Terrorist

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Wife taken hostage.
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Suspend belief for a while, and excuse me if you find any errors in my recounting of actual world events. I tried my best within the time available, but admit to having bent a few facts a bit.

+++++++++++++++++

Jenny was only supposed to have been gone five days!

My thirty-year old wife Jennifer, or Jenny to all and sundry, worked for a large travel company who jetted holidaymakers round the world to exotic and sometimes less so places. She'd started in their offices in London straight from University and had steadily worked her way up the management scale, her quick brain not held back by her pretty face and pert slim body, or for that matter, though she would never admit it, her penchant for short skirts that showed her long legs off. Ok, so maybe she was a bit of a tease and a flirt, but that was all part of her outgoing personality, and she never let it go too far, or get out of hand. Not exactly a feminist, and to be honest not exactly looking like the archetypical one, Jenny was however outspoken about women being able to make it in the business world. It did lead to the occasional heated discussion between us, but the making up afterwards inevitably made up for it.

It was January 2011, and Jenny was over in Egypt negotiating and renewing contracts with some of the very many tourist hotels that were there, unaware at the time of the political unrest that was about to break out and engulf the country. She'd 'done' Cairo as she described it to me when she rang me on the second day, and was pleased to be on her way to Luxor, many miles south down the Nile, and home to some of the most incredible ancient sites in the world. If you've never been to see the temples and Valley of the Kings, then you've really missed out, even though Tutankhamen's tomb is no longer easy to visit.

"I'm really looking forward to going back there Ken," she'd told me just the night previously. "The local manager has promised to find time for us to go on a short cruise on the Nile."

"Sounds romantic Jenny," I teased her. "Don't let him get too friendly."

"Ahmed is twice my age and twice your waist size," my wife laughed back. "He's a nice enough guy but not my type."

"Pleased to hear it honey," I laughed back, unaware that Ahmed wasn't the man that I should have been worrying about. Unaware for that matter, of how dramatically that trip on the Nile was about to affect both our lives.

-------------------

The uprising in Tunisia had burst on the world just before the Christmas and had been basically well accepted in the Western world, the regime of President Zine Abidine Ben Ali being seen as displaying a lack openness and fairness. Democracy became the by-word of the times, though some might think that there has been little more of that in the region despite the list of popular uprisings.

What perhaps caught some people out was quite how quickly Egypt followed in Tunisia's footsteps, and Jenny found herself in the middle of it when it did break out.

"Don't worry Ken," Jenny calmed me down when I at last managed to contact her on her mobile phone. "The problems are mainly in Cairo and it's quite calm down here. I'm drifting down the Nile with a glass of something nice and cool in my hand, and nothing could be more relaxing."

Little did we know that soon after our short conversation, her calmness would be shattered as terrorists, depending on who's side you were on of course, boarded the river cruiser shot two of the crew and took over. It's not clear exactly what happened in the confusion, or even quite sure what they were trying to achieve, but all I know is that later that evening I got a formal visit that was to change everything, and informed that my wife had been taken hostage with a dozen or so other Europeans.

The news, as you can imagine was shattering, and for several hours I simply couldn't take it in, my normally well ordered brain telling me that it was all a horrible dream and that it would soon pass if I ignored it.

But of course it didn't!

No news was better than bad news they say, but the next few days without any of it was nerve wracking, as I wondered whether I would ever see my beautiful wife again, and whether I'd ever hold that slim pliant body in my arms again. Grown men shouldn't cry they also say, but it was difficult. Damn difficult, and it wasn't made any easier when 'the man from the ministry' informed me that neither Mubarak who was still hanging onto power, or the jumble of loosely connected groups that were opposing him made statements condemning the kidnapping.

"Is that a good thing?" I asked him hopefully.

"Depends," Jones, the man from the ministry answered unhelpfully. "I couldn't say that it's a bad development though."

I hated him, but without reason of course, as he was only doing his job, and as the days turned into weeks his constant assurances that they were doing everything they could do were more than welcome, if not helpful. They found the boat abandoned a week later the crew having disappeared, no doubt as confused as to who's side they were on as most of the poor sods probably were. One body was found, a Russian tourist, though quite why he was executed was a mystery, but of the others there was no sign. Eleven poor souls on a relaxing trip down the river caught up in the political turmoil that they couldn't understand and probably had little interest in, wondering whether they'd ever see their loved ones again, much as I and the other suffering families were doing.

-----------

When the news came through I felt physically sick, and though the media are doubtlessly only doing their job, to hear that the terrorists had been found and surrounded, on the news on the television was not what I would have chosen. But no news of the hostages or that they were even alive, the fate of the Russian uppermost in my mind as I waited impatiently for further information. Again, Jones to the rescue, with almost hourly telephone calls with the tiniest bit of news, none of it bad, but little of it encouraging.

Then the news that had been worrying me, as confused information filtered through infuriatingly slowly that 'forces', whoever they were, had attacked the energy facility that the terrorist where holed up in. People were killed and then they weren't. The hostages were freed and then they hadn't been. There'd been a blood bath, and then magically no shots had been fired.

Who knew the truth? Nobody did, as the press went into a frenzy of speculation, while clearer heads knew that they'd just have to wait and see.

Then the phone call from Jones came through; the one that I'd been praying for but dreading.

"What did you say?" I sobbed as I heard his calm voice, convinced that my ears were playing tricks with me.

"She's alive," he repeated. "The Egyptians let the terrorists go free and all the hostages were released unharmed."

Oh my God! At last I allowed myself to cry.

--------------

The worst five weeks of my entire life and I still couldn't make sense of why any of it had happened, and all Jones had ever been able to offer was a shrug of his shoulders. One innocent Russian and at least two locals dead, eleven people put through an awful ordeal and so many families and friends sick with worry, and it was all summed up with a shrug of his shoulders. He couldn't help it, couldn't offer any more, and it all came down to world politics.

Jenny's homecoming was a surprisingly low-key affair. She was one of only three Brits in the group so there was no huge welcoming party from the press at the airport when she flew in, and was immediately whisked away for a short debriefing. It didn't take long but seemed an eternity as I waited in a private room at Heathrow, leaping to my feet as the door at last opened and faithful old Jones escorted my wife in. We stood there silently staring at one another, lost for words, fearful that we'd lose one another again, but unsure of how to approach each other.

"Take me home Ken," she said simply, and we fell into one another's arms, Jenny bursting into tears and me fighting to hold mine back.

I took her home, or at least someone drove us back and left us there, and we spent the evening quietly, simply enjoying each other's company, reaching out to touch each other every time we came close, as if to verify that it was real and not some terrible joke that nature was playing on us. That night we slept cuddled up close, but there was no love making, as if sex might sully and cheapen our joy at re-finding one another.

Life was wonderful again.

------------------

During the time Jenny had been away, Jones and his team had spent some time warning me and no doubt the other families, that hostages on their return to normal life could act abnormally and be subject to sudden turns of mood, as their psychological balance returned to normal. Initially it had all been fairly basic stuff, I suspect more to keep our spirits up that our love ones would be coming back to us than to really prepare us. Only in the few days between them being found and bought back to UK, were we subjected to some more serious warnings on what to expect and how to handle it. That they might seem changed and quiet, or quite the opposite, as the experience affected different people in different ways. Certainly Jenny would be as happy as a lark one day and then down in the dumps the next.

"I'm not feeling ready to talk about it yet Ken," she told me each time I gently pressed her for more information. "I'll tell you when I'm ready, but not yet."

There was something that she was hiding from me and wasn't prepared to discuss and there was no surprise there of course. I couldn't put my finger on it and daren't ask her outright, even though as touchy feely as we had remained, we had not been able to return to a full sexual relationship. We cuddled in bed, and she allowed me to hold her breasts when we lay together, but any attempts to go beyond that left her upset and agitated. I put this down as being normal in the circumstances, not knowing what normal was, and resolved myself to be patient until Jenny was ready.

-------------

"Mike Jones rang today, Ken," Jenny told me when I came back from my work a week or so after her return. "He needs to talk to me."

"Fine," I replied, hoping that a discussion with him might help her. "I'll come down to London with you if you want."

"No need honey. He's coming here tomorrow at ten, and I really need you to be here with me."

"No problem Jenny," I agreed. "I'll be right here with you."

And so at ten on the dot, the doorbell rang and we let Jones, or Mike as we'd got to know him, into our house. We chatted idly about nothing at all, while we made a cup of tea and settled down.

"Jenny," Mike started after the chitchat was finished. "You know I've interviewed the others British hostages and we've heard from our French and Dutch counterparts?"

"Yes," Jenny replied, suddenly sombre. "You told me on the phone."

"And you know that they all think you're some kind of hero," he went on to my astonishment. "That possibly you saved all their lives."

"So you said Mike," she acknowledged him without looking round at me. "I helped, but it's a long leap to saying I saved anyone's life."

"Well that's not how they see it Jenny. You do know we have to talk about this, don't you?"

"Yes Mike," she mumbled quietly.

"Have you talked to Ken about what happened?"

"No," she whispered, her head down, staring at the floor.

"Mightn't it be better if we talked about it alone then?"

"What the hell's going on here," I interjected. "What are you on about? What happened?"

"Please Ken," Jenny rounded on me, her eyes watering up as she faced me. "I just haven't been able to tell you what actually happened. I couldn't. I'm going to tell Mike and I want you to listen and try to understand, and I beg you not to interrupt till I've finished. I think this is the only way that I can do this."

I glanced across at Mike, and he nodded his head back to me with a sad but serious expression on his face. He obviously already knew a whole lot more than I did, and I wondered what on earth I was about to discover. I had no option. "Ok Jenny," I agreed, in a voice which I hoped was calmer than I felt. "Carry on honey. Just pretend I'm not here."

"Thank you Ken," she whispered, giving me just a trace of a smile. "Thank you for being so understanding."

And so she began, addressing her words directly at Mike, her voice low but steady, not once looking back to where I still sat.

"We were on the boat, and the first thing any of us knew something was wrong, was when it slewed around and the engine note shot up. I guess the Captain had seen the smaller boat and was trying to get away."

"Thank you Jenny, but we know all about that from the others," Mike took over when Jenny fell silent. "We know that the two crew members who resisted got shot, but not why or when the Russian man was killed."

"I don't know why, only that it was Ibrahim that shot him."

"Who the hell's Ibrahim?" I spoke up despite my promise, but was waved into silence by Mike, and Jenny continued as if I hadn't spoken.

"He told me later that he'd had to shoot him. Something about revenge for some outrage a few years back, but nothing more than that."

"Thanks Jenny," Mike encouraged her. "That's new and might be useful to our Russian colleagues. We know that they beached the boat and let the Egyptian crew and non Europeans go, and that there was a lorry waiting to take you and the others away."

"Yes. There were five or six who took the boat over and another couple waiting with the lorry."

"At what point did they split you away from the others Jenny?" He asked. "The others didn't seem to be sure."

"Not till we reached the oil terminal or whatever it was. The others were forced out of the back of the lorry, but when I went to join them, they held me back. I thought for a moment that they were going to kill me, but they took me away to another part of the complex, to some sort of accommodation block, and left me locked up there on my own for hours."

"Then what?" He urged her on, after she sat there silently as she re-lived her ordeal. "This is the bit that we don't know about."

"It was early evening, just getting dark, when two of them came for me. I resisted, but it was hopeless, and they half dragged me to another room further along. When I got there, there was the leader of the boarding party, who I now know to be Ibrahim, sat there behind a desk."

"Take your time Jenny," Mike told her when she again fell silent. "I know this must be hard for you."

"He just sat there looking at me as if he could see right through my soul. I was really and truly frightened then. Terrified that they were going to kill me. When he spoke to me, I could hardly believe what he said, and simply stood there staring back at him."

"And what did he say Jenny?" Mike asked softly.

"He told me to take my clothes off," she sobbed, and Mike held his hand up to prevent my outburst that I was about to make, waiting more patiently than I ever could have, for her to continue.

"When I didn't react he told me to undress again, and I refused and swore at him. I swore at him in Arabic which startled him and he began laughing. I didn't know what to do Mike. There was nothing I could do."

"That's Ok Jenny," he soothed her. "We understand and there's nothing to blame yourself for."

"He told me to take my clothes off for a third time, and when I did nothing, he ... he ....." At which point Jenny sobbed silently for a few moments, while Mike and I sat there reflecting how awful it must have been for her.

"When I did nothing," she took up her tale again. "He told the two men that were still holding me to take my dress off. I struggled and tried to break away, but I stood no chance. By then I was mentally and physically exhausted and just gave up, and they ripped the buttons down the back of my dress and yanked it off me."

Mike gave me a look which clearly told me to keep quiet, which with a struggle I managed, despite the anger and frustration that was building up inside me. I'd been expecting something bad, but not this. No, not this, and it wasn't finished yet.

"I stood there wanting the floor to swallow me up," Jenny went on, almost robotically. "I knew what was coming next. Ibraham told me to take my bra off, but again I refused, and again the other two men grabbed me and stripped it off me. By then I'd had enough, and when he started to talk again, I just reacted and took down my own panties and stood there naked, imagining somehow that I'd defied him."

"Good for you Jenny," Mike encouraged her, maybe somewhat bizarrely.

"He just stared at me not saying anything for a while, why I squirmed in embarrassment, stood there, naked except for my blue wedge sandals that I'd been wearing. I can't describe how humiliating it was; Ibrahim studying my body and the two thugs behind me laughing. I didn't know what they had planned for me, but had a pretty good idea, and at that point simply wanted to get it over with. Then he spoke, Ibrahim that is, and told the other two to get out."

"They left you then?" Mike sought confirmation.

"Yes," answered Jenny, close to tears again. "They didn't seem happy but they went."

"And left you alone with Ibrahim?"

"Yes and he just sat there grinning at me, looking me up and down like a piece of merchandise."

"Take your time Jenny," he encouraged her. "This is all new to us and could be important. We don't know a lot about this Ibrahim character and your experience and insight could be vital. Please Jenny, carry on in your own time."

At this point, when Jenny remained silent, Mike suggested that I might want to get something for us all to drink, a little stronger than the tea that we'd finished by then. It was really pretty obvious that what he actually wanted was the opportunity to talk to Jenny alone, but I went along with it anyway. Standing up, I gave Jenny a comforting pat on the shoulder, and retired to the kitchen, half-heartedly sorting out three glasses and something, almost anything, to fill them up with. I fought the urge to rush back in, my mind in turmoil at what I'd heard so far, knowing that Jenny would need the time. Eventually I found myself counting to fifty, and then my patience ran out, and I walked back into the room acting casual, even though I didn't feel that way. I found Jenny sobbing quietly and Mike leaning forward towards her, whispering whatever men from the ministry whisper on occasions like that.

"Bacardi and coke Jenny sweetheart," I broke into their private world, offering up her favourite drink, which she promptly put down on the table without trying it. "Got you a beer Mike."

"I think Jenny wants me to tell you what happened, Ken," he told me resignedly. "She can't bring herself to tell you."

"Fine," I replied, shrugging my shoulders, wondering how much worse it was going to get.

"It's not pretty."

"I'm not expecting it to be."

"I'm sorry Ken, but I have to inform you that Ibrahim had sexual relations with your wife," he told me straight. His tone was serious and his words rather formal but it made little difference. Another man had fucked my wife! So, by then I'd been expecting it. It wasn't her fault. She couldn't have stopped it. He'd raped her. I fought to hold my emotions in check, knowing that a bad reaction from me at that moment could play havoc with my wife's feelings. She'd suffered enough without my damaged ego adding to her woes.

"It's alright honey. I understand," I assured Jenny, unsure whether to go over to her, or leave her to her grief. "It wasn't your fault. He made you, forced himself on you."

"He did," she sobbed.

"You had no choice," I went on, searching for the right words to console her, while trying desperately to my own feelings of disgust to one side.

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