No More Lonely Nights (13 page)

Dominique felt the man’s eyes on her. It made her flesh crawl. But she kept her gaze straight ahead on the third policeman, who had so far remained silent. He was clean-shaven, with blunt, Germanic features. Dominique thought he must be of mixed blood, for his hair was red. Though there was nothing sharp about his features, his sly expression and his red hair reminded her of a fox.

From behind Dominique, the gold-toothed one, who seemed in charge, addressed the women’s escort in a gruff voice. “They’re loaded. Jewels, furs, everything.”

He wandered back in the direction of the table, but not before taking a detour to circle Dominique like a farmer inspecting a prize heifer. As he drew near, Dominique’s spine stiffened. What gave him the confidence to treat them so arrogantly? What did he have planned for them? She knew they had discovered nothing wrong with their baggage, so he had to be bluffing. Taking out his anti-European sentiment on them. He was just a sadistic bully, Dominique concluded, and the best way to deal with bullies was to stand up to them. She turned to face the man squarely. “What is it you want?” she asked icily.

The man leered at Dominique and walked over to one of her trunks. He dipped his hand in and picked up a pink silk camisole. He held it to his nose and, with an exaggerated look of appreciation, inhaled the Chanel No. 5 that wafted up from it.

Dominique’s head whipped in Solange’s direction, expecting to see outrage on her mother’s autocratic features, but Solange seemed paralyzed with shock, her eyes fixed on the gold-toothed man. What was wrong with her? Why didn’t she object?

Solange’s inaction galvanized Dominique. She stalked toward the policeman and snatched the garment from his dirty hand. “You’ve no right!” she spat.

Solange drew in her breath sharply. The plump man winced. Fox-face, who had not spoken, gave Dominique a dangerous look. The gold-toothed man reacted as though she had slapped him. His expression darkened frighteningly. Dominique involuntarily bit her lip and took a step back, suddenly afraid
he
would hit
her.
But his reaction chilled her more than if he had shown anger.

Ever so slowly, as though he were savoring each move, the man reached for the garment in her hand. His eyes locked onto Dominique’s as he gave the camisole a tug. Dominique was dumbstruck. Her fingers offered no resistance as the silk slipped away. The policeman’s black eyes remained fixed on Dominique’s. She wanted to avert her gaze, but was afraid to. She felt, irrationally, that if she kept her eyes on him, he would eventually back down. He was just trying to scare them. He would let them go when he grew tired of the game.

But the game didn’t seem to tire him at all. He lifted the filmy camisole and held it to his chest with both hands. Then with a motion so deliberate that it appeared to be in slow motion, he pulled each half in opposite directions. There was the pop of a seam, then the high-pitched sound of the material being torn in two.

Solange made a noise of distress, but Dominique kept her eyes on the man in front of her. He crushed the two pieces of material in one hand, then held his balled fist in front of Dominique’s face.

Dominique jumped back. The look of hatred on his features was like a physical assault. This was much, much more than a game to him!

With a broad, angry sweep of his arm, he threw the silky pieces of cloth at her feet. Dominique recoiled as one of them slithered over her shoe like a snake.

The policeman gave her a malicious smile that bared his gold tooth. He looked like a jackal, Dominique thought, a grinning jackal. Without turning from her, he reached behind him and snapped his fingers. He barked a one-word command and his companion handed him another silky garment from Dominique’s trunk. Gold-tooth held it up in front of him like a magician about to do a handkerchief trick, then he put one end of the fine cloth between his teeth. His lips curled into a snarl as he jerked his head one way, his hand the other, and tore it in half, like an animal savaging its prey.

Dominique’s mouth went completely dry as she watched the evil glint in his eye grow brighter. Her throat was so tight she felt that if she tried to speak, she would choke.

The policeman took a step toward Dominique.

She stepped back. She felt clammy all over. Clammy with terror and stifling heat.

With an exaggeratedly casual gait, Gold-tooth continued to saunter forward as Dominique backed away. Until she felt the wall stop her with a thud. Her whole body shook as she plastered herself against it. She wished she might disappear through it, like a ghost. Never had she felt such menace directed toward her.

Gold-tooth lifted his hands and placed them palm down on the wall on either side of her head. Dominique was surrounded by the rancid smell of his sweat. His filthy breath, a mixture of cheap tobacco, garlic, and unwashed teeth, assaulted her. It crept into her nostrils, her mouth, and her eyes like a noxious vapor. The room started to spin around her. Her knees trembled so wildly that she was sure she would collapse. But she was filled with horror at the thought of being unconscious and helpless in front of these men.

“Leave my daughter alone!” Solange’s voice, shrill with fear, resounded in the little room.

Gold-tooth whirled about in fury and shouted in Arabic at the other two men. “Arrest her!” he cried. The eyes of the plump one widened in fear. He looked indecisively from the leader to Solange. But the other, more arrogant man briskly moved toward Solange, withdrawing his handcuffs from his belt as he approached her.

As Dominique saw Fox-face reach for Solange with his grimy hands, a hot surge of outrage doused her fear. Inflamed beyond reason, she rushed past Gold-tooth. She shoved the second man as he was about to clamp the handcuffs on the struggling Solange. “Leave my mother alone!”

Fox-face lost his balance and fell back against the table. He uttered an oath of pain as his elbow caught the edge, and he tumbled to the floor in an undignified heap, the handcuffs clattering down beside him.

For a moment, the room was dead silent. Then Fox-face scrambled to his feet and started toward Dominique. Gold-tooth jerked his arm back. The red-haired one looked at him, then at Dominique. Through clenched teeth, he said, “She can’t get away with that!”

Dominique, panting, glared at each soldier in turn. None of them moved. But the hostility that radiated from them was heart-stopping. How would she and Solange ever escape now! Dominique’s mind tried to make sense of the panic rising in her, but before she could compose her thoughts, Gold-tooth spoke.

“So… you like to fight…” He smiled and said in a pleasant tone to Fox-face, “Give me the handcuffs, Mustafa.”

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with!” The words spilled desperately out of Dominique. “We’re very good friends with the deputy minister. He’ll punish you for this!” Her voice rose shrilly, bordering on hysteria.

Fox-face sniffed with disbelief. “Hah…” Then his eyes brightened with a lascivious gleam. “They say you French make the best whores,” he jeered, as he cast a conspiratorial look at his comrade.

The more timid of the three injected in a worried voice, “Amir, maybe we shouldn’t—”

“Shut up!” boomed Gold-tooth without taking his eyes off Dominique.

The little man fell silent.

“The handcuffs, Mustafa.” The leader snapped his fingers impatiently. Fox-face dropped the metal objects into his hands.

Dominique was transfixed. With horrified fascination, she saw the policeman start to move toward her, his partner close behind.

“Don’t come near me!” Dominique cried in a voice so strident that the two men stopped in their tracks.

For an instant, she felt that reason might somehow prevail. She tried to control the twitch of fear on her face. “On what grounds do you propose to arrest us?” she demanded with bravado. Her tongue was so thick that, like a drunk, she had to concentrate in order to enunciate clearly. She tried to pronounce each letter as though it were a word unto itself.

Gold-tooth sniffed in derision, obviously unaffected by her performance. “Those jewels and furs. You’re taking far more than your allotted currency limit out of this country if you count their value.”

“But no one does!” Solange leaped from her chair. “They’re our personal belongings. We’re allowed to take what we like!”

Dominique’s eyes shifted back and forth as she followed the exchange. She was petrified at the thought of the cash she had stuffed into her brassiere. Her breath came in short ragged gasps. She sensed catastrophe and wanted to bolt. But, of course, there was no place that was safe. She felt like an animal in a trap.

As if reading her thoughts, Gold-tooth turned to Dominique. She held her breath as she tried to gauge his expression. Fixing his gaze on Dominique’s breasts, he said to Solange, “Your daughter is very beautiful.”

Dominique froze. She stared straight ahead, no longer daring to meet the policeman’s eyes. She wanted to dissolve into the filthy floor, out of sight of the men. If they touched her, she would lose her grip on reality. She would scream and scream and—But no! Stay calm. It was her only chance. “Leave me alone!” she said roughly.

That only fueled Gold-tooth. Dominique heard him take a step closer to her. Once more, she could smell his unbathed body. Combined with the heat of the room, it made her gag. But she didn’t dare show it. Didn’t dare do anything.

Like a vulture circling the dead, Fox-face joined his companion, circling Dominique as he exhaled a terrifying chuckle. The policemen’s movements were slow, unhurried, clearly savoring Dominique’s debasement.

Dominique kept her head steadfastly down, refusing to meet their gaze, but she could feel their excitement growing. It vibrated through the room. Gold-tooth stopped directly in front of Dominique. Her heart pounded through her chest. She knew the policeman could smell her fear.

“Mustafa,” he said, his voice low but nonchalant, “hold the mother. I don’t want any trouble from her.”

Dominique’s head shot up. Her eyes met Solange’s. Solange opened her mouth, then closed it. Her eyes were huge with dread as Fox-face approached her.

Dominique cringed as he came to stand behind her mother. But all he did was place his hands on Solange’s shoulders. “Don’t move,” he commanded. And somehow, his calm, the absence of the handcuffs or any other object of force, were more frightening than any previous action. It was as though the policemen knew they didn’t need force because they could do what they pleased to the women and suffer no consequences.

Dominique swallowed and looked back down at the floor. She had to think of a way to escape this nightmare! But how?

And then she saw a hand enter her field of vision—the hand of the gold-toothed policeman. As though she were watching a cobra, Dominique stood immobile, her gaze fixed on the hand. Ever so slowly, the man extended his fingers and clawed a handful of her skirt. She saw him lift the flimsy cloth.

She jerked back, but the policeman was quicker. He roughly grasped her wrist and yanked her arm toward the pair of open handcuffs.

Blind panic surged through Dominique. Her limbs struck out uncontrollably, flailing in every direction. Her legs struck flesh, wood, plaster. Her fists rained down on the man. Then she was slammed against the wall. A rough hand reached up her skirt and grabbed hold of her leg. She heard her stockings tear and, without knowing what she did, she threw her knee straight up, hitting bone so hard that she thought she had shattered her kneecap. She screamed with pain and collapsed to the floor. She was vaguely aware of the room in chaos. Of khaki uniforms converging on her. Of Solange’s screams, and objects flying, scraping, slamming.

Then she felt Gold-tooth’s weight grind her into the floor. In revulsion, her body heaved up against his, trying to dislodge him, but he was too strong. She frantically turned her head, searching for escape. She saw the feet of Solange and another policeman caught in a struggle. And she saw the handcuffs, there, just beyond her reach. She heard Gold-tooth take off his belt and unfasten his slacks. And then his hand grasped his member.

Now was her chance! With every bit of strength she could muster, she arched her back, then released her limbs like a rubber band. They swung upward in unison, throwing the man off balance. She scrambled away from him and reached for the handcuffs. She was almost there, her hands touching, but not grasping the metal.

Then arms circled her waist in a grip of iron. She lost her hold on the handcuffs, but kicked behind her like a mule.

“Aaagh! You whore!” she heard him scream behind her.

She wriggled across the dirty floor and grasped the handcuffs. But as soon as her hands closed on them, a foot crushed her wrist. She looked into Fox-face’s eyes as he smirked down at her. Like a cheetah, she lunged forward and sank her teeth into his ankle. He doubled over in anguish and Dominique’s wrist, hurt but not broken, came free. Without looking behind her, she swung the handcuffs wildly. Metal hit flesh. A cry. Blood splattered over her arm and onto the floor. She turned and looked behind her.

Gold-tooth lay writhing on the floor, his hand clutched over his left eye, blood pouring between his fingers.

“You put out his eye!” screamed Fox-face. The plump one ran to Gold-tooth and pulled his hand from his face to see the injury.

Dominique crouched in the middle of the floor like a mad woman, swinging the handcuffs in a circle around her head.

Solange, her face bloodless, was backed into a corner clutching her torn clothes about her.

Gold-tooth, still on his back, whimpered. His flaccid penis lay inert on his thigh. Fox-face ran to his side and knelt beside him.

Dominique rose on trembling legs. Her whole body shook uncontrollably. Afraid to take her eyes off the policemen, she blindly reached for the wall behind her. She didn’t have the strength to stand on her own. Her left hand made contact with the hard surface, while in her right she still clutched the handcuffs. Like a person trapped on a narrow ledge, she cautiously inched her way toward her mother, all the while keeping her eyes fixed on her attackers.