City of Veils (52 page)

To Nayir’s dismay, Osama walked briskly toward the scene.

“Excuse me,” Osama said, flashing his badge. “What’s going on here?”

The
mutawwa
turned to him gratefully. The woman, on the other hand, seemed to regard Osama as another
mutawwa
, and she flew into a fury. She ripped open her shopping bag and dumped out its contents. A pair of brightly colored children’s toys crashed onto the pavement. Then she pulled the shopping bag over her head and shouted, “There! Are you satisfied? Are you?” She turned in a circle, arms outstretched, mimicking a blind man. “Ahmad? Is that you? Can you take your poor mother’s hand and guide her home, since she can’t see a damn thing?” Nearby pedestrians who had stopped to watch the scene were now chuckling. The
mutawwa
was looking angrier every second. “Are you sure you’re Ahmad?” the woman said. “What if you’re only
saying
you’re my son? You see, I can’t tell. You could be anyone!”

Finally losing his cool, the
mutawwa
grabbed the woman’s arm. “You are under arrest,” he said, but the woman lashed out with her fists and everyone stepped back. Her son was looking mortified.

Osama nudged him, and the son took his mother’s arm, whispered something, and began leading her away, not without protest. Halfway down the block, she jerked him to a halt and said something. The boy ran back for the toys. As he collected them, the woman snatched the bag off her head and shouted back, “Filthy
mutawwa!
” The son reached her just in time to drag her away.

Nayir had the impression that the religious policeman would have done much worse to the woman had he not been exposed under Osama’s stern gaze. Osama finally returned his badge to his pocket, still glowering at the
mutawwa
, then motioned for him to leave. Disgruntled but intimidated, the
mutawwa
slunk off, and Osama’s threatening gaze followed him. Osama wore a look of deep disgust, of anger and frustration, that Nayir would never have expected from a cop in this situation. In fact, he had often seen police officers accompanying the
mutaween
on their rounds.

“This
isn’t
Riyadh,” Osama muttered once the man was out of sight.

Nayir’s thoughts preoccupied him as they walked into the hospital. Osama was clearly not strict about the law. Not that this surprised Nayir exactly, but it seemed unusual that in the handful of times Nayir had been around Osama, the latter had twice gone out of his way to intervene in a dispute, and both times he had made a decision that went against the law. Nayir felt an uneasy combination of admiration and dismay. He agreed with Osama’s decisions, but he didn’t like to condone the breaking of religious law. This may not have been Riyadh, but it wasn’t America either.

On the ward, Osama spoke to a nurse about Miriam, and the reminder of Nayir’s reason for being there made him cringe inwardly. How could he justify his disapproval of Katya’s relationship with her boss when here he was, visiting Miriam? When he had driven around the city with her, alone? When he had taken her to his uncle’s house and spent an evening with her that—he had to admit it—he had enjoyed. Katya would have every right to be angry at
him
.

Osama left him alone in Miriam’s room. Nayir sat down quietly next to the bed, glancing furtively at the door despite himself. Even in sleep Miriam looked anxious, her brow furrowed, the edges of her mouth turned down. Her face and hands were spotted with tiny cuts, but nothing that looked serious. When she woke, would the sight of him trigger her worst memories of the desert? Things she was trying to forget? He had an instinct to leave while he still had the chance, but the thought of her waking up alone, looking around for comfort and finding none, filled him with sadness. He looked at her hand. An ugly purple bruise circled her wrist where she’d been bound. The hand looked so vulnerable draped over the side of the bed that he wanted to hold it, squeeze it, but he satisfied himself with drawing the coverlet over her shoulders and arms, and shutting his eyes to pray.

N
ayir tapped on the door. No one responded, so reluctantly he pressed the bell. A second later, he heard scuffling and the door opened, revealing Ayman’s youthful, somewhat goofy face.

“Oh, hey!” he said. “Come on in. Katya’s here. So’s my uncle.”

Relieved to hear this, Nayir let Ayman escort him to the men’s sitting room, where he perched himself on the edge of a sofa and waited for Ayman to summon Katya’s father.

Five minutes later there was a tap on the door, and Ayman came in looking exasperated. “You’d better come in. Abu-monkey is out.”

“What did you call him?”

Ayman looked sheepish. “Abu-monkey.”

Nayir stood up, saying as he did so, “You shouldn’t speak ill of your uncle.”

“Well, actually, it’s not my uncle who’s the monkey,” Ayman replied. Nayir was in no mood to debate the finer points of the name. “Abu-monkey.
Father
of the
monkey
,” Ayman said. “
Katya’s
the monkey. She’s being a grouch.”

Nayir paused. “Perhaps I’d better come back later.”

“Perhaps you’d better
not
.” Ayman’s look of warning said
Don’t you dare leave me alone with that woman
.

“I just wanted to give her something,” Nayir said, feeling more anxious. “It’s about a case.”

“Oh. Sure.”

And before he could hand it to Ayman, the boy was off down the hallway. Nayir followed with growing dread. He hadn’t come this far into Katya’s house the last time he was here, and entering now, when she had no warning, seemed the height of rudeness.

She was sitting at a computer in the living room. It was right off the kitchen, and the smell of coffee wafted out of the pass-through. She wasn’t wearing a headscarf and her hair, a deep silky brown, glittered in the light of the table lamp. She was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t turn around, and when she did, he realized why she had hesitated: she was wearing headphones. On the computer screen behind her, a video interview was playing out.

For a moment her expression wavered. “Oh!” She stood up quickly, taking off her headphones and grabbing a red scarf from the desk. She fastened it around her hair, shooting an unpleasant look at Ayman, who was already scurrying out of the room. Obviously, he hadn’t told Katya that he’d be bringing Nayir back with him.

“It’s nice to see you,” she said. “
Ahlan
. Have a seat.” She motioned to a pair of sofas behind him. Despite the hospitable sweep of her arm, he sensed a coldness in her. He didn’t sit down.

“I’m sorry to intrude,” he said.

“You’re not.” But the words were formal, stiff. She was wearing a modest, light gray robe and a pair of old house slippers with fuzzy leopard stripes that somehow delighted him and also managed to make him feel more invasive.

“Please sit,” she said. “Let me get you some coffee.”

“No, thank you,” he said, perhaps too abruptly.

She stood staring at him. Behind her, the computer screen flickered with images of the inside of someone’s home.

“Leila’s video footage,” she said by way of explanation. It was eight o’clock at night but here she was, still working. At any moment her father could walk in.

“I’m glad to see you made it back from the desert,” she said.

He wasn’t sure what to say. It occurred to him that she probably knew why he’d gone out there and what he’d done to save Miriam. She seemed to be expecting an apology of some sort.

“I needed to get away,” he said. She appeared to find this answer inadequate, because her face darkened. “And I was worried about Miriam,” he added.

She didn’t reply.

“I wanted to show you something,” he said quickly. Reaching into his pocket, he removed a computer disc and handed it to her. She took it with an odd expression on her face.

“I got a phone call yesterday from SynTech,” he explained, “the company that Eric Walker used to work for. Do you remember they accused him of stealing surveillance equipment?”

“Yes.”

“They finally managed to track down the missing items,” he said. “They had been stored in a box in the equipment room, but it was hidden behind a bunch of other boxes, so they didn’t see it at first. All the equipment was still inside, and it was working properly. They found this disc wedged beneath one of the flaps at the bottom of the box.”

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“The supplies disappeared when Eric went on leave. That’s why they suspected him. Obviously anyone could have taken the equipment, but whoever did it also brought everything back. They just stuffed it in a box and hid it so that if anyone noticed it was missing, they would later think they had misplaced it and simply overlooked it.

“When Eric’s boss, Mr. Shaw, found the disc, he figured it was a clue to the thief’s identity, and he started asking questions of his staff. He showed them what was on the disc. Nobody knew the slightest thing about it, so he called me, hoping I could shed some light on the subject.”

“And did you?”

“I’m not sure.” He motioned to the computer and they both sat down. Her smell wafted over him and set a hammer banging around in his chest. He stole a glance at her face and saw the excitement in it. However disgruntled she might be at him for running off to the desert after Miriam, he hoped that now she might forgive him.

“Where’s your father?” he asked.

“Having dinner with friends.” She took Leila’s DVD out and slid the new disc into the drive. He noticed that she wasn’t wearing the engagement ring, and it gave him an involuntary flutter of hope.

“Don’t worry,” she added a little coolly. “My father trusts you.”

He was spared having to reply when footage from a video surveillance camera appeared on the computer screen. It showed the inside of what looked like a department store, but it was nighttime and most of the lights were out. Only a few dim lamps at the cash register illuminated the scene. They watched as a man walked into view. Katya clapped a hand to her mouth.

“Do you recognize him?” Nayir asked.

She nodded. The man walked to the cash register, opened it, and removed the cash, stuffing it hastily into a brown zippered bag. Then he went around the store. Because he moved out of the light, it took them a while to see what he was doing, but when he came back toward the register, they saw him snatch a number of clothes items from a rack. He stuffed these into a large trash bag that was already bulging.

“I think it’s lingerie,” Nayir said, trying not to look too flustered. Katya nodded gravely.

“It is,” she said. “That’s the inside of Abdulrahman’s store. He owns a lingerie boutique.”

“I remember,” he said.

She looked at him. “You do?”

It was the kind of detail he wouldn’t be likely to forget, but he wasn’t going to admit it.

“That’s Fuad,” Katya said. “He’s Abdulrahman’s assistant.”

“And he works at the store?”

“Yes.” She looked at Nayir. He could tell she was on the verge of a realization, but her complete and sudden lack of self-consciousness made her startlingly beautiful. Unadorned, sitting here in her house robe, excited by the imminent discovery—she couldn’t have been more glamorous. He fought an insane urge to lean forward and kiss her.

“So Eric must have stolen the equipment for Leila,” she said. “They set up surveillance of Leila’s brother’s store. She must have suspected that someone who worked there was stealing. But then how did this disc end up in the box that Eric returned to his office?”

Nayir had thought of this already. “She probably made a backup copy,” he said. “I think it’s possible she wasn’t going to tell her brother about it, but she was going to take the problem directly to Fuad. That would explain why she would have hidden the disc.”

“You’re saying she was going to blackmail Fuad?”

“What if she confronted him?” Nayir asked. “Do you think Leila’s knowledge of his crimes would be enough motive for him to murder her?”

Slowly, Katya nodded. “It’s possible. Fuad takes his job very seriously. And Abdulrahman is a tyrant. If he’d discovered Fuad stealing, he wouldn’t just have fired him, he would have made sure he was punished…” She trailed off, thinking. “But if Eric knew about this, then why didn’t he do something when Leila went missing? He would have suspected Fuad.”

“He must not have known,” Nayir said. “The disc was in the box, and it was hidden at the bottom. He probably didn’t even look at it.”

“Which means that Leila didn’t tell him about it. She just put the disc in the box for safekeeping?”

“Probably. Let’s say she was going to use it to blackmail Fuad. If Eric knew about the theft and realized later that Abdulrahman hadn’t fired Fuad, he might have suspected her of blackmail.”

“Sure. She didn’t want anyone to know.” Katya fell silent. “And here everyone thought Leila was killed because she was filming prostitutes and interacting with strange men.”

The imam’s words came back to Nayir.
Many women expose themselves to strange men because they are looking for a husband
. However much she had softened toward him in the past five minutes, one thing remained obvious: Katya was devoted to her job. And the thought of asking her to give that up in order to raise children suddenly seemed like the most selfish thing he had ever conceived. But now that he was facing it, now that it was plain she couldn’t be happy in the role of wife, why wasn’t he walking away? Why didn’t he finish the conversation and take his leave?