by Bill Ward
He was learning that he had to be alert with his driving. The Saudis were quite happy to cut him up at excessive speeds and turn into his road with little thought for his presence. It seemed once Saudi men were behind the wheel of a car, they became excessively macho and drove without thought for any other driver.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Powell spent a couple more days driving around Riyadh, familiarising himself with the neighbourhood nearby where the kids were living and also the major road connections to the airport and other locations, which might be needed for backup plans.
He was grateful for the air conditioning as the temperature outside was forty two degrees and he was spending a great deal of time in his car. The heat made it practically impossible to move around on foot for anyone except a local. As a result, he had not spotted a single other European on the streets around where the children were living and knew he must stay in his car or risk drawing unwanted attention to himself.
He didn’t know much about Baz but he had executed the very smooth abduction of his children and was no fool. If he heard of a fair skinned foreigner hanging around his neighbourhood, he might very well put two and two together and realise what Powell’s presence meant.
He was also having to be mindful of prayer times because whenever the call to prayer came around, shops would all shut up pretty quickly ten or so minutes before and he felt he became even more conspicuous. He had discovered that Muslims turned to Mecca and prayed five times every day so he had taken to asking at the hotel reception for prayer times each day before going out.
On the third day of his visit and in order to maintain the pretence of the reason for his visit, he had lunch with a senior banker called Martin Thwaite. He turned up at the bank’s offices in a smart suit and his arrival was recorded, should anyone wish to check in the future.
Thwaite was friendly and seemed completely unfazed by the lie he was perpetrating. He had chosen a very smart restaurant, no doubt guilt free about the cost as he thought he was helping his government.
After food was ordered, Thwaite spent five minutes describing the supposed purpose for their meeting and what they had discussed in case Powell was ever questioned.
“Now that’s out of the way is there anything I can help you with during your stay?” Thwaite asked.
“You can tell me a little about life in Saudi. What would you tell an employee about to relocate here?”
“If you’re married don’t bring your wife.”
“Why is that?”
“They get bored. There is only so much shopping and sunbathing you can do. Life becomes very repetitive and mostly lived in the compound. My wife quickly became frustrated with the lack of freedom. If you have young children then I suppose you have less time to fill but we can’t have kids.”
Powell found it impossible not to immediately think of Bella whenever children were mentioned. “How long are you here for?” he asked, wanting to change the subject.
“Fortunately our two years is up in a couple of months. Our next posting is Singapore, which will be very different and frankly, we can’t wait. If I’d had to do another year here, I think I would have been facing a divorce.”
“If I stayed here for any length of time, I know I’d miss having a beer, especially given this climate.”
“You can get beer if you want and most other things but only within the confines of the compound or the embassy. I believe they bring bottles into the country inside the diplomatic bags. Personally, I don’t think it’s worth the risk of being discovered by the Mutaween so I keep well away from alcohol. It’s been good for my weight, I’ve lost over a stone since I’ve been out here.”
“Who are the Mutaween?”
“The religious police. Their job is to enforce Sharia law. They have virtually unlimited power and can arrest you just for talking to a woman who is not your close relative.”
“Doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“It’s okay as long as you keep to their rules. I have a demanding job, which keeps me busy. I think it’s harder for an expatriate wife who can’t work and has too much time on her hands. Tessa isn’t really one for too many coffee mornings and sitting around doing nothing by the pool all day.”
“So why do so many people come here to work?”
“The tax free salaries. If you’re sensible, and it’s difficult not to be here, then you should be able to save significantly more than you ever could back home.”
“I understand many people drive over to Bahrain for the weekend.”
“They do. In fact, we’ve done it a few times ourselves. It’s particularly appealing to single men looking to let their hair down. There’s a host of clubs, bars and any form of entertainment you want. It’s also relatively cheap so on a Thursday night the causeway looks like the M25 on a very bad day.”
“Can you tell me a bit more about the whole process of visiting Bahrain? What are the controls like at the Saudi border?”
Thwaite raised his eyebrows and placed his cutlery back down. He leaned forward and spoke quieter. “The checks are thorough but if you have money, as with everything in this country, then anything is possible.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
On the fifth day of his visit, Powell finally hit the jackpot. He was driving down the by now familiar street where the house stood and suddenly the large double doors swung open and a smart, black Range Rover pulled out into the traffic just in front of him. The car had tinted windows so it was impossible to see who was inside but with a surge of excitement he slowed his speed, while at the same time keeping a clear view of the car up ahead.
Within a couple of minutes they were back on King Abdullah Road, then they quickly turned right along Takhassusi Street. Five minutes later the car up ahead parked outside a brightly lit shop called The Marble Slab Creamery. Powell slowed down as he passed and could see that despite the slightly confusing name, the shop was in fact an ice cream parlour.
He pulled to a halt a little further down the street and quickly jumped out of the car and started walking back towards the parlour. Up ahead he could see two excited children rush from the back seat of the car and head inside the parlour. It was strangely exhilarating to see the children in person at last. They were the whole reason for his being in Saudi.
At a slower pace an elderly woman, who had been sitting in the front passenger seat followed the children into the parlour. He guessed she was probably their grandmother although in her black robe it was impossible to be certain and she could have been a servant just as easily as the grandmother. She wasn’t wearing a burqa so her face was visible and he could determine she was elderly. The driver stayed hidden behind the tinted windows.
Powell was pleased to see the children looked well. In fact, they looked very happy and not like two children missing their mother very much. Then again it had been a year and he had no idea what they had been told by their father. A small part of him wanted to grab the children there and then but he knew he wouldn’t get far kidnapping them off the street, with no plan to exit the country.
He wondered what he would do if the children were so happy with their father they didn’t want to go back to England. It wasn’t something he had previously considered. He wasn’t going to be able to drag them back screaming and kicking. It was something he would have to give careful thought to, in his planning.
Powell stood in line behind the grandmother as the children chose toppings for their tubs of ice cream. He heard the kids speak Arabic with the person behind the counter and also with the grandmother. There was considerable laughter and discussion about which toppings to choose. Both children seemed highly proficient in Arabic and they had quickly adapted to their new way of life.
As the grandmother left the parlour, he could see out the corner of his eye, she gave him a quick look of appraisal but he was busy studying the different types of ice cream laid out behind the counter so all she saw was the rear of his head.
Powell ordered a tub of cookies
and cream by pointing at what he wanted, then walked slowly back to his car. He didn’t need to follow the Range Rover any further, he had the confirmation he needed. Next time he met the children it would be under very different circumstances.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Back in England, Powell arranged to meet again with Angela Bennett and give her an update on his trip.
“The children looked well,” Powell added, having recounted the details of the trip to the ice cream parlour.
Angela had been hanging on his every word. “I can’t believe you’ve actually seen them. And they looked happy?” she asked doubtfully.
“They were getting ice creams. All kids love ice cream.”
“True. I guess I should be happy they are happy. It’s just, I suppose a little part of me has been imagining them desperately unhappy and missing me.”
“I’m sure they are missing you but children adapt to new circumstances very easily.”
Angela was thoughtful for a second, then composed herself and asked with renewed spirit, “So what are you going to do next?”
“I plan to go back in about two weeks’ time. I expect to then spend a further couple of weeks in preparation and sometime in my third week, all being well, I will bring the children home.”
“What’s your plan?”
“It’s still early in the planning stage and please don’t take exception to this but I would rather not share any details of my plans with anyone.”
“But these are my children. I want to know what you are planning to do. I don’t want them put in danger.”
“I promise to look after your children like they are my own. I won’t intentionally put them in any danger. And if I don’t succeed, there is no reason to expect their father to hold the children responsible for my actions. Any retribution he wants will be aimed solely at the two of us. So I won’t share any details of exactly what I am doing or when with anyone until it is absolutely necessary. You have to trust me.”
“I do trust you. Brian says you were once the best undercover operative in MI5 but he wouldn’t tell me why you left the service at such a relatively young age. He said I should ask you.”
“My wife was killed as a result of my work. I left to bring up my daughter.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Someone pointed her killers towards me and let them know where to find me. Whether it was intentional or just a careless conversation someone overheard in a pub, I don’t know. But if you want me to proceed to the next stage these are my non-negotiable terms, I will only share with you what I consider is necessary to achieving my plan. If I seem paranoid I’m sorry but it’s not without reason.”
“I think I told you the first time I met you, I would be willing to pay anything and do anything to recover my children. You are my only hope so I will abide by your rules, even if I don’t like them.”
“Thank you. So what I can tell you is that in about five weeks, I need you potentially available at very short notice to travel just about anywhere to meet your kids.”
“So you’re not planning to bring them straight back to England?”
“That is still to be determined but I want you available to see your kids the moment I get them out of Saudi. They’ll be feeling lost and vulnerable and will need to see you to know everything is going to be okay.”
“Believe me, in order to see my children again, I will be available to fly anywhere at a moment’s notice.”
“I know, I just wanted you to be prepared.”
“Powell, do you think I am being selfish trying to bring them back to England. If they are happy where they are, then maybe they would be best left with Baz?”
“It’s my view that young children are best with their mothers.”
“But you have brought your daughter up by yourself.”
“Out of necessity but I firmly believe Vanessa would have done a better job. Not that I was a bad father, just I know how much Bella missed not having a mother at certain times.”
“I understand that Bella being a girl, would miss not having her mother around during puberty and many other times but I have a daughter and a son. Wouldn’t a boy similarly miss having his father around?”
“Possibly but I’m no expert. What I do know is that you gave birth to both children and it’s Baz who has selfishly chosen to abduct your children. He made no attempt to come to some amicable arrangement about seeing them. From what you’ve told me, he didn’t spend a great deal of time with them when he lived with them, he spent more time working and playing golf. Now it suits him, he’s behaved terribly. So I don’t think you’re being selfish wanting to bring them home. I’m not convinced anyone who acted as Baz did can really claim to be the right role model for children.”
“Thank you. I needed to hear some encouraging words. My life has become very lonely over the last year.”
“Keep your spirits up”
“I will. How is your daughter by the way? How old is she now?”
Powell hadn’t wanted to volunteer the information but couldn’t avoid answering. “She died a few weeks ago. She was a police officer and murdered doing her job.”
Angela was visibly shocked. “I had no idea. Brian should have told me. Here I am going on about my children but at least they are alive. I’m so sorry.”
“Actually, working on recovering your children is the best possible form of therapy. It’s helping me to deal with my loss.”
“I can’t believe I was lucky enough to find you. You’re a very special man, Powell.”
“Let’s focus on your children, not me,” Powell said gently.
Angela got up from the sofa and walked towards a mahogany drinks cabinet. “I need a sherry. Would you like one?”
“Better not, I’m driving.”
Angela poured a large measure of sherry into a wine glass, tasted it and then sat back down. “There could be another problem I hadn’t really thought about until now. What if they don’t want to come with you? They seem happy with their father and you’re a stranger. I always taught them to be wary of strangers.”
“I’ve thought about that and I don’t have all the answers yet but I will be prepared for that possibility when the time comes.”
“I wish I could come with you.”
“That just isn’t possible. Do you have something special that belongs to you or the children, which will prove I am working for you and help them go with me.”
Angela was thoughtful for a minute then answered, “I need to think about what would be best.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Powell had asked Brian for a recommendation and been given two names. Neither man was personally known to Brian but he had asked internally for suggestions and been told both men were very reliable contractors. Powell had invited the one he deemed had the most relevant experience to Brighton for the day.
Both men had impressive CVs but the man called Jenkins had done fifteen years in the Paras with several tours of duty in Afghanistan and Iraq, before leaving the army with the rank of Staff Sergeant, to spend three years in Oman working for the Royal family. The additional Middle East experience made him Powell’s first choice.
Powell had Afina ask him if he wanted something to drink and then brought him to the office.
“I’m Powell,” he said, rising from behind his desk. He shook hands and found his hand held in a vice like grip.
“Jenkins,” the man replied in a Welsh accent, looking him straight in the eyes before finally letting go of Powell’s hand. He was about six feet tall with a muscular body but it was his red hair and freckles, which immediately caught Powell’s attention. The CV had already revealed he was thirty nine years old.
“Take a chair,” Powell beckoned. Jenkins had been stood to attention like he was on parade and it made Powell feel a little uncomfortable.
Jenkins did as instructed and still managed to maintain a ramrod straight back, even when sitting.
Jenkins came straight to the point. “I understan
d you have an urgent job you need my help with.”
“I do and you come highly recommended.”
“Pleased to hear it.”
A knock on the door was followed by Afina entering with two coffees. She placed them on the table and quickly left.
Powell took a sip and then explained, “Two children have been abducted by their father and taken to live in Saudi Arabia. I’m going to bring them back home to their mother.”
Jenkins had his cup halfway to his mouth and paused to take in what he’d heard. “That isn’t going to be easy,” he said with conviction, before taking a sip of his coffee. “But it does sound like a worthwhile operation.”
“It’s very worthwhile. Our client hasn’t seen her children for twelve months and there are no legal avenues available to help her but you’re right, it isn’t going to be easy. In fact, it will be extremely difficult and dangerous. If we get caught, the best we can hope for is to spend at least twenty years in a Saudi Jail for kidnapping, although I have to be honest with you and say the penalty could be death.”
“Certainly make a change from the normal jobs I get given,” Jenkins responded, smiling for the first time. “We’ll have to try hard not to get caught.”
“So are you available for the next six weeks?”
“The timing’s good. We should be finished just in time for the world cup.”
“A rugby fan?”
“I’m Welsh aren’t I?”
“When’s the England versus Wales match?”
“End of September.”
“Our visas will run out mid-September so we’ll definitely be back in time.”
“I need a couple of days to tie up loose ends then I’m all yours.”
