by J C Ryan
A flood of words in the language he didn’t understand ensued, and she threw herself at his feet, embracing his legs. Rex hadn’t expected that and took a moment to collect himself before he lifted her to her feet. Holding her by the upper arms, he said, “I came to help someone else, but I will take you, too, if that’s what you want.”
It was a more complex thought than he’d tried to convey before, but she understood.
“Who?”
“Her name is Rehka. She is from India and may have come here about four months ago.”
“I know her.”
“Can you show me where she is?”
She explained that it was still too early and that she’d have to wait until the prince had left the harem. She’d wait for him to leave and then go to Rehka.
Rex agreed, and then pointed to his watch and explained to Zoya that she should wait with him for an hour or so not to raise any suspicions. He sat down in the chair and pointed to the bed for her to lie down. The language barrier made it difficult to continue a conversation. Zoya closed her eyes and took a few deep relaxing breaths.
About ninety minutes later, Rex stirred, Zoya opened her eyes and Rex nodded for her that it was okay to leave now.
She slipped out of the room soundlessly. Rex risked a quick look outside the room to watch her glide down the hall and turn a corner. No one was within his sight, so he pulled his head back inside the room and closed the door. He looked at his new watch and decided he’d wait another hour. That should give the prince plenty of time to finish his amorous exploits and return to his quarters. Unless he’d passed out in the room of the woman he was with. Then there could be a problem.
While he waited, Rex lay down on the bed to think about how to get out of the compound with two women. He gave the problem and as many of it’s possibilities as he could imagine to his subconscious, set his internal alarm for an hour, and went to sleep.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
HANDE AVCI ENTERED the room with only the passage of air around her moving body making any sound and went to shake the sleeping man awake. She cried out in fright when his hand shot out like a striking tiger and grabbed her wrist. He hadn’t been sleeping at all, only pretending to, to trap her.
Zoya had come to her in her room and told her about the stranger, the prince’s guest, and that he was not like the others. They’d both been threatened before with being sold away as prostitutes if they weren’t accommodating to such guests. Here in Mutaib’s harem, at least they were fed and well cared for at other times, and the times when they were expected to entertain were infrequent.
Zoya had told her the man would take her away, along with Rehka, the new one. She’d asked if Hande wanted to go as well. Was that a serious question? It was difficult to understand Zoya, but Hande was certain she had offered to take her with them. She asked where to find the stranger and Zoya told her which room.
When she reached to touch him and he grabbed her, she tried to dodge back, fearful he’d hit her. His face softened, and he addressed her in Arabic.
“I won’t hurt you. Who are you?”
“I am Hande,” she answered simply, reassured by his calm and his words. “I’m going with you.”
His expression turned guarded. “What do you mean?”
It had been a long time since she’d been so bold. Not since she’d left Turkey. Overcoming the beatings, she’d endured to learn to be a properly respectful pleasure wife to the prince was not easy.
She had come to Saudi Arabia, a young and inexperienced seamstress from the Turkish countryside, six years before. A man had come to her village to recruit factory workers, and Hande had responded, tired of her father and brothers treating her like a child who could not make her own decisions.
The agent told her many lies, wooing her with tales of independence and a good living in Saudi Arabia. She wished she’d been less trusting, less ignorant of the world outside her country. The agent sent her to the factory owner under the kafula system, meaning the factory owner had paid the agent, and she was now obligated to pay the owner for her passage to Saudi Arabia and the room and board he provided.
Far from a good living, the wages she was paid didn’t even cover the growing debt. When she went to him to beg a lower interest rate, so she could someday pay it off, he laughed.
“I have a suggestion,” he’d said. “You can pay off your debt and make your life better at the same time. No more long days of labor in the factory.”
She should have known, by then, that the factory owner was not honest. He agreed to help her if she would spend one night with him. She refused to sleep with him. He’d raped her that night, and the next day he sold her to a wealthy man. She had to admit, her life was better with the rich man, Mutaib, than in the factory.
She despised Mutaib, though, and like Zoya, she’d fallen out of favor and had been relegated to the duty Zoya had been expected to perform tonight – a toy for the prince’s guests. It was only a matter of time before her looks were gone and she’d be abandoned to the streets or worse.
She lifted her chin. “Zoya told me you would take her and Rehka away. I want to go, too.”
Rex didn’t answer at first. She watched as his eyes went blank, as if he was seeing something on a different plane. His lips thinned, his shoulders lifted and fell slightly. Moments later, he answered.
“How many of you are there? Mutaib said eleven.”
“He lied. He lies always. Like all Arab men. There are many more.”
Rex blew an exasperated sigh out his pursed lips. He muttered in English, “This is a problem.”
She didn’t understand the words, but she did understand the position she’d put him in. How could he justify telling one woman he’d take her away, and leave others who would bear the punishment for the escape? If he was a good man, as Zoya had told her, he’d have to take anyone who wanted to leave. When he spoke to her again, she knew she’d been right.
“How many would leave?”
“Six, seven… maybe.”
Hande’s hesitation worried Rex. His moral compass would not allow him to rescue only Rehka and leave six or seven women or however many there were, all in the same situation as Rehka, to their fate. He just couldn’t bring himself to the point where he would leave any of them behind. His dilemma was taking that many was not in his plan. He had prepared himself to break Rehka out tonight and be gone, but the situation now called for a complete overhaul of his plans, including how he was going to get out of the country. He’d need a bigger getaway vehicle, for one thing. He didn’t see himself sneaking that many women into his hotel room or driving out of the city with them crammed into a vehicle meant to seat only six people, plus Digger, and there could be more women, in the end there could be eight or nine.
Speaking of Digger, he wished he had the dog with him right now. It would make what he had to explain next a lot easier.
“I can’t do this tonight. I didn’t plan for so many. Can you give the others a message?”
“Yes. What do you want me to tell them?”
“Do you have the freedom to walk in the courtyard?”
“We have a courtyard for our use. We can walk freely there.”
“Show me.”
She went to the door and cautiously looked out. She motioned for him to follow. “I think it is safe.”
Zoya hadn’t come back, so Rex wasn’t sure Mutaib had left the harem quarters yet. He cautioned Hande to walk quietly and peek around corners to check for guards, then followed her as she walked swiftly through the corridors. She pushed open a door and they were outside in a walled garden.
Rex looked up at the stars and oriented himself. “This is the northeast corner of the compound?” he whispered.
“I think so,” she whispered back.
They returned to the room where she’d found him.
“Come to that courtyard at two a.m. tomorrow,” he said. “A big black dog will lead you out and bring you to me. You aren’t afraid of dogs, are
you?”
Hande was gazing at him in astonishment. “A dog? Why a dog? Why will you not come yourself?”
“I’ll be driving a big vehicle. If I can’t get close, and I don’t think I can, you will have to come to me. The dog will lead you.”
She shook her head. Rex didn’t know if it meant she wouldn’t do it, couldn’t believe it, or wasn’t afraid of dogs.
“Do you understand?” he asked.
“I don’t know if I understand why you want to do it like that, but I will do as you say.”
Just then, there was light rap on the door.
“Hide,” he hissed at Hande.
Hande dived to the floor on the side of the bed away from the door and rolled partly under it, concealing herself in the bedclothes.
Rex stood to the side again and opened the door. Zoya walked in.
Zoya whispered urgently, “Guard comes. I answer.”
Rex interpreted that to mean let her do the talking. She was undressing as fast as she could, throwing the silks here and there.
“Quickly!” she said, urging him to do the same. Inside a few seconds, she’d pushed him into the bed, only partly undressed, and sprawled across him.
A knock sounded at the door. With no appearance of embarrassment, she got up and walked to the door without covering herself. She threw it open, giving the guard a glimpse of Rex, who had snatched the sheets up to cover the fact that he was still wearing the pants of his ninja outfit.
The guard said something in a muffled voice, and Zoya answered. She closed the door. Loudly, she said, “You must leave. I will help you dress.”
Rex understood that his night with Zoya was being orchestrated, and it was time to go. He put the clothes back on that he’d shed in haste, leaving the collar of his shirt open and his tie draped around it. He smiled at Zoya and whispered that Hande would tell her the plan. Then he opened the door and pretended to stagger a bit as he handed himself over to the guard to be escorted to the car.
Digger was waiting by the car when they came out the front door of the house. He rose to greet Rex, tail wagging and a goofy smile on his face. Rex said, “Good boy.” He let the dog into the car and followed him into the back seat.
***
IN THE HOTEL room, he started talking to Digger, who had taken up his usual position on the bed seemingly listening, as if he’d been a human team mate, while Rex paced around the room. He couldn’t know how much, if any of it, Digger understood, but speaking it aloud helped him detect flaws in the new plan he was formulating. There was one aspect he couldn’t do anything about, which was that he didn’t know precisely how many women to prepare for. It started with one, then it became two, now it maybe six or seven, and there could even be more.
Everything else, he could deal with. In the morning, he’d trade in his rental SUV for a larger one, something like a Chevy Suburban. He’d buy a big cooler and stock it with water and food for the journey, and he’d plan an itinerary. He needed a less repressive country, somewhere he could help the women find asylum. Oman would do, but getting to Muscat, the seaport, in the most efficient way would require two border crossings in and out of the United Arab Emirates. Without papers for the women, he didn’t have a prayer of making it.
He’d also want to take Digger to Mutaib’s compound and try to show him the courtyard where he’d have to get to the women. That was a dicey proposition. He couldn’t afford to be spotted or have Digger spotted. But he didn’t know how else Digger would know what to do.
By the time Rex fell asleep, still thinking about the day ahead, it was closer to dawn than he wanted. His last conscious thought was to wonder if any of the women knew how to drive.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ZOYA AND HANDE didn’t dare discuss their plans during the day. As soon as their would-be rescuer had left the harem quarters, the two young women discussed whether he was trustworthy. Zoya’s imperfect grasp of Arabic made it more difficult, but it was the only language they had in common.
Somehow, Zoya conveyed her trust to Hande. “He didn’t… use me,” she said, though she used the crude version of the word for a sex act, the only one she knew in Arabic. She counted this as one of the main reasons, among others, to trust him.
Hande, being older and more cynical, counseled caution. “You must not hope. He may come to help us. He may not. We do not know why he didn’t use you. I hope he is a good man. He seemed to be. But we don’t know what his business is with Mutaib. Do I need to remind you what a wicked man the prince is?”
Zoya nodded. She wanted to tell Rehka only that they may have a way out. Hande was certain that if the man was not boasting, he would be willing to take them all. They also disagreed on when to break the news to the others.
Zoya thought they should tell everyone before the dawn broke, if they were going to give everyone the news, and not just Rehka. Hande again urged caution, giving her opinion that the less the others knew beforehand, the less chance of the plot being discovered by Mutaib or his legitimate wives.
In the end, they agreed to tell the others that night. They went separately to break the news, Zoya going first to one who knew both Arabic and Hindi, so she could tell Rehka, who knew even less Arabic than Zoya.
Each swore the women they notified to secrecy. “Do not speak of this to anyone else. Don’t pack anything, that will raise questions. Just be ready to go to the courtyard at two tomorrow morning.”
Despite the secrecy, the air in the harem quarters held a sense of electric anticipation that was almost palpable. The imposition of unusual quietness among the seven women who knew of the escape plan, and their lack of interaction with the others was soon noticed by the uninformed.
The harem had always been a place of shifting allegiances and intrigue. Mutaib kept about nineteen women besides his wives in the quarters. The wives had their own suites and didn’t interact much with each other or the pleasure wives. They attended to their children, entertained their mutual husband at his whim, and followed a pecking order that roughly corresponded to the order in which Mutaib had married them, though each enjoyed favoritism from the prince at times, which temporarily changed it.
The others had only simple sleeping rooms of their own, and they spent their days gossiping with the others. They ate together, prayed together, even bathed together. There were a few children in the harem with them – boys only until they reached school age, and girls up to about the age of ten, after which they would go to the homes of husbands arranged for them by Mutaib. The children played together, often under the supervision of two or three of the mothers. That duty rotated among all the women, whether they had children or not. Those who’d been there the least amount of time might even have been the most often called upon for the duty, as there was also a pecking order among this group.
Neither Zoya nor Hande had children, and because Rehka didn’t either, none of them thought to question what would happen with those who did. Among the seven were two whose sons had reached an age where they were sent to a boarding school, one who refused to bond with her child because of the way he was conceived, one who had a toddler — a little girl she adored despite the way she’d been conceived — and one who was pregnant with her first child.
After the midday prayer and meal, several of the women who planned to meet in the courtyard retired to their rooms for a nap, correctly believing they’d have a long night. After that, they submitted to being dressed for dinner along with the rest. No one knew in advance who the prince would summon or who would be commanded to entertain a guest. Their orders were to be always prepared, all of them, for they’d be beaten if they were not ready. As the hours advanced, the buzz in the air became more pronounced.
Hande was worried. She saw groups of women in twos and threes clumping together in whispered conversation. Her paranoia convinced her that they were talking about the escape plan, that they’d somehow deduced that was the reason for the perturbation in the harem environment. She regretted giving in to Zoya’s ins
istence to tell the others so early.
She was particularly concerned that Zoya and Rehka had been in close contact all day. They’d never been close before, given the language barrier. Hande feared their unusual behavior had been noticed by women not included in the escape plans. Even her own nervousness could give the others a clue that something was afoot. She fought to keep it under control and concealed, though she couldn’t get rid of the feeling of looming disaster.
***
EARLIER IN THE day, one of the women had carefully considered her options. The seventh woman Hande hesitated about when she told Rex the number could be six, perhaps seven. She was pregnant, about six months along, and still able to travel. She never considered abortion like some of the others. Abortion was an abomination in her religion, as in most, anyway. Despite her circumstances, she had secretly determined, once she’d known she was pregnant, to honor the baby’s father and try to love him as was her duty.
She didn’t speak of it to the others. Most of the pleasure wives either despised the prince or had become apathetic and resigned to their fate. But she was young and considered herself among the most beautiful. The prince had only three wives and was legally entitled to a fourth. Why should she not be the fourth? If she bore the prince a son and demonstrated her love for him when he visited her, would he not look upon her with favor and make her his wife?
And what would be her lot if she returned home? Her father and brothers, along with other men of her village would stone her as a harlot. She could not get rid of her baby and pretend to be untouched. She could not go somewhere else, pregnant and unmarried and expect to find a way to support herself. She’d die, along with her the unborn baby, whom she’d begun to allow herself to love.
After thinking on all the implications, she knew she could not escape with the others. But perhaps her knowledge of the plot would find further favor with her baby’s father and secure her future. Therefore, right after morning prayer, she’d humbly requested an audience with her prince.
