He caught Bahrani studying his expression and realized this had been a test. Word had spread among the dockworkers. There were questions being raised about Ari's true identity. Bahrani evinced no spark of recognition, so at least he did not recall seeing Ghaith Ibrahim (or a drawing of him) in Iraq. With a name like that, the foreman probably came from Bahrain or Qatar. But Bahrani still shared the suspicion of the men under his control. Ari had heard about the Islamic Society of North America, headquartered in Indianapolis. One of its goals was to bring Muslims of all denominations together in peace and harmony. He did not think Badawi Bahrani was a member.
"Follow me, then," Bahrani said quietly. Ari took note when he pocketed his phone. He was not going to call Nabihah Sadiq. A good foreman would make it a point not to disturb his employer in the evening. Or he had told Hamal to make the call for him.
There was no one behind the customer service desk but voices came from beyond the back partition.
"You work into the twilight hours?" Ari asked.
"Mrs. Sadiq pays good overtime," said Bahrani. He nodded at a door propped open with a rubber stop. "This is our communication center. You saw it this morning?"
"Yes," said Ari, though he had seen no more than a pair of young women manning cell phones and computers.
"Mr. Bahrani!" one of the women called out when she saw the two men passing through the hall.
"Later," said the foreman impatiently.
"I have Jalal on the phone. He broke down in Fredericksburg."
"An O'Connor's rig? Our truck?"
"Yes, Mr. Bahrani."
Bahrani could not hide his dismay. Ari half expected the foreman to curse the Three Caliphs again, throwing in Ali for good measure.
"I wondered why he was late," Bahrani swore. "What is the problem? Is he off-road?"
"He is on the side of the road. He says there are alligators all over the highway and cars are—"
"Wait here," Bahrani gruffly told Ari. He stepped inside the communications room and took the phone the girl was holding up for him. She stood so he could sit in front of her computer. On the screen was a spreadsheet similar to the one Fred had pulled up on his laptop at the Flying J. The woman folded her hands and nodded politely at Ari. She was wearing a hijab.
"I was unaware of the presence of alligators in Fredericksburg," Ari said.
"Those are treads that come off the rigs—"
Bahrani made a brusque gesture, ordering her into silence. He gave Ari a peculiar look, then returned to the phone. Obviously, as an employee of a claims adjuster, 'alligator' was a bit of slang Ari should have been familiar with.
"Of course," Ari said, smiling. "Your company would be liable for any accidents caused by these beasts."
"I think—" the young woman began. Bahrani slapped the side of his leg and she closed her mouth.
"Ah!" Bahrani cried out at the phone. "What was that noise? A crash?"
Ari winced theatrically and the girl smiled. Then he cocked his head sideways, signaling his imminent departure. The girl looked doubtful and turned to Bahrani, who was preoccupied with the horrors he was hearing over the phone. The girl shrugged. Ari smiled again and turned up the hallway.
There were no workers on the loading dock. He quickly strode over to the three trucks backed against the dock bumpers. Identification numbers were stenciled in black on the door of each semi-trailer tractor. Eighteen, Seven, Two. He frowned. Where was Twenty-one? If the Namus was the driver, had he already departed?
Two of the trucks were silent, but Seven emitted a loud, steady roar. An auxiliary power unit was cranking away lustily at the base of the trailer. What had the trucker called refrigerated units? Reefers.
Puzzled, he began striding towards Nabihah's office—and stopped when he heard a cough.
It was a loud cough. It had to be, to be heard over the power unit thrumming its echo off the high walls of the loading dock. There was no one on the dock. He walked back to the trucks and stood still, listening.
A moment later there was another cough. Although all the trailers were closed, he was fairly certain it came from inside Truck Seven. He pressed his ear against the right panel but the vibration from the power unit combined with the engine noise, turning his head into a kettle drum. He eased back and studied the two bars on the doors. Both were latched down. Whoever might be inside was going nowhere until someone outside pulled down on the levers. Was Nabihah shipping illegals across the border? Could they be pressing against the door, ready to leap out as soon as the door swung open? Ari took out his gun and yanked down on the right-hand lever. He followed the door backwards, using as a shield. No one jumped out. The interior was well-lit. He peeked around the door flange. Then he came out in the open and stared.
Six women stared back at him. They were seated in comfortable leather office chairs bolted to the floor of the trailer. All of them wore hijabs.
"Masa'a al khayr," he said.
They returned the greeting faintly. They were staring at his gun. Lowering his arm, he stepped across the dock bumper into the trailer, his feet landing on soft wall-to-wall carpeting.
There were ten seats, each offering a comfortable range of personal space that included standing lamps and small tables with cup holders. The other end of the trailer was walled off with a door in the center. A bathroom?
"I think I have intruded in the wrong place," Ari said apologetically.
The women smiled at him.
"Do you speak English, or do you prefer—"
"We all speak English," the woman closest to him said. Then she darted a glance at her companions. "Mostly…"
Ari sniffed. "It smells strongly of engine exhaust in here."
"We were just commenting upon that," said the first woman.
"May I ask where you come from?" Ari asked.
"Do you mean New Jersey or Jordan?" said the first woman.
"You all have just come from New Jersey?"
Three of them shook their heads.
"New York."
"Connecticut."
"Maine," a woman at the back sighed, as if she had just arrived from a distant planet.
Shaking his head in astonishment, Ari said, "Are you alone back here? Where is your driver? He should be alerted to the bad air in here."
"Are we in Richmond, Virginia?" asked the nearest woman.
"Yes."
"Then the driver is gone. We are waiting for—"
The women jumped in surprise. Ari whirled and saw a black-slippered foot finishing an arc. He had begun raising his gun but it met the end of the arc and flew out of his hand, banging against the metal side of the trailer. Ari flung out his left hand but failed to intercept a hard strike to his midriff. He oofed and struggled to regain his breath. He saw the next kick coming, knew it was aimed at his knee joint and crouched far enough to take it in the thigh. He hopped backwards and stumbled against the first woman, drawing a yelp when he stepped on her foot.
"Yilmaz!" Ari shouted. "Stop this!"
But she was at full throttle, dropping back into Zenkutsu Dachi in preparation for a launch forward. There was only one way to stop her. He prepared to jump forward and grab her mid-air. He would pay a stiff price, but what else could he do?
"Don't hurt him!"
A plea from six voices that brought Yilmaz short. She froze in her stance and gave the women a sharp glance. Some of them were standing, entreating Yilmaz with outstretched hands. Ari noted with vast annoyance that she was not breathing very hard, whereas he was gasping like a wounded elephant. He scowled backwards at the women, not wanting their help. Then he faced his assailant with every intention of resuming the fight.
"You want more?" Yilmaz snarled, rustling her jilbaab in preparation for another thrust.
"You didn't recognize me before you attacked me from behind?" Ari shot back.
"Of course I did. Do you remember what you told me you did the last time?"
It took him a moment to realize she was talking about his last confr
ontation with a black belt. And it was true…he had shot the man in the heart. Was she seeking revenge for a stranger?
"I thought I was entering a different situation," Ari explained, still waiting for the next attack.
"And what situation was that?"
"I had reason to believe the Namus was here."
The women behind him gasped. Yilmaz dropped her arms and relaxed her stance to that of a normal human being.
"Good," Ari breathed. "We are done with this, then? Can I retrieve my gun?"
"Not yet."
Grumbling, Ari limped to the side of the trailer and leaned against the wall, trying to appear conversational. He began to rub his thigh, then realized his wrist hurt even more…until he observed a gasping pain in his midriff. He did not know which spot to massage, first.
"Are you saying Richmond?" Yilmaz asked. "We already know—"
"I mean…" Not wanting to alarm the passengers even more, he cocked his eyeballs left and right. Yilmaz imitated the gesture, then pointed her chin upwards. Ari nodded. It was not very subtle, and the women behind him moaned lowly.
Seeing that sign language was pointless, Yilmaz asked, "How do you know this?"
"I was researching trucking websites for clues about the hijackings. I found that your O'Connor's Rig Twenty-one was in the same location—"
"What is this?" Badawi Bahrani was gaping at them from the loading dock. "What is he doing in there? Have him out this instant! Yilmaz! What are we paying you for? Break his skull at once!"
"I was about to when he told me the Namus is here."
"In the building? That's ridiculous." So he knew.
"Where is the driver of this truck?" Ari asked.
"Hajjaj? He must have gone home. He knows better than to open the trailer. No man is allowed inside when it is occupied."
"You do this often?" Doing his best to hide his limp, Ari stepped past Yilmaz. "Never mind that for now. Wouldn't this truck driver check in with you before departing?"
"He should…" Bahrani said slowly. "I knew the truck was here, but I was called to the phone."
"Yes." Ari looked at Yilmaz. "Do you mind if I get my gun, now?"
Yilmaz drew a gun from under her jilbaab. "Yes, now you may get it."
"Yilmaz!" A shocked Badawi Bahrani drew his clipboard to his chest. It didn't look bulletproof.
With an involuntary grunt of pain Ari reached down for his gun. Now that he knew Yilmaz could have shot him instead of half-crippling him, he counted his blessings.
"What are you doing—?" Bahrani began as Yilmaz and Ari emerged from the trailer. Ari hushed him with a gesture and gave Yilmaz an inquiring glance. She jumped off the side of the dock—it was quite a drop—and worked her way up alongside the trailer towards the cab. Ari studied the distance, then hustled over to a ladder bolted to the side of the dock and lowered himself to the concrete surface. He held his gun in his left hand. The right was too sore.
"Wait!" he hissed when he heard Yilmaz opening the driver door. He came up on the passenger side and yanked at the handle. The driver was sloped sideways, out of sight from anyone outside. Ari lifted his head and met Yilmaz' eyes.
"Don't shout," Ari cautioned. "He's been knocked on the head. He'll be all right."
"How do you know?" she whispered loudly over the sound of the auxiliary engine.
"He's breathing. That's good enough for the moment." Stepping off the galvanized step, he swept the bay with his eyes. Turning back, he saw Bahrani watching him from the dock. He was a small man but that meant nothing. The hijackers on 9/11 had been on the small side, and look at the damage they had done. The manager's demeanor showed a combination of frustration and concern, but Ari had met many superb actors in his time, none from the stage. He limped over to the ladder and looked up. Bahrani was fingering his phone. "You want to call the police?"
He shook his head slowly.
"You might want to in a minute. Take a whiff."
Bahrani turned towards the truck. "Gas…"
"Are you a part of this operation? You have made preparations to remove the women?"
"That's my job," said Yilmaz, already back on the dock. Had she flown up there? "I brought a van."
"Very good. Mr. Bahrani, please call Hamal and ask him if he has seen anyone leaving."
"It won't do any good," said Bahrani, though he punched his phone. "Anyone in half-decent shape could climb over the fence."
"Also ask him if anyone else has arrived. Whoever attacked Hajjaj might have a driver to take him away from here."
"Hajjaj?" Bahrani said, startled. "Is he—?"
"He lost the argument," said Ari. In Arabic, 'Hajjaj' meant 'he who prevails in a dispute'.
The guard's voice came over the phone. "Hamal! Has anyone arrived? Or left?"
There was a burble of confusion at the other end.
"I mean since Mr. Ciminon arrived, idiot!" Bahrani listened a moment. "All right, don't let anyone else in. Do you remember your sidearm? Take it out. Yes! If you see anyone trying to leave, shoot them! What are you saying? Doesn't that gun have a trigger? Do I have to explain you are only to shoot strangers, and not someone you know?"
He lowered the phone.
"Hamal says there is a car sitting in the road. They turned their headlights off but he can hear the engine."
"The Namus is still here," Yilmaz hissed, turning in all directions.
The Namus or not, there was a good chance whoever had attacked the driver was still on the property. Ari gave Bahrani another glance. The foreman would have turned Ari away at the customer service entrance if he had been interrupted in the middle of a crime. It was a good working theory, at least.
"Do you have a gun?" Ari asked him.
Bahrani tightened his grip on his clipboard.
"Yes? I've never seen a gun like that. What caliber is it?"
"Only the guards have guns," the foreman said. "I don't keep one. They are too…uncertain."
"Truly," Ari nodded. "I have to search the building. Yilmaz, get the women out of that noxious trailer. You can wait with them on the dock."
"Ha!"
"Then you want me to wait here with these delectable creatures? They are unaccompanied. I see no fathers or brothers."
Yilmaz's face went into such powerful contortions that it could only be described as facial karate.
There was a scream from inside the building. Bahrani took off. Weaponless or not, any disturbance here was his business.
"Stay!" Ari commanded as he took off as best he could after him. Yilmaz fumed, but began herding the women out of the trailer.
Ari ran through the strip door and turned the corner to the hallway. Bahrani was helping one of the girls from the communication room into a seated position. She was holding her chin.
"I came out into the hall and someone punched me!" she sobbed.
The second girl warily stuck her head out the door. "Is it safe?"
"Did either of you get a good look at him?" Bahrani demanded.
"I only saw a fist."
The second girl shook her head.
Ari stepped past them as Bahrani lifted his phone to call the guard.
"Hamal! Hamal! Answer me, you idiot!"
Ari's leg seized up just as he reached the customer service entrance. He couldn't believe it. He had once been shot in the leg and still managed to run for miles. Now it looked like a kick from a little girl had practically crippled him. He massaged it gruffly, flexed his knee some, then pushed through the door.
Car tires squealed in the road. Hobbling across the parking lot, Ari found Hamal pushing up on his elbows, shaking his head. Stepping past the gate, Ari checked the road in both directions. The car was gone. He returned to the guard.
"A man came out of the building," he gasped, spitting blood between words. "I began to confront him and I was hit from behind."
Hamal's phone was on the ground, ringing. Ari picked it up. "The lamb was attacked—"
"I can see," said Bahrani.
/> Ari raised his eyes. Bahrani was hustling across the lot in their direction. He closed his phone and stood over the fallen guard. "You failed. Your gun is still in its holster."
Ari looked away. Foremen were notoriously lax when it came to sympathy for fallen employees. All across the world, in every profession….
Hamal spat more blood.
"Did you at least get a look at him?" Bahrani demanded.
"It happened too fast…"
"Worthless."
"You have Yilmaz's number in your phone? Call her right away. We need to get those women out of here before the ambulance arrives."
"Ambulance?" Bahrani asked, frowning.
"The one you are going to call for to take your injured people to the hospital."
"They're not badly—"
Hamal threw up. Bahrani jumped back to dodge the spew, then punched Yilmaz's number on his phone.
"Are your keys in the van?" he said when she answered. "Good. I'll bring it around—" He stopped, listening. He lifted his eyes to Ari. "She says we need to come around and see something."
Ari leaned down, gave Hamal a pat on the shoulder, then followed Bahrani into the building. Dragging his leg, he fell behind. When he finally arrived back at the loading dock, he found Yilmaz and Bahrani bellowing at each other.
"Why do you have them out like this!" Bahrani was shouting. "Don't you know it's improper! And dangerous!"
"Stuff it, surum."
Ari was startled. 'Surum' was an Iraqi insult: asshole.
"You don't know how dangerous." Seeing Ari, Yilmaz cocked her head and jumped off the dock. Pure showmanship. Did she think she was a ninja? She certainly looked like one in her dark jilbaab. Ari nodded at the women milling on the dock and lowered himself on the ladder. Bahrani followed.
"Here!"
As they went to the front of the trailer, Ari noted the auxiliary engine noise had stopped.
The Shelter for Buttered Women Page 16