Although it was 06.30 hours in the morning, the international airport of Dubai was full of pilgrims trying to board planes to go to Mecca when Ibrahim arrived from Istanbul.
In contrast to the fasting horde, his first activity back on the ground was the gobbling of two cakes and two croissants before he entered the public bathroom at the airport to drink some cool water. All activities were meant to refill his empty stomach and to recover from dehydration caused by the low-budget flight in which nothing was offered for free, not even water, after a four-hour delay at Istanbul airport. Not to mention the fact that taking a seat at the airport had also been impossible. The extreme hardship of the trip had raised his appetite to boiling levels. He was eager to finally embrace Alexandra with whom he would meet at the Sheraton Creek Hotel in central Dubai at midday.
After trailing his luggage up to the taxi stand, he boarded a yellow taxi alike to those rushing in New York. It was his first time in Dubai, but if things with Alexandra developed positively, visits to Dubai could become a regular part of his existence.
* * *
On the way from the airport to the hotel, Ibrahim started a conversation with the driver who appeared to be from Pakistan. The driver, a young man in his twenties, was eager to know more about the life in Istanbul. In particular, he mentioned his desire to visit the Sofia Mosque. However, such a visit might be no more than a dream since, as the driver explained, he had to send all his earnings to Karachi and consequently he had to live in a room of forty square-meters with just one bathroom, together with around twenty roommates. Changing the subject, the conversation moved to the objective of Ibrahim’s visit to Dubai.
The driver asked, “Business or holiday, sir?”
“Let us say, holiday. Four days touring with my fiancée.”
“Oh sir, so lucky you are. These Dubai women, much money have and father always want Muslim man come from Istanbul, for husband. Too much nice.”
“No, no, my fiancée is neither Arab nor Muslim, she is French.”
“Ha-an, sir, even better. Never mind sir, I say, too much sexy have these French ladies. No problem virginity losing before marriage. Pak family much more difficult. My father-in law too much me control no sex before marriage, but me much clever. This girl, my wife now, me take to other village. Hi-hi. You also other village take now Sir, hi-hi?”
“Ok, I see it is taking time for you to take me to the hotel. My information is that this trip should not cost more than eighty Dirham and your meter is already showing seventy-four. So are we near?”
“But sir, no problem, everybody knows crisis have in America and Europe, and also in Dubai, inflation coming everywhere. Now Arab also democracy want oil price more up. But you my brother, sir, you pay eighty Dirham and my tip as per your own convenience.”
* * *
In his hotel suite, rented by Alexandra, Ibrahim took a long warm bath with Mediterranean salts, ordered a full American breakfast at room service, and waited for the food in his white gown and slippers while sitting in front of the window facing the creek.
Letting his eyes pass over the water and the small boats with cargo and tourists crossing, Ibrahim reflected on the complications of his relation with Alexandra. First of all, he was sincerely in love with her, and he was convinced that she had similar feelings for him. However, they were living in worlds apart. She was the wife of no one less than the President of France and Ibrahim was no one more than a young and clever economist employed by the Turkish president as a personal advisor. In this position, he was regularly asked to accompany state leaders and their wives to visit the monuments of Ankara and Istanbul, while explaining the splendid future of Turkey and the added value it would offer when entering into the EU.
Although he was excitedly waiting for Alexandra, he was also overrun by a certain discontent. Picture it, his greatest love of all would be landing in some hours at the Dubai airport, but he could not be there to close her in his loving arms. It was a sad and miserable situation ever since, as a cover up, she would be accompanied by two old classmates with whom she would be visiting a fashion show in the famous seven-star hotel Bourg Al Arab. Given that she would be staying in that hotel, he would have to settle for seeing her only when it would fit in her program and she would be ready to take a cab to visit him in the Sheraton Creek Hotel. The mere fact that he would have to wait passively, not knowing if and when she would be coming to meet him, made his humiliation more intense.
* * *
A telephone ring woke him up. He probably had fallen asleep while waiting for Xandra. A quick look at his Omega, a present from his father, confirmed that it was midday and that he had been sleeping more than four hours.
“My love, how are you? Alexandra sounded cheerful. “I am now in a cab on my way to you. My mates are having their lunch in Bourg Al Arab.”
“Darling, you caught me in the middle of a pleasant dream. Of course, my dream was with you in the center, lighting up my life.
Oh, how I have missed you. Upon arrival, please come up directly to my room, 421. I will impatiently be waiting for you. I am hungry for your touch and full of energy.”
“Oh, I feel the same but cannot speak freely now. Notice my low voice. I have a Pak driver in the cab who, after me asking for the Sheraton Creek Hotel and detecting that I am French, has remarked that he delivered a man to the same hotel in the morning, a brother Muslim from Istanbul who confessed to him having a French fiancée. I trust you have not entered in more details about us.”
“No darling, nothing, although believe me, I would like nothing more than to scream across the streets that I am in love with you.”
“Keep quiet. Your time will come. The cab driver himself is going to help you. Ha-ha. You know that this man is now praying to Allah because he considers that the coincidence of first driving you, and then driving me, is a sign of good luck. Darling, I have to hang because our Pak friend has big ears, also literally, hi-hi.”
At arrival at the Sheraton Creek Hotel, a good-tempered Alexandra offered a splendid tip to the still praying Pak driver and rushed to the lift. Minutes later at the fourth floor, she softly knocked on 421.
An elated Ibrahim flung the door open. “Be welcome my beautiful and smart queen. Oh, you look better than ever, darling; come, let me hold you. I have a fantastic wine waiting for us and all my loving.”
A passionate deep kiss averted her from answering him. “How I have longed for your lips,” she murmured while being fervidly carried by him into the suite. As they took refuge in each other’s warmth, long kisses followed, only to be suspended for breathing.
Minutes later, as the first heat was receding, Alexandra recovered some rationality.
“Lovely Ibrahim, being with you is paradise to me, but we should take care not spoiling it. I mean, you should not talk with strangers about your feelings, let alone our love.”
“Believe me, darling, I have neither mentioned your name nor have I shared any other information with that cab driver. Besides, his English was not easy to understand and I guess mine for him was as well difficult.”
“It was probably enough for this creepy man to keep on trying to touch my hand when I was leaving the cab as if we were sharing a secret. In no part of the world you should trust taxi drivers and certainly not in the Middle East. According to Jacques, some of them are confidents of anyone for little money, be it Taliban or FBI.”
“I am sorry, darling, but my mind was so full of you that I could not keep my lips sealed. By the way, do me the favor from your side not to mention your husband’s name when we are together. I often pray for our relation to have a happy ending. Try to understand, I am tired of this secrecy. I beg you, leave him, please! Oh, I plea, come with me to Istanbul. I love you!”
“Don’t break my heart, Ibrahim, I cannot leave him now. He married me shortly before his inauguration and I will not leave him before his turn is over. And now I am with you, okay?”
At her last words she started nervously looking into her Gucci bag for a cigarette, but was stopped in the act by Ibrahim who, whilst unbuttoning her blouse, started kissing her breast and consequently the two bodies moved compellingly to the bed.
Two hours later, they both had had their showers after the passionate encounter, Alexandra was again looking for a cigarette and this time discovered that she had forgotten the package in Bourg Al Arab. A gratified Ibrahim now offered to go down to the lobby to get her a new package.
* * *
Ibrahim was not the only man waiting for the lift to take him down to the lobby. Two men, apparently Europeans, left the room next door and joined the waiting in the corridor. According to their clothes, they were on their way to the fitness center in the basement of the hotel.
After an almost involuntary greeting, there was a silence among them till the lift arrived, but when the two men and Ibrahim entered the lift, the taller and thinner indifferently asked if Ibrahim was going to the lobby, before presumably pressing the buttons of the lobby and the fitness. Seconds later—the lift had surprisingly not stopped at the lobby—Ibrahim found himself standing in front of the open lift in the basement, overseeing the entrance to the fitness on the left and the garage to the right. As he had planned to go to the lobby, he moved backwards to let the two gentlemen pass, but suddenly he felt the cold metal of a pistol in his neck while he was being pushed softly by the longer man who murmured, “Do not resist, keep calm, keep silent and nothing will happen.”
He was pushed in the direction of a white, four-wheel-drive Toyota, waiting for them in the middle of the garage with the engine on.
When all three men were inside, the car started driving away slowly and Ibrahim was forced to smile to the guard at the entrance, the gun pushing hard and cold in his back.
* * *
The clock in the lobby showed 15.32 hours when a nervous-looking Alexandra made her entrance. She had been waiting for more than fifty minutes for Ibrahim to return with cigarettes and had become very concerned. Rushing from one shop to another in the shopping corridor of the hotel and not finding any sign of Ibrahim made her a prey of fear, even more so as she could not ask for him without leaving traces of their secret affair.
Finally she decided to start looking for Ibrahim outside the hotel, and as the reader may imagine, suddenly the Pak taxi driver walked over to her and, with his smile from ear to ear, jovially remarked, “Ha-an madam, little problem, I see. Never mind me saying madam, love with Arab man always difficult. Just me sleep in parking garage in cab when I see this, your almost husband, quickly leaving with Arab friends. This one problem, me know. Always Arab mansab every evening go coffee shop with friends and madam home stay alone.”
“Please, I have no time for jokes. Who were these men that left with Ibrahim? Arabs? What did you see, please tell me! When did you see it happen? Please, where have they gone?” The questions were rolling out of her mouth while she feared the worst.
“Madam, these Arab men, much European looking; no white kurta pajamas wear, but European suit. First me see men parking in garage with motor running, little bit strange. Also me see no number plate, car all cover with black plastic. Much clever, these men, no camera see plate.”
“Okay, tell me, what direction did they take? Tell me please.”
“This one me not know, madam. Garage left, all me see.”
Alexandra took a deep breath, moved her hands over her eyes, and waited three seconds in silence before she requested the taxi driver to take her back to Bourg Al Arab.
* * *
On the way back, her mind was full of conflicting thoughts. Had Ibrahim been kidnapped? My God, could Jacques be involved in this? Should she call him to find out? But, if Jacques was not involved, by calling him, she would reveal the reason of her trip to Dubai.
A puzzled Alexandra left the cab and included a twenty-dollar tip to the driver with a friendly smile and a wink.
“Thank you for the service and do not forget, this was nothing but business.”
The taxi driver, looking somewhat confused, shrouded his shoulders and repeated: “Yes madam, just business.”
While Alexandra walked intently towards the coffee shop at the beach of Bourg Al Arab, where she planned to have a whiskey to calm down before meeting her friends, a noisy helicopter flying above the sea caught her attention. Little could she know at that time that this helicopter was carrying Ibrahim, handcuffed and blindfolded. Nor that he was on his way to a private plane at a nearby small airport, which would take him to a secret destination for thorough investigation. And although Ibrahim could not see the faces of his captors, he unmistakably recognized their accent as American.