Indira Jackson - Rayan - Son of the Desert

And then came the first bad news: the jet had had a technical defect so the Sheikh had to change to a regular flight, full of tourists. What a disaster!

Consequently, it was necessary to change the whole ceremony from the rear part of the airport, which was reserved for private jets, into the main part, which was completely exposed. From a security point of view, it was a nightmare. Additionally, on top of the assassination that had led to the death of one of the Sheikh’s men (and not just anyone, so he heard), one of his officers had reported to him a minute ago that the perpetrator had gotten away.

A break-out? In the middle of the night – just like that? Out of the city’s prison?

What made the situation even worse was that his men had not succeeded in getting a single word out of him, in spite of hours of interrogation yesterday. He knew his men had no conscience about abusing a prisoner a little bit harder if he asked for it. Ashraf had obviously been one of the tougher ones.

That scumbag! He would put him in his place eventually. This was his city and he estimated it would take no more than three days until the man would be in his grasp again. He already knew that the cousin – a small fat merchant named Ali – had been part of the game. He was going to find him as well. Soon.

He was just relieved that His Excellency had departed already. He was the last person he needed in his company right now. Just the thought that he would have had to report to him this bad news gave him the creeps.

But the good news was, that by the time he saw the Sheikh again, all would be resolved. Both men would be securely somewhere deep down in the basement of his prison. He was absolutely sure of that.

At that moment he could not even begin to know, that he was absolutely right about the time frame of three days before getting back the perpetrator. Only he had imagined it to be completely different.

When Ali was found later that day with a cut throat, the Colonel began to have a hunch that there was something very unusual about their break-out.

Sheikh Sedat Suekran had followed the tracks of the fugitives until the hut of Eleonora and Youssef. It had not been too difficult. It had been his idea to open the gate for the rebels.

It had been his hope to find the settlement without bloodshed. And it had worked.

The threat of the gallows and having to watch what his men had done to Rayan had put the seven people into a state of panic. Some of them had fled directly to the location without hesitation.

He and his men just had to wait until morning and follow their tracks: the runaways had only partly bothered to try to wipe their tracks away. The lack of leadership was evident.

Sedat was surprised not to find Rayan along with them, but then it became clear to him that it had been too far to carry an unconscious person.

He quickly came to the same conclusion, like Sachra the night before: the house of Eleonora and Youssef was much nearer.

Although the rebels were taken completely by surprise, it had taken Sedat’s men some time to conquer the settlement. Subsequently it was almost nightfall when Sedat reached the grandparents hut.

He found Eleonora, drenched in tears at the table of the small room. “I tried everything, but it was too late”, she said repeatedly.

Suddenly she jumped to her feet, pointed her skinny forefinger at him and yelled: "You are the one who killed him! You should die of shame – you … monster! You killer!“

Her harsh reaction took Sedat by surprise as he could not grasp at first, what she was talking about. However, after a few seconds he went pale as he finally understood – and hurried outside.

About a hundred meters away from the house he found Youssef, who had just finished putting earth onto a freshly dug grave. Affectionately he arranged a vase with flowers on top of the little hill. There were also tears streaming down his face.

When Sedat reached the grave, Youssef just looked at him with desperation: "I really do hope he has finally found some peace, next to his mother“, and he pointed at the other grave, right beside them. The reminder was not necessary for Sedat.

He was very well aware that this place was the last resting place of his beloved wife Miriam, Rayan’s mother, who had died giving birth to his second son Daoud at the age of just 32.

The childbirth had been difficult and Daoud had lacked oxygen for too long, which was why he was mentally handicapped.

As a result, all his hopes had been set on his first-born Rayan, who now lay in this grave, along with all his plans for the future. Sobbing for the first time in decades he fell to his knees right in front of the grave.

Carina did not suspect anything about the events that had happened during the night at the prison of Dubai.

After waking up that morning, she had allowed herself the luxury of clinging onto her dreams for a little while longer.

Then she had decided, full of energy that she was going to visit this lawyer. What could he do besides throwing her out?

In her most dreadful fantasies she saw an angry lawyer calling her boss in Munich, or even suing the publishing house. Then she told herself off for being silly, although she could not prevent some of the doubt from staying somewhere in the back of her mind.

The hotel in which she stayed was located in the center, very near the famous spice market. She decided, therefore, to start the day on foot.

As was usual for her, she plunged full of enthusiasm into the turmoil of the Arab world. All the odours and colours; the stand’s of the merchants; the exotic fruits and dishes – all this had fascinated her since she had been to an Arab country as a child with her parents.

As often as possible she went on vacation to the Arabian Peninsula. She was even able to speak some words, which she was very proud of, but she was far away from handling a conversation.

Even the importunity of the Arab men did not bother her: they liked it only too much to talk to a good-looking blond woman with green eyes and they invited her to all kind of things. She used to friendly but firmly refuse all their offers. For the more offensive men she used to wear a ring, pretending it was a wedding band. This helped a lot. However, she only realised now for the first time, that she had never been all alone in Arabia. Normally her boyfriend or at least some other girl had been with her. Well, wasn’t that going to be fun?

For a short moment she thought about her boyfriend Stephan, who also lived in Munich. Or rather: ex-boyfriend. He had shown no understanding at all about her going on this journey, telling her scornfully that she would come running back to him after one week. What an arrogant, self-adoring egocentric!

It seemed that despite being a couple for two years, he still did not know her very well. Even if the trip went horribly wrong, Carina was far too proud to go back to Stephan of all people.

She would prefer to go begging in the streets of Munich.

She was pleased that she never gave in to him urging her to move in with him. She still had her little apartment in Munich, her own realm, and also her job, so she was independent.

She forced these thoughts away. She was in Dubai, in the middle of an adventure and Munich – as well as Stephan - were far away!

Instead she made herself look at all the products the merchants were trying to sell. She took her time to move along the narrow gaps between the stands. Strangely enough, she was hardly spoken to and, unusually, bothered less than normal.

“Well, maybe I am now past the interesting age?”, she thought. With a critical gaze she stopped in front of a mirror at one of the stands at the bazaar. In spite of not normally being vain at all, she was content with what she saw: