Matt: A Matt Godfrey Short thriller Trilogy

by Ahmad Ardalan

  Everything was in place for his next move. At first, he was hesitant about his next venture, but then it all became clear: Dubai.

  Before his wife’s brutal murder, the two had made plans to go there at Christmastime, but those plans never came to fruition. They had heard a lot about it, the home of the world’s tallest buildings, largest malls, dozens of manmade islands, water parks, countless five-star hotels, and pristine beaches. None of those luxurious amenities mattered to Matt anymore though. What he was after was recognition and fame, and he was sure Dubai would give him just that. The place was an international media hotspot, drawing reporters and journalists like bees to honey. Not a day went by when there wasn’t a new story or a press release coming out of Dubai, and Matt could not wait to secretly be part of those headlines, though his articles would be far more macabre than bits about the newest tourist attractions.

  After making several important stops and tying up some loose ends, Matt finally landed in December. He had spent a month contacting recruitment companies in the area, headhunters. Five had responded, and three had booked him interviews with reputed companies within their respective sectors. He was there to land a job, and he was confident that it would not take him long to be on someone’s payroll.

  All three companies were in search of a marketing manager. Two of the jobs he was interviewed for were in the property and real estate field, a sector that had experienced booms as well as busts in Dubai. His third interview was with a beverage manufacturer, part of a diverse group strongly connected to the hotel, restaurant, and café (HORECA) supply sector. Overall, the group had a yearly turnover of 400 million Emirati dirhams, about $115,000,000. If they offered him the job, he would be in charge of the marketing division of a well-known local brand that held a fair 10 percent share of the beverage industry in the whole of the Gulf region.

  After going through several interviews in just a week, he landed the job with the beverage company, and he was asked to start his new career just after New Years’ time. “It is our pleasure to have you onboard, Alex Mathews,” his new supervisor told him, using his Hunterman-provided alias.

  Once his employment in Dubai was settled, Matt rented a nice one-bedroom flat in the Jumeirah Beach residence area, JBR to the locals. It offered an ocean view, a stunning panorama of the surroundings, many roads, breathtaking buildings, and manmade island. The flat was around 950 square feet, finished in luxurious style, with floor-to-ceiling windows. It had a beautiful, cozy, rectangular living room that opened to a nice balcony. The master bedroom was very spacious, with a four-door wardrobe. It was love at first sight for Matt, and he didn’t even have to consider another place. The building was situated on a lively commercial street, with restaurants and cafés just a few feet away. Matt was a connoisseur of delicious cuisine, and he had Arabic, American, Italian, Indian, Thai, and Chinese to choose from, just to name a few. The beach was two minutes away.

  The $2,200 monthly rent might have seemed lofty for some, but on his $12,000 monthly salary, it would be no problem at all. Still, it was a far cry less than what he had earned in the past. He had over a million and half nicely tucked away in his account overseas, but no one knew that. He didn’t want to catch any unnecessary attention. He could have easily rented a bigger place, but the flat matched his profile in Dubai, especially since it was only twenty minutes from his new place of work. It was crucially important that he made sure all the details were in order in Dubai, so as not to rouse any suspicions.

  He spent the first few weeks furnishing the flat. He chose modern white leather furniture: a nice couch in the middle, with a loveseat on the right and a matching chair on the left. The coffee table was black, with a glass top and a perfect vase in the middle, and he selected two black lacquer end tables to match. His 52-inch LED TV made the perfect home theater, and he strategically placed several lamps and candles around the room for beauty and ambiance. The walls were adorned with contemporary paintings of the female form, which his guests would appreciate, and he placed a piano in the far corner of the living room. The finishing touch was the one thing he had brought with him from the States, the Persian carpet he had originally snatched from Amsterdam.

  For transportation, Matt rented a nice, black 2014 Nissan Altima. Taxi fare was not cheap in such a tourists’ haven, and he didn’t want to waste time on public transport. Even though the metro system was new and stunning, he wanted the freedom of his own car. He planned to use the Altima for a month or two, enough time for him to secure his local driver’s license and a car loan at the bank.

  It was important for Matt that he do things exactly by the book, in an effort to prepare for his future undertakings. He wanted to live his life like any other expat making a good living in a metropolitan city like Dubai. Only when he was fully settled could he allow his madness to take over. For the time being, he had to remain rational and blend in. He had matured greatly in the previous months, and history had taught him patience. He had to be in total control, and there was not the time or place for his emotions to run wild. Throughout the years, Matt had come to terms with the reality of his insanity. He knew he was troubled, but even in his craziness, he could still maintain the composure necessary to live a double-life.

  The last few days before work, he visited a lot of supermarkets to observe what beverages were available. He had never worked in the field before, and he wanted to be knowledgeable from the get-go. The United Arab Emirates (UAE) market was rich with products from all over. There were local brands, those from neighboring Saudi Arabia, and offerings from as far away as Brazil and Australia. Dubai was cosmopolitan in every way, even when it came to brands within the food and beverage sector.

  Matt was thoroughly impressed by Dubai. Everything he needed could be found easily. It was a safe city that had it all, and the international media attention would be his grand prize. The more he ventured out, the more Matt was convinced that Dubai was the full package, the perfect place to settle down if he ever chose a different variety of life.

  The weather was yet another benefit. He was glad to spend his winter there, in that balmy, spring-like paradise, when most of the world was freezing to death. He would soon discover that summer in Dubai was a free-of-charge sauna to all, rich or poor.

  * * *

  Matt started his new job on a Sunday, the first workday of the week in the UAE. He arrived at the company compound at eight thirty; he would work until five thirty, with an hour break for lunch, five days a week.

  At the office, he was greeted by Marcus, a German. Marcus was the head of Human Resources and was the first guy Matt had met during his string of interviews. The friendly, big lad was just over six-four, with an athletic build. He had small blue eyes and dark brown hair that just about touched his shoulders. The most distinctive of his features was his nose, sharp, pointed, and perfectly straight. Marcus was in his early forties, a lover of basketball, both as an observer and a player, something Matt discovered in the first hour of chatting with him. He spoke quickly, spouting English with all the speed of a flying bullet, all with a clear but German accent. Matt studied him well and surmised that he wasn’t a sharp man but was just an average guy. He also decided he would befriend him, the first good tick of the day.

  Marcus took Matt on a tour. “We’ve got over 200 employees,” he said. “Two-thirds of them work in the factory, but the rest are management.” The factory was in operation twenty-one hours a day. There were three shifts for six days a week, except for Tuesdays, when maintenance was done. The factory had three manufacturing lines: two PET lines that inserted the beverages in plastic bottles and one glass line. Between the three lines, they lines produced and packaged 2,500,000 cartons a month.

  Matt had never been inside a factory. The smell of the flavors, the sounds of the machinery, and the constant movement excited him. Thereafter, whenever his humdrum office work bored him, he just paid a visit to the much more exciting factory. In time, he found himself visiting those lines at least twice a we
ek.

  Matt was in charge of two employees. Daisy, a South African woman in her late twenties, caught his eye the very first time he met her. She had big, black eyes, and her eyebrows were magical, perfectly curved, as if they’d been painted on by an artist. Her long black hair reached the middle of her back. She was fit and full in all the right places. Her complexion was fair. Her lips were full and cherry in color, and whenever she spoke, it tickled Matt inside, something that hadn’t happened in years.

  Omar, an Iraqi and his other underling, was in charge of Abu Dhabi and the Al Ain region, while Daisy was to oversee the rest of the country. On his first day on the job, Matt met with them both several times. He learned that they had both been with the company for the past two years, and their previous manager, the one Matt took over for, was hated by all. From what Omar and Daisy told them, he was an angry man, a bit of a tyrant, and he clashed with them and everyone in the Sales Division. In the end, the company asked him to leave, and that left an opening for Matt.

  After work, Matt loved to go out, either alone or with Marcus or Omar. He observed carefully, learning the surroundings. He studied the culture, common laws, traffic, places to go, Arabic and Islamic traditions, and the behaviors and routines of men and women.

  The more he went out, the more obvious it became: Dubai was a safe place. He could go out any time of day or night without being the least bit frightened. The city was always alive. He could find a bite easily at five a.m., and many supermarkets were open twenty-four hours a day. Still, Matt felt he needed another month or so before he would be confident enough to carry on with his first act. He was still not sure who that victim would be or why, but until he figured that out, he enjoyed living a normal life in the daytime and soothing himself at night with thoughts about torture and pain. That was what fueled him to go on day after day, living his life in Dubai with great enthusiasm while he dreamt of taking someone else’s.

  * * *

  Weeks passed, and Matt’s workload grew. He kept busy every day making marketing plans for the next quarter and budgeting. He got along well with all of his co-workers, but he mostly enjoyed working with Daisy. He often caught himself gazing at her as she spoke on the phone or interacted with others in the office, and her voice was always music to his ears.

  Several times, Matt and Daisy went on breaks together, either to have a smoke or enjoy a cup of Turkish coffee. During those times, they got to know each other better. The more they talked, the more Matt liked the girl.

  “I left South Africa about four years ago,” she told him. “I worked for a year in Muscat, Oman, but when the opportunity for a bigger paycheck came, I was quick to move to Dubai. I didn’t hesitate for a second.”

  From their daily chitchat, Matt found out that she was her daddy’s little girl. Daisy had lost her mother when she was only fourteen, and her father had to take care of her and her younger brother after that. She loved talking about her family, and Matt enjoyed listening.

  “What does your brother do?” Matt asked, smiling at her pretty face.

  “Well, he’s practicing medicine in the UK.”

  “Do you miss them?”

  “Oh yes, something awful. We get together twice a year. In the summer, we reunite back home, and at Christmastime, my father and brother visit me here. They usually stay for over a week. In fact, they just left a few weeks ago.”

  As Matt got to know Daisy and grew closer to her, he made himself a promise: She will not be part of any of my murderous plans in Dubai, directly or indirectly. If he was going to be honest to one person, it would be her, at least about most parts of his life. She brought something good out of him, something he had long since written off as dead.

  As the days waned on, Matt began to check off things on his to-do list. He frequented several local eateries, like a nice Italian restaurant on Sheikh Zayed Road, the street that housed all the stunning skyscrapers. He visited a Lebanese place in downtown Dubai, a nice place that faced the tallest building in the world, the iconic Burj Khalifa. He went there to enjoy his hookah, or shisha or ghalyoon as some called it, all wonderful names for the soothing, hubbly-bubbly air pipe. His preference was watermelon mint, for every puff seemed to ease his tension. He enjoyed the hookah experience every day, around seven p.m., and it was a wonderful way to get to know people and make a good, friendly impression, which was one of his main objectives.

  In the second month after he arrived, as planned, he bought a car, a 2015 Ford Edge, for which he had no problem securing a bank loan under his fake name. Little by little, the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place.

  In mid-February, Matt hosted a party for some friends and colleagues. It was a simple but nice little soiree, and they all enjoyed good food and drinks. He played the perfect music for a backdrop while everyone laughed, danced, played poker, or enjoyed the soccer game on TV. Everyone had a great time and were most grateful to him for the fun gathering.

  Marcus, Omar, Daisy, her friend Lara, and two other German friends he knew from his weekly basketball games with Marcus were present. Matt had established a nice living with a good company, and he had ticked most of his duties off his checklist. Time to get things rolling, he thought as he looked around at his laughing friends and co-workers.

  * * *

  He chose an early Saturday morning to lay it all out. With a cup of Turkish coffee, a new favorite of his, he sat down at his balcony. He started by narrowing his list of potential targets. His mind was very conflicted about the matter. At times, he considered targeting random people, those easy catches. Then his thoughts triggered him to go after people who deserved to be slain, according to his own set of rules and regulations. He had committed both types of homicide in the past, with motive and without, and he had made mistakes, so he wasn’t quite sure where to set his sights this time.

  Matt needed some fresh air, something that had always helped him in the past. After a quick jog down the beach, his sick mind settled on targeting both. He would combine what he had done in the past, kill those who deserved it and those selected at random, but this time, he would leave his mark on each one, there had to be a story. He wanted to prove a point and, at the same time satisfy his ego by getting away with it.

  He began his plans by starting at the end, what he would do with the bodies. In his opinion, this was the hardest part. He decided it would be best to cut them into pieces, thanks to the big Ace Hardware shop in Dubai, where he bought an electrical saw that would cut through anything, equipped with a wonderful, practical silencer. The puzzle was how and where he would dispose of the pieces. It was something he would have to think about.

  One day, Matt got an email from a promotional site that offered bargain offers for dining or outdoor activities in Dubai, something like Groupon back home. He spotted an ad for a three-hour fishing tour that would take place from five to eight a.m. Just like that, an idea was planted in his twisted head. That’s it! he thought. It just might work.

  Excitedly, Matt told Marcus about the trip. He loved the idea, and they went the following week. They returned with seven fish, weighing a total of about fifteen pounds. Marcus was delighted about their catch, but Matt had gone on the trip with an entirely different motive.

  After an hour or so, Matt realized that the whole thing could be done easily on their own. He just needed to buy a well-maintained, used, cheap boat big enough for four. He was confident it wouldn’t cost him any more than $15,000, pocket change for him. He signed up for courses to get his boating license and had no trouble passing the exam.

  The first week of March, he took Marcus and Omar out. They had less success and only caught three fish that day. They had to throw one of them back, as it was much too small and could hardly even be considered a catch.

  The next week, Matt went out on his boat alone, for a bit of a practice run. He decided his plan would work out perfectly. All he had to do was hide the pieces of the bodies in two ice chests; no one would suspect him of anything odd and wouldn’t reck
on they were filled with just drinks and ice, which all fishermen carried. Relieved that his plan was falling into place, he smiled. “March 19,” he said to himself. “That will be the first day of blood in Dubai, and it’s only two days away.”

  First Drop of Blood

  His name was Haseeb, and he was one of hundreds of thousands laborers working in Dubai. He was from Nepal, a father of four, and he had come to Dubai five years earlier, in the hopes of earning some money to provide a decent life for his family back home. He had no idea that life in Dubai would be so difficult and painful.

  Haseeb hadn’t been paid for over five months; the company he worked for had stopped paying their sixty-five laborers some time ago. The workers had filed a complaint with the Ministry of Labor, and procedures had begun on their behalf, but three months later, the case was still stuck in court. The Ministry had many similar cases on their hands. While Dubai had zero tolerance when it came to labor abuse, the lawyers at Haseeb’s company were doing everything in their power to delay the proceedings. In some cases, the long delay frustrated the laborers so badly that they resorted to the easy way out: suicide.

  Haseeb’s problems were piling up. His son had fallen ill, and his treatments were costing the family money he didn’t have. Day after day, he waited, hoping to be paid, but nothing came. One day, when he reached the threshold of his pain and was overwhelmed with the feeling of being a useless father, a man who had failed his family, Haseeb resorted to viciously slicing his own wrist. He would have died that night if his roommate had not found him, but he secretly wished he had not been rescued. In the end, it would have been better for him if he had died.