Kingdom of Strangers (35 page)

“What about the men?” Katya said. “Do you recognize any of them?”

“No, not at all.”

“I need to find their names. Do you think Sabria kept that information somewhere?”

Rizal shook her head. “I know she kept
nothing
that would tie her to the blackmail. She was extremely careful. She never wrote anything down. Everything she kept was on that website.”

“There was only video on the site,” Katya said.

“I know!” Rizal was beginning to sound stressed. “I wish I could do something, but I don’t know anything!”

“All right,” Katya said firmly. “Maybe you don’t know their names, but I bet you know other things. Sabria must have talked about the men at some point. Even if she didn’t tell you the particulars, she might have mentioned some generalities. Try to relax and think back. Did she ever say how she found out about the men in the first place? For example, did she know them personally?”

“No, no, she never met them. She only knew the women involved.”

“And aside from Jessica, how did she meet the women?”

“At Sitteen, like I said before.”

“What did she tell you about them?”

Rizal looked up at the ceiling with a pained expression. “She talked about the fact that they’d been raped. That they were
being
raped on a regular basis by their employers, and that’s why they’d run away to Sitteen.”

“How did she get the videos from the women if they’d already run away?”

“She found the employers and…” Rizal took a breath, shut her eyes and crossed herself. “I guess you could say she sent in an undercover operative.”

Katya was stunned into a moment of silence. “You mean that she sent women
back
to these employers, and these women knew up front that they were going to be raped?”

“No,” Rizal said. “She sent a
new
woman into a household where an employer was known to be a rapist. I know it’s horrible. They went in just to get the video footage.”

“Okay,” Katya said. “So Jessica was one of those operatives.”

“I didn’t know that,” Rizal said breathlessly. “But yes, I guess so.”

“These women—what did they get out of it?”

“Sabria paid them. She gave each of them one payment—a big chunk of money from the blackmail. I don’t know how much exactly. She also promised to help them get out of the country, and in most cases that was better than the money. But these women, I think they also did it to help other women. To punish the men. All of the money Sabria was making from the blackmail went to help other girls get out of the country.”

“How?”

“They bought forged documents. They bribed officials….”

Katya nodded. “So Sabria knew where the men lived, and she knew how to get a housemaid into each of their homes. She must have had some connections to do that.”

“I don’t know all the details,” Rizal said. “She worked with a company that placed housemaids, but I don’t know what it was called and I’m pretty sure the company didn’t have any idea what she was doing. I just know that Sabria could do any damn thing she set her mind to. She was like that.”

“Do you remember any details about the men?”

Rizal shook her head.

“Think back. There must have been something. It doesn’t have to be specific; maybe just a vague memory…?”

“Yeah, okay,” Rizal said in a shaky voice. “I remember something about a vacation home. One of the guys had a home in Egypt. I don’t know if he was the same one who also went hunting. One of them was big on hunting. He kept guns.”

“Do you remember what he hunted?”

“No. I think he went bird hunting.”

“Okay.” Katya sat back. “This is helpful, and you know more than you think.”

“It’s all vague,” Rizal said. “I don’t know the details. When
she was telling me this, all I really cared about was getting out of here—I wasn’t really paying attention. And she didn’t tell me names. God, she didn’t even tell me about Jessica’s being involved. She probably thought it would upset me.”

“This Jessica—” Katya said.

“Houbara!” Rizal said suddenly. “That was the kind of bird that guy used to hunt.” Katya wrote this down. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more than that.”

“That’s fine. This Jessica, where is she now?”

Rizal let out a shaky breath and gave her directions to a house in al-Andalus. “The house has a big garden in the front, that’s how you can tell which one it is. Sabria talked about going there. I almost died when she told me. I promised myself that one of the first things I’m going to do when I get out of here is go to that house and find Jessica.” She handed Katya her phone and smiled a little. “She’s going to cry when she sees my son.”

A
l-Saqr al-Jazeera was a falconry-supply store at the southern end of Falasteen Street. The large store glowed a sandy desert brown in the streetlights. It was Wednesday evening. Katya and Nayir sat talking in the Land Rover, gazing at the windowless building and waiting for
isha’
prayer to end. A local mosque’s loudspeaker was just calling out the
adhan
, so it would be a good fifteen minutes before the store was allowed to reopen. They weren’t sure that it would. No sign was posted about the hours and it was possible it had closed for the weekend.

Rise up for prayer. Rise up for salvation. God is great
.

They had already gone to the apartment of Sabria’s friend Jessica. If anyone could help them identify the men from the rape videos, it would be her. But she wasn’t home. They had waited for an hour and no one had come or gone from the apartment. Katya felt bad making Nayir wait longer.

It had been his idea to come here. While sitting in the car, she had told him about the houbara bustard. She knew it was illegal to hunt the birds, but according to Rizal, one of their suspects had been doing just that. Nayir said the falconry-supply store might be able to help them track down a poacher.

He pointed out that it was still quite common among a certain well-to-do crowd to hunt bustard the old-fashioned way: with a falcon. It was the prey of choice for any falconer, and although the bustard population had been decimated by overhunting, he knew of wealthy sheikhs and businessmen who imported bustards to be
released on private hunting grounds for the purpose of practicing traditional falconry. It was not technically illegal, since they imported the quarry themselves from Pakistan and disposed of it on private property. The royal family, who hunted their own bustards in Pakistan on holiday every year, certainly weren’t going to punish those few privileged citizens who were practicing one of the country’s most ancient traditions. In their view, falconry was a revered, almost holy activity whose extinction would be as much a disaster as that of the bustard’s.

Katya suspected that the men they were looking for were wealthy. They wouldn’t have been worth blackmailing if they weren’t. She had brought still shots of the two unidentified men from the videos, hoping to show them to Jessica. But perhaps Nayir was right and someone at the local falconry store would recognize them.

“They even have their own passports,” Nayir was saying.

“Falcons?”

“Yes. Some of them are worth more than half a million riyals. Their owners travel with them and want them to be safe.”

“That’s crazy. Don’t all those princes have their own jets? It’s not like they’re sending their birds through customs.”

“I suppose some of them do.” Nayir’s eyes were gleaming with an amusement she rarely saw, and she was struck again with the jealous thought that the things that really pleased him were all part of a man’s world.

“In fact, a good friend of mine makes monthly trips to Abu Dhabi,” he went on. “They have the best falcon hospital in the world there, and even a four-star hotel for the birds.”

She let out a snort. “Well, why hunt bustard when you can have caviar and champagne?”

“Bustard flesh is considered an extraordinary aphrodisiac. Men have hunted it for that explicit purpose for six thousand years.”

The jealousy was shape-shifting into a kind of yearning. She
couldn’t believe how casually he’d used the word
aphrodisiac
and she imagined that in conversation with men, Nayir became a very different person. She wished she could see him totally at ease more often.

“Don’t you think they hunted the bustard for so long because it is one of the only birds that can survive in the desert?” she asked. “It’s not like they have a hundred birds to choose from.”

He smiled. “Well,” he said slowly, “my personal feeling is that the bustard is mostly prized for its behavior.”

“What is that?”

“It has an arsenal of keen self-defense maneuvers.”

“Such as?”

“When it sees the falcon coming, the first thing it does is spread its wings and raise its tail. It’s a pretty big bird—probably three times as big as a falcon—and with its wings out, it’s even more intimidating. If the falcon still comes at it, the bustard takes off and flies straight into the sun, so the falcon gets blinded. If that still doesn’t work, the bustard ejects the contents of its intestines, which is an immediate deterrent.”

Katya smiled. “So the hunters like watching the spectacle, then?”

“Yes; in fact, they’ll always give the bustard a head start. It’s more interesting that way.”

“Have you done it before?”

“Yes, I’ve been hunting.” The amusement left his face, and for the first time he seemed sad. “It’s a beautiful thing, and too bad we can’t do it the way it’s supposed to be done anymore.”

A car pulled into the parking spot beside them and two men got out. One of them opened the store. The other was carrying a hooded falcon in a cage. They noticed Nayir and greeted him. Both men spared a quick glance for Katya.

The store owner was a man in his forties whom Nayir did not introduce to Katya. He looked Asian, perhaps Pakistani. He was
too gruff for formalities. “Come in,” he said, “we’ve got to get this bird a new feather.”

The bird was hooded and calm as he was carried into the store. Katya followed Nayir inside.

The interior was large, and the items on offer were too sparse to fill even a quarter of the space. There were hoods, perches, and gloves, a few expensive cages and travel carriers. Behind the counter, a large assortment of telemetry equipment was hanging from the wall. The rest of the store was empty. It took Katya a moment to notice that the area was sectioned off. Behind a cordon, two rows of perches faced each other. It was an aviary.

The men quickly but gently took the bird out of its cage, removed its hood, and laid it on one end of the sales counter. The bird didn’t seem to mind. The owner pulled a bucket labeled
BROWN AND WHITE
from a shelf. It held a dozen feathers. He fished through them until he found one that matched.

“What’s he doing?” Katya whispered.

“The falcon needs all of his feathers to fly correctly. He lost one, so they’re replacing it. I think they’re gluing it on.”

It was clear the men had done this before. The owner talked to Nayir casually while he worked. “What can I do for you this evening, Mr. Sharqi?”

Nayir slid the photos of the two suspects across the counter. “I’m wondering if you recognize these men.”

The owner, who had been leaning over the hawk, straightened up and squinted at the photographs. “Yes, I do know one of them. Why?”

“They may be able to help us find a killer,” Nayir said. Katya was quietly surprised that he had lied, but she could see that he was uncomfortable doing it. The owner seemed not to notice.

“Well, I only recognize one. This man’s name is Hakim al-Adnan,” he said. “He’s a very rich man. Works for the General Investment Authority but lives here in Jeddah. He’s one of these
guys who has his own private jet. Not the kind you want to mess with.”

He had pointed to the photograph of the man who raped Jessica.

“I work with the police,” Katya said. The Pakistani gave her a dour look, which made her think he was yet another righteous stickler, but he seemed to be listening. “This visit is off the record,” she went on. “I could always go down to the station, but we’re in a bit of a rush. Do you happen to have an address for Mr. al-Adnan? We just need to ask him some questions.”

The Pakistani blinked a few times and nodded. He turned back to the falcon and finished setting in the new feather. Then he wiped his hands before disappearing into a back room. Katya checked Nayir’s expression. It was neutral.

The owner emerged a few minutes later. “He doesn’t keep a credit card on file with us, and he’s never requested a mail order, so I have no address for him.”

“Does he hunt often?” Katya asked.

“Oh yes, every winter.”

“Do you have any idea where he hunts?”

“I know he owns a place up near Taïf. I went up there once. I could draw you a map if you like. Otherwise, you can probably find him online.”

Back in the Land Rover, Nayir was thoughtful.

“How far is Taïf ?” Katya asked.

“You want to go there now?”

“Maybe,” she said.

He looked surprised. “It’s nighttime. I’m not sure how much we’ll be able to see. And won’t your father—?”

“I’ll tell him it’s work related.”

“Won’t he think that’s odd, you staying out so late?”

She gave him a direct look. “We’re getting married, remember? He trusts you.”

Nayir turned to look out the window but shook his head. “The Taïf expressway is a dangerous road. We shouldn’t drive it at night. But I’d be happy to take you tomorrow.” He turned back to her. “Right now I think we should see if Jessica is home yet.”

“The man the falconer just identified is the man who raped Jessica. It might not be worth going back there. We already know who the guy…” She trailed off.

“What is it?” he asked.

It had been bothering Katya: it seemed likely that Sabria had been kidnapped at her apartment, but how could one of the blackmail victims have found out where she lived? She wasn’t listed anywhere. Her visa had expired and the address was outdated. According to both Ibrahim and Rizal, she had protected her identity with paranoia. Jessica was the only one who seemed close enough to Sabria to know where she lived. And Jessica had been raped by al-Adnan.