Abducted (Powell Book 2)

by Bill Ward

  They met at Thwaite’s house and then walked to the bowling alley, which was probably less than half the size of those back home. Everyone professed to rarely going bowling, which in Powell’s case was definitely true.

  “How about a little wager to make it more interesting?” Thwaite suggested. “Us three locals against you two. We take our average game score versus your average. Losers pay for dinner.”

  “Is that fair?” Jenkins asked. “I mean you’ll have two women on your team. We’ll have an unfair advantage.”

  Powell had to bite his lower lip to stop himself howling with laughter when he saw the look on the faces of both Lara and Tessa.”

  “Only joking,” Jenkins smiled with a wink. “I love winding up the girls.”

  Powell had suspected the compound inhabitants may have been playing down their ability. After three frames in which the opposition had all scored a mixture of strikes and spares, he knew who would be paying for dinner.

  “You’re all pretty good,” Powell observed.

  “Not much else to do of an evening,” Tessa smiled.

  “This is fun,” Lara said. “I don’t get to mix with many single men.” Then she quickly added, “Not that I’m like desperate for a man or anything. It’s just everyone on the compound bar two of us are married.”

  “Do you go home for holidays?” Powell asked.

  “I’ve been a couple of times.”

  “I understand quite a few people like to visit Bahrain at the weekend.”

  “I went once with a girlfriend but it’s not really my cup of tea. The place was full of men getting drunk and Chinese whores.”

  “Does that include Saudi men or was it just expatriates?

  “It’s a mixture. Young Saudi men are bored with their lives. You can see them hanging around the shopping centres just trying to get a glimpse of the women going shopping. Most of the malls now don’t allow single men inside. It’s a messed up society.”

  “Then why do you stay?”

  “It’s good tax free money. In two years I hope to save enough to buy a house when I return.”

  “I was reading how many people have problems with leaving the country. Employers don’t keep the paperwork up-to-date and visas expire etcetera.”

  “The school is very good about these things, although I did know someone who wasn’t allowed to leave because he was accused of having debts. The company where he worked went bust and he was held responsible despite he didn’t own the business or anything, he was just a salesman.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “A friend at the embassy knew someone who could help him leave unofficially. Some money passed hands and he made it out through Jeddah airport before he was thrown in jail.”

  “Tessa tells me you have been to a few parties at the Embassy.”

  “Yes, I’ve been to quite a few. They are quite fun and that’s where I met the salesman. I get an invite because most of the staff have kids at my school.”

  “How do you get around for an event like that as you’re not allowed to drive or go anywhere with a man?”

  “I use a taxi company especially designated to take women. I used to sometimes go shopping with Keith, the man I was just telling you about. If anyone had asked we would simply have said we were married but we were never questioned.”

  “Every day I spend here I learn something new. Perhaps you can answer something else I’ve been thinking about which is, why do all the women wear black?”

  “Out of fear of attracting the attention of the religious police. If they all wear black then nobody stands out. The women here are all terrified of being accused of any impropriety.”

  “The woman we saw beheaded was wearing white.”

  “When a woman is executed or dies she wears white.”

  “Whenever I hear you speak about how women are treated in this country you sound disapproving but you choose to work here.”

  “It’s not a perfect world. Surely you have learned that by now. Even in the UK women have only had the right to vote for less than one hundred years. At least the women here have enough food and clean water.”

  “Speaking of food, I don’t know about you but I’m hungry so I better take everyone’s orders as it seems I’ll be paying.”

  “I’ll have the Texan burger with fries and a coke, please.”

  “Be right up. By the way, what was the name of that guy at the embassy with the contact, just in case I ever need some help.”

  “Barry Daniels. If you do ever need him, mention me. I think he has a bit of a soft spot for me.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Afina arrived a quarter of an hour later than usual at the hospital to visit Mara. She had developed a routine of working the lunch shift at the bar then spending about ninety minutes with Mara before returning for the night shift. Afina considered Mara her best friend and would eternally be grateful to her for saving her life.

  Today Afina was delayed by her bus simply not turning up, which had now happened a few times. She needed to learn how to drive. When Powell returned she would ask him for some lessons but she doubted he would let her learn in his smart BMW. Afina was wondering if she should buy a small car when she walked through the double doors, which led to the hospital ward where Mara was one of twelve patients recovering from serious operations.

  Afina pulled up quickly when she spotted the man sat at Mara’s bedside. She instinctively turned and retraced her steps. Safely on the other side of the doors, she realised she was breathing fast and experiencing something akin to a panic attack. She hadn’t recognised the man but every man she had ever met, who was associated with Mara, had been the epitome of evil.

  Afina stood wondering what to do next. She could simply walk away and come back tomorrow to see Mara. What was she thinking? Mara was her friend and she might need her help. Mara had selflessly thrown herself in the way of a bullet to save Afina and almost been killed. She felt ashamed of her cowardice.

  Afina walked purposefully back through the doors and up to Mara’s bed. The man turned towards her at the sound of her footsteps and the smile on Mara’s face announcing her arrival.

  “Hello Mara. How are you today?” Afina asked in English, which she wouldn’t normally do when visiting. She turned towards the man and held out her hand. “Hello, I am Sorina,” she lied. Some self-preservation instinct told her not to use her real name.

  “Gheorghe, I am Mara’s uncle,” he replied in English with a thick accent.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Afina responded, trying hard to remain calm. Mara had told her about her gangster uncle. It was he that had taken Mara’s virginity and made her into a prostitute. Afina had already decided that anyone who could treat their sister’s child in such a way, was the lowest of the low.

  “Are you Romanian?” he asked.

  “Yes I am.”

  “How do you know Mara?” he queried, switching to Romanian.

  “I met her in the bar where I work.”

  Gheorghe appraised Afina from top to bottom. “You are a very pretty girl. I would have no problem finding you more interesting work.”

  “Uncle, Sorina is a very good friend of mine and knows what I do for work but she does not approve so we do not talk about it.”

  “She could earn far more money than working in a bar.”

  “I enjoy my work,” Afina replied, indignant. “Money does not buy happiness.”

  Gheorghe turned back towards Mara. “When do the doctors say you can leave? We need you back at work as soon as possible.”

  “Are you mad,” Afina interjected angrily. “Mara can’t work for a very long time. She almost died.”

  “I was not speaking to you,” Gheorghe replied dismissively.

  Afina couldn’t believe Mara’s uncle could be so callous. “You should go back to Romania. You are not welcome here.”

  Gheorghe jumped up from his chair and raised his arm as if to strike her. “You should watch your mouth,” he warned.

>   “What’s going on here?” a nurse asked, scuttling to the bedside. “You have to leave,” she instructed Gheorghe.

  “I will leave when I want to,” he responded. “I have not finished.”

  “Leave now or I will call security,” the nurse warned not at all intimidated.

  “I will see you again,” Gheorghe threatened, turning to Afina and giving her a menacing look as he gave up the argument and walked away.

  “Are you all right? the nurse asked Mara.

  “Fine thanks. I apologise for my uncle, he is from Romania and not an easy man.”

  “Most men aren’t in my experience but in here he will behave himself or we won’t let him come again.”

  “I’ll tell him,” Mara said with a smile.

  “Good.” The nurse seemed satisfied and left with a reassuring smile.

  “What was he doing here?” Afina asked, sitting in the chair vacated by Gheorghe.

  “He is looking for Danny but doesn’t know his real name is Powell. I’m so happy you said your name was Sorina, which suits you by the way, because he also asked if I knew where to find you.”

  “I don’t like your uncle.”

  “I don’t know anyone who likes him but people are afraid of him. Back home he is an important man. People do not answer him back like you did. You need to keep away from him because he will not forget what you have done.”

  “Is he here alone?”

  “I doubt it, he never goes anywhere without at least a couple of bodyguards. He is visiting Stefan tomorrow.”

  “Are you worried about something Stefan will tell him?”

  “No, believe it or not Stefan has always stuck up for me against his father. He will say nothing that makes things worse for me.”

  “Stefan is strange. I can’t say I like him but he is different to the others like Dimitry and Victor. He is less of an animal.”

  “If you had been brought up by my uncle you might have turned out very different. Stefan had no choice about his life.”

  “Enough talk of Stefan. Do the doctors still say you can leave next week?”

  “Yes, as long as there are no new complications.”

  “I assume you are no longer planning to go home?”

  “You heard my uncle, he wants me to stay here.”

  “Then you must come and live with me,” Afina encouraged. She had been trying to convince Mara for a couple of weeks not to go home but to no avail. She wanted to look after her friend and start to repay her for what she had done. Now, thanks to her beast of an uncle maybe it was possible.

  “And lead my uncle straight to Powell? I don’t think that is a very good idea. You must warn Powell about my uncle.”

  “He is working abroad at the moment so I will wait until he returns.”

  “You should not wait. You don’t know my uncle. He is extremely dangerous.”

  “I will tell him soon. So where are you going to stay. Surely not with your uncle?”

  “Emma and Becky have offered to let me stay with them and I am going to accept, at least for a short time.”

  Afina saw the sense in Mara’s staying with their mutual friends. All three were also lovers. “That is a good idea,” Afina conceded. “But no wild sex parties, you are not yet fit.”

  “You sound like my mother,” Mara laughed. “Actually, it’s funny you mention sex because I masturbated yesterday for the first time since I was shot. I think I must truly be getting better.”

  “Mara!”

  “If you want to help me recover even quicker you could slide your hand under the blankets and…”

  “Can we please change the subject?” Afina interrupted.

  “I like teasing you,” Mara admitted, with a broad grin.

  “Let’s be serious for a moment. What are we going to do about your uncle?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Powell and Jenkins followed the children and their father to a different shopping mall from the previous week, a bit further from where they lived. The change of shopping centre was the first variation in routine they had observed in over two weeks of studying their movements. Powell was pleased by the change in location as it added weight to their choice of plan.

  The last couple of weeks had taught them everything they needed to know about the children’s routine. They had decided they would snatch the children the following Saturday at the ice cream parlour. They would then go direct to the airport where the contact provided by Barry Daniels at the Embassy, would meet them and guide them through the passport controls on to a British Airways flight to Heathrow.

  The timings worked well as the visits to the ice cream parlour normally took place around six in the evening. It would take ten minutes to drive to a nearby taxi rank, where they intended to leave the BMW and grab a taxi to the airport. The BA flight left at just after midnight so they had about five hours to spend at the airport when they would be exposed to the risk of the Saudi police searching for them.

  They had come up with a plan to persuade Baz his children were being kidnapped for financial reward and he would be instructed not to involve the police if he wanted to see his children alive again. As they couldn’t speak Arabic, they had prepared a note which they planned to leave on the car windscreen with the instructions. They would be calling the next morning to discuss the handover of the money except by then, they hoped to be safely in England. They were asking for one million Saudi Riyals, which converts to roughly one hundred and seventy thousand pounds. It wasn’t perfect but it was the best solution they could come up with.

  The children and their father had followed the same pattern as the previous week, doing some shopping and then taking coffee and cakes in a café. Powell and Jenkins were sat far enough away not to be noticed but in a position where they could see the family.

  “So it’s definite?” Jenkins asked. “Next Saturday we snatch them at the ice cream parlour.”

  “Yes. It isn’t exactly fool proof but it’s the best we can manage. I just hope this Muhammad guy can be trusted.”

  “He’s charging enough money.”

  “What the fuck was that?” Powell asked.

  “That’s gunfire,” Jenkins replied, rising from his seat. There was the sound of two explosions. “And unless I’m much mistaken that’s grenades.”

  People around them were standing, unsure what to do or what was taking place.

  “It’s coming from the floor below,” Powell confirmed. He looked around and could see Baz leading his children away from the café. “Let’s stay with the children.”

  Screams could be heard mixed in with the gunfire. People began running away from the café in random directions as further people were emerging from the escalator screaming and obviously panicked. Acrid smoke was also drifting up the escalator.

  Baz was leading the children towards the escalator going up to the next floor. Strangely he seemed the only one heading upwards and then Powell remembered it was the floor for women where men were not allowed.

  Powell was first off the escalator at the top and was confronted by the sight of Baz arguing with two armed guards. They were pointing their guns at Baz and the message seemed to be a very clear go away.

  Seeing Powell and Jenkins the guards started shouting something in Arabic in their direction.

  “We don’t speak Arabic,” Powell explained. “There are terrorists downstairs shooting people.”

  Again the guard shouted something in Arabic. Behind the guards, Powel could see women hanging around in groups, many of them on their mobiles.

  “The fool says we are not allowed here,” Baz said, turning to Powell and speaking English.

  The sounds of gunfire were becoming louder and more frequent.

  “Sorry but we don’t have time to discuss this any further,” Powell said. He looked at Jenkins and nodded. In the same instant, he took the extended arm of the guard nearest and twisted it behind his back, forcing him to drop the gun. As the second guard turned towards Powell, Jenkins similarly
disarmed the man.

  The guard was babbling on nonstop in Arabic so Powell forced his arm a little higher up his back and he understood to be quiet.

  Powell shoved the guard to the floor and quickly stepping away, he recovered the gun, which had earlier fallen from his hand. He pointed the weapon at both guards, which allowed Jenkins to release his hold on the other guard and collect the second weapon from the ground. Jenkins put his hand on the shoulder of the guard still standing to make him understand he should join his colleague sitting on the floor.

  Women were starting to scream as they saw what Powell had done.

  “Don’t worry, we’re the good guys,” Powell shouted. Then turning to Baz he said, “Can you please tell them we’re on their side.”

  Baz shouted out something in Arabic and the screaming subsided.

  “Tell everyone to move to the far corner,” Powell instructed. “Away from the escalator."

  A man started to run up the escalator but fell backwards as he was shot in the back. Powell swiftly turned and shot the terrorist responsible. He kept his eyes fixed on the bottom of the escalator, in case other terrorists would come to the aid of their shot friend but no one appeared. It was undoubtedly chaotic down below.

  “Let’s move now,” Powell shouted towards the women, seeing they all seemed frozen to the spot.

  Baz again translated into Arabic and bellowed at the women in a voice that demanded they obey. The screaming returned but the women did move quickly away from the escalator.

  There was a floor plan by the side of the escalator. Powell studied it and could identify two other ways to access the floor, the lifts and the stairs, which were both situated close together at the opposite end of the floor to where he was directing the women to go. He assumed there would be further armed guards stationed by the lifts and stairs but Powell had already observed the guards weren’t very effective. They were not frontline police just shopping mall guards, who had probably never seen action.

  Powell motioned with his weapon for the guards to get to their feet. They both stared at him suspiciously. Jenkins hauled one up by his collar and the other stood up as well.