Indira Jackson - Rayan - Son of the Desert

As he turned around and looked down the street behind him, he could see at a distance of about 100 meters away the burning left-overs of a car.

Full of terror Rayan realised that this was the way that led to the base. It was the path the American soldiers would take after mass to get to the market. The street in which Clara would come along as well. Fear coiled up in his throat and he started to run to the site. As he got nearer he could see that the assassination had been targeted towards a group of Americans. More than one injured man was lying on the ground, moaning full of pain. Others did not move at all.

Some meters away from the car wreck he found Clara. Obviously the body of one of her personal guards had partly saved her from the explosion. The man had been heavy and his hair had been red, as far as was still recognizable. He must have been killed immediately.

Rayan bent his knees downwards and took Clara’s head into his lap. He tried to smooth the shaking sound within his voice and to talk to her reassuringly, but he could see immediately that no doctor would be able to help her anymore. She tried to speak and he brought his ear down so he could understand her. “Yasin – I love you … from the very first moment I have loved you”, she whispered weakly. He forced an agonized smile: “I know! From the very first moment I knew it.” She tried to smile but a last cramp went through her body and then she lay still. Stunned as if under the influence of drugs, he only partly realised that all around him helpers were arriving, who began to extinguish the fire and to attend to the injured. Someone cried loudly for an ambulance. It was like seeing through a dense fog. Rayan had not even cried at the death of his mother when he was just seven years old, but now he was weeping helplessly like a small child, as if all the dams had burst.

For the first time he let his tears run free and he cried for Clara, his mother and his whole damned life.

Hanif slipped into Rayan’s tent. He still could not believe it! This foolish merchant really had let himself be talked into this trip by the woman. He had no idea how to tell the news to His Excellency without causing them all to be caned to death.

"What is it? I think that I made it clear that I do not wish to be disturbed?!“ Rayan’s voice sounded agitated, he was obviously in a bad mood. No wonder, given the fact that he was about to plan an attack. The information that the assassin Ashraf had finally revealed to them pointed at a compatriot from one of the smaller emirs. His name was Khalid Raisuli and he lived in an oasis about three days on horseback north of Alessia. Whether they wanted to or not, the Tarman’s had to answer to the assault, otherwise their Sheikh would lose face.

How he hated all the politics, but it was part of the game. He had to find a way to do this without losing any men during the attack, which was not an easy task.

He was still furious that this – thanks to Allah – unsuccessful assassination attempt on his life had instead cost the life of his friend Ibrahim. He was going to sorely miss him.

Equally, the technical defect on his Learjet had been an omen. And finally, this idea of going back to Alessia on horseback: with the jet it would have been so much faster. However, he had agreed to meet Hanif and some of their riders in Dubai, as Hanif had handed over one of their horses, bred in Zarifa, to one of the Bedouin Princes. It was an absolutely priceless gift for the birth of his firstborn son. As the way back went close to Dubai and Rayan had to check on his businesses there anyway, they had agreed to meet and travel the distance back to Zarifa together. "Please excuse the interruption Your Excellency, I have information about a matter that you have to be aware of.“

Rayan sat up and looked surprised. He had come to know Hanif very well in the last 13 years and valued him and his opinion. When he made it that urgent, it was definitely going to be bad news. This perspective did not help to improve his bad temper. On the contrary, he felt a boiling rage within, which was something he had not felt in quite a while. "Speak!“, he growled at Hanif.

Hanif took a deep breath. He also knew his master well enough to know that he was in a dangerous mood.

With some dark humour he thought: "How do they say it nicely? Don’t shoot the messenger?“, and he sincerely hoped that he would succeed in calming the Sheikh down. Maybe he would see the funny side of this merchant’s story and be amused? But Hanif knew that this was not very likely.

Therefore he kept it as short as possible when he explained in a few sentences that: the woman was here, who had saved his life; and that she had convinced a merchant, with whom they were doing business with in Dubai, one of their allies, to accompany her here. The problem was that the caravan would be going onward tomorrow, even deeper into the desert and to let them turn back alone was an impossible thing to do. When he had finished everything was quiet, as for a while both men did not say a word.

Rayan had turned on a light to see his paperwork for planning within the darkness of the tent. However, it was bright enough for Hanif to realise that the Sheikh had gone pale. His eyes had turned a blue so dark they almost appeared black. Hanif knew these signs all too well and was well aware that his master was now dangerous. Damn!

"Where is this merchant now?“, Rayan asked barely audible. "Within my tent“, Hanif replied.

"Jassim!“, bellowed the Sheikh and half a second later one of the two bodyguards that were on guard in front of his tent appeared. “Bring me that merchant Hatem, who is in Hanif’s tent!“ - Jassim bowed: "Yes sire.“

"I am going to teach that guy a lesson, that he is never going to forget again!“ said the Sheikh grinding his teeth.

"Jassim – Stop! Wait!“, Hanif called out desperately. He needed time to calm Rayan down.

While he said it Hanif turned in the direction of the tent’s exit. He could see that Jassim had become all rigid. He was not used to getting differing orders.

Usually Hanif was his highest superior and even when His Excellency was present, he let Hanif give out the orders. However, in case he himself gave an order, it had to be carried out immediately without hesitation.

So when Hanif turned back to the Sheikh again he realised that he had committed a terrible mistake.

Slowly and in a very low voice Rayan said: “Jassim, would you please wait outside?” Without a word the bodyguard disappeared, almost like he was on the run. On his face you could see that he was glad not to be in Hanif’s position right now.

When the doorbell rang the General himself opened the door. Four weeks had passed since the death of his daughter Clara - four weeks, one day and two hours.

Immediately after receiving the message, he and his wife hurried to the hospital of the base, where Clara’s body had been brought.

He took a last look at his daughter but prevented his wife from doing the same. It had been the most terrible Christmas and New Year’s Eve they had ever had.

He had not seen Yasin once in all that time. Clara’s friend had not even come to her funeral. However, the general was not sure about his tribe’s customs regarding saying a last farewell to the dead and therefore he tried to not blame the boy.

Even in the base no one had seen him since that day and he had not come back to his job as a guide. The responsible sergeant regretted the loss of this particularly able guide a lot, but he was used to having to find replacements from one day to the next. In comparison to other jobs the army paid fairly well and, more importantly, always on time and therefore the positions were sought after a lot.