One Night in Dubai

"Could you steal it while he sleeps?"

Jaleh frowned. "Maybe. I have no idea how deeply he sleeps."

That, at least, was something we might be able to control. "If I got you a couple of sleeping pills, could you slip him one before he goes to bed?"

"Yes," Lelia cut in confidently. "Yes, Jaleh can brew the new tea for us all tonight. We can make sure they all sleep well... We should have thought of this sooner."

I made my second phone call of the day to my favorite Russian pharmacist while Lelia convinced Jaleh of the wisdom of the plan.

***

It was nearly ten o'clock when I got a text from Jaleh telling me that everyone had gone to bed early, as expected. It was about fifteen minutes later when I got her next message.

{I can't find it}

I had no way to know how thoroughly she had searched. All I could do was suggest the drawers in the nightstand and closet that she may have overlooked and hope that her phone was on silent. When she confirmed that she had checked them all. I had one last idea.

{Is the safe in the closet locked?} I asked.

{yes} came the reply a moment later.

{hold on}

Hotel safes have an override code in case a guest forgets the combination they set. Ours are no different. Our head of security and his assistant are the only ones who know the code though.

The assistant is pretty sharp, but his boss is getting kind of long in the tooth. He's retired Scotland Yard, which still earns him respect, but the guy is definitely old-school. He's more concerned with guard rotations, door checks, and log books than he is with anything electronic.

My management-level key card has gotten me through every door in the hotel I've ever tried, but the security office was a first for me, and I was a little surprised it worked. I'd need to come up with an excuse for being in here in case anyone happened to notice the intrusion during the next log review, but there was time for that later.

A quick check, and sure enough there was a neatly printed list of passwords and PINs under the old guy's mouse pad. I passed the safe's override code on to Jaleh.

{got it} she replied a minute later.

In the dimly lit corridor behind the suite's kitchen, I unlocked the housekeeper's door and waited for Jaleh to come through.

The door cracked opened briefly, and then suddenly slammed back closed. On the other side, I could just make out voices in Farsi.

"Why are you out of bed, Miss Jamshidi?" The baritone had to be Esan, the bodyguard.

"I... couldn't sleep. I thought I would explore the hotel."

"Your father didn't tell me you had his permission to leave."

"I'm sure my father would approve. I won't leave the building," Jaleh assured him confidently. So far she was keeping any kind of panic out her voice as far as I could tell.

"Shall I wake him and ask?"

"No!" Even I heard the note of panic that time. She must have too. "No, please Esan... just let me go."

"You should go back to bed, Miss." It sounded like there was a note of menace in his voice that hadn't been there before. Jaleh must have decided that her best hope was to take him into her confidence.

"Esan, please! Father has called a midwife... After what happened to Kiana..."

"If you have been faithful to the Prophet's law, you have nothing to fear," he answered evenly.

And then a moment later he added "I see... Very well, if you don't want to spend the night with your shame, let us wake your father and take care of this now. Your sister did not suffer. Neither will you. It will be quick."

I was startled by the confession. I can only imagine the expression of shock on Jaleh's face.

"You killed Kiana," she accused him.

"I ended her shame and preserved your family's honor."

"How dare you!" Jaleh screamed, any attempt at stealth forgotten. "You killed an innocent girl! You had no right."

Esan didn't rise to the accusation. "Come. Let us wake your father."

"No! No, Esan please..." The panic had returned to Jaleh's voice. "I'll wait for the midwife."

Our plan had failed. Right then I should have turned around and walked away. I should have washed my hands of the whole nasty business and gotten on with my life. I don't know why I didn't.

Instead I eased the door open on silky, quiet hinges. Esan had his huge back to me. I couldn't see Jaleh pleading with him beyond his bulk.

"Maybe... Maybe everything is fine," she grasped. "It was just the one time! Maybe we did it wrong and I'm still a virgin!"

On the kitchen counter next to the door was an unopened liter bottle of Perrier where there is always an unopened liter bottle of Perrier. Taking the glass bottle by the neck, I shattered it across the back of Esan's skull and the big man crumpled to the floor in a wet, fizzing pile.

At least that's how I imagined it going.

When I finally cranked up enough courage to actually swing the club, it hit with the dull thud of glass on meat. Esan's head was knocked forward a centimeter or two, but he definitely did not crumple. With speed and grace belying his size he whipped around and landed a heavy fist in my gut.

The breath exploded from my lungs and before I could even double over, another fist connected with my jaw sending me sprawling backwards into the kitchen counter where I sort of sagged against the cabinets. The Perrier bottle hung limp in my slackened grip

There were colors flashing in my eyes that I couldn't put names to, and beyond them Esan reached into his jacket and withdrew a shiny, chrome plated pistol. I knew this was the end, and wished I had called my parents one last time.

Just before the gunshot, I heard a feminine grunt of effort. Esan's arm spasmed and the muzzle flashed and my ears rang as I was peppered with dust from the Carrera marble tile behind me.

When I looked up again, the handle of a carving knife protruded from under Esan's armpit, pinning the jacket of his cheap suit to his ribs in a growing wet splotch. The bodyguard turned towards Jaleh, now the more immediate threat, and tried to aim his gun while clawing for the knife handle with his other hand.

She had slid another blade from the block of Japanese kitchen knives and defied him to pull the trigger.

A gunshot wasn't the sort of thing that would go unnoticed. This had to end quickly.

With a surge of adrenaline I didn't even know I possessed, I pushed myself back to my feet and took the bottle in two hands. A primal scream that must have come from my own throat drew Esan's attention, and he jerked back towards me. There was just enough time to see the look of fury in his eyes as I swung the bottle for all I was worth and connected with his temple.

The big man went down, his gun clattering free of his grip. The knife was still lodged in his ribs and crimson froth bubbled from his lips with each labored breath.

For a second I could only stand there in shock, looking down at this man slowly dying at my feet. I wondered if, in the moment before I struck him, there was someone he wished he had called too.

"Come on, Rowan! We have to go," Jaleh yanked me out of my reverie by my arm, pulling me towards the servants corridor.

I eased the door closed behind us and threw the latch to make sure we weren't followed, but it wouldn't have made a difference. All down the dimly lit hallway, heads poked around corners attracted by the gunshot. There was no hope of getting away unseen.

"You, call an ambulance," I barked in Arabic to the first staffer we passed as Jaleh and I walked briskly towards the staff exit. "Someone's been stabbed in the Jamshidi's suite. You," I pointed to the next onlooker, "Go out front and wait for the paramedics. Make sure they get into the suite quickly. You, make sure the gate house knows an ambulance is on the way."

That seemed to have broken the spell. The curious staffers snapped into action. They had a guest in need and had been trained to provide, no matter what.

Zhang's taxi was waiting outside the staff entrance with the engine running, just as I'd arranged. I hadn't realized I was sweating until the cool night air hit my face.

"Airport, Zhang," I told him in Mandarin through the open window, holding the door for Jaleh.

"No bags?" he asked as she slid across the back seat to the far side.

"Rowan, what are you doing?" Jaleh interrupted as I started to close the door. "Get in."

This wasn't part of the plan. I wasn't supposed to go with her. Looking back at the staff entrance, I recalled the four years of my life I'd invested in a career at The Emerald of Dubai. Had I really just thrown it all away?

"Hurry! Get in the car," Jaleh pleaded. "They'll be coming after us." I turned back and saw the barely-restrained panic in her golden eyes.

Fuck.

I slid into the back seat beside Jaleh. Zhang, sensing the urgency in her voice, floored the accelerator, lurching around the corner and out the back service gate. Over the roar of the engine we could hear the modulated wail of approaching sirens in the distance.

Now that the immediate danger had passed—Zhang's driving notwithstanding—the adrenaline surge subsided and I could feel the sharp ache in my abdomen and the throbbing in my jaw. I threw up in my mouth a bit, but managed somehow to keep my dinner down as I slumped back in the car seat clutching my stomach.

"Thank you," Jaleh offered. "You didn't have to do that."

"Now you tell me," I groaned, my eyes still closed. "What's the plan now? Were you able to get a ticket to the U.S.?"

"No, there are no flights to the U.S. until morning," she explained in a detached sort of monotone. "I have a ticket to Kathmandu. I was hoping to be there before anyone knew I was gone."

"Good plan. Mind if I join you?"

As I tried to sit up in the seat I noticed the blood splatter on Jaleh's sleeve. Esan's jacket had absorbed the worst of it. A large purse sat on her lap, but she clutched her passport in her other hand. Her passport...

"Shit, shit, shit!" I exclaimed reflexively in English. I didn't have my passport. That was never part of the plan. Then in Mandarin, "Zhang, turn around. I forgot my passport."

"Do you want to borrow mine?" he joked.

"What's wrong?" Jaleh asked, not understanding my exchange with Zhang.

"I don't have my passport," I repeated in Farsi.

"We can't go back to the hotel. The police will be there by now."

"I know... I have an idea. If this doesn't work, you should go on to the airport without me and I'll figure something out."

"No," she objected, "I can't let you take the blame for--"

"Let me try this first," I cut her off, scrolling my contacts for Nylah's number. "If it doesn't work, then we can have that conversation."

"Hi Rowan," Nylah greeted me when the call connected. "Do... Do you know what's going on?"

"I do, and I'm a little tied up with all of it right now." Not technically a lie. "I'll tell you all about it later, but right now can you do me a huge a favor?"

"Of course. Anything."

"There's a blue, pinstripe suit in my closet that I forgot to send to the dry cleaner and I really need it cleaned and pressed for tomorrow. I've got someone on the way to pick it up. Can you take it up to the Bell Captain's desk for me?"

"I'd be happy to," she chirped. "I'll do it right now."

"Thanks Nylah, you're the best. I owe you one." I tapped off the call and scrolled through my contacts to find Faisal, my favorite dry cleaner.

"Passport's in the jacket pocket," I told Jaleh in response to her quizzical expression as the phone connected.

***

I had to agree to pay a premium for the rush service and a surcharge for the after-hours pick-up just to get Faisal out of bed, but he knows I also throw in a nice gratuity. That's why he gave me his personal number.

I asked him to call me immediately if there was any problem picking up the suit.

There were a lot of ways this could go bad. The police might have already connected me to the incident. They could be searching my room or asking the staff where I am. They might not be letting anyone in or out of the hotel. Even if none of that happened, Nylah could be conscientious enough to empty the pockets of my suit before dropping it off.

This could all be a waste of time.

As the minutes ticked by, I kept waiting for the phone call telling me it had all gone to hell. But the call didn't come. I bought my ticket to Nepal while Zhang smoked a cigarette and let the meter run. Jaleh sat in withdrawn silence beside me.

"I'm sorry I got you mixed up in all this bother," she offered quietly.

"Well, I was considering a career change anyway," I lied. "Have you ever been to Nepal?" I asked, mostly to keep the conversation going.

"No," Jaleh answered, "Have you?"

"No."

"Do you speak any Nepali?"

"No. I've picked up a few phrases in Hindi. I think it's similar."

"How many languages do you know?"

Before I could answer, Faisal's delivery van pulled up to his store front across the street. I moved to hop out of the cab, and immediately winced at the sharp pain in my gut. Man, Esan could really throw a punch.

Stealing myself for a second try, I got up, crossed the street carefully, and met Faisal as he stepped out onto the concrete with my suit in hand.

Faisal did a double-take when he saw me standing there.

"Sorry, I think I left something in the pocket," I apologized, reaching into the jacket before he could object. I must have done something right in a previous life, because my passport was still there.

"Bill it to the hotel when you're done," I called back over my shoulder to Faisal's bewildered expression as I trotted back to the cab.

Zhang gunned the engine and pulled away from the curb before I even had the car door closed. We'd lost about half an hour, but if there were no more hiccups we'd still be able to catch that flight to Nepal.

We were speeding up the E44 towards the airport, when my phone buzzed and Nick's name flashed on the screen. I assumed he'd actually found someplace that would grant Jaleh some kind of protective status, and swiped on the call.

"What the fuck have you done, Row!?" Nick bellowed loud enough for everyone to hear. "It's the middle of the night and the Iranian embassy looks like somebody kicked over a fucking ant hill."

"Jaleh decided she couldn't wait," I told him. "She's got her passport back, and she's going to get out of the UAE." It was a simple enough statement and it was true even if I left some parts out.

"I'm guessing the bodyguard got in the way," Nick replied with a sneer in his voice.

"You heard about that, huh?"

"Yes, I fucking heard about it. Jesus Row, the Iranians are saying you attacked the bodyguard and kidnapped Jaleh. The police have launched a city-wide manhunt."

My passport must have gotten out with seconds to spare. I hoped I hadn't gotten Nylah or Faisal into any serious trouble.

"Where are you now? Is she with you?" Nick asked with a resigned sigh.

"Yeah, we're in a cab on our way to the airport."

"No, turn around. You won't even make it from the curb to the door before they arrest you."

"Uh, ok... What, um... What should we do?" I stammered, suddenly realizing just how deep the shit had gotten. "Come to the embassy?"

"No!" Nick blurted. "No, they'll be watching the embassy, and we can't be officially involved. For the moment this is still just a domestic crime. Let's not turn it into an international incident."

"Ok, ok... What should we do?" I repeated, with maybe a little more desperation in my voice than I would have liked.

"...Look Row, officially the embassy has to advise you to turn yourself in. We can make enough noise and draw enough media attention that Jamshidi probably won't dare to hurt Jaleh. If you have a lawyer, call him and have him arrange for your surrender. You'll have more control that way than if they catch you. That's... that's really your best option."

It didn't sound like much of an option.

"Tell him I have my father's laptop," Jaleh whispered from the seat beside me.

"What?"

"My father's laptop," she repeated, opening her oversized purse to show me. "I took it from Mr. Paria's safe... Leverage," she shrugged.

"Hey, uh Nick. We have Jamshidi's laptop here," I relayed in the most even tone I could manage.

"What?"

"Yeah, Jaleh stole her father's laptop."

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

"...Alright, listen. Stay in the cab, keep your heads down and keep moving. Try to avoid anyplace that you regularly go. I'll... I'll see what I can put together and I'll call you in a few minutes." Nick hung up without waiting for a response.

"Zhang, get off the highway," I instructed, switching to Mandarin.

"Uh, ok. Where to?" he asked, his brow furrowing in the rearview mirror.

"Just... just drive anywhere for now, but stay away from the airport, ok?"

"You're the boss." The cab cut across four lanes of traffic, and skidded around a cloverleaf exit forcing Jaleh to lean hard against me.

"Was taking the computer a mistake?" she asked.

"I'm not sure yet."

"I'm sorry for all the bother," she muttered and sort of shrank into herself.

We drove in silence, the three of us with our own thoughts. Zhang didn't say anything but I think he knew we were in trouble. Jaleh sat next to me looking shell shocked. I could only imagine the kind of emotional trauma she was enduring this evening.

My own ordeal was bad enough. Six hours ago, I tried to make my mother proud and help out a fellow human being in need. Now I was a wanted criminal, guilty of assault and battery at the very least, possibly an accomplice to murder.

I'd actually believed I could slip away in the night, and it would all go away. God, I'm an idiot.

Zhang wandered east to the Al Warsan district and meandered through the Academic City campuses then down to International City—places where taxis would be a common sight, and we wouldn't draw too much attention. It was just after eleven when Nick called back.

"How far are you from Burj Khalifa?" he asked without preamble.

"About twenty minutes," I replied after consulting with Zhang.

"Good. I'll meet you there. Do NOT go to any of the front doors. Drive down to the underground loading docks." He gave me directions that I relayed to Zhang. "Call me if you have any trouble. I'll meet you there."

Even for a jaded ex-pat who's seen it a thousand times, it's hard not to look up at the majestic structure of the world's tallest building all lit up at night. I craned my neck as the cab approached to take in the grandeur—perhaps for the last time. Then we drove into a tunnel and the view was gone.

The tower houses office suites, private condos, and a hotel that's almost as luxurious as the Emerald. Each has its own front entrance in the triangular base. There is no "back". Anything as mundane as deliveries or garbage pickup happens underground, out of sight of the building's well-heeled occupants. I'd never actually seen this part of it before.

"Here we are," Zhang announced as he pulled around a tractor trailer and parked beside the loading dock stairs.

I opened the back car door and stepped out with a groan as my abs screamed in protest. Jaleh didn't follow. Instinctively, I circled around to the other side of the car and opened her door, but she still didn't move. She just sat in the back of the car staring straight ahead.

"Jaleh?... Jaleh, we have to go."

Unlike some other countries, in Dubai it's not strictly illegal for a man to touch a woman he's not related to. Still, it's a practice I've learned to avoid so I hesitated before reaching into the car to jostle her shoulder.

"Come on," I told her when she finally looked up at me with sad, vacant eyes. "We have to go."

She nodded, and I helped her out of the car then reached for my wallet. Suddenly I realized I hadn't drawn any petty cash for this trip. I wasn't supposed to be here. I was patting at my pockets on the verge of having to stiff Zhang when I found Mme. Martin's envelope in my jacket.