Dan Fesperman - Layover in Dubai

“So you’ve said.”

“Because it’s true. And he is under a great deal of pressure in his work. Even before they threw him into prison I was worried for him.”

“He tells you about his work?”

She laughed.

“He’d never tell me, or even my mother. But I hear things. I am a night owl, like him, and sometimes when he goes into his office, very late, I am still roaming the hallways like a ghost. So I hear him on his cell phone, plotting things out.”

“You spy on him, is that what you’re saying?”

She shrugged again.

“Maybe if I didn’t have a curfew, I wouldn’t be there to listen. So in that way he is getting what he deserves. But this case, the one about your friend, I think it is part of something much larger. He has even been to the palace to talk about it.”

“About Charlie?”

“Long before that. A few months ago he went to Sheikh Mohammed’s weekly majlis and asked for a personal audience.”

“You can do that, just show up at the ruler’s weekly audience?”

“Oh, yes. Hundreds of people do. They complain about everything. The lots the government gave them. The traffic in their neighborhood. And like a fool, Sheikh Mohammed actually listens.”

“Did he listen to your father?”

“All I know is that a week later my father met with some cabinet minister, and has been chatting on the phone with him late at night ever since. It’s about other policemen, I think. Bad ones, and the criminals they’re working with. So I’ve been scared for him, and that’s how I knew to be scared for you. And, well, it’s not as if I had anything else to do this evening.”

He was flattered, even honored, by her concern. It was wonderful. In fact, between his warm feelings about Laleh and the lingering effects of the halothane, Sam had achieved a floating bliss akin to mild drunkenness, leaving his inhibitions at a minimum. As he looked intently at Laleh’s face, he knew exactly how her lips would taste, a moist blend of salt and lip gloss, soft underneath. If she had been any other young woman he would have kissed her then and there. But even in his altered state he remained aware of the distance between their ways of doing things. He never would have presumed to touch her, as he had done moments ago.

That made it all the more powerful when Laleh made the first move, by taking his hand into hers and enfolding their fingers. Her eyes told him she was aware she was crossing a chasm, with many perils below. He sensed this even as her face leaned close enough for him to smell her lipstick. The anti-Nanette, he thought. Someone I could happily be brave for.

Such thoughts made for a somewhat solemn first kiss, a little tentative, with passions held in check. The second one lasted longer and ranged further afield, stirring him at a level he was more accustomed to in these situations. She then retreated slightly, as if to take stock.

“I am afraid that the only practice I’ve had at this is from watching movies,” she said softly. “Forgive my awkwardness.”

“You’re doing wonderfully.”

He was touched by the thought of her watching movies from the end of her bed, studying a passionate scene from an American film as if it were a manual of love. And in a way, this was new for him as well. Never before had he kissed a woman who thought of him first and foremost as someone who had survived against all odds, a risk taker in a foreign land. With Laleh, he was someone altogether different from the careful young auditor.

They kissed again, the best one yet. His right hand found the open space at the bottom of her blouse at the small of her back, and he slid it up her spine. She followed suit, pressing closer, skin to skin, their sighs on identical wavelengths. Her left hand slid across his thigh, and then the telephone rang.

It was her cell. She primly disengaged and sat upright, blinking fast. She smoothed back her hair and drew a deep breath before answering.

“Hello. Father?” She blushed and switched to Arabic, but even through the indecipherable rush of words Sam could tell she was flustered and trying to improvise. After a minute or two she calmed down. Then she turned toward him, handing over the phone with a solemn expression.

“He wants to speak with you.”

Sam took the phone, expecting the worst. He hadn’t felt this way since he was seventeen, when he had walked shakily to the door to pick up his date for the senior prom. He cleared his throat.

“This is Keller.”

“Please assure me, Mr. Keller, that nothing improper has happened between you and my daughter.”

“Nothing improper has happened, I assure you.”

“By your standards or mine?”

“By anyone’s standards.”

“Not anyone’s, Mr. Keller. In some Muslim families she would already be a scarlet woman just by occupying the same room with you-uncovered, no less, and at this low hour of the night. It also disturbs me that you are beginning to lie almost as skillfully as my sons, especially when I have come to regard you as a decent and honest man. Perhaps I should simply stop asking questions for which I really do not want to know the answer.”

“I, uh, don’t know what to say to that.”

“To business, then. Laleh told me what happened to you at the camp. I have not fared much better. So from now on we’re going to have to operate differently. More like spies, or undercover men. We will stay low to the ground and keep our exposure to a minimum. I am not sure yet where we will be staying, but it will not be at my house. Can you handle that? Or shall I have Ali drive you to the airport and put you aboard a private jet for, say, Canada, or some other neutral location, to work things out for yourself?”

“I can handle it.”

“Very well. Meet me later this morning, then, ten o’clock at Ibn Battuta Mall. It will not be safe for you to take a taxi, so unfortunately Laleh will have to bring you, much as I hate to involve her further. Ali will bring me, and we will meet inside the mall. It is the only way I will be able to tell if one of us is being followed.”

“Won’t it be too crowded for that?”

“Obviously you have never been to Ibn Battuta Mall. Beautiful place, but no one goes there.”

“Ten o’clock, then.”

“Park near the entrance to the Egyptian pavilion. Laleh will know. Bring her phone with you and tell her to wait in the car. Call me after you have entered the mall. I will be waiting inside. And Mr. Keller?”

“Yes?”

“I would like for you and Laleh to please leave her office building now. Drive around if you have to. Even eat breakfast if you must, but only if you are seated at separate tables. Do not risk any further temptations by remaining alone in an empty office. Understood?”

“Very clearly.”

“Now if I may please speak to my daughter again.”

“Of course.”

The father-daughter conversation lasted a few moments longer. Her tone was no longer flustered, but by the time she hung up, the earlier spell between her and Sam was broken. She smoothed her clothes and cleared her throat.

“I told him you had only regained consciousness a few moments ago. I don’t think he believed me, even though he wanted to. Apparently he’s not in much better shape. He said someone had hit him on the head.”

“Where is he?”

“On the way to Ali’s house. Ali refuses to let him work until he has had more rest and something to eat. That’s why he set your appointment for ten. I’m supposed to drive you there, but he didn’t tell me where you were meeting.”

“Some mall. Ibn Battuta.”

She smiled.

“Of course. Malls are his touchstone, his home turf.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Well, at least it’s convenient. Only a few minutes away. That leaves us plenty of time for breakfast.”