by Eve Rabi
“They would never release him! I know that for a fact. He’s dead, Leeanne. He has to be.”
“But …”
“Mahmood did it, Leeanne!” I whisper. “He wanted Reed out of the way. I should have known when he wanted me as his … his …”
“Okay, okay, okay, but you have to keep it together because of Wyatt, Megan. Please!”
The mention of Wyatt’s name jerks me out of my hysteria. I nod vigorously. “If you reject Mahmood’s advances or make them mad and anything happens to you, what happens to Wyatt then?”
“Maybe I should kill Wyatt and myself. Then we will be safe.”
“What?! No Megan!”
“What’s there to live for, Leeanne? I can’t live like this anymore. Reed was my strength and now he’s dead. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know what the future holds!”
“You have God, Megan. Pray with me. Let’s ask God to keep Reed safe, wherever he is, and to take care of you and Wyatt. Take one day at a time and all will be okay.”
Desperate to believe her, I grab her hand, get down on my knees, and feverishly pray with Leeanne for Reed, for Wyatt, for us.
***
It’s 3 p.m. and I’m wide awake. I turn to Wyatt lying next to me and plant a kiss on his soft lips. “I love you so much,” I whisper.
He scrunches up his face like he’s going to cry. But his face muscles slowly relax and he’s asleep again, looking like the angel he is.
With a smile, I position pillows around my baby to keep him safe and quietly slide out of bed. I stand at my door and take a deep breath.
Then with my heart thudding, I walk to the kitchen. Nabil and Moosa are slumped in their chairs sleeping, their Kalashnikovs nestled on their laps. As I pass, Nabil opens his eyes and straightens up.
Once again, I raise my baby’s bottle at him. A slight nod and he shuts his eyes again.
I enter the kitchen and turn on the taps. After a few moments, I quietly slip down the passage until I come to the door of the room which houses the cache of arms. After punching in the code, I’m inside the room. The laptop is still there. Relieved, I make for it.
My email is succinct but telling.
Dear Maya, I’m scared. I desperately want to go home. Was promised that if I delivered all those inflammatory speeches I would be released, but it’s not happening. They hurt Darla. Darryl, that is. I think she’s dead but I don’t know for sure. Leeanne and I can’t bear to live like this anymore. Don’t believe all that you see in the videos. They’re staged, not true. I am an American fighting in the forces to protect my country. I am an American soldier. I will always be. Please don’t lose faith in me. Don’t give up on me.
I love you,
Megan
PS: Please don’t respond to this email.
I hit the send button, then delete the email from the sent items. Just as I'm about to turn off the laptop, I hear something. “Nabil? Moosa? Who’s in the …?”
I whirl around and look into Mahmood’s face.
“What are you doing Megan?!”
“I … I …”
Then he jerks back. “You sent an email! Omar’s going to kill you!”
I panic. “Lawrence! That’s your name.”
For a moment he seems distracted that I guessed his name.
Seizing the opportunity, I run to the door and lock it.
“See, I got it right, Lawrence.”
He stiffens. “Don’t call me that.”
“Please, I’ve done you no harm. I have a baby, Lawrence. Please don’t let them harm me!”
“You shouldn’t have done that, Megan!”
My hearts sinks at his words.
“And it’s Mahmood!”
The door handle rattles and I’m on the verge of hysteria. “My baby … I have a baby and he needs me, please!” I beg. “Please Lawrence, I beg of you, don’t do this. Please!”
Shaking his head from side to side, he whispers, “I thought we had a chance. I thought you liked me.” His voice is thick with emotion.
“Lawrence, I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry! All I was –”
“I just don’t fit in here,” he said contemplatively, “no matter how hard I try. The women here are so … so different. I needed someone like you. When I met you, it was like I finally found someone I could connect with. Someone from my world.”
Suddenly, he glares at me. “You’re so into that psycho! He had a dark side to him, Megan. He was dangerous. I know he raped you, and I know that’s how you became pregnant. I know everything!”
He’s talking past tense. Reed’s dead. Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!
And now my fate is going to be the same as Reed and Darla’s – I’m going to be viciously beaten by Omar’s men.
I hear the thundering of footsteps. More men. Oh God!
“Would you … would you have been … interested in me if we met under different circumstances, Megan?”
“Huh? Absolutely! Lawrence, you’re charming, debonair and … and I love your wit, your humor, and … and … your smile, Lawrence – it melts hearts. Lawrence. Lawrence.”
“I am Mahmood now,” he whispers, a forlorn look in his eyes.
“Mahmood!” Nabil calls from outside the room.
“No! Lawrence, he still lives in you! That’s why you were attracted to me – someone from your world. You’re still Lawrence! That young lad from Ohio – he’s still alive and one day, you will return to what you left behind, because this place – it’s not for you.” I take a step forward and place my trembling hands on either side of his face. “Lawrence is very much alive. Only confused.”
When he smiles, I floor it. “Please, help me Lawrence. I don’t deserve to die. Please!” I hear them punching in the keys now and I’m almost hysterical, images of Darla’s attack flitting through my mind.
Just as the footsteps reach us, I lunge at Mahmood and kiss him on the lips. That’s the sight that greets Nabil and Moosa and the men. For a moment, Mahmood looks shell-shocked and I wait to exhale.
Finally, he turns to them. “Hey guys!” he says as he gently pushes me away. “I … eh … just wanted to let you know she’s here, if you’re missing a prisoner. Here with me.”
The men curse in Arabic at being woken from their sleep.
“Sorry,” Mahmood says, managing a grin. “I guess I should have shouted that out, huh?” He turns to me and pecks me on the cheek. “I’ll see you later?”
I stand frozen, unable to speak. “Go to your room, Megan,” Mahmood urges and shoves me along.
With my head bowed, my knees knocking, and my mouth dry, I stagger to my room and collapse on my bed. Shaking, I lie in the dark and wait for Mahmood to barge in and demand some kind of payment or gratitude for saving me from a vicious beating.
But he doesn’t. That worries me. Is he biding his time, perhaps? Has he gone to Omar?
When I encounter him again, we talk but he avoids eye contact with me. No more games, no more smiles, no more small talk. Just jihad business.
I should be relieved, but I’m not – I live in fear that he will reveal my email to Omar and I will pay for it.
***
Omar and Mahmood summon all in the bunker for an unscheduled meeting. When I see the anger on Omar’s face, I start to shake. It must be about my email. Oh God!
To my surprise, he demands to know who helped Reed escape.
I’m stunned. Reed is alive, then? I’m so relieved, I want to cry.
A murmur goes through the men followed by a lot of head shaking. Omar rants and raves and I hear the word “fatwa” being thrown around. Now the men appear plain confused and I suspect it’s because Omar, the motherfucker, has absolutely no authority to declare any kind of “fatwa.” My understanding of the word “fatwa” – a death sentence imposed on Salman Rushdie the author, for something he once wrote that angered a lot of Muslims. Satanic Verses or something.
In spite of all that is transpiring around us, Leeanne a
nd I sneak glances at each other, unable to contain our excitement. Angel-man is alive! For the first time in weeks, I smile. At nothing. I just smile.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It’s been three weeks since my email encounter with Mahmood and he still avoids me. In fact, he scowls at me when we do see each other outside our meetings.
I can live with that. I’m just grateful that he hasn’t mentioned anything to Omar. Yet.
But my situation has taken its toll on me and these days, I have to force myself to eat. I sleep most of the time, and I often wake up with my pillow wet. I love Reed so much that even though I’m happy he’s out of Omar’s clutches, I find it’s a struggle to live without him.
Wyatt keeps me going. Without him, I would have goaded the guards into shooting me a long time ago. But I have a baby, so I cannot allow myself the luxury of the Black Dog.
Right now, I’m summoned to the boardroom. With my spirits at an all-time low, I drag my weary self to the meeting, leaving Shaida to babysit.
We sit around a table – Omar, Mahmood, and eight insurgents with rifles.
Puzzled that we’re sitting in silence, I glance enquiringly at Mahmood’s sullen face. As usual, he does not look at me.
The door opens and in walk two Muslim priests dressed in long white caftans. Behind these priests is Reed.
“Reed!” I gasp as I fly out of my chair to run to him. But one of the insurgents grabs my arm and forces me back into my chair.
Sporting a few minor bruises, he smiles and motions for me to sit down before turning his attention to Omar, the priests, and two other men accompanying him. One of the men he’s with carries a grey attaché case.
Now, reality sets in. Why the hell is Reed putting himself in this position again? Omar could so easily kill them all.
With a knot in my stomach, I look at the two men accompanying him. They bear a striking resemblance to Reed. His brothers?
They converse in Arabic for a while. To my trepidation, Omar interrupts his conversation only to snarl and point accusingly at Reed from time to time. Reed seems unperturbed, but the priests chide Omar and to my surprise, Omar simmers down. Could Omar be that afraid of these priests?
Reed opens the case. I suck in my breath when I see the wads of American dollars in it. “American dollars.”
Omar looks at the money and scoffs. His men take their cue from him and scoff too. “I can get more for her,” he says.
An argument ensues, and the priests try to bridge troubled waters. Mahmood says and does nothing. He just watches quietly.
“But we don’t have twice the amount,” Reed says, his brows in a tight knit. Reed pulls back the case, but Omar slaps his hand on it. Greedy bastard.
While this is going on, the door opens, and a man hurries in and whispers animatedly in Omar’s ears.
Omar looks at me, surprise registering in his eyes. Cussing, he rushes out of the room.
The moment Omar leaves the room, Reed and I rush to each other’s arms, and for a few moments, it’s like we’re alone in the room. Overcome with emotion, I cling to him.
“Wyatt?” Reed whispers.
“He’s okay.”
He jerks his head to the men accompanying him. “We’re trying to get you out. You, Leeanne, and Darla. Hang in there, okay?”
“Darla – I don’t know where she is, Reed. Omar had her beaten by them.” I roll my eyes towards Omar’s men.
He stiffens. “Really?”
“Darla told him about her and Riyaard,” I whisper.
“Oh shit!” he says. “Okay, okay, okay. For now, don’t worry about that. Let’s focus on you and Leeanne, okay?”
I nod.
He straightens up and looks at the two men accompanying him. “Megan, these are my brothers, Rashaad and Rashid.”
Rashaad! The brother who was shot in the Green Zone months ago for trying to notify the US soldiers about us.
Both men nod their greeting at me, but appear strained and guarded.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, grateful to his family members for braving the lion’s den.
Reed hugs me again and whispers, “Anything happens, get down and crawl out of this place. Just go. Don’t go back for Wyatt.”
“Don’t go back for …?” I look at Reed with raised eyebrows.
“Just trust me.”
I look away.
“Megan!”
I look back at him.
“Please?”
My nod is reluctant.
“My car keys,” he mouths as he surreptitiously slips the keys into my pocket.
Before I can answer, we are interrupted by Omar’s return. Both of us take our seats again.
But Omar does not take his. Instead, he squints at me, his lips a thin line. “You are a huge problem.”
“Wha …?” I frown under the intensity of his gaze.
“You are all over the news. Your email …”
My email! Horrified, I swing around to look at Mahmood.
Mahmood shakes his head from side to side, his eyes the size of saucers.
“What email?” Reed asks.
Omar looks knowingly at his men.
“What email?” Reed repeats, his voice thick with fear.
When I see Omar’s men nodding, my mouth feels like sandpaper and I stare helplessly at Mahmood.
“She emailed her sister,” Omar explains. “That email is now on every television station and on the Internet.” He reads the email out loud.
Reed’s head lolls as everyone else gasps.
“I … I…” What could I possibly say right now?
Surely, you don’t think I would let you get away with something like that, do you?” Omar asks as he walks to the door, opens it, and jerks in a terrified Leeanne.
At the sight of Leeanne in Omar’s hands, I leap out of my chair. “Wha … what are you …? She did nothing wrong. It was me! Please!”
“But I want you alive,” Omar says. “You are my ticket to … everything. You all think you can cross me and get away with it?” His smile is mirthless as he shakes his head.
He looks at Mahmood and jerks his head towards Leeanne. “Kill her!”
“No!” I cry. “No! No, Mahmood! Please, I beg you!”
Mahmood looks at Leeanne, then at me, hesitation all over his face.
“Kill her!” Omar shouts.
“NO!” Reed shouts. “Omar don’t do this!”
The priests are out of their chairs begging Omar too, but he ignores everyone’s pleas.
“Lawrence, please!” I clasp my hands in supplication. “Please, please!”
Mahmood, looking totally flustered, slowly brings out a .38 Special.
Leeanne plays feverishly with her prayer beads. “I’m not afraid to die,” she mumbles.
“Leeanne!” I yell. “Don’t say that!”
She seems to be in a daze. “Tell my children I love them. Tell Rodney … I love him too, and I’m sorry that I wasn’t what he wanted me to be.”
“No, no, no, no!” I cry. “You tell him, Leeanne! You tell him!”
Reed turns to Omar. “Take me. Leave her out of it! I’ll come back.”
Leeanne closes her eyes. “As I walk through the valley of the shadow of death …”
“No, don’t say that, Leeanne!” I cry. Out of sheer desperation, I grab the priest’s hand. “This is wrong. Please stop him! Please!”
With an exasperated grunt, Omar grabs the .38 from Mahmood, takes a step back and fires at Leeanne.
I scream as Leeanne’s brains splatter all over us. Horrified, I look at my beloved friend lying on the floor in a river of blood, parts of her face and skull missing. My screams become hysterical.
Then all hell breaks loose – Reed whips out a gun and fires at Omar. Shocked, Omar stumbles and crashes into Leeanne’s fallen body. Reed stands over Omar and empties the weapon into him.
At the same time, Rashid and Rashaad open fire on Omar’s men.
In a state of shock, I gape at Leeann
e’s body until Mahmood yanks me to the floor where blood and shell casings rain down on us.
“Get out of here!” he shouts above the gunfire. He could easily put a bullet into me right now, but in spite of everything, he’s still trying to help me.
I look at the exit. Gunfire outside and inside the boardroom. Having no choice but to brave it, I crawl on my belly, through the smoke, out of the room. My heart sinks when I pass the bloodied bodies of both priests who tried to help me.
Once outside, I alternate between running and walking until I near the entrance.
Hiding behind a pillar, I scan the entrance for guards. None in sight. Luckily, the guards who watch the front door are now inside and probably involved in the shootout.
I race outside, climb up a million stairs, and finally find myself in front of a row of vehicles. For a moment, I’m staggered – don’t know which way to go or which car to run to.
The keys! I fish them out of my pocket and press the immobilizer. Nearby, a silver 525 BMW winks at me. I race to it, hop inside, and with shaking hands, start the car. I’m free. I’m free.
But I don’t drive away. I can’t leave this place without Wyatt. What do I do? Reed specifically instructed me not to go after Wyatt, but I just can’t leave without him. I won’t. I’d rather die.
As I sit in the idling car, a million questions dart through my muddled mind. What about Reed? Did they shoot him? How could he possibly survive when they were outnumbered? Where did Reed and his brothers get their guns from? Surely they were frisked when they entered the bunker? Wyatt.
Finally, I switch off the car and get out of it. I’m going back to fetch my baby.
Then, I see Mahmood running towards me. In his arms is Wyatt. At first I think I’m imagining it, but it really is Mahmood with Wyatt.
“Mahmood, thank you!” I cry as he hands Wyatt to me.
“Get out of here!” he says. “Go back to America, Megan. You’re not safe here. Omar’s men will come after you. Go now!”
“Mahmood, how can I thank ...?”
“Don’t mention me to anyone, Megan!” he yells over his shoulder as he runs off.
“Okay!”
Quickly, I strap down Wyatt as best I can, shift into gear, and am about to speed off when I see Reed and his brothers racing towards me. I slam on the brakes and reverse a little.
