by Terry Toler
“The Sheikh was going to kill us,” Odille said. “I’m sure of it.”
“The guards said as much,” one of the other girls said. “He said that one day they’d sail out into the Persian Gulf, tie a weight to our legs, and throw us overboard. Never to be heard from again. I believe them.”
The girls were opening up. Talking faster. All of them adding to the story.
“They kept us locked in this room and wouldn’t let us out,” Odille said. “They brought us food and water a couple times a day, but that was it.”
“The Sheikh is dead,” I said. “We’ll take you home. Or wherever you want to go.”
“Anywhere but here,” Odille said as the other girls voiced their agreement.
“I’m going to go check out the yacht and learn how to captain it,” Alex said, then left the room.
I led the girls to the deck. They were practically overwhelmed with excitement to be out in the fresh air. Finally, able to get out of their dungeon. Even though their room would be considered luxury accommodations in most instances, when being held captive, it certainly wouldn’t feel like it.
The joy on their faces was heartwarming. These were the moments I lived for. That’s what made the danger worth it. There’s something incredibly fulfilling about seeing these girls’ faces when they’re finally out of danger. Although the thought occurred to me that they were not completely out of danger. I wouldn’t feel comfortable until Alex had them out of the Persian Gulf and away from Iranian waters.
“We’ve got to go back to the house to get a few things,” I said to them. “Do you girls want to come with us? Get your feet on land for a few minutes. Alex is going to drive you out of here on the yacht as soon as possible. He wants to be out of the Persian Gulf before first light.”
Alex wasn’t around to correct me for saying drive the yacht.
“No way!” one of the girls said. “I don’t ever want to step foot in that house again.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“Can you get my passport from the house?” Odille asked.
“Mine, too,” one of the other girls said.
“I’ll look. It won’t matter, though. We’ll take care of everything you need and get you another one.”
“I can’t believe the Sheikh’s dead,” Odille said. “I guess that means we’ll never get paid either.”
That gave me an idea. Alex had seized almost a billion dollars of the Sheikh’s money.
“You’re all going to get paid. Three hundred thousand euros. Just like your contract says. The only thing is that you have to sign a confidentiality agreement.”
“What’s that?” one of them said.
“It means that you won’t tell anyone what happened here tonight. You forget you ever saw me or the two guys with me. How you escaped is our little secret? Can you do that?”
“Yes!”
“Great. Once you get to land, we’ll get all your information, and wire you the money to whatever account you want.”
The girls all gave me a hug and kept effusively thanking me.
“I’m so sorry you all had to go through this,” I said. “Promise me you’ll never fall for something like this again.”
“We promise.”
Alex was back with a captain’s hat and shirt on. I laughed out loud. The shirt was two sizes too small. He wore it anyway, even though he was only able to get one button latched. His six pack abs were showing. I had to admit he looked sexy in that outfit.
“This is my husband, Bama,” I said to the girls.
“You can call me Skipper,” Alex quipped.
That might have to be Alex’s new nickname.
He pulled me aside to talk privately.
“I’m torn,” he said.
“Why’s that?” I answered.
“If I bring Bond with me, then these girls are going to have to endure his constant flirtations for four or five days. I’ll also have to put up with his nonsense. Imagine Bond and me alone in the ocean for that many days. But… if I leave him with you, then you’ll have to put up with him constantly hitting on you. What should I do?”
“Definitely, take him with you,” I said, laughing. Releasing a lot of tension that had built up over the day.
“Okay. I can do that.”
“Just don’t throw him overboard,” I said.
“I’m not making any promises.”
I laughed again, releasing even more tension. The first time in several days I didn’t feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. Then I thought of MJ and Amina and the weight returned.
Heavier than before.
32
Amina and MJ
Day of the stoning
The village square had the feel of a carnival show. Excitement. Anticipation. A flurry of activity. Shop owners moved some of their wares to the outside and were vending items on the sidewalk. The men had a bounce in their steps and walked around with their chests out and heads held high like they were about to do something that made them feel important.
The contrast with the women couldn’t have been starker. They walked around in slow motion. Like someone had drugged them with tranquilizers. Their faces were vacant. Numb even. At least those who weren’t completely covered by burqas. Even they had their heads down, and their sagging shoulders indicated a collective state of resignation. Probably just glad it wasn’t them being stoned in the village square by their oppressors. Namely the husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons of the village tribes. Ironic, considering these women gave birth and raised the very men who turned around and abused them.
The lowest of the low in my opinion. MJ and Amina were eighteen years old. Innocent of any crime if common sense and fairness were applied. Not even guilty of bucking the heavy-handed system. Just a victim of a depraved tyranny where a man can commit a crime against a woman, and she’s punished for it.
I was confused.
Three holes were dug in the center of the village square. There must be three girls who were going to be stoned.
Malak had explained to me the process. The girls would be brought from the jail in a van and paraded in front of the mob of men who were congregated on one side of the square. The women of the village were forced to stand together on the other side to watch. Supposedly as a deterrent to make them think twice before they defied the men.
The sentences would be read by a tribal elder. Amina still had to endure a hundred lashes. MJ would be spared lashes since she still hadn’t recovered from the hundred administered at her trial and had only been sentenced to a hundred per year. A man had in his hand the cane that would be used to administer the so-called justice. After the lashes, the girls would be placed in the holes and buried up to their necks, with only their heads sticking up out of the ground.
The men would pick up stones that were piled in front of them. One by one they’d take turns throwing them. The tribal elders would cast the first stones. Not so much stones as small rocks. The rocks couldn’t be too big or too small. Too big, and the blow to the head could kill the girls too quickly. Too small, and they wouldn’t inflict enough pain. A doctor would periodically stop the process to see if the girls were dead. If they weren’t, the carnage would continue until they were. The bodies would then be left in place for several days for the townspeople to view.
Something I knew wasn’t going to happen.
The crowd was getting restless. The girls should’ve already arrived. I knew they were never coming.
Josh had come up with a brilliant plan. He didn’t think rescuing the girls in the square was a good idea. There’d only be a couple of guards with guns, but that wasn’t what Josh was worried about. Hundreds of men would be armed with stones which could become weapons if thrown their way.
The last thing we wanted to do was open fire on the men and have mass casualties. Not that I cared what happened to them. I just feared that the airports would be locked down, road checkpoints would be set up, and getting the girls out of the country would be more
difficult.
Josh decided to stop the van right after they left the prison. They’d force the vehicle off the road, hogtie the guards, or kill them if they resisted, and then take the girls back to the plane. There, they’d hide them in the vault until I got back and then we’d leave the country for good.
I already had confirmation that the plan worked. Josh and A-Rad safely captured the girls.
Packages are wrapped, Josh’s text to me read.
That meant the girls were safe. He didn’t mention a third girl, but I was certain they would rescue her as well if she was indeed in the van.
About fifteen minutes from now, they’d arrive at the airport and load the girls onto the plane. The security guard at the gate was paid a handsome sum to let them through without inspecting the vehicle.
So, why was I there?
Brad would say it was on account of my stubbornness. Curly would say my emotions were getting the best of me again. I had my reasons. One, I wanted to convince Aunt Shule and Samitah to come with us. That hadn’t gone well.
“I’m too old to start over again in another country,” Aunt Shule said. “I’m comfortable in my home. I’ll be okay. God will watch over me.”
“I have five other kids,” Samitah said. “Two girls. I’ll have granddaughters soon. Someone has to stay here and protect them. I’m so happy for Amina, though. Please take good care of my baby.”
Samitah shot down my second reason for being there.
“Please don’t kill my husband,” she said. “He’s our financial provider. If he’s dead, I’ll have to marry his brother. He’s even worse if you can imagine.”
I couldn’t imagine it, but I had to trust her judgment. The two guns in each of my pockets would have to stay there.
That left the third and final reason why I was still there.
Barney.
He came right up to me as soon as he saw me.
“Do you know anything about four murders behind the courthouse?” Barney asked accusingly.
He stared at me intently. Like he was trying to ascertain if I had a reaction. See if I was lying. It took all of my self-control not to laugh in his face. I was a trained liar. I could beat a lie detector. Was trained to never give away a “tell” even under extreme torture. Barney was a buffoon. He couldn’t tell anything from my expression, even if I did make a mistake, which I didn’t.
“Four people were murdered at the courthouse? My word! Who were they?”
“The four men on trial.”
“Really. Do you know who did it?”
“I think it was you.”
“It wasn’t me. How did he kill them?”
“I never said it was a he.”
“It’d have to be. A girl is no match for four, big, strong men.” My words dripped with sarcasm. The closest I’d come to giving anything away.
“Where were you at the time of the murders?”
I had to give Barney a little credit. He was setting me up. He hadn’t said when the murders occurred. If I answered with an alibi, he’d know I was lying. This wasn’t my first rodeo, as the saying goes.
“When were the murders?” I asked.
“The day of Amina Noorani’s trial.”
Barney looked at his watch. He must be wondering why the van hadn’t arrived for the stoning. They were more than fifteen minutes late by that point.
“You saw me at the trial,” I said. “I left afterward.”
“No, you didn’t. I saw you there talking to Amina’s attorney. After everyone else left.”
“I think the father would be the primary suspect, don’t you?”
“Why’s that?”
“If somebody raped my daughter, I’d want to kill them.”
“Do you want to get arrested for slander? The men were found not guilty of rape.”
“Oh yeah. I forgot.”
“Don’t leave,” he said sternly. “I’m not through with you. After the stoning, I want to question you further.”
Barney walked away and began talking to the tribal elders. The sense of urgency was ratcheting up with every passing minute that the girls didn’t show.
I had no intention of leaving.
I know.
I was stubborn that way.
Barney took out his phone and dialed a number. Probably checking to see if the guards had left the prison.
He hung up the phone and started walking briskly toward his car. I made a beeline for my black SUV.
Barney sped away. I followed at a distance.
Twenty minutes later we came upon the van that had been holding the girls. Barney pulled to the side of the road and got out of his car with his gun drawn.
I parked a distance away and walked over carefully, so he wouldn’t see me.
Barney looked in the van. What he saw caused him to spring into action. He holstered his weapon and opened the door. I wasn’t going to let him free the guards.
Within seconds, I was ten feet away from him with one of my guns pointed directly at him.
“Close the van door and then step away from it,” I said.
He did as he was told.
“Put your hands in the air,” I said roughly.
Barney lifted his hands. I took several steps forward, so I was about eight feet away.
“I do have a confession to make,” I said softly. I didn’t want the guards to hear my voice.
“What’s that?” Barney said.
“I did kill those four guys. It wasn’t murder though. Self-defense. They attacked me first.”
“The judge will decide if you’re guilty of murder.”
“Oh, I’m guilty of murder,” I said.
“So, you admit it,” he said.
“I admit that I’m guilty of murdering you,” I said.
His eyes widened as soon as the words registered.
I fired one shot. Right between his eyes. A red dot appeared in the lower part of his forehead.
Barney stood there like a statue for several seconds. His eyes stared straight ahead. Fixed right on me.
Then he fell forward. Like a tree that’d been felled by a logger.
His head smacked against the ground with a crack and his body with a thud.
I checked for a pulse.
A wave of satisfaction came over me when I didn’t feel one.
I could leave the country now. My work was done.
Ten girls rescued.
The four men who raped Amina, dead.
Barney dead.
MJ and Christopher soon to be reunited in America.
AJAX got a new yacht, a forty-million-dollar painting, and nearly a billion dollars in cash from the Sheikh.
The wealth of the sinner is stored up for the righteous.
Justice. To the extent that we can find justice on this earth for the heinous acts of some evil men.
The only thing I wondered was—what happened to the Sheikh?
33
Kayapinar, Turkey
Baha Dalman, the leader of the White Wolves, entered the prison where Sheikh Saad Shakir was being held. He covered his nose and mouth from the vileness and stench coming from the cells that held prisoners condemned to die.
The Sheikh was in the last prison cell on the right, deep in the bowels of the prison. Baha stood outside the ten-by-ten cage looking through the bars. He’d ordered the Sheikh tortured almost nonstop for five days. Waterboarded dozens of times. Electric shock to various parts of his body. Physical beatings to within an inch of his life. The Sheikh almost died several times but was resuscitated per his instructions.
“Keep him alive until I can question him,” Baha had ordered the guards.
He had to know why the Sheikh started the war with the White Wolves. He’d been warned that the Sheikh was practically incoherent.
“Salam,” Baha said to the shell of a man cowering in the corner of the cell.
The Sheikh mumbled something. Maybe the Muslim greeting. He couldn’t be sure.
“Why have you done th
is, my friend?” Baha asked. “You killed Rafiq and bombed my building. Killed my men. Why?”
Strange calling his enemy his friend except that the teachings of his religion commanded him to love his enemies.
The Sheikh mumbled something. Baha could barely make out what he said.
“Speak up,” Baha ordered. “I can’t understand you.”
The Sheikh said something about stolen money and a painting.
“I don’t know anything about a painting,” he said to him. “What money?”
The Sheikh was sobbing in the corner. Huddled like a baby.
Baha walked away.
He said to the guard, “Kill him. Then burn the body. I have no further use of him.”
I guess I’ll never know why he decided to attack us.
Not The End
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