The Refugee

by S A Tameez

  “Here? Really?”

  “Yeah, we had the same feeling.”

  “Maybe this was his way of getting further into Europe.”

  “Maybe,” Agent Stavros speculated, leaning back in the chair, and removing the cigarette from the tin and placing it back in his mouth. “Or maybe not. We went to the camp and checked that he had all the relevant paperwork. In fact, he had some paperwork signed by people high up, very high up. If he just wanted to get in, then he didn’t need to do anything. His paperwork was accepted and he should have left the camp days ago. But he didn’t. Instead, he helped with building a sewage system on the camp and then he killed a volunteer.”

  “Maybe he got spooked? Or maybe the volunteer was onto him?” the inspector said. His eyes settled on Stavros’ cup of coffee as if he wished he had brought one in for himself.

  “Something really doesn’t add up!” Agent Harris said, looking confused.

  “Precisely!” Stavros remarked with a grim smirk.

  “I mean, I’ve put in at least who sachets of sugar in the cup but I still can’t taste it... it must be some kind of health sugar, like diet sugar or something. The world is going mad with diet stuff.”

  Stavros gave him one of his most annoyed looks. “Harris...”

  “Yes?”

  “Shut up!”

  Harris shrugged and sat down quietly, mumbling, “Jeez, I think someone needs some non-diet sugar in their coffee...”

  “So, what’s the plan?” the Inspector enquired, examining the photo of Professor Ahmed.

  “The plan is to track this guy down and figure out what he’s up to.”

  “What do you need from me?”

  “I thought you’d never ask,” Stavros smiled, “I am going to need you to run this dead guy through your data base. Find out who he is, what he did for living, family, friends, everything. I want to know what he ate for breakfast. And I am going to need this like yesterday.”

  “I’ll get my guys on it now.”

  “Oh, and Inspector…” Stavros said.

  “Yes?”

  “And lots of coffee.”

  “Yes, with non-diet sugar please…” Harris added.

  ****

  Ahmed jumped back into the man’s car, immediately moving the rear-view-mirror to the side, just in case he accidently caught glimpse of himself. He was the last person on earth that he wanted to see. Not that he recognised himself anymore. Imagine if Maryam could see me now…

  His mind began its associating thoughts process again and every time Maryam came to mind so did Malik, along with his self-loathing. However, he didn’t have time hate himself. He had to figure out where Malik was, but how? How was he going to find him? Time was of the essence — every second he wasted was lessening his chances of finding him. He could have just continued to torture the poor man he had prisoner, but it was unlikely that he would talk and Ahmed didn’t want to kill him. He had done enough of that already.

  He drove back to the law firm. Maybe there would be something there that could give me a clue, he thought. There were no other options. He couldn’t go to the police, what would he say to them, Hi I am a refugee that is looking for my son, oh, and yes, I have killed two people and kidnapped, imprisoned, and tortured a guy. I am carrying a loaded weapon and a bag full of cash. I am sure they would be thrilled to help me.

  He waited in the car somewhere until the main shops and offices had closed for the day. The night covered him as he let himself into the building using the man’s keys. With the lights off, and no one in sight, he crept through the corridor and into the office where he was in earlier. He rummaged through the desk draws and the filling cabinet. Both of which were unlocked. It would take him forever to filter through all the paperwork, especially as he had no real clue as to what he was looking for. And he couldn’t stay there all night looking through it, it was too risky. His eyes scanned the room in search for something to put the paperwork in. He decided to grab all of it and go through it back at the factory. He noticed a large rucksack at the end of the room. Perfect!

  As he got up from the desk to get it, he knocked into the picture frame on the wall. It was the lovely painting of Chios Castle that he’d admired earlier during the day. When he tried to align it straight, he noticed something strange behind it. He took the picture frame off, revealing a large metal square on the wall. It must be a safe! Ahmed thought. He wondered if the clue he was looking for was inside. How am I supposed to get into it? He wondered. There was no keyhole, so he couldn’t even try the keys he had.

  He examined the metal square looking for any clues as to how it opened, but had no joy. He hunted for a screwdriver, or anything that he might be able to use to force it open, but there was nothing. He noticed a silver Parker pen. He grabbed it and tried to wedge it in the side of the flat square. It was no use and the pen now looked like a shimmering, silver Mercedes-Benz after a hard collision.

  He remembered that the man had a few long and strong looking keys. He took them out and looked for the longest one he could find. He put it up to the wall, but before he wedged it in, the metal square popped open, making a mechanical thump sound. Ahmed stood frozen for a second and could not believe his eyes. He looked around, making sure that there wasn’t anyone watching him.

  It must be the keys; they must have some kind of wireless unlocking system. The inside of the safe was large and had quite a few bundles of Euros, neatly stacked up like towers in a metropolitan area. Alongside, there were two A4 folders filled with paperwork.

  Ahmed grabbed the folders and put them onto the table. Most of the pages had the name “Boreas Brothers and Co” written on them. Ahmed flicked through the pages but stopped suddenly when he heard keys chiming. It sounded like they were on someone’s belt and the chime was getting louder. It must be the security guard, he must have come back! Ahmed panicked. He looked around and knew it would be too hard to try to put things back the way they were and hide. Any second now, the guard would open the door and see Ahmed, paperwork everywhere and the safe open and it would be game over. Ahmed envisioned the six-foot-five security guard, easily weighing over two-hundred pounds, barge through the door and not even bother to wait for an explanation.

  His breathing became heavy and he could feel his heart pounding. He noticed an emergency fire alarm button on the wall near the door and had an idea. He rushed towards it. His eyes caught the door handle moving but he managed to press the button just before the door was about to be opened. The sirens went off immediately and the handle was let go.

  Ahmed took a few seconds to get his breath back and waited a little longer to make sure that the guard didn’t decide to open the door and come in anyway. He then hurried and grabbed the rucksack that he noticed earlier. He frantically filled it with the folders and decided to take the money as well. There was probably more than a million Euros all together, not that there was time to count it. Luckily, the rucksack was large enough for him to stuff everything in. He then crept out of the room.

  Sneaking out wasn’t too difficult as the guard was too distracted in investing the fire alarm activation to notice Ahmed. He held his breath and tiptoed past, and only when he reached the safety of the car, did he breathe normally.

  Ahmed drove as fast as he could. He was relieved to have gotten away. Although he was anxious, and tempted to pull over on the road and look through the folders, he began to worry about the man that he had tied up. I wonder if he is hungry. I should get him something to eat. It’s not like I’m short of money. He peered over at the rucksack. The man didn’t deserve this. I beat him and then starved him to death!

  He stopped at a fast food takeaway on the way back to the warehouse. It looked nice, busy, but nice. It was filled with families, enjoying themselves without a worry in the world, which Ahmed noticed contrasted greatly to where he was at in his own little world right then.

  Whilst in the long queue to make an order, Ahmed noticed a family sitting on a table close by. A man, woman, and boy.
They looked so happy and at peace. For a moment, he imagined the man being him, the woman being Maryam and the boy, Malik. He smiled uncontrollably. It was the first time he’d really smiled since he lost Maryam. It took him back to when Malik was younger and they would go out to eat after a trip to the beach. It wouldn’t have been a place like this, they only went to places that served real food. Not unidentifiable meat from God knows what part of what type of animal. People had no idea what they were eating anymore, they assumed it was what it said on the box. Even what it said on the box didn’t make sense anymore, ingredients have simply become random letters and numbers, and this had become perfectly acceptable. Ahmed remembered reading that food in some countries are filled with so many preservatives that it would take their body thrice the time to decompose after death. He didn’t know how true it was but it did sound plausible.

  This wasn’t to say that Ahmed didn’t cheat sometimes. Occasionally they had gone to a popular fast food restaurant, but Ahmed would ensure that he inspected the meat before they ate it. He remembered how Malik had loved the sugar-filled milkshakes. Cookies and Cream was his favourite. Ahmed told him how harmful the “E” numbers were for his body, but Malik being Malik, didn’t seem to care, for him, an “E” was simply a letter in the alphabet. Ahmed visualised how his son would often plead with him, with large round puppy eyes, to be able to go to the fast food place again.

  They were great times — happy times.

  “Can I take your order please?” An irritated voice asked, snapping him out of his fantasy.

  “Yes… erm, just two of your specials, thanks.”

  As he waited for his food to be made, his eyes were drawn to a television screen mounted on the wall. There was a special news report on with large writing at the bottom: Terror Alert! Ahmed read the subtitles which were in English.

  “Authorities are on the hunt for a member of ISIS who entered Chios, posing as a Refugee. His name is Mohammad Ahmed and is considered very dangerous. The public are urged to contact authorities immediately if he is spotted. Please do not approach this man.

  “Reports have confirmed that he is linked to the murder of a man at a refugee camp. The identity of the man is not yet known.”

  “Nine-seventy-five.” The man behind the counter said, making Ahmed jump. Ahmed handed him the money, snatched the bag of food, and rushed out of the takeaway. Ahmed was shocked to have seen himself on the screen like that. It was the photo on his passport, and although he thought he no longer resembled the man in picture, he was still horrified to be identified as a terrorist. He kept his head down as he walked to the car and sped off.

  Stelios, still tied up in the chair, lifted his head and looked at Ahmed with fear.

  “I have brought you some food... to eat.” Ahmed spoke in a soft voice, a voice sunk with guilt.

  “Please... sir... you have to let me go... please...” Stelios pleaded, his voice sounding broken.

  Ahmed saw him freeze when he noticed the rucksack. “So, you recognise this, eh?” Ahmed asked.

  “Yes, it is my wife’s hiking bag. We were going hiking and—” he broke off to let out a sob, “we would have been gone an hour ago. It was going to be a surprise.” Stelios lowered his head.

  Ahmed removed the folders from the bag and put them on the chair. He knew he was onto something when he saw the man’s eyes widening. His eyes told Ahmed everything he needed to know.

  “You found the safe?” Stelios mumbled.

  “Yes… cleverly hidden.”

  “So, you must have seen the money…”

  Ahmed nodded and began looking carefully through the folder.

  “There’s over a million in there… you can take it… make a new life for yourself. Take the car, my watch, it… it’s a Rolex.”

  Ahmed didn’t respond. None of what he offered was a good enough incentive, besides Ahmed had already taken the money and the car. The Rolex wouldn’t be a challenge either.

  The paper work was full of documents for a company called Boreas Bros and Co, largely for factories and warehouses.

  “Who runs Boreas Bros and Co?” Ahmed asked. There was a long pause.

  “You really don’t want to look through those folders and if you want my advice, you want to put them back and pretend you had never seen anything.” Stelios was looking petrified.

  “They’re all signed by Stelios…” Ahmed took his eyes off the paperwork and stared at the man, “are you Stelios?”

  The man nodded, “I am a solicitor and Stelios is my middle name and it is only used for Boreas. Please, I only handle his properties and I don’t know anything else about him, except… except that he is a very powerful and very, very dangerous man.”

  “Where can I find him? And is he behind the abductions?” Stelios stayed silent. Ahmed stood up. “Tell me please… I just want my son back!” Stelios looked away and remained quiet. Ahmed walked towards him and Stelios began to curl, bracing himself for what Ahmed might do next. He closed his eyes and mumbled a prayer.

  Ahmed untied the electric wire that was restraining Stelios’ arms.

  “I have brought you some food,” he said and put the takeaway bag on his lap. It was still warm and smelt appetising. The man removed the wrapping and began to eat ravenously.

  “I know that you will not tell me anymore… I know it is because you want to protect your family and I can relate to that. So, I will not ask you again. I can guess that if Boreas is the man behind the abductions, and I believe he is, then he must be using those buildings to store the children.” Ahmed opened one of the folders and removed the top paper. “This has all the addresses on it.” He held up the paper and said, “I will find my son.”

  Stelios looked pensively at Ahmed as if he wanted to speak. After a moment or two, he did. “All the businesses and buildings on that list are legit, but are used to cover something else…I knew he was involved in drug smuggling and money laundering, I didn’t know about child abductions… I swear. But if you go after him then you are as good as dead.”

  “I am already as good as dead,” Ahmed said, and thought about all the things he had done. You can’t kill someone that is already dead.

  “I can’t let you go yet, Stelios. But I won’t let you die here, I promise.” He tied him up again.

  “And I hope you get your son back. I really do but the chances are, you won’t last the next few hours. Soon as I am reported missing he will know something is wrong. Look, as well as being a monster, he is a smart man, I mean, really smart… he is always a few steps ahead of everyone. Just trust me, walk away now, before it’s too late.”

  Ahmed didn’t respond, it’s already too late, he took the bag with the money and the second take away meal and left the factory. The stairs were arduous and going up and down them made his legs turn to jelly. But he couldn’t stop, especially not now, now he had some direction.

  He punched in the address into the car’s satellite navigation system. It was one of those fancy systems that took a while to get used to. And for some reason the more technology they put into things the slower they became.

  Ahmed took a bite of the cheese burger while he waited for the GPS signal to be found. It tasted like rubber, yet it was the best damn burger he’d had in years.

  With the sat-nav finally catching a signal, he drove off, heading in the direction of the first building on the list. He knew that the police would be looking for him and thanks to the false news report of Ahmed being an ISIS terrorist, anyone that recognised him would immediately report him. He thought about a cap or a hooded top but those would probably draw more attention to him.

  The card making factory was called, A Card for Everything. It was a grubby old building with hardly any character at all. Unless you considered ‘haunted’ as character. Old bricks that had lost their colour and two of the first-floor windows were broken. The street lighting close by flickered, which, along with the fog, added to the overall unnerving feel.

  Ahmed parked the car further back,
about six buildings away and out of clear sight. He took a moment to compose himself and then walked past the factory, behind a late evening jogger and woman walking her dog. He observed that there were several security cameras on the building, more than what you would expect in normal circumstances. There was a car parked inside the perimeter, with two people sitting inside. They weren’t doing anything, not even talking to each other. They looked odd, almost as odd as the two men stood near the entrance of the card factory. Although they weren’t in any uniform, their backs were very straight, and they were looking around vigilantly. Security, Ahmed thought. After all, a drug smuggler, child trafficker and money launderer would need to protect his gear and dirty money.

  Ahmed walked to the next street and then back around to the car. He sat inside and thought deeply about his next move. Stelios was right, I won’t last the night. Soon as I try to get in that building, they’ll have me… but what other choice do I have. Think…

  No one was going to help him. He had no friends here. And the police were out of the question. The men looked strong, probably highly trained, maybe even ex-military and more than likely, armed. He was no match for them. There was no way of getting around the back of the building without getting spotted. If he were to get it in, it would have to be through that front entrance.

  He typed twenty-four-hour stores in the area on the sat-nav. It showed one a couple of miles away. He had an idea, it was stupid idea, but an idea, never-the-less.

  Within a few minutes, Ahmed was rushing around a huge store with a trolley. He kept his head down, hoping that no one would recognise him. It was late and there weren’t many people around. Ahmed hunted through the store for various cleaning products, glass cups, nails, and a few other essentials – a great cocktail to concoct a homemade explosive. He was a genius at chemistry, and creating something like this was almost a thoughtless process. He had never made anything like it before, he had never needed to. Until now.