by Terry Toler
My phone suddenly rang.
Shoot!
I pulled it out of the pocket where it was hidden.
Alex.
Of all times to call.
Barney tried to take it from my hand, but I pulled it away. A-Rad took a step in my direction. Fortunately, Barney didn’t see him. While he was pushing the limits of my patience, I wasn’t ready for a confrontation. A-Rad’s signature move was a chokehold. I could see him preparing to execute one by the way he was holding his arms out.
“I’ll send it now,” I said, catching A-Rad’s eyes giving him a look to stand down.
I pretended to be typing in the information. I pretended to hit send.
Barney pulled out his phone. “Let’s make sure I got it.”
Dang!
I went ahead and typed in the information and sent it to him. When I talked to Alex later, he’d take care of it.
Barney’s phone dinged and he confirmed that he got it.
“Let’s go kid,” Barney said, grabbing Christopher by the arm. The boy pulled away.
Mom let out a squeal. More of a shriek.
“Why are you arresting my son?” she said, “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
Mrs. Tate was almost pleading with the man. I could tell she was getting desperate. This was clearly an upstanding family. They probably freaked out when they got a parking ticket. I broke laws in other countries all the time when the mission required it. I was dangerously close to breaking one now. Assaulting a tribal officer.
“I told you why your son is under arrest,” Barney said. “I read you the charges.”
Barney didn’t read Christopher his rights before he handcuffed him. I wondered if he was required to do so in Abu Dhabi. Regardless, I knew from experience that keeping quiet was the best thing to do with this detective.
I could sense a trap coming.
“One of the charges was proselytizing,” Mrs. Tate said. “Christopher didn’t do that. MJ was already a Christian when they met.”
I winced.
Barney pulled out his little notebook and wrote something down. Mrs. Tate had just inadvertently provided evidence that MJ did in fact convert from Islam to Christianity. She’d made the same mistake I made. Twice.
“I think Christopher needs to talk to his attorney,” I interjected trying to put an end to the conversation. Barney wasn’t going to be talked out of arresting Christopher. The best thing to do was accept that and limit the damage.
Barney must’ve sensed an opening because he said, “Sexual indignities is another charge.”
“What are sexual indignities?” Mrs. Tate asked.
“Having sex outside of marriage,” Barney replied.
I knew exactly where he was going with that. Before I could stop her, Mrs. Tate said, “But they’re married.”
I don’t know if my grimace showed on my face, but my heart dropped a couple of notches in my chest. She’d just provided testimony that implicated Christopher and MJ in a crime. Christopher was guilty because he married a Muslim woman without converting to Islam according to MJ’s tribal law. MJ was guilty because it was against the law in her tribe for a Muslim woman to marry a non-Muslim man. Mrs. Tate was digging them a hole that they would not be able to get out of.
I stepped between them and took Mrs. Tate by the arm and whispered to her, “Don’t say anything else. Christopher needs to talk to his attorney.”
She pulled away. “I’m coming with you. Where are you taking my son?” she said angrily.
“You’re not allowed in the building.”
“I want to visit my son. I have that right.”
“The only rights you have are what I give you! No visitors are allowed in the holding cell. Not until he’s transferred to the main prison.”
“Where do I post his bail?”
“He’ll have to go before a judge to ask for it.”
“How long will that take?”
“I don’t know, but I doubt the judge will grant him bail until the trial.”
“When can I see him?”
“Not until the trial.”
“What about his attorney? When can he see him?”
“The boy is entitled to an attorney. He’ll know how to get in touch with him.”
“Are you saying I can’t see my son until the trial?”
“That’s correct.”
Barney grabbed Christopher by the arm and led him away. Out of the room and toward the front door. Christopher kept straining to look back at his mom. His eyes were widened and his mouth agape in total panic.
“I’ll call Anup,” Mrs. Tate said to him. “We’re going to get you out of there.”
Mrs. Tate was almost hysterical. I grabbed her and put my arms around her to keep her from following them out the door.
“What are they going to do to him?” she asked, as she collapsed into my arms, practically sobbing.
“I don’t know.”
The truth. I had no idea what would happen next.
***
Mrs. Tate called her husband who called the attorney. I gave Mrs. Tate my cell phone number and told her to call me with any news and put her number in my phone. A-Rad and I left as soon as we could break away. What had transpired caused me to rethink my plans. I needed to get the girls out of the hospital sooner rather than later. As soon as I called Alex, we needed to head right over there and warn them.
“How ya doing?” Alex answered.
“Not good. Christopher’s been arrested. The policeman just hauled him off to jail. I have no idea what they’ll do to him in there.”
“They won’t torture him, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s an American. They don’t want that kind of press.”
“I’m concerned about the other prisoners. Who knows what kind of scum he might be in a cell with?”
“I wouldn’t worry about that. Like I said, he’s an American. They’ll isolate him from the rest of the prison population. He should be fine.”
“I hope you’re right. Did you call me?”
“Anya’s passport is ready early,” Alex said. “It’s at the US embassy for you to pick up.”
“Great. We’ll head that way now. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Sounds like you’ve got your hands full there. Do you need some help? I can send some reinforcements.”
“Not yet. We’re okay for the time being. I do need for you to do something for me.”
“Anything.”
“I’m going to send you an email address. I sent a video to it about five minutes ago. Hack into that email account and put a virus on the video.”
“How bad a virus? Do you want to be a nuisance or go nuclear?”
I thought about it for several seconds.
“Go nuclear,” I finally said. “Wipe out his whole email account. If you can, have the virus get on his phone when he opens it. I also want the video destroyed. So he never sees it.”
“Somebody must’ve pissed you off.”
“You have no idea.”
***
We picked up Anya’s passport from the embassy and then stopped for lunch. The diner was busy, so we kept our voices low as we discussed our next move.
“What’s the plan at the hospital?” A-Rad asked me. “Where are we going to take the girls? Are they even in good enough condition to be moved?”
The questions came rapid fire, before I had the chance to answer the first one.
“I don’t know,” I said, answering the last one first. “But they’re definitely not in good enough condition to go to jail.”
A-Rad was smart to ask. I didn’t want to compulsively go charging into the hospital and take the girls out without a plan. I had no way to take care of them if they needed medical attention.
“We could take them to another hospital,” I said. “Check them in under assumed names.”
“That’s a good idea.”
I pulled up my phone and began looking for hospitals.
“We need to find on
e outside the jurisdiction of the policeman,” I said. “Someplace where he’d never look.”
“If that doesn’t work, we could take them to a hotel,” A-Rad said. “You can connect with a doctor by the internet. He can write them a prescription, if they need medication which I’m sure they do. I can break into a pharmacy and steal some.”
“A-Rad I’m impressed. You’re actually doing field analysis.”
“I’m more than just a pretty face.”
“How are we going to get them out of the hospital, then? What would you do?” I asked.
A-Rad wrinkled his nose and put his hand on his chin like he was deep in thought. His eyes suddenly widened like a light bulb went off inside his head.
“I could dress up as an orderly,” he said. “I’ll just walk in and wheel them out in a wheelchair.”
The idea was actually a good one. I was genuinely impressed. We always just thought he was the muscle. He was actually becoming useful in planning missions.
“That’s a brilliant idea, A-Rad.”
“Look on your phone and see if there’s a place in town that sells scrubs,” he said to me. “You know hospital uniforms.”
He was on a roll.
A-Rad was freaking me out.
“And stethoscopes!” he said excitedly. “I could pose as a doctor instead of a nurse. A doctor could order people around.”
I didn’t want to stifle his enthusiasm, so I just let him continue to brainstorm and keep my mouth shut.
“I’m sure the hospital has medicine and supplies,” he continued. “I’ll take what we need from there. I won’t even need to break into a pharmacy.”
“You can go in first,” I said. “You’ll need an employee’s badge. You can probably get one in the doctor’s lounge.”
“Won’t they know that I’m not from that hospital?”
“Tell them you’re from a different hospital. That you’re there visiting two of your patients. Make up some story about what happened to them.”
“My patient was in a car wreck. How’s that?” A-Rad asked.
“That’s good. She was burned. The passenger with her has a head injury.”
A few seconds later, the light bulb look came on his face again. “Right!” he said. “That sounds like our two girls.”
I couldn’t wait to tell Alex about our conversation. He’d be shocked.
“Let’s get to work,” I said, as we both finished our lunch around the same time.
I couldn’t help but smile. I hadn’t seen A-Rad this excited since Bianca kissed him on the lips.
***
Sheikh Zimraan Jaber General Hospital
Abu Dhabi had several shops that sold scrubs. None that sold stethoscopes. A-Rad would have to steal one once he got in the hospital. We stopped somewhere for him to change. To my surprise, A-Rad actually looked the part. As long as he didn’t have to open his mouth and have to sound like a doctor, he’d probably fool the people at the hospital.
I thought the idea of an orderly was a better one. That way he didn’t need to have any expertise. But A-Rad was so excited about playing the doctor, I didn’t want to suggest it.
We arrived at the hospital and walked right in. No one even gave us a second look. Hundreds of healthcare professionals were flitting around the hospital which was abuzz with activity. A-Rad went to find wheelchairs and I went directly to the girl’s room.
As I walked down the hall, I could sense something was different.
Their door was open.
I didn’t hear any activity.
I walked through the open door.
The room was empty.
Both beds were made.
Samitah and Aunt Shule were not there.
The girls were gone.
18
Court of First Instance
Tribal Village outside of Abu Dhabi
Christopher’s trial started today. Any minute actually. A hearing more than a trial according to his attorney, Malak Abdallah, who was explaining the procedures to us. A railroading more than a hearing, after listening to him describe the process.
“Don’t be under any illusions that this will be a fair trial,” he said to those of us in the room. Aunt Shule was there. As were Mr. and Mrs. Tate. Samitah, Amina’s mom, was noticeably missing. Her husband wouldn’t let her attend.
MJ’s trial was in three days, and Amina’s was a week from now. According to Malak, the judge was from Dubai and traveled two days a week to preside over the cases in that particular village. Malak commented that the prosecutor was likely being strategic in scheduling Christopher’s trial first to gather evidence to use against MJ.
The building was nothing more than an above average home that had been renovated to serve their purposes as a makeshift courthouse. It consisted of one large room where the trial took place, along with an office for the judge, and four small rooms for the parties to use. One room Malak described was basically a ten-foot by ten-foot prison cell. No bars, but locks and steel hooks on the walls where the defendants were chained while they waited for the proceedings to begin. A bench was attached to each wall around the entire room and seated up to a dozen or more people.
I was horrified to learn that all the defendants were kept in the ten-by-ten cell and tried on the same day. MJ would be in there with her father, who was being charged with domestic abuse. Amina would have to be in the holding cell with the four men who raped her. A guard would be in there to protect them, but the girls were victimized once again.
Not only was that unfair, but the charges were bordering on absurd. The father should’ve been charged with attempted murder. Domestic abuse didn’t even begin to describe what he’d done to her by setting her on fire and permanently disfiguring her. The charges against Amina’s assailants were even more outrageous. None were charged with rape. Three were charged with fornication. Meaning they had sex outside of marriage. Amina had the same three charges filed against her. A twisted and perverted way of thinking that somehow forcible rape was viewed the same as consensual sex.
The married man was charged with the more serious crime of adultery. As was Amina. None of the men were charged with assault. They all admitted to the sexual contact, but each denied hitting MJ and didn’t know how she got her injuries. Lying and perjury must be permissible under their twisted rationalization of theology and sin.
I offered to testify, but Malak was against it. I could testify that I saw them hitting her. If they were going to lie to get off, I’d lie to get them convicted. Malak said that all I would do was make things worse because I’d also be testifying that the men raped her. That evidence would be used against MJ to prove the charges against her. Better for me to stay out of it, he argued, much to my consternation.
The only reason I was even in the room was because I was paying Malak to represent Amina. If I hadn’t, she’d been given a court-appointed attorney, which would’ve been worse than having no attorney at all. The Tates were covering Christopher and MJ’s legal fees. Malak was telling us what we were up against, only increasing the tension which was on everyone’s faces.
“We got the worst possible judge,” Malak said while adjusting his turban.
The attorney fit the part perfectly. Tall and thin. A whitish beard. His head was covered. He looked and acted like a typical Arab male and seemed genuinely concerned about Christopher and the two girls. Even though he came highly recommended by Anup, I had a hard time trusting anyone involved in the system, including Malak. He’d have to prove himself to me in the courtroom before I’d give him any respect.
“The individual emirates decide whether they want to enter the federal system of justice or maintain local control,” Malak explained. “This village chose the latter. They have control over all their courts. The rules of procedure are set by the local tribes. Of course, they all follow Sharia law and the civil laws of the land and are subject to the appeals process, but they’re basically given free rein to run their courts and dole out punishment as they see fi
t.”
What he was saying didn’t instill my confidence in him or the process.
“What can you tell us about the judge?” I asked.
“He’s a fundamentalist. Sheikh Zariah Omair Mirza Hallal is his name. He’s worse than most judges in the UAE. He’ll interpret the tribal laws in the strictest possible way.”
“Is he fair?” Mr. Tate asked.
Malak waved his hand in the air dismissively. “What is fair? Fair is a relative term. To this judge, fair is following the tribal laws. To some of us, if the law is unfair, then following it is as well.”
“How’s Christopher doing?” Mrs. Tate asked. They still hadn’t been allowed to see him since his arrest.
“Christopher is being treated fairly well, under the circumstances. I met with him yesterday. He’s lost a few pounds from the atrocious food which he complains about, but his situation is a lot better than what the girls face.”
“How are the girls holding up?” I asked.
We’d desperately been trying to get information on Amina and MJ’s health. Other than attorneys, the prisons didn’t allow visitors. Now that Malak had seen the girls, I was anxious to find out their conditions.
“Not good,” Malak said. “They’re together in the same cell, which is a good thing. They can look out for each other. A lot of times they put girls in solitary confinement. That way no one knows what the guards are doing to them. That hasn’t happened yet. Once they’re convicted and moved to the regular prison population, their conditions will worsen.”
My mouth almost flew open. Once they’re convicted! Malak was their attorney, and he was already resigned to the fact that they’d be found guilty. Before they even had their day in court.
Malak continued before I could confront him with that statement. “Amina and MJ sleep on a mattress on the floor.”
“That’s not good,” Aunt Shule said, speaking up for the first time. Shule seemed nervous at being at the courthouse. Not just for MJ, but she had expressed concern about her own safety. She was dressed in a burqa so as to not draw any attention to herself. While Christopher was charged with proselytizing, Aunt Shule was actually the one who introduced Amina to Christianity. A crime punishable by death according to the tribal law. I could see why she was genuinely concerned. Although, she didn’t know that I’d never let them arrest her. I’d fight to the death to protect her. Aunt Shule and I had grown extremely close through the ordeal and shared the same Christian values.