by Tyree, Omar
“What about last night’s shift? Did he walk out?”
“Good question. I don’t know. He could have changed out of his clothes where we wouldn’t notice him.”
Ali continued to probe for more answers. “Did you check in on their surveillance system inside the camera room?”
The officer paused again. “No, we have not. Do you want me to send someone?”
“No, I want you to go and find out for yourself, then report back to me immediately,” the chief told him sternly.
“Yes, I will.”
As soon as he ended his call, Ali felt fortunate again to have Tariq on his way over to check the hotel out.
“We can never have enough good men,” he told himself. He realized that it was going to be a long day.
*****
Inside the surveillance room of the International Suites, Heru’s men had been watching every move of the UAE police officers in and around the hotel that morning. So when the lead officer gathered up six of his men inside the lobby and headed toward the security entrance door for their basement location, the men called for a red alert on their high-tech walkie-talkies.
“Yes,” Heru answered them instantly.
“The police are finally headed toward us in the basement.”
Heru was calm and deliberate in his response. “It is time then. And we are all in position. So do what you must do.”
The surveillance team watched all of the men move in position in and around the hotel, all dressed in the serviceable clothes of hotel staff and technicians, with their weapons hidden inside the oversized laundry and clean-up bins.
“Habib, tell the technicians to shut down the communications system. And I will handle the policeman.”
Akil grabbed his assault weapon and headed out of the room to meet the policeman as soon as he appeared in the basement hallway.
With no clue of what he was walking into, the UAE police officer opened the door from the basement staircase and stepped into three close-range shots to his unprotected chest. The man had no chance of surviving and was likely dead before his body hit the floor.
Nearly in unison, a dozen armed men appeared in the hotel lobby with assault weapons and shot down the other police officers while locking down the hotel’s front doors and exits.
“Back away from the door!” the men yelled at the international guests.
That’s when the screaming, crying and panic started, followed by shots into the high ceiling of the lobby.
“If everyone remains calm, then no one will be hurt!”
Scores of international tourists grabbed their loved ones tightly and panicked all over the building—inside the lobby, the restaurants, the workout rooms, the swimming pools, the hallways and the individual guest rooms of the twenty-seven-floor hotel. With a flick of a switch, all communication was disabled—televisions, telephones, Internet, radio, everything. And not only did Heru’s men secure every exit and high-traffic area of the hotel, but another half-dozen men secured the roof of the building.
However, Heru remained in hiding, allowing his men to make all of the explanations and demands instead of him.
“You all have the Emirati developer Abdul Khalif Hassan to blame for this. And we demand to see him and his wife, Hamda, before anyone is allowed to leave. We do not intend to harm you, but we will not allow you to escape, nor will we allow any of you to harm us. Do I make myself clear?”
Front and center inside the lobby was the same American family that Gary had met on the airplane ride in from Atlanta. They were headed out the building for another fun-filled day in Dubai, with plans to go skiing inside the famous Mall of the Emirates. But they were just a minute too late.
“Daddy, are we gonna live?” the blond-haired boy with big brown eyes asked his father.
The father squeezed his son, wife and daughter tightly as if attempting to squeeze out the fear itself.
“Yes, we will,” he answered. “We will survive it.”
Chapter 26
Saleem, the rugged and fearless Pakistani, made it into the hotel building right before the group of armed immigrant workers took it over. It was perfect timing for him, but it would have been more perfect had he been able to make it out of the lobby and into the hotel hallways. Instead, Saleem was caught in the middle of everything while carrying a plastic grocery bag filled with two boxes of dark green trash bags and tape for the surveillance cameras.
As he surveyed the posturing men around the room, he could tell from the unsteady movement of their eyes that most of them were amateurs. Some of the armed immigrant men were as terrified as the foreign hostages that they had threatened. However, there were others in the group who held the steely glare of assassins, including their lead speaker.
“If you remain calm, then none of you will get hurt.”
As the large and daring man repeated his words to inspire confidence and poise in the hostages and families, a muscular German attempted to play hero and lounged at one of the gunmen. He was successful in grabbing the gun, but he was not fast enough to aim it and use it before being shot down by the lead speaker.
The German met his death quickly as the hostages yelled again in terror.
The awkward incident and fast death forced the lead assailant to repeat his words: “As I have told you, if you remain calm, you will not be hurt. But if you do not, then you will suffer the consequences of your own actions.”
Saleem assessed that the lead speaker would be a handful to deal with. He was unnerved by any attack and was unafraid of the reality of death. He was also quick to pull his trigger. That made him a qualified solider. But he was not Ra-Heru. He looked nothing like Mohd, and he was too far out in the open to lead their mission. He made himself far too easy to kill. However, with his confidence and reserve, he may have been a second or third in command.
Saleem reflected on his own size and skills as well as the contents of his bag. He felt that it would be unwise for him to continue standing. He did not want to intimidate any of their men or attack too quickly, especially with so many cameras in the front lobby. So he decided that it was much safer for him to stoop, sit or get on his knees, like many of the terrified tourists around him. He also remained aware of the dark, round eyeballs of the cameras that were up above him. So he had no choice but to remain calm and wait for the best opportunity to make his first move.
This may be more challenging than I thought, he told himself. And hopefully, Mohd has other men from the group that are on his side.
*****
Outside of the hotel, the remaining police were in a bind. They had witnessed their fellow officers gunned down inside the lobby, but the doors were locked and flanked by a dozen armed men before they could react fast enough to counter the attack. And with hostages spread throughout the hotel’s entrance and reception area, there was nothing they could do without putting innocent people and themselves at harm. There were no clear shots without snipers, but the men inside had clear shots at them. So the remaining police were forced to scatter behind their squad cars.
“Aaal-laahhhh!” a few of the Muslim officers screamed in distress. It all happened so suddenly, it seemed surreal. Did a group of armed men really take over the International Suites in broad daylight, killing several officers in the process? They had also witnessed a valiant tourist who was shot in a bold move to defend himself. But his actions were in vain.
“Call Chief Ali!” the men yelled amongst themselves. “Call him!”
*****
As soon as Ali received the urgent call in Sharjah from his men in downtown Dubai, he took a deep breath and nodded. He told himself and his men calmly, “So the worst has now happened. Let’s call in the National Guard. They have taken over the International Suites hotel downtown.”
His men in Sharjah were as shocked as those who were at the scene.
“Merciful Allah! They are insane,” one of the officers commented, unable to contain himself. He could not fathom an immigrant insurgency taking over a popular tourist
hotel in downtown Dubai. It was suicide.
“Apparently, they are,” the chief told him. He then called his friend Tariq, who was already headed toward the scene.
When Tariq answered his phone, the chief told him, “You won’t believe what you are now driving into.”
Tariq surprised him when he said, “I do believe it. I am only upset that I did not think of it earlier. So the men are there at the hotel?” he asked to make certain.
“Yes, they are,” the chief answered. “They have disabled all of the communications systems and killed six of my men and one hostage.”
“They are serious,” Tariq said.
“Yes, so I am now ready to call in the Union Defence Force and inform the Emirates, the Prime Minister and the President. This is far bigger than Abdul,” the chief added. He understood his friend’s loyalty to his clients, but they also had a young nation to protect.
Tariq told him, “Indeed it is much bigger. So if they have taken over the hotel with hostages, then what have they asked for?”
Ali took another breath and paused. “They have asked for Abdul and his wife, Hamda.”
“You are kidding me,” Tariq responded.
“When have you known me to tell a lie in our business?” Ali quipped. “This vendetta between Mohd and Abdul is real. And they now want an eye for an eye and the destruction of the Hassan family in Dubai.
“And my friend, I tell you all this in advance so you can figure out what to do,” Ali added. “But I must prepare now to go to war. Let me know what you figure out when you arrive.”
By the time the chief was off the call with Tariq, his men had the UAE authorities on the line.
“Chief Ali, the Defence Force is ready to speak to you.”
Ali inhaled and prepared himself for the conversation. He then sighed and nodded before taking the call.
“This is Police Chief Ali Youssef.” He listened intently to the higher chain of command on the line, who asked him a series of questions. “Yes, at the International Suites in downtown Dubai. It was confirmed by my men a minute ago, and I am on my way there now.”
He listened again before he answered more questions. “We do not know how many there are yet, but if they have taken over the entire hotel, then we suspect as many as a hundred … or more.” He would rather err on the side of safety than to shortchange their number. And he felt that he had already underestimated the men and their mission the night before.
Then the chief answered the final question. “Apparently, there was an old vendetta between a highly skilled Egyptian engineer, Mohd Ahmed Nasir, and the young Emirati developer Abdul Khalif Hassan, and this old vendetta has finally showed its ugly face, while intertwining the innocent tourists in its path.”
When the chief hung up from the call, there was no more time to waste. Most of his men had already left, with the dispatch office calling as many cars to the scene as were available.
Ali told the rest of his men, “Yalla!” in Arabic to head off to the hotel. Then he climbed into his unmarked car to leave.
*****
As he sped into downtown Dubai, Tariq was far too much in a hurry to obey the changing stoplight, and he charged through the busy intersection before the crossing cars could move forward.
He was also on the cell phone as he drove in haste, trying again in vain to reach Abdul, who would not answer.
In the meantime, a traffic police officer caught the tail end of Tariq’s unmarked car as it ran through the light, forcing the dutiful officer to switch on his siren and take off after him.
As Tariq shook his head at another unanswered phone call, he heard the police siren behind him and looked up in his rear-view mirror at the squad car that was fast approaching.
“We have no time for this,” he told himself angrily as he continued to drive. He was only blocks away from the hotel and could see it up ahead. Helicopters were already circling the roof.
“Did they not inform this officer of what is going on?” Tariq blasted as he approached another changing stoplight at the corner. However, he was not close enough in his car to make a second light before it changed. So when his car came to a full stop, the officer jumped out from behind him and pulled his gun, racing to his driver’s side window to arrest him.
The officer pulled his gun at an angle behind the passenger side door and yelled in English, “Out of the car!”
The officer was young enough to be Tariq’s son, so the old veteran prayed for him.
He is a good young man, he thought. But he has chosen the wrong day and time to look like an idiot.
Tariq let down his window and showed his investigations badge.
“I am Tariq Mohammed, and I am heading to the International Suites to help Police Chief Ali Youssef and the National Guard. Have you not heard what is going on?”
The young Arab officer paused and looked up at several helicopters that flew over the downtown hotels … right before gunshots rang out from the roof and struck one of them.
“Al-laah!” he yelled.
The helicopter spun around in circles, wildly, and headed for the Gulf before crashing down into the water.
As the people in their cars and on the streets of downtown Dubai began to panic, Tariq took the opportunity to jet off in his car again toward the hotel building. But it was much harder to navigate through the traffic once the drivers ahead of them began to stop and marvel at the uncharacteristic scene.
“No, no, noooo!” Tariq yelled as he crashed into the back of a car that suddenly stopped in front of him. Undeterred, the private counsel and investigator jumped out of his car with his pistol in hand and began to run toward the scene.
“Excuse me! Awfan!” he shouted in English and Arabic as he hurried past the many local citizens and tourists on the sidewalk. It was an amazing scene to Tariq as well. There had not been much terrorism in the United Arab Emirates. The people there understood that it was a Middle Eastern haven established with a vision to connect to the technology, entertainment, individualism and capitalism of the Western world, yet they also knew the complications of bitter human disagreements were liable to escalate in any country. So now they all rushed to figure out how to stop a massive rebellion from occurring. But maybe it was already too late.
Chapter 27
Five minutes earlier, Gary had walked and talked along the waterfront of the Persian Gulf with the beautiful, young Jordanian Ramia Farah Aziz at his side. A small section of the Persian Gulf was not far from his downtown hotel at the Hilton, which was not far from the International Suites.
The two of them had been enjoying each other’s company for the past few hours that morning. They compared and contrasted their opposing Christian and Muslim cultures, while locked in an obvious, yet measured, fascination with each other. Ramia was young and naïve, but she was also adventurous and eager, whereas Gary was older now and more jaded. Nevertheless, Ramia’s audacity and spirit enlivened him. She had been raised as an obedient Muslim woman who was now in transition to something more … individualistic. And he had been raised as a young Christian who didn’t know what he was transitioning to. He just knew that it would be more global. So they continued to discuss their perspectives on life.
“I really love my freedom here in Dubai,” Ramia told him with her arms swaying to prove it. “And my cousin Basim is sometimes overly protective of me, but he is such a good man. I really love and appreciate him, even though he thinks I do not.”
Gary smiled for the twentieth time while in her presence. The young woman held nothing back, and he was not used to that. For as free as the world may have believed Americans were, Gary understood that many of them had been forced to keep their guards up, including him. So he continued to withhold certain information from her, as he had learned to do with everyone else. Only Jonah knew his full story, or most of it. But Ramia was the opposite. She was very talkative and forthcoming.
“I think he believes I’m still a virgin,” she said, to Gary’s surprise.
He was so shocked by her revelation that he began to look around them to see if anyone else had heard her. But they were presently separated from bystanders.
Oh, my God! Is she supposed to say that?
He had heard and read about the strict Middle Eastern codes on sexuality. Even Johnny had advised him on a few things not to do there while out in public. So Gary was uncertain about how to respond to her. Such brutal honesty would have been shocking as well in America, particularly on a first walk together. It was not even an official date.
“So, what about you?” Ramia asked. “What do you plan to do in your life?”
Thank God, she was letting him off the hook with more basic questions. Gary had already told her that he was unmarried with no children. And Ramia did not ask him more about his dating status. He was single, and so he was still available. That was all she wanted to know about it. In the Middle East, the concept of a long-term boyfriend or girlfriend was frivolous. Either you were getting married, or you had not found the one yet. So unless he was engaged, in Ramia’s eyes, Gary Stevens had not found the one.
“Sometimes I just feel like traveling around the world for the rest of my life,” Gary said in a modest tone.
Ramia’s colorful hazel eyes lit up even brighter in the sunlight.
“Oh, that would be such a dream,” she responded. “Paris, Shanghai and Russia. Brazil, South Africa and Australia. Antarctica, Switzerland and Tokyo. The Philippines, India, Mexico.”
She named the cities and countries as if she were reading them from a world atlas.
Gary chuckled at her exuberance and her display of world knowledge.
“Yeah, that’s how I think about it. There are so many places out there, you know.”
Ramia felt, for that brief moment in time, that she had not only broken away from her home in Jordan to experience the spontaneity and wonder of life in the United Arab Emirates, but that she could break away from the world and travel everywhere.
Would this American man be willing to take me with him after only just meeting me? she pondered. Could I love him strongly enough in bed to make him want to keep me? Would Basim and my family back home in Jordan disown me if I left with this American?
