feelings with what Hashim must be going through. His voice softened. “We can wait a few weeks. Does that give you enough time? If you’d like, Marie and I can do all the planning and notifications.”

  It will be hard on Marie. Hasne’s funeral was devastating for her. She was just as close to both families as if she were born into them. Keeping occupied with arrangements and details will redirect her focus. She adored Sarai.

  “I’d really like to see you, Hashim. Let me restate that. I really need to see you. I can be in Madrid by tomorrow.”

  There was a long pause before Hashim spoke. “I have to be back in Cairo tonight. There are some matters about my folks that I need to attend to.” He lied. With good reason.

  “Well… then, I’ll come to Cairo. I can cancel my flight back to the Long Island and fly to Cairo in the morning.” Dan was determined to pin Hashim down and get him to a place where they could talk face-to- face.

  Hashim was just as determined to keep Dan from coming to Egypt. Especially Egypt. It would be best for all their sakes that he didn’t come. He wasn’t ready to tell Dan. Not yet. “Sorry, that won’t work either. I must be heading back to Alexandria while it’s still light. This connection is very poor.” Pause. “I hope you can hear me.” Hashim began yelling into the phone even though he knew that Dan had as perfect a connection as his.

  “It’s okay. I can hear you just fine. You don’t need to scream into the phone.”

  Hashim knew that Dan would press him. He had to end the call in short order. Still shouting he said, “I will call you back when I get to Cairo.” Click.

  Dan didn’t hold any high hopes that he would hear from Hashim. He wasn’t about to fly to Cairo for Hashim to give him the slip because that’s what he sensed Hashim would do.

  CHAPTER 11

  ASWAD WAS TALKING all the while Saib replayed the scenario in his head. Then, that irritating shrill in Aswad’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

  “I want you back on this compound by the end of the week!”

  “What? You deny me a few days of rest and relaxation after –” The connection crackled and buzzed. Static on the line had been Saib’s savior more than once. It gave Saib more time to think while he waited for the symphony to cease.

  Saib was so caught up in his loathing for Aswad that the life of a child was secondary to the unceasing mental and verbal abuse Aswad dished out at him every day of his life. Those idiots screwe
d things up. It’s how Aswad always saw him. A screw-up. It would only fuel Aswad’s condemnation of him if he knew the truth about what happened. If. Saib pushed his pride away. Omar may have to take some heat to keep me from catching on fire.

  Saib knew Aswad had to use one of those international calling stations in Cairo again. Private phone lines were always being stolen for a few Egyptian pounds by someone who knew how to disconnect one person’s wires and connect them to another at a central box near the street. Using the calling station would be faster than getting someone to reconnect the private line, even for Aswad.

  On one side of these call centers, operators sat behind a counter in front of a huge board of buttons and wires where he or she placed the call. Sometimes it took an hour or two, or even longer, to get through whether the person was placing a call or waiting for a call to come from another country. Either way, once the call was connected, the operator would direct the individual to one of the telephone booths out of a row of ten or fifteen on the opposite wall. There, the caller could pick up the phone and conduct their conversation. The phone reception was exceptionally poor. The waiting area was small, noisy, crowded, and smelled like a city dump. Sound carried despite the privacy door on the booth. It was a particularly miserable experience. Everything about it ramped up Aswad’s fury.

  The operator signaled Aswad to pick up the phone. The line was still crackling and popping when he picked up the receiver. It sounded like a heated air pocket that burst through the outer level of a burning log in a fireplace. Somewhere from within the flames, Saib could hear his father yelling, “hello!” He wouldn’t dare chase away the mental picture of that. It rather amused him – like seeing the flames of hell dancing around his father’s head while repeating hell-o.