“I do not know what the people who took my son hope to accomplish,” she said. “I am not a militant. I am not a politician. I am a policewoman, but I am on leave, so I have no power to help or hurt anyone in our country.” The word baladna, our country, could also mean our village. That should remind whoever had Khaled that they were one people, deeply connected. Khaled was their son as much as hers.
“Whatever quarrel you have with me,” she said directly to the men she could not see, “it is wrong to frighten a small child in order to express it. Please, return my son, and I promise that whatever it is you want, I will do it if I possibly can.” They had said she should stop asking questions about things that did not concern her. The death of Daoud did concern her, so she wasn’t lying in saying she would meet their demand.
Chapter 48
Dunya was happy with her. Rania had been passionate but articulate. Dunya nodded to the camera people, and they began unplugging their long electrical cords and winding their long cables between their hands, tossing them from one to the other over and over again. Just past the television people, Rania saw Abdelhakim dashing in with Ustaz Kareem. Kareem noticed them first.
“What brings you here?”
“Abu Ziyad called me,” Abdelhakim answered, though she had spoken to Kareem. “I ran into Ustaz Kareem and told him where I was going, and he asked to come along.”
“Khaled is my pupil, after all,” said the teacher. Dunya heard that and said something to the camera guys. They started unwinding their cables again. Her eyes were starry over the prospect of interviewing Khaled’s teacher. She stuck her mike in Kareem’s face. Rania did not get close enough to know what Kareem said. She heard the word shater, clever child, and of course that was true, but doubtless he omitted the part where he had suggested that the shater’s mother was a collaborator.
Dunya went off to edit her tape, and the hotel manager appeared with a third pot of tea and some borekas to nibble on. Rania was not at all hungry—and she was surrounded by bags of fruit and vegetables if she had been—but the young men enjoyed the snacks. Rania wanted to ask them if they knew where Issa was, but she didn’t know how she would explain why she was asking, so she just sat and watched them chat among themselves.
Half an hour later, Chloe walked in just in time to see the Al Jazeera report on the large screen. Rania got up to kiss her friend. The American’s presence was comforting or as comforting as anything could be, given that she wanted to chew her fingernails off their cuticles. Bassam shook Chloe’s hand warmly.
“This is the American who got my wife released from prison,” he told the younger men.
“Perhaps it would have been safer to leave her there,” Chloe said with a smile. She flushed after that, belatedly realizing this might not be the best time for a joke.
Chloe might be the only person in Palestine with less tact than herself, Rania thought. But Bassam chuckled and said that was true.
“How is Tina?” Rania asked, when Chloe was settled with a cup of tea and the last half boreka.
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” Chloe said. It was Rania’s turn to blush. Come to think of it, the last times she and Chloe had spoken, Tina’s name had not come up. She knew Chloe had been staying in Salfit, and she hoped nothing was wrong between them.
A rush of air caused her to turn toward the door. Yusuf walked in and came immediately to join their group.
“I just saw the report on Al Jazeera,” he said. He sounded out of breath, as if he had run the whole way from Jamai’in.
“Did you come from your village?” she asked him.
“No, I was in Nablus, visiting some friends,” he said. “I came as soon as I heard.”
“That was kind of you,” she said.
“Will you excuse us a moment?” he said and drew Abdelhakim and Kareem outside to the terrace. She watched them take out cigarettes—she thought very religious Muslims did not smoke. But these were young people; who knew what they did? They talked intently for ten minutes or more. Then, Abdelhakim came back alone.
“Yusuf thinks he might know where Khaled is,” he said.
“Tell me.” She was already getting up, gathering her bags, to go wherever he pointed her.
“Stay here,” he said. “It is only a slight possibility. We will go there and let you know as soon as we find out anything.”
“But where is it?” she demanded. “How does he know?”
“He does not know. He only suspects. He thinks his brother might have something to do with it.”
“His brother Elias?” Who else would it be? But she could not imagine Elias having the organizational skills or gumption to mastermind a kidnapping in Nablus, and, besides, he had been busy getting engaged to Hanan all week. She was sure he had been partying late last night.
“Yes. We will be in touch.” Abdelhakim left, and he and his friends walked down the stairs that led to the Old City. She fought the need to run after them and demand to be taken along. Instead she puzzled over Elias some more. She did not like him, but this did not seem like his style. How would he know whom to contact to pull it off? Of course, he was a student, and even the Said Conservatory must have some militant groups. But Issa, who had studied here at An Najah, seemed a more likely candidate.
Daoud was the key. Somewhere among all the information she had gathered was the critical piece she had missed, that would unravel the whole mystery. She needed to find it. She thought back over everything that had occurred since she had gotten out of prison. She tried to recall every interview, every gesture of Hanan, Elias, Issa, Yusuf, even Benny and Captain Mustafa. Someone had slipped somewhere. She must be getting close, or they would not have snatched her child.
Bassam was talking quietly with Chloe. Chloe was nodding and smiling, showing her crooked, gapped teeth. Rania struggled to pay attention to what they were saying. Something about Bassam’s work, and the women that Chloe had interviewed in Salfit. They wanted to start a cooperative, she gathered, to help women in their village sell their crafts. Chloe was asking what they would need to do to get a license from the Ministry of Interior, which was part of Bassam’s job.
“Look.” Chloe grabbed her hand and pointed to the doorway.
Yusuf and Kareem each had Khaled by one hand. He looked rested, and he was hopping a little as he came to where she had jumped up. She grabbed him in her arms and hugged as hard as she could. She lifted him like a bag of feathers, and he put his arms around her neck. He was carrying a stuffed black dog with long, floppy ears that tickled her skin.
She handed him to his father and gazed at him, poring over his face as if she needed to learn it for a very important final exam.
“Where did you get that?” she asked, touching the dog.
“Ustaz Kareem gave it to me,” he said proudly. He wagged the dog up and down vigorously.
“Show your mother the dog,” Yusuf said. Khaled obediently handed it to her.
She took Yusuf aside. “Was he where you thought he might be?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. The police found him. We just happened to be nearby, and Kareem said we would bring him to you. We thought it would be reassuring for Khaled, since Kareem is his teacher.”
“I’m sure you were right,” she said. “I must thank him.”
She went back to the little group.
“Are you hungry, habibi?” she asked her son.
“Yes, very.”
“Perhaps we can order something from the restaurant here,” she suggested, looking at Bassam for approval.
“I am sick of this place,” he said. “Let’s go into the Old City and find a place to get shawarma. Then, we can get the ice cream we promised you,” he said to Khaled. Khaled jumped up and down enthusiastically.
“Come with us,” she said to Chloe.
“I should be getting home,” Chloe said. It was after eight and quite dark. Her friend Avi had brought her to the gates of the city and gone back to Tel Aviv. It would be hard to find transportation to
Ramallah at this hour.
“Nonsense,” Bassam said. “You will stay with us tonight.”
“Please,” Rania said. “We really want you to.”
“Naami andna,” sleep at our house, Khaled put in.
Chloe grinned. “Can’t say no to that,” she said.
“Will you eat with us?” Rania asked the young men. She really did not want to have dinner with Abdelhakim, but he and his friends had brought her son back to her, after all.
“No, thank you, Um Khaled,” said Yusuf. “It is late.” The others nodded in agreement. She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Let’s go find some yummy shawarma,” she said to Khaled. “And a falafel for Chloe, because she doesn’t eat meat.”
“Why don’t you eat meat?” Khaled asked Chloe.
“Ana nabatiya,” I’m a vegetarian, Chloe said.
“What’s a vegetarian?” Khaled asked.
“A person who doesn’t eat meat,” Chloe responded with a shrug.
Chapter 49
It took a while to get the details. Chloe could tell Rania’s mother side was holding her cop instincts in check. Rania barely ate, but she drank four glasses of tea, waiting for Khaled to wolf down his shawarma before she asked a single question.
“Why did you get off the carousel?” Rania asked at last, betraying only the tiniest trace of annoyance.
“Two girls came up to me. They said that the jesh had taken you away, and they would take me to Baba.”
Chloe wondered how the child thought Israeli soldiers could have dragged his mother out of the shop without him seeing them, but it was not her place to ask. The kidnappers were clever to use women. Not only would a child be more inclined to trust them, but they would be more or less indescribable. Black jilbab and white headscarf. The police could stop girls and women from here to Jordan and never find them.
“Did you walk a long way?” Rania asked. The empty apartment where Khaled had been found was only a few blocks from where he had been taken. Her friend must be trying to determine if he had been moved there from elsewhere or if the women had taken a circuitous route to get there.
“No,” said Khaled.
“What happened then?” his mother asked. She nibbled on a french fry.
Khaled leaned his head to the side as he tried to recall. His eyes were looking heavy. Chloe thought, if he had been home, he would fall into bed just about now.
“One of them played with me for a while,” he said. “The other one asked if I was hungry. I said I was, so she got me some milk and cookies.”
Khaled’s Arabic was easy for Chloe to understand. She supposed she could be proud of having attained a seven-year-old’s conversational level.
“Then, I was sleepy, so she put a mattress down on the floor, and I went to sleep,” the child went on. “When I woke up, they were gone.”
Sleeping pills in the milk, Chloe thought. No wonder he had seemed so relaxed and was now so droopy.
The policeman named Majid joined them for knaffe and coffee. Chloe did not like the knaffe, the sticky, cheesy sweet that Nablus was famous for, and joined Khaled for chocolate ice cream instead.
“We asked all around the building,” said the dashing young officer. “Neighbors saw the two girls go in with the child and come out about half an hour later. No one else went in or out. They could not give any details about the girls and did not know which way they went.”
“That seems impossible,” Rania objected.
“If they persuaded everyone to lie for them,” Majid said, “then they are part of a very powerful group. We have a few leads we will follow up on in the next days. But you have your son back, so, if I were you, I would go on with your lives and be more careful in the future.”
Rania’s opened her mouth to say something and closed it, her cheeks scarlet. The policeman had basically said that Rania was a bad mother, and it was her fault. Chloe wanted to say something in defense of her friend, but she couldn’t think how to say it in Arabic. She clasped Rania’s hand under the table and felt it trembling.
“How did you know where he was?” she asked the policeman.
“Someone called us,” he said.
“Skype again?” Bassam asked. Rania remained silent and sulking.
Majid nodded. “Another account, this time from Hong Kong.”
Khaled was asleep by the time they got home. Chloe, being bigger and a little stronger than Rania, carried him into the house and tucked him in bed. He was still clutching the little stuffed dog, but it fell out of his hand on the way into the bedroom. When she returned to the living room, Rania was sitting in an armchair, crying fiercely with her head against the shaggy little toy.
“You can’t let what that cop said bother you,” Chloe said, although she didn’t really imagine that it was Majid’s voice as much as her own that Rania was hearing over and over. “You are a great mother.”
“I am not. I never think about my family first. Everything is about me. My job, my satisfaction. I was bored; that is why I took on this investigation.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Chloe tried again. She sat on the arm of Rania’s chair, stroking her friend’s hair. Bassam had come into the room after parking the car. He stood in the doorway, making no move to join them. Chloe felt very much in the way, but she couldn’t go anywhere else. The living room was where she was to sleep. If Rania and Bassam wanted to be alone, they would have to make the move. Bassam looked at them for a long moment and left the room.
Rania sat up, swiping impatiently at her eyes with the back of her hand. It was almost like she didn’t feel she had a right to cry. Chloe thought back to the day she had visited Rania in prison. She had made the same gesture. Rania turned the little dog around and around in her hands. “Maybe I should just stop,” she said. “The Israeli soldier is in prison. If I tell everyone he killed Daoud, they will forget all about it and leave us alone.”
Chloe was silent. She wondered why she disliked that idea so much. It wasn’t really that she cared so much about Ron. She had thawed toward him some during her visit, but, basically, he was a weasel. He might be privately critical of the norms of his family, his friends, and his country, but he wouldn’t stand up to them. If he had not killed anyone, it wasn’t because he was not willing to. Nothing too bad would happen to him. No Israeli soldier went to jail for long for killing a Palestinian.
It was more what she felt the suggestion said about Rania. The last few times she had seen her friend in the throes of solving a mystery, she had been the sharp, headstrong policewoman Chloe had first met under the Azzawiya bridge. Chloe could almost see that person receding, and a fearful, self-doubting woman taking her place. To let an innocent person be imprisoned, even an innocent person who was not so innocent, was inconsistent with the Rania she knew.
Rania was examining the little dog. Her fingers found a little tear in the back seam. Typical, Chloe thought, recalling that one of the first words in her Arabic conversation book was harbaan, meaning damaged or out of order.
“What’s that?” she asked. Something stuck out of the little hole in the fabric, like a scrap of paper. Rania pulled it out. It was, in fact, a little folded piece of paper.
Rania unfolded it. She showed it to Chloe. There were two lines, written in Arabic with a black, felt-tipped pen.
“What does it say?” she asked.
“If you do not stop what you are doing, he will not be returned so quickly next time,” Rania read.
Chapter 50
Chloe woke at six. She heard Rania moving around the kitchen and knew her friend had not slept much, if at all. She wished she had that problem. It took a virtual earthquake to keep her from sleeping or eating, which she always took as indicators of her severe shallowness as a human being. She sternly forbade herself even to think about turning over and burying her face in the pillow against the streaming sun. Instead, she sat up on the thin mattress, held the cover with one hand while she awkwardly pulled on her jeans with the other, lest
Khaled or Bassam burst into the open room while she was dressing.
“Sabah al-kheir,” she said as she entered the kitchen, trying for a light tone.
“Sabah an-noor,” Rania responded. “Nimti kwa’is?” Did you sleep well?
Would it be rude to answer truthfully, that she had slept like a log, knowing that the other woman had not? “Yes,” she said in English. Much as she liked to practice Arabic, she did not feel like doing it right now, and it was a useless waste of energy to do it with someone who spoke English almost like a native.
“What are you going to do today?” Rania asked.
That was the question Chloe had been dreading. She really had nowhere to go. Reem was feeling fine, at least until her next appointment, which was in three days. She had gone back to work, and, though she would not say so, she did not need or want Chloe hanging around, being another mouth to feed. Amalia would miss her, Chloe knew, but they would see each other soon enough, when she brought Reem home from her treatment. She would spend the night again then, in case Reem had another late-night emergency. Hopefully, if that happened, she wouldn’t get any more bullet holes in anyone’s car.
She could stay at Avi’s, of course, but she thought he and Maya needed some time together too. Which made her think about her own relationship, and whether she was ready to face a sudden death playoff for Tina. She didn’t think so.
She put off the decision at least until after breakfast and went to help set the tea things on the breakfast tray.
“Mama, Mama,” Khaled burst into the kitchen, his energy not at all dampened by yesterday’s brush with—well, with whatever it had been. He was carrying the little, floppy-eared dog, which he must have retrieved from the living room floor.
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