Rayan - Son of the Desert. Indira Jackson
clean and friendly, with colourful carpets on the floor as well as at the walls.
The bed had been freshly prepared as well, which was a relief as she had had bad experiences in other Arab countries before.
The bathroom next door was neat and had all the necessary conveniences.
A shower and a good dinner would help her to get rid of the dizziness. What else was she going to do here anyway?
Crap - she hated eating alone in a hotel. Therefore she decided to eat as quickly as possible and to take her wine with her to the room. That was for the best anyway because alcohol was not liked around here and was mostly just provided for the tourists.
Then she suddenly remembered the letter, which she had received from the flight attendant. In the course of events she had completely forgotten about it. She took it out of her bag, but hesitated for a moment: in one hand she turned the amulet absentmindedly around her neck, while in the other one she was holding the envelope, gazing at it attentively.
In a surprisingly beautiful, but at the same time very energetic, handwriting it said: "For Miss Carina“ – What was she waiting for? It would hardly be an invitation to visit him in Zarifa, right? She took another gulp of her wine and then opened the letter.
It contained very expensive stationery. On the heading was printed the emblem of His Excellency – in black and white – the same as on her necklace.
"Dear Miss Carina,
I really do hope that you are not too angry with me because of my deception. But when I saw that you were so absorbed by the article about me, I just could not resist.
Please find attached the address of my lawyer, who is based here in this city, as a sign of compensation. When you show him this letter he is going to answer some questions for you.
If Allah is willing, our paths will cross again one day. May he be with you and guide you on your way.
Rayan“
Further below there was a phrase in Arabic, which she could not understand. She could actually speak a few words, mostly polite, basic aspects of the language, but she could not read it at all.
She assumed that this was meant for the lawyer.
A lawyer! Of all people. But what had she expected? She decided it was best to go to bed and get some sleep. The next morning was early enough to think about her next steps.
After an exhausting day full of events, her head had barely touched the pillow when she was fast asleep. She dreamt of the desert wind, oases and the most fascinating blue eyes she had ever seen …
1989 - Zarifa – The escape
The group of young people were gathered tightly together, all around Rayan. He had been so brave. But what for? He was in a terrible condition. They had been given water and a blanket. Sachra managed to force small amounts of water into him. She was the only woman in the group, small, petite and with her hair cut short like the men. She considered herself a warrior as well.
"If he gets a fever, he will not make it through the night. I really do not understand how his own father … what a monster!“ Tears were shimmering in her brown eyes. Her boyfriend Ibrahim replied softly: "Maybe it is for the best like that. I mean, not waking up again. Think of the pain that he would suffer. And he would not have to live through the spectacle tomorrow.“ Sachra just stared at him without a word, what could she say anyway?
About an hour before midnight she woke up because Ibrahim was gently touching her arm and said: “Believe it or not, I have found an open gate … This could be our last hope to get away.“ Sachra thought for a moment: "But it could be a trap as well, which is more likely.“ However, Ibrahim had already woken the others: "Quiet! We have to be absolutely silent.“ And to Sachra he said: "So what? if it is a trap – do I care? Tomorrow we will be dead anyway. I’d prefer to struggle with a trap, because at least then we will all die fighting.“
Their next concern was about Rayan. What could they do with him? To leave him here was not an option. “I know what we can do”, said Sachra, “his grandparents do not live far from here. We will take him to them. There he has a better chance to survive. Even if they find him there, hopefully his grandmother can save him from the Sheikh. After all, His Excellency was once her son-in-law.“ Ibrahim just needed some time to think this over, then he nodded in agreement. “It’s a good idea.“
Quietly the friends were sneaking out of the corral in which they had been put – one by one. They succeeded in quietly knocking out one of the guards.
After that they split up: three of them crept off to the north in order to make their way up to the rebel settlement. Ibrahim, Sachra and another guy in the group carried the still unconscious Rayan in the direction of his grandmother’s place. Of course the heaviest part of his body was carried by the two men.
Two hard hours later they arrived at grandmother Eleonora’s place, where she lived together with her husband Youssef. They knocked on the door and got her out of bed.
Eleonora was the reason why Rayan had blue eyes, in spite of his Arabian lineage. She had passed them onto her daughter Miriam, Rayan’s mother. Eleonora came from Germany and had stayed in Arabia because of her love for Youssef. In the same hut they still lived in, their only daughter Miriam had been born.
In spite of Eleonora being at least 60 at the time, she was agile and quick and everyone that knew about her temper was careful not to aggravate her.
After a brief explanation, the friends left the severely wounded Rayan with the elderly woman and continued onwards, in order to get themselves to safety somewhere else.
Eleonora was horror-struck by the sheer number of bloody wounds on Rayan’s back. When she began to clean them with gentle movements, tears were streaming down her cheeks. Even in the unlikely event that Rayan was physically strong enough to survive this torture, he would be blemished and severely scarred for the rest of his life, not to mention any of the mental consequences.
2014 – Prison of Dubai – The break-out
Colonel Abboud’s people called it a day.
A few hours of steaming in his own sweat would not be bad for the prisoner. They would eventually succeed in breaking him anyway. Tomorrow was another day and after the announcement that His Excellency was leaving the city early in the morning, despite all the events, they now had all the time in the world.
Therefore they put Ashraf in a cell, which was more of a stinking hole than anything else. However, it failed to distress Ashraf, who was happy about the only thing he needed: a small window, or, in this case, rather a narrow slit.
Immediately he took off his clothes and hung them out of this tiny window. It took him some time to hang them up, as it was high above the ground, but after some effort, half of it climbing, half of it just throwing, he managed to do so. This was the sign for Ali that he was inside the cell now and showed him exactly where to find him.
Ashraf’s body ached in several places from the rough handling by the policemen, but that was a side-effect he could live with, it would heal soon enough; and in case he did not succeed in getting away from here quickly, his health would not be worth anything anymore anyway.
He just hoped that his cousin would keep to the agreement. Surely he had heard as well, that the assassination had failed? After all, Ali had ears everywhere.
When it was past midnight, Ashraf was in a state of severe depression. Then, to his relief, he heard the agreed whistle. It was the nicest sound he had ever heard. Happily he replied to the whistle in the same manner.
He expected to hear some explosion or something abnormal; instead, he just heard the dangling sound of some keys and then a flickering light could be seen in the hallway that led to the cell. With a torch in his hand