Shadow on the Wall: Superhero | Magical Realism Novels (The SandStorm Chronicles | Magical Realism Books Book 1) (18 page)

Fahri had called in the attack, but no one ever came to investigate. None of the RTK patrol cars arrived to take the poor woman to the hospital, and soon the central office told him to stop calling. This attack was not going to be investigated.

After countless attempts to reason with the woman, explaining that he would not hurt her, Fahri covered her with his uniform jacket and forcibly picked her up, enduring her flailing arms and scratching nails. He carried her the entire two miles to the hospital. Eventually she gave up her fight and wept against his neck.

Stepping into the hospital was like returning to a waking nightmare. This was the same waiting room where he had sat while his sister was examined; the same florescent lights blinded his eyes as he called out for someone to help him with his burden. But he would have walked another two miles before abandoning this woman in the street. If The SandStorm hadn't helped Sabiha she'd have been raped or worse. Now he had a turn to pay his due.

As soon as they saw him, the nurses swarmed and ushered him into a small room away from the main treatment rooms. A heavyset
muslimah
with a puckered mouth was the first to speak.

"Did you do this?" she accused as soon as the woman was out of his arms.

The other nurses ignored his scratched face and bustled about the room, getting an IV into the girl's arm and checking her vitals.

"No!" Fahri exclaimed, guilt flooding his features because he knew it wasn't unreasonable to think an RTK officer had done such a thing. "I was patrolling downtown and I found her. She was screaming. I carried her here."

The woman took a moment to evaluate his words and manner before further puckering her mouth, nodding, and walking out.

Fahri moved awkwardly out from under the remaining nurses' feet. They went about their business as the violated woman cried softly. Finally, out of options of places to stand, he sat in one of a pair of stiff plastic chairs pushed against the wall and studied the tile on the floor. His presence in the room with the injured woman in this state of undress was improper, but he couldn't leave her. He wouldn't leave her alone. She may be a stranger, but until her family arrived he was all she had.

Soon the heavyset woman and another nurse rushed in.

"Assalaamu alum, Sister," the new nurse said, standing at the end of the bed. Fahri risked a look up and noticed that the other nurses were leaving the three of them alone. When the crying victim did not speak, the only sound she was capable of making a soft whimpering, the nurse turned her attention to Fahri.

"Assalaamu alum."

"Walaikum as salaam," he replied, his eyes on the foot of the bed of the crying woman.

"My name is Maryam Al-Gamdi," she began. "I'm going to need to examine this woman. The more you can tell me about what happened the easier it's going to be for me to help her."

Fahri nodded, bringing his eyes to Maryam's.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Fahri Kaya, lieutenant in the RTK, Third Division, Lion Team."

"Fahri?"

"Yes," he confirmed, confusion knitting his brow together as she studied him.

"Do you know this woman?"

"No, I found her while I was on patrol."

"What is her name?" Maryam continued, keeping all inflection and assumption out of her voice.

"I don't know. She . . . she was already like this when I found her."

"Has she spoken to you at all?"

"No, she screamed a lot and scratched me."

Fahri turned his face so Maryam could see where the woman had lashed out when he'd picked her up to take her to the hospital.

"She hasn't said anything about who she is or what happened," he continued.

"Lieutenant Kaya, did you hurt this woman?" Maryam tilted her head to the side as she asked the question, an expectant look on her face.

"Allahu Akbar, no!"

Fahri stood up to pace, but finding the room too small, he sat down again, his legs bouncing in their need for movement.

"I didn't think so."

Maryam sat down next to him before whispering, barely loud enough for him to hear: "I believe we have a mutual friend. The man who rescued your sister—you spoke to him, did you not?"

Pouring over the lines of an accounts-payable audit trail report, Ali Kalkan sipped his tea. He had printed everything out; thousands of pages sat in piles around him. Osman Enterprises was supposed to be a "paperless" corporation, but Ali preferred doing things the old fashioned way. He could write in the margins and mark pages to revisit and investigate further.

Ali was making progress. Seven of the thirteen unaccounted-for ledger entries could be tracked back to foreign accounts: one in the United States, three in Iraq, two in Britain, and one in Pakistan. The accounts were set up on different days in different names, but they all siphoned the same percentage off of the interest-bearing annuity.

Four billion dollars had been drawn off of the main accounts through complex channels. Small amounts transferred between internal accounts, replenishing balances, offsetting expenses. All with justified account details. But each time it happened, the amount deposited was slightly less than the amount transferred. Unremarkable discrepancies occurring over the past four years throughout all of the company's accounts: checking, operational, investment, savings.

Eventually he had found it. Each transfer included an automatic internal wire to an account in Nigeria. When Ali compared the wire history to the transaction detail, he found the pattern. Now all he had to do was find who owned the foreign account.

Ali enjoyed the hunt, the cat-and-mouse of forensic accounting Now that he was making headway his own arrogance fueled him on. Two plus two equaled four, except when it didn't. The possible reasons for the shortfall were infinite, and tracking down the missing data invigorated Ali in a way he hadn't felt in years.

Ali turned back to his computer. An alert he had placed on the account for any new wire transfers had been sent to his email. He allowed the transfer to go through, but delayed it, having the bank contact the Nigerian asset manager receiving the funds. Sifting through the raw data supplied by the bank, each line adding color and dimension to the overall picture, Ali's eyes strained.

The answer was here. He went through it again and again until hidden within lines of code he found the detail he had been looking for: an automatic router to a domestic account. Now he had the numbers he needed to find who had been stealing from the Osmans.

The phone in his pocket vibrated and then rang with the tone of an old fashioned phone.

"Hello?"

"Bey Kalkan"? The voice on the other end of the phone inquired.

"Yes, who is this?" Ali replied.

"This is Maryam Al-Gamdi. I am a nurse at Dunya Hastanesi."

"How can I help you Beyan Al-Gamdi?" Ali asked, nervousness gripping his spine.

"I'm afraid your daughter Aysel, has been in an accident, and we need you to come down to the hospital." Ali heard this stranger say.

He stood up. The rolling chair he had been sitting in slid back into the wall behind him.

"Is she alright? May I speak with her?"

"Yes, she is fine. She's having some tests done now and may have some broken ribs, but she will recover with no problems. What she really needs now is for someone to come be with her."

"Of course, my wife will be there as soon as I call her," Ali agreed, feeling some relief.

"Bey Kalkan, I'm afraid that in this case we need you to come down and sign her out," the voice belonging to the nurse calmly stated.

"Why?"

There were few things his wife couldn't do in his stead. Ali's brow beaded with sweat despite the powerful air conditioner that cooled his home. What could have happened that would require him to go down personally?

"If it's possible, it would be best for you to come to the hospital, and I will explain everything when you get here. Your daughter will be fine, but she needs her family with her."

"But my wife cannot be the one to bring her home?" Ali insisted, refusing to give in to what he knew.

"No."

"So a male family member needs to come down and sign her paperwork, is that what you are telling me?" Ali insisted.

"In this case, yes, we need you to come down to the hospital."

"What kind of accident did you say she was in?"

"She wasn't badly injured…" the nurse's voice faltered in Ali's ear.

"Beyan, I'm sorry for being rude, but I asked you a question. I expect you to answer."

Ali paced, moving around his room without an intended destination. Instinct told him to rush out of the house and pull his daughter into his arms. But something held him back; something about the nurse's tone frightened him to his core.

"Your daughter was attacked," was her curt reply.

Ali stilled. The room froze around him as fear curled around his heart.

 "Was she… Beyan, can you tell me what kind of attack it was?"

"The kind she'll recover from. But we need you to come down to the hospital."

"Is her . . . ? Was she . . . ? What I mean to ask is… is her honor intact?" Ali forced himself to ask.

"Your daughter has done nothing wrong."

"Was she raped?" he demanded, tired of running around in circles with the woman on the phone.

"Bey, you should just come down to the hospital."

"Was she raped?!"

"Yes."

The phone line was silent, but Ali heard the tension on the other end. He loved his daughter, more than words could express. But he held the responsibility to protect himself, his family, and his other daughters from this shame. With a tear of regret in his eye Ali hung up the phone.

The wave broke around his legs as he stared up at the stars. The constellations were familiar but in the wrong places in the sky, as if they had all been pulled along as the sun set. It was a night with no moon, but the stars shone brightly, reflecting off of the tide, whispering their secrets to those who would listen.

Recai dove into the next wave, allowing the cool water to rush over his body.

Coming up for air he found himself farther out than he expected, surrounded by nothing but water. The coastline had faded into the distance, and it was just Recai and the expansive nothingness. The water rippled around him, the starlight twinkling above.