by Bill Ward
“I have a pen and paper in the car,” Jenkins revealed and took a notebook and pen from the glove compartment of his Ford. He wrote his name, car registration number and rental company name before handing over the piece of paper to the driver. “Is this sufficient information?” he queried.
“What is your phone number?”
Jenkins took back the piece of paper and added his mobile number.
The driver took out his phone and dialled the number and after a couple of seconds Jenkin’s phone rang.
The driver was obviously no fool.
“That is fine,” the driver confirmed. “Now I must leave, I have to collect the children from school.”
Powell was parked exactly where the Range Rover normally parked, waiting for the children. He was wearing normal clothing as he wanted the children to quickly recognise and be at ease with him. He was pleased Saudi schools seemed to run to a strict timetable and the children emerged as they had every other day, exactly on time.
The children started walking down the street as normal and then realised there was no sign of their car. Powell stepped from his car and walked quickly towards the children. He smiled and gave them a friendly wave as he came near.
“Hi guys,” he said. “I’ve been sent to collect you today as your driver had an accident.”
There was a brief look of uncertainty on their faces.
“The driver is fine but the car is out of action,” Powell explained. “So I volunteered to collect you.” He gave them his best smile.
He turned and started walking back towards the car. This was the moment of truth. If the children refused to go with him it was going to become very awkward.
“Come on,” he said pleasantly over his shoulder and was relieved to hear the footsteps behind him.
Karim sat in the front and Laila in the back.
“You can choose the music,” he suggested to Karim, who immediately reached for the tuning knob.
Powell pulled away from the kerb with a huge sense of relief. He took out his mobile and pressed the speed dial button.
“I have them,” he said simply and passed the phone to Karim. “Someone wants to speak to you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Powell allowed the shocked children to speak with their mother for only five minutes. Karim had seemed numbed by the realisation his mother was alive and well, while Laila had been overjoyed and crying.
Powell needed his phone back as he was expecting to hear from Jenkins. The call came through saying the driver would be at the school in ten minutes to discover the children were missing. Having arrived late, the driver would no doubt frantically search everywhere for the children, in case they had just returned inside the school. It might take him quite some time to suspect anything was truly amiss. Saudi wasn’t a country with any history of crimes against children. It meant that Powell had at least fifteen minutes and probably more like thirty minutes head start.
“Where are you taking us?” Karim asked.
“Back to England, to see your mother.”
Karim seemed in shock. “My father lied about her being dead. He said she was killed in a car accident.”
“Yes, he did. Your Mum has missed you terribly. I’m sure your father loves you but what he did was a terrible thing.”
“When can we see Mummy?” Laila asked.
“Hopefully tomorrow,” Powell replied. “We are going to change cars in the minute so get ready.”
Powell drove into the Al Mamlaka shopping mall and found a space to park on the ground floor.
“Follow me,” he instructed and led the way to the Mercedes he had hired that morning from a different hire company to where he hired the BMW.
“Do either of you have mobile phones?” Powell queried.
“No, father won’t buy them for us,” Laila answered.
Powell didn’t want phones being used to track their whereabouts and would have thrown them away so at least one minor problem was easily resolved.
“Get in the back, please,” Powell requested, as Karim went to sit in the front again.
Karim was saying little as Powell continued driving but Laila was excitedly asking questions about her mother. Powell handed Laila his phone and told her which buttons to push to call her mother. After a few minutes, she finished speaking and passed the phone to Karim. He was noticeably not overly excited to be speaking to his mother.
“Father will not like what you have done,” Karim said, after finishing speaking to his mother. “He will be very angry with all of us.”
“Well he will certainly be angry with me and perhaps your mother but there is no reason for him to be angry with you children.”
“Daddy is always getting angry,” Laila said.
Powell was surprised by Laila’s revelation. “Don’t you want to go back to England and see your mother, Karim?”
“I am a Muslim,” Karim replied. “England is my enemy and the Quran teaches us to kill our enemies.”
Powell was shocked by Karim’s radical views. He had sounded like he was reciting something verbatim he had been taught in school. Powell had never considered Baz to be extremist, in fact quite the opposite. Although it had suited Baz to revert to his Muslim ways when he wanted a divorce and to keep his children, Powell hadn’t suspected him of holding any radical views. In fact, the meal at his house and discussion about the children killed in the fire, suggested he was quite liberal.
“Where did you learn that?” Powell asked.
“The truth is revealed in many ways.”
“I bet it was his special teacher,” Laila joined in. “He was always having extra lessons.”
“What does it matter who taught me this?” Karim asked.
“But what your father did was wrong,” Powell stressed. “He lied to you, telling you your mother was dead when she wasn’t.”
“I’m sure he had his reasons.”
“I am your friend, not your enemy, Karim. And the beauty of living in England is it doesn’t matter if you are a Muslim or any other religion. We all respect and tolerate each other’s differences.”
“Then why do the English and the Americans bomb only Muslims?”
Powell thought it best to say nothing further. This wasn’t the time for a theological debate with a nine year old boy.
“We are stopping to pick up my friend Jenkins,” Powell announced as he pulled into the side of the road. “You remember him.”
Jenkins was waiting in the scheduled spot, having arrived by taxi after leaving his damaged hire car at a different shopping mall car park.
“Everything go okay?” Powell asked, as Jenkins climbed in the back of the car.
“Like clockwork,” Jenkins answered. “Hello Karim, Laila. Good to see you again.”
“Hello Jenkins, it’s good to see you again as well,” Laila replied.
Karim’s greeting was a more muted, “Hello.”
“I had to give the driver my mobile number so I left my phone in the back of the taxi,” Jenkins explained. “Hopefully, if they try and locate it, they’ll be chasing all over town trying to track the taxi.” They had both purchased new pay as you go mobiles specifically for the operation so Jenkins wasn’t bothered about the loss of the phone.
“That might cost them a bit of time.” Powell said, hopefully.
“I bet you’re excited at the prospect of seeing your mother again,” Jenkins suggested, turning to the children.
“I’m very excited,” Laila responded. “But Karim is being boring as usual.”
Powell looked in his rear view mirror and gave Jenkins a slight nod of the head to say, leave the subject alone.
“You know Karim, once you are back in England with your mother, your father will be able to visit you.” Powell doubted he was being honest but in theory it might be possible.
Karim said nothing, just sat deep in thought.
“I need you guys to understand a few things,” Powell continued. “We are on our way to the airport where we
will be catching a flight to England but we are going to stop on the way first for some food.”
“Can we choose what we eat?” Laila asked.
“You can have anything on the menu,” Powell promised.
“I’m not hungry,” Karim said, grumpily.
“It is very important at the airport that you both pretend I am your father,” Powell explained, ignoring Karim’s moody attitude. “I have new passports for all of us. Your new surname is Smith.” Another debt he owed to Brian. “You have been on your summer holidays and now I am taking you back to England to see your grandparents before you then go back to boarding school. Karim, you are now Simon Smith. Laila, you are Chris Smith.”
“I don’t like the name Simon,” Karim moaned.
“You’ll only have it for a couple of days,” Powell replied pleasantly, but actually irritated by Karim’s attitude.
“Is Chris short for Christine?” Laila queried.
“Actually, it’s short for Christopher. Laila, you have a very important role in our plan. We are going to pretend you are a boy. Do you think you can do that?”
“I suppose,” Laila answered uncertainly.
“The police will be looking for a boy and a girl not two boys,” Powell explained. “We are going to play a big trick on everybody.”
Laila beamed, “I guess it will be fun.”
“Where is our mother?” Karim asked. “Why isn’t she travelling with us?”
“She has been taken ill suddenly and can’t fly so we are travelling by ourselves. I don’t expect you to be asked any questions but just in case, remember your name is Smith and you go to boarding school in England. You spend your holidays here in Saudi. This is really important if you ever wish to see your mother again.”
“What if we are found out?” Karim asked.
“Then you will go back to your father as before. You have done nothing wrong.” Powell felt Karim seemed less than enthusiastic about everything.
“And what would happen to you?”
“Jenkins and I would probably spend the rest of our lives in jail.”
“That’s not fair,” Laila said.
“And it’s not going to happen, not if you both do exactly as I ask you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
The journey to their destination took thirty five minutes. Jenkins had used the morning to drive out to the Hotel Makarim and book a room for one night. It was only five minutes further to the airport and would serve as their base for the next few hours. There was a pool and restaurant where they could pass some time without the children getting completely bored. If questioned, Powell and his children were visiting his friend who was flying out the next day.
Powell had booked three economy seats on the 12.35am British Airways flight to Heathrow in his real name plus a seat in the name of Jenkins. He had also booked four first class seats on the 12.30am Air France flight to Paris in the name of Smith and Jenkins had a seat in the name of Jones. This was the flight he intended for them to actually take.
He had decided he wouldn’t risk flying on a Middle East airline as they might be persuaded to turn back if their presence was detected on board. The BA and Air France flights were both direct flights, unlike many others, which stopped at one of Saudi’s close neighbours to pick up additional passengers. However, the key difference as far as Powell was concerned, was that BA took off from Terminal 1 along with all other international flights except Air France, who for some reason operated from Terminal 2 along with Saudia and Middle East airlines.
In the eventuality that the police came looking for them at the airport, booking reservations on the British Airways flight would hopefully attract the police to the wrong terminal. When they didn’t turn up to book in for the flight, it might well convince the police the airport was just a diversion and they never intended to leave by plane. By the time the police reached that conclusion, Powell expected to have checked in at Terminal 2 using the passports in the name of Smith.
They were all reliant on Muhammad, the contact they had been given, whose brother worked for immigration and was going to get them through the security checks. Without his help they would be going nowhere. Powell couldn’t help but smile at the irony of the name of the man, who held the success or failure of their escape in his hands.
They wouldn’t be able to check in for their flight until 9.30pm so had approximately five hours to kill. Powell had considered hiding out in town somewhere and only arriving at the last minute for the flight but he preferred being close to the airport and thus not risk traffic accidents causing delays.
There was also the likelihood of checkpoints being established but that would take time and by then they would be inside the ring. Being so close to the airport would also allow them to check out the Terminal before venturing inside with the kids.
They had purchased all the swim gear for the children and like most kids they enjoyed messing around in the pool despite the strange circumstances, while Powell and Jenkins watched. The pool was deserted as the airport hotel wasn’t exactly a tourist destination. It was solely somewhere people stopped for convenience when flying in or out of the country.
After an hour in the pool they all went up to Jenkins’ room to shower and get ready for dinner. Powell was keen to fill the time before the flight doing as many normal things as possible with the children. They had a further call with their mother and even Karim seemed in good spirits.
In the hotel’s restaurant both children ordered burgers and fries and ate ravenously. Powell and Jenkins ordered steak, fries and salad. Neither of them fancied anything complicated. The rest of the evening would offer more than its share of complexities and both only ate because they couldn’t be sure when they would get to eat again. Saudi jails were not renowned for their cuisine. The children had ice cream for dessert and the adults had a coffee.
“I’ll take the kids up to the room,” Jenkins eventually suggested. “It’s time for you to check out the terminal.”
“Do you want me to tell Laila you are going to cut her hair?”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll tell her when we get upstairs.”
Powell hoped Laila wouldn’t object to her long hair being cut short to aid her disguise as a boy and fit with the passport photos, which had been provided by their mother and doctored by Brian’s friends in MI5.
Angela Bennett had said to promise Laila anything she wanted, to convince her to get her cut, including a trip to Disney if necessary. Armed with such ammunition Powell didn’t think Jenkins would receive much opposition to the idea.
He glanced at his watch, it was nine twenty. It was indeed time for a first, cautious look to see if the police were out in force at the Terminal. Although in theory they could now check in, they didn’t plan to do so for another hour. They had arranged to meet Muhammad at 10.30pm in front of the Starbucks. More than enough time to search for signs of danger.
Powell had a tight knot in his stomach as he walked outside to the taxi rank and asked to be taken to Terminal 2.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Powell could see no obvious signs of extra checks being carried out as he walked into the terminal. There were probably cameras everywhere and if someone in a control room was watching everyone entering, then there was little he could do about that as there was no real way to disguise the children.
There were a large number of check in counters, which serviced all flights leaving from the terminal. There were specific counters for first class passengers with very few people waiting in line. There didn’t appear to be any additional checks as bags were taken and boarding cards issued.
The general atmosphere was relaxed, although there were a number of policemen walking around heavily armed but he reckoned they were just the normal deterrent to terrorists. During his time in Saudi he had come to realise how seriously they took the threat of terrorism.
He was satisfied everything was operating normally. He located the Starbucks, ordered a Latte and found a seat which aff
orded a good view of the major part of the terminal and slowly drank his coffee.
His thoughts turned to his daughter and he remembered how he and Bella had sat in airport cafes, drinking coffee waiting for flights to take them away on holiday. They hadn’t been away together the last couple of years as she had preferred to go with friends rather than her Dad. Summer holidays were some of his favourite memories of the all too short time they had spent together.
There was nothing to be gained by further delay so he called Jenkins and told him to bring the children. It was time to get the hell out of Saudi.
About fifteen minutes later, Jenkins and the children arrived in the terminal. Jenkins had their two suitcases on a trolley and the children were walking quietly alongside. Powell approached them while casting a further glance around to see if their arrival was being studied by anyone but as far as he could tell, everything was carrying on as normal, which he found unsettling. Surely there should be extra police everywhere checking for men travelling with two children?
“You look great,” Powell said to Laila. He was happy to see she looked like a little boy.
Laila just smiled in response.
“We’ll check in first and then take a look around the shops,” Powell announced cheerfully. He lifted Jenkins’ bag from the trolley. “You get to go first,” he said.
“Any sign of trouble?” Jenkins inquired, quietly.
“Nothing so far,” Powell replied.
“Here goes then,” Jenkins said and headed towards the nearest first class check-in counter without looking back.
Karim went to follow Jenkins and Powell said, “Wait just a minute.”
It took Jenkins only a couple of minutes to check-in and then he was walking away with his boarding card.
“Our turn,” Powell announced.
He hoped he appeared calm on the outside but inside, his stomach was doing somersaults and a million butterflies were causing havoc. He handed their tickets to the man behind the desk and tried his best smile. He put his bag on the weighing machine at the side of the desk.
