Welcome to Dubai (The Traveler) (3 page)

Jonah said, “Well, whenever you want to buy a top-grade suit and shoes, you just go do it. That’s definitely how your father would want to see you.”

“Yeah, when he finally agrees to meet me.”

Jonah changed the subject again. “Okay, so let’s get to the hard part. Do you want to change your name for this trip? I can help you do that if it’ll make you feel safer.”

After what happened to Gary and Taylor in Medellín, Colombia, Jonah was very cautious of his travel out of the country. But now that Gary had years of military training and instruction in mixed martial arts, he was more than able to protect himself.

Gary joked and said, “What, you want me to become Jared Heath or something?”

He laughed out loud at the idea.

“If that’s the name you want,” Jonah responded seriously. “Of course, we would have to do a name search first to make sure there’s nothing crazy attached to it.”

Gary frowned and said, “Yeah, but I’m not a spy or anything. That would be more of a hindrance than me using my own name. What if someone asked me some hard questions?”

“I’m only trying to protect you,” Jonah said. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.” She paused then added, “It’s my job.”

Her comment forced Gary to think back to his painful trip to Colombia five years ago. His exploration there had been a spur of the moment idea that was definitely ill-advised. Gary could still hear the Colombian man’s voice in his head,
Now you can travel alone in pain and fear,
followed by the blow of the single gunshot to his best friend’s head.

Gary had often shot at targets during his military training with the Colombian terrorist in mind. His unfortunate torture in South America had been the reason for receiving military instruction. He wanted to learn how to protect himself in the future from any situation. He also realized that it was time to move on and let it go … unless he ever came face-to-face with the Colombian again.

Shaking off his thoughts of pain, fear and revenge, Gary imagined a beautiful time of healing, discovery and wonder in Dubai.

“All I have to do is mind my own business and behave myself like a respectable tourist, and I’ll be all right,” he stated. “So I’ll book a room at a normal place and do what every other tourist does to stay out of trouble.”

Jonah nodded, agreeing with his strategy. “You do that. So when are you planning to go there?”

Gary shrugged, thinking spontaneously. “I don’t know, in the next few weeks, maybe.”

Jonah nearly choked on her drink. “In the next few
weeks?”
she repeated. “Well, that’s not enough time to—” She stopped herself, thinking about her own spontaneous travel. The military life had its travel perks, and Gary could afford to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

Jonah smiled and said, “I hope your friend doesn’t mind the short notice.”

Gary smirked and didn’t respond to that. Instead, he joked, “If you need to fly over and save me from something, don’t hesitate to do it.”

“That’s not funny. And if I have to fly anywhere to save you, your butt’s not going anywhere but Disney World from that point on. So stay out of trouble and leave the exotic women alone.”

Gary chuckled, attempting to keep it light. “Yeah, I’ll do my best.”

Chapter 3

Abdul Khalif Hassan and his wife climbed off of the executive elevator at the garage level of their building, flanked by three armed Muslim guards in white
throbes.

The guards were serious and experienced men with the important duty of executive-level security. Abdul was a tremendously wealthy businessman and was always full of activity, but he was with Hamda, who had talked him into a lunch date.

As they stepped forward and away from the elevator, a white Rolls Royce with gold trim awaited them inside of the parking lot. A large driver sat behind the wheel. More armed security men drove a white Cadillac Escalade in front of the Rolls Royce, with a second white SUV behind it.

Hamda took a deep breath. She was used to it all, nevertheless, she continued to fantasize of less protective measures with her husband. It would have been nice to go out for a change without need of a full security team. Anything was better than nothing. But as soon as they climbed into the luxurious backseat of the car, Abdul’s cell phone rang at his hip; it was his business line.

Hamda noticed it and sighed.
Here we go again …

Abdul quickly held up his right index finger before his wife could announce her usual displeasure. “One minute,” he told her as he answered his phone.

Hamda looked away and shook her head as the three cars drove off toward the garage exit and the streets of Dubai.

“Merciful Allah. I can never have his undivided attention,” she complained.

Abdul frowned and ignored the remark.
The woman just doesn’t understand business,
he thought. His management knew not to call him on his cell phone unless it was urgently important, so he answered it with alarm and curiosity.

“Yes, this is Abdul,” he spoke gruffly. His threatening tone hinted of irritation. It was also his way of maintaining the necessary business edge when needed. At the same time, he reached out to caress his wife’s soft hand. But it only took a few seconds for the dire news to rattle him.

“What?!” he exclaimed into the phone. He released his wife’s hand immediately and brought his fingers up to his temple. “This just happened?”

A frown of concern brought new wrinkles to his forehead.

Hamda turned to study him, knowing that their lunch date was now out of the question. A serious issue was upon them.

“How did this happen?” Abdul continued to question. “Every week now there’s something new. Merciful Allah!”

As Abdul raised his voice and ranted into his cell phone, Hamda casually placed her hand on her husband’s thigh for comfort and support. But he removed it, in need of focus.

When their caravan of white vehicles hit the bright and sunny streets of Dubai, Hamda looked out of the window at the beautiful, tall buildings that surrounded them. The construction of the city of Dubai was indeed impressive. But what was it all worth without the peace of mind and the uninterrupted love of your husband?

Hamda had witnessed Abdul’s violent reactions to disappointments in business many times in the past, and she had learned to avoid probing because it only inflamed him more.
He always overreacts,
she thought.
He always shows his temper.
She felt her husband should model himself after the more aristocratic men in his family, who carried themselves with poise.

“Is there a report? Who saw it happen?” Abdul asked.

Listening to his turbulent conversation, Hamda decided that her husband’s questions did not sound like the usual business talk. So she turned again to face him.

Abdul began to shake his head and breathe deeply.

“Who was up there with him?” he asked. “Have the police come yet with an ambulance?”

Hamda froze and looked concerned herself. The news began to sound graver by the second.

“Okay, I am on my way to the site myself. I will be there in twenty minutes.”

Hamda looked on with horror and was speechless.
What is going on?
she thought.

Abdul hung up his cell phone and spoke first to his driver. “Take us to the new construction site.” He then addressed his puzzled wife with the news.

“What is wrong?” she asked him.

“An Indian worker fell from the construction building today and died.”

Hamda covered her face with her hands, in shock. “Merciful Allah.”

The driver quickly called the security team to inform them of their new destination, speaking to them in Arabic.

“Did someone push him?” Hamda questioned her husband. She could not imagine it as an accident. There had to be more involved.

“They don’t know yet,” Abdul snapped, as if the matter was none of her business. “That’s what I want to find out. The management said that many of the men walked off from work.”

“He let them walk
off?
Why did he let them do that?”

Hamda imagined that anyone there could have been a suspect.

“I don’t know,” Abdul answered her. He was peeved, and he would ask his men every question once they arrived.

*****

The caravan of white vehicles pulled up to the construction site in the heat of the desert. Shade from the afternoon sun was one of the many blessings provided by the tall new buildings of Dubai. But wherever construction was incomplete, the sun seemed to beam down even harder on the naked steel, pipelines, plaster and the busy bodies of hundreds of immigrant workers.

At the scene of the tragic accident, UAE police officers had already arrived with an ambulance to try and piece together the needed information. They had questioned six construction workers who had been on the same floor or in the vicinity of the Indian man who had fallen to his death earlier. The men all confirmed that it had been an accident with no foul play. More than a hundred immigrant workers, the overseer and several site managers milled around in the background of the dusty ground floor, awaiting their turns to be questioned in the hot afternoon sun.

Abdul jumped out of his car and headed toward the site before his security team could flank him. He had no fear of his surroundings. His security was only there for precautions and to serve as a warning to those with ill intent.

As he approached the scene through the dust and dirt of the construction, Abdul looked back momentarily and noticed his wife had climbed out of the car behind him.

Conflicted by her actions, he paused and wondered if he should stop to address her or continue on with his business of joining the police and his site managers for questions and answers of his own.

What is she doing?
he asked himself.

Abdul decided to return to his car to promptly address his wayward wife.

“Hamda, why did you not remain inside the car?” he asked. “You do not need to be here when I question these men. Filthy construction sites and sweaty men are not the proper place for a wife. These men do not deserve the right to see you. They will be fortunate to lay eyes on me.”

Hamda grimaced and said, “Abdul, what about the wife and family of the man who died today? Are you telling me he does not deserve my sympathy and prayers?”

She figured she could lend her husband additional sympathy through her presence. It would be a generous gesture. And she was already there with him. But Abdul remained against it.

“You can pray for them just fine inside of the car, and without these men having to see you. And if you like, I can send for his wife and family to meet us both in private.”

“That would be fine. But it is even more selfless of me to pray for him out here amongst the other men,” Hamda countered. “That would show that you are indeed gracious and a true follower of Allah.”

She was a wife of steel and iron will herself. Maybe she should have been a man.

Abdul shook his head and continued to resist her as his security men waited to escort his wife back to safety, but they dared not to touch Hamda without a direct command from Abdul. Even then they would be superbly gentle with her.

“This is
not
a good idea!” Abdul was now sorry that he had even taken his wife.

“Abdul, imagine the loyalty these men will have for you when they know your lovely wife can feel their loss and pain.”

She took his smooth, clean-shaven face into the palms of her hands and eyed him gently, like a mother to a child. But Abdul pushed her hands away, embarrassed.

In a whisper, he told his wife sternly, “We are
not
in privacy. Now
please,
go back to the car. We will discuss this later.”

Hamda finally began to see her husband’s point as the men all stared at them. It was Muslim custom for a wife to obey the wishes of her husband and to refrain from the affairs of men. Even the police officers were staring. So she nodded in submission and spoke to him in Arabic.

“En sha Allah,”
she responded, and she returned to the car with his security.

Abdul took a deep breath, swallowed his pride and returned to his business.

“And you did not see him walk to the edge before he fell?” an investigating officer asked one of the immigrant workers. The officer wore a policeman’s uniform of an olive-green short-sleeve shirt, long matching pants, a black officer cap with red trim and black boots. He was a light-brown Arab man, clean-shaven and roughly thirty-five years old.

The darker brown worker in front of him shook his head and mumbled hastily with pretty good English, “No, it was sudden. It happened very fast.”

“And no one else was near him?” the officer asked.

Hakim, the Muslim overseer, stood nearby, listening in on the interrogations. He continued to speculate what
he
thought might have happened. But as he continued to eye the number of immigrant workers in question—Indians, Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, Sri Lankans, Somalians, Ethiopians and Egyptians—he realized that few of them struck a chord. They were mostly unfamiliar faces.

Hakim shook his head and thought solemnly,
We have too many men working here who I do not know.
He then looked toward one of his hiring managers.

“Khalid,” he called.

A small, medium-brown man of Yemish descent walked over to respond to him.

“Who are these new men? I don’t recognize many of them at all.”

Khalid held up his hands and shrugged. “They have left other construction sites that have been shut down or delayed because of the economy. So, Abdul told me to hire these new men to finish our building faster.”

Once Hakim discovered that his boss had sanctioned more hiring, apparently without his advice or notice, he decided to back away from his reprimand.

However, he did question the manager. “Does Abdul not know how many problems these new men have caused us on the job? We are hiring far too many of them.”

Khalid looked at him in confusion and shrugged again in defeat. He asked, “And what would you have me to do: tell him that it’s a bad idea? Even though I thought so myself, he had this idea that the loss of other construction business would be our gain.”