No Girl Left Behind: A Jamie Austen Spy Thriller (THE SPY STORIES Book 5)

by Terry Toler

  Her eyes were still closed. I wondered if she could hear us. She was heavily sedated, but our conversation had been loud and heated.

  “I need to confiscate your phone,” the man said.

  That wasn’t going to happen.

  “Sir, I’m here on business. I need my phone. I’m expecting a call from Sheikh Saad Shakir first thing in the morning. He won’t be happy if he’s unable to reach me.”

  Maybe throwing out the name of the powerful Sheikh might make a difference.

  It did.

  “Send the video to my email,” he said. He took out his wallet and pulled out a business card and gave it to me.

  Then he left.

  I had no intention of sending the video to him. Especially if he were going to use it as evidence against Amina.

  Shortly after the man left, Amina’s mother arrived. She introduced herself as Samitah Noorani. By the look on her face, I could tell she was surprised to see me in Amina’s room. After I explained to her all the details, her words and tone were even more ominous than the tribal authority and left me even more concerned.

  “They want to arrest Amina for adultery,” I explained to her. “The man wanted to take her to jail, even in this condition. I talked him out of it.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “And thank you for helping my daughter.”

  “It’s the least I could do. I wasn’t about to leave her there on the side of the road. Clearly, I should’ve brought her home, though. I thought she needed medical attention.”

  I’d be kicking myself for that decision for who knew how long.

  “They can’t arrest her, can they?” I asked.

  “They can and they will,” Samitah said.

  “That’s so unfair. The man said they could sentence her to death.”

  “The courts are the least of our worries. More than likely, Amina will be sentenced to a hundred lashes and ten to twelve years in prison. That’s what other girls have gotten in similar situations.”

  “The policeman said they could give her a hundred lashes for each charge. There were four men. That would be four hundred lashes.”

  “He’s not a policeman. He’s one of the tribal elders. He does have the power to arrest her, though. And the tribe can impose a sentence. They still have to follow UAE laws which limit lashes to two hundred at any one time. Amina wouldn’t survive four hundred lashes. Her back would be decimated. More than likely, the punishment will be all together. Four charges, but one lashing. Maybe 140 lashes. But the court won’t sentence her to death. That does happen, but not as much as it used to. Not for rape. For consensual adultery, maybe. Even though that’s getting rarer.”

  “That’s a relief. Still, ten to twelve years in prison is a long time.”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t think Amina will ever go to prison.”

  “Oh good.” Then I caught myself as the words sunk in.

  “Why did you say, unfortunately?”

  “Amina will likely be put to death because the man is married.”

  Samitah’s tone was sober and with a hint of obvious resignation. I could tell she loved her daughter and was pained by this horrible turn of events. Samitah had shared with me how her daughter was a good student. Never got into trouble. Worked hard. And was a delightful daughter who had a bright future ahead of her. What did she mean by unfortunately? The words didn’t make sense or match the tone.

  “You just said the court wouldn’t put her to death.”

  “I did say that. But her father is the one we have to worry about.”

  “Her father? What’s he got to do with it?”

  “My husband is a tribal elder as well. After the courts hand out their sentence, then the local tribes will impose their own.”

  “He’s her father. Surely, he’ll convince them to be lenient on his own daughter.”

  “My husband is an exacting man. He will not be lenient. He’ll be leading the call for her stoning.”

  I slumped back in my chair and put my hand over my eyes and rubbed them roughly.

  What a nightmare!

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” I said. I was used to injustice. Saw it every day in my line of work. I’d just come from one emotional time with Bianca, now I was faced with another. This one even worse than Bianca’s plight. I had to do something.

  “Is there anything we can do to stop it?”

  “She’s already admitted to the tribal elder that she was raped. That’s considered a confession of guilt to them. The man is married. The tribal law says it’s adultery to have sex with a married man, even if it’s not consensual.”

  “The only proof the man is married is the video. That’s on my phone. What if I don’t send it to him?”

  “I’d be worried that you’ll be charged with obstructing an investigation. You’ve already done enough for my daughter. I don’t want you to get in trouble with the law.”

  “I’m not worried about me. I’m thinking of Amina.”

  We talked for another hour until it was time for me to leave.

  I walked over to Amina’s bedside. Leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I don’t know if you can hear me or not. If you can, I won’t let them do this to you. I promise.”

  The second promise I’d made today. Bianca. Now Amina. Neither of which, I knew for sure I could keep.

  All I knew was that I had to try.

  7

  MJ

  Tribal area outside Abu Dhabi City

  One month before MJ’s eighteenth birthday

  MJ was in love.

  Three months after her conversion to Christianity, she met Christopher. An eighteen-year-old from America whose parents had been in the UAE for more than a year. Christopher was the nicest boy she’d ever met, and they had an instant attraction. His dad worked for a banking conglomerate in Abu Dhabi.

  They met strictly by chance. Christopher happened to be driving by at the exact moment a group of boys were harassing her while she was walking home from school. He ran them off and offered her a ride.

  Even though riding in the car alone with him was against the law of her tribe, MJ had started testing the limits of her newfound freedom. She accepted the ride, and they hit it off immediately. He picked her up from school every day for two weeks and took her home so she wouldn’t have any more problems with those boys. So no one would see her get out of his car, he stopped a block or two away from her home to let her walk the rest of the way.

  MJ knew she was taking a serious risk, but she was taking them every day in other ways as well. She had taken her aunt’s advice and only read the Bible at her aunt’s house. Which was easy to do since she was over there almost every day. Most nights she even slept there, except those nights when her father was away on a business trip and someone needed to be there to watch the home.

  Her father didn’t seem to notice her extended absences and knew nothing of her so-called “apostasy.” While apostasy was a crime in the United Arab Emirates, no one had been prosecuted for it in years. The plan was to keep it a secret from her father until her eighteenth birthday at which time she could do whatever she wanted.

  When Christopher kissed her one day in his car, she’d broken more laws than just treason. Now, she’d broken sexual laws according to her tribe. Even though they hadn’t actually had sex, they’d taken steps toward zina or sexual sin. They’d given in to their lusts. According to her father, it was better for a man to have a nail driven through his head, than to touch a woman who he didn’t have a right to touch. Christopher didn’t have that right until they were married which required her father’s permission, which he would never give.

  Dating, kissing, even holding hands with a woman who was not your wife was considered sin. Sin was subject to criminal punishment.

  That’s why MJ needed to introduce Christopher to Aunt Shule. They needed her advice. MJ was betrothed. Her father had promised her to another man on her eighteenth birthday. She intended to refuse, although her father didn’t know it
yet. In her own mind, she had no choice. Marrying the man was not an option. She was in love with Christopher. And he loved her. They had even talked about marriage.

  She’d kept the relationship a secret from Aunt Shule until she was sure Christopher was the man for her. Not that she didn’t trust her; she was just embarrassed. She didn’t know if Auntie would approve of her kissing another boy or if she’d even like him.

  But… she had nowhere else to turn. If anyone would understand and keep her secret, it’d be Aunt Shule. Her Aunt was the one who had led her to Christ and had practically raised her after her mother died in childbirth.

  The day before, she asked Auntie if she could invite a friend for dinner. Even hinted that it was a male friend, although Auntie didn’t ask. She said yes, and she spent all afternoon helping Auntie prepare.

  When Christopher arrived, MJ was as nervous as a mouse around a cat. Auntie didn’t seem surprised that the guest was a boy. She greeted him with a warmness even MJ didn’t expect. Although, she ushered him into the house quickly, nervously checking the outside clearly to make sure no one saw him enter.

  The meal was ready to be served, so they went directly to the kitchen table.

  “Tell me about yourself, Christopher,” Auntie Shule asked him warmly as they all filled their plates.

  “My dad’s a banker. I’m from America. I’ve been in the UAE for a little over a year.”

  “Do you go to school?”

  “Yes ma’am. I go to a private Christian school in Abu Dhabi City.”

  Christopher was brown headed, with high cheekbones and baby-faced features. His eyes were soft and innocent. His manners were immaculate and his tone always respectful. Even though he’d kissed MJ, he was a perfect gentleman doing it.

  “So you’re a Christian?” Auntie asked.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “That’s nice.”

  Aunt Shule looked at MJ and smiled.

  For two hours they talked. The subject of the romance still hadn’t come up, and the hour was getting late. Finally, Aunt Shule came right out and asked, since MJ was afraid to broach the subject.

  “What are your intentions with MJ?” Auntie asked.

  “I hope to marry her someday. After her eighteenth birthday.”

  In the UAE, a woman couldn’t get married without her father’s permission until she turned eighteen.

  “Hmmm,” Auntie said. Not giving anything away. MJ didn’t know if she approved or not.

  “How do you feel about that, MJ?” Auntie asked.

  “I think it’s great. I love him. I want to marry him.”

  “That’s nice.”

  To MJ’s surprise, Auntie Shule didn’t say another word. The rest of the evening was pleasant and when Christopher said he had to go, Auntie excused herself so MJ and Christopher could be alone.

  As he left, Christopher leaned in and gave MJ the second kiss of her life, sending chills down her spine. They turned off the porch light, and Christopher snuck away under the cover of darkness. It all felt so mysterious. Dangerous even, although MJ wondered if she really knew how dangerous.

  She was reminded of that when she got back inside and found Auntie obviously ready to have a franker discussion. Auntie’s mood was sober and her face tense with apprehension.

  “What do you think of Christopher?” MJ asked before her aunt could speak.

  “I like him. He seems like a nice boy.”

  “I want to marry him.”

  “I know, dear. I want you to marry a Christian as well.”

  “I can marry him when I turn eighteen.”

  “No, you can’t!”

  MJ’s heart sunk to the bottom of her chest. “What do you mean?”

  “The laws of our tribe don’t allow you to marry a non-Muslim.”

  “Sharif married a Christian.” Sharif was a boy in their village. Slightly older than her. Already eighteen.

  “Muslim men in our tribe are allowed to marry a non-Muslim woman. Women are forbidden to marry outside of our faith.”

  “That’s not fair!” Anger rose up inside of MJ like a sandstorm whipping through the desert.

  “No one said life is fair, honey.”

  “What if I marry him anyway?”

  “You could get in serious trouble with the tribal elders. You’d also be guilty of having sex outside of marriage. You could go to jail.”

  “We’d be guilty of sex outside of marriage, even though we’re married?”

  “Like I said, our tribe wouldn’t recognize the marriage. In the view of the tribal elders, you’re still single. You’d be having sex with another single man.”

  MJ started to cry.

  “I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to tell me the truth,” Auntie said.

  MJ stifled back a sob. “Okay.”

  “Have you and Christopher had sex yet?”

  “No! We’ve only kissed twice. We’re waiting until we get married.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “I know what the Bible says about marriage and waiting until you’re married.”

  Auntie had actually taught MJ about sex even before the conversion. Her Aunt was the closest thing she had to a mother. Auntie, as she called her, taught her most of what she knew about the things of the world.

  Auntie said, “You’ll get in a lot of trouble if the two of you get caught. Promise me that you won’t see Christopher anymore—”

  Anger exploded inside of MJ and she raised her voice and said, “I have to see Christopher! I won’t promise not to see him. I’ll just die if I can’t. I’m sorry, Auntie.”

  “You didn’t let me finish. What I was going to say was promise me that you won’t see Christopher except at my house. Not until we can figure things out.”

  “What can we figure out? It seems so hopeless. If the law won’t let me marry him.”

  “You’ve got bigger problems than the law,” Auntie Shule said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “On your eighteenth birthday, if you don’t marry the man your father picked out for you, I’m afraid he’ll disown you.”

  “Did he tell you who he picked for me?” MJ said in disgust.

  “No.”

  “Abdul!”

  “Abdul Sham?” Auntie asked.

  “Yes! He’s forty years old! He already has two wives and five kids.”

  “He can afford a plum dowry. That must be why. I’d hoped he’d pick a boy your own age.”

  “He didn’t. I can’t marry him. I want to marry Christopher.”

  “If you don’t marry Abdul, your father will put you out of the tribe. He’ll disown you. You’ll be destitute.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Not only that… I’m afraid that he’ll kill you.”

  MJ hadn’t thought about that possibility. She’d heard of fathers killing their daughters for not obeying their wishes. She’d even seen the stonings in the square, although they were few and far between, and she hadn’t seen one recently. Mostly, what she heard about were girls disappearing. Never to be heard from again.

  Her father wouldn’t dare! Or would he?

  The reality suddenly hit her like she’d been hit by a truck.

  Her father would kill her rather than let her marry Christopher. Especially since he’d lose the dowry.

  She’d rather die than marry the man he had for her.

  What was going to happen?

  Her birthday was only a month away.

  8

  MJ

  Abu Dhabi City

  Three days before MJ’s eighteenth birthday

  Christopher introduced MJ to his parents shortly after they began discussing marriage. While Wayne and Ivory Tate expressed that they would’ve preferred their son wait until he was older to get married, they were sympathetic to MJ’s plight. MJ’s father had prearranged a marriage for her with a forty-year-old Muslim man who already had two wives and several kids.

  As the Tate’s got to know MJ better, they
grew to love her and were thrilled by their son’s choice of a wife.

  The affection was mutual. MJ had never met a family so kind and generous. The total opposite of her own dysfunctional upbringing. Christopher’s parents seemed like the perfect couple. Wayne treated his wife with respect. She seemed to be his equal in every way. While he worked and provided the income for the family, she managed the home and was active in the community and in church. They even took MJ to their Christian church on a couple occasions. Her father would go ballistic if he knew what she’d been doing behind his back.

  She loved it. Her life had not been the same since her conversion. The best thing she’d ever done.

  Because of the complexity of MJ’s situation, the decision was made to bring in an attorney. A meeting was set at the Tate’s home, so they’d have privacy, and Auntie Shule could attend.

  MJ waited until her father was out of town on business to hold the meeting. Aunt Shule and MJ arrived at the Tates’ apartment in center city together. If MJ had ever been more nervous than she was at that moment, she didn’t remember when.

  She felt better the moment she saw Christopher’s parents. They greeted her and Aunt Shule warmly.

  “We just love MJ so much,” Ivory Tate said to Aunt Shule after handing each of them a glass of sweet tea.

  “The feeling is mutual,” Aunt Shule said. “MJ can’t stop talking about how much she loves you. I certainly appreciate how kind you’ve been to her.”

  To be the center of attention felt weird to MJ. Everyone was talking about her while she was right there. She imagined she’d feel even more uncomfortable when the attorney arrived. The whole week since the meeting was arranged, she had dreaded it. Fearful the attorney would tell her she had to marry the Muslim man.

  Wayne Tate stood across the room. “This is quite a mess the kids have found themselves in,” he said. “Not of their own making, of course. I’m not blaming them. This isn’t their fault. There must be a solution, though. Hopefully, the attorney will help us find one.”

  “What do you do for a living?” Aunt Shule asked Mr. Tate.

  “I’m the CEO of digital banking for a local bank in Abu Dhabi City. We also have offices in Dubai, so I go back and forth. I’m under contract for eighteen months. I have six months left. Then we’ll go back to the states.”