Welcome to Dubai (The Traveler) (33 page)

The commander nodded, increasingly impressed with the investigator and private counsel. “You know your work well, my friend. And I thank you for saving my life.”

Tariq nodded soberly. “If only I could save everyone.”

Chapter 33

Incensed now himself, Tariq rushed back into the armored truck headquarters where they continued to hold Mohd, and the private investigator and counsel pulled out his pistol to point at the Egyptian’s right eye. His friend Ali was already headed to the hospital, but only to confirm the obvious.

“You tell us what the plans are, right now!” Tariq shouted before the commander and his soldiers could stop him. “Right
now
,” he repeated, “before more people
die
, starting with
you
!”

Mohd refused to even blink while waiting for the bullet to end his life. He repeated the words that he had told Bakar earlier. “I am already dead. And my spirit died long ago with my wife. This is why I have no control over my son.

“What he does now is of his own mind,” Mohd continued. “I can only imagine, like you, what he will do next. And whenever I was able to find anything out, Heru killed them.”

“How much didn’t you come forth to tell the proper authorities then?” the commander asked him.

Mohd breathed deeply and felt guilty. He answered, “He is my son. So I prayed to every god of mankind that he would not go through with this. But Heru became his
own
god, and he would not be denied by his father.”

The commander nodded and pulled Tariq’s gun away. He told Mohd, “You are definitely going to die. But you’re going to die after court in the
Sharia
law. That is the way of the United Arab Emirates.”

“Do what you will with me,” Mohd said. “I only pray that you are able to stop my son with the men that I have planted amongst him.”

Just then, there were new reports from the soldiers that had finally secured the roof of the building:

“The American helped us to find a room full of bombs on the top floor. But he said Heru told him that there are more. So we have no choice but to evacuate the rest of the rooms to find the ones with the bombs in them on the top floors. That is why Heru has spent so much time protecting the top of the building.”

Tariq’s and the commander’s eyes widened with fear. But they refused to panic. They were forced to figure it all out.

“What about the lower floors?” the commander asked his men.

“We found nothing in the rooms and only security men and shipment workers locked up in the basement.”

“Well, continue to look,” the commander ordered. “In the meantime, get rid of Heru! And then we will deal with the lobby.”

When the commander ended his call, he looked at Tariq and asked, “Who is this American? Give us a search using his face.”

“We tried earlier, but nothing came up but his school information. He is a graduate from the University of Louisville, with a double degree in Business and International Studies. And he was kicked off the lacrosse team at Duke for low grades in his freshman year. It also said that his mother, Gabrielle Stevens, was killed in a carjacking incident five year ago and that his best friend was murdered by unknown men in Colombia, South America, in that same year. So, he’s sympathetic to those in tragedy.”

“Yes, but he has nothing of a military history?” the commander questioned.

“Nothing that was reported. It says he owns a record store in downtown Louisville.”

The commander chuckled and said, “This American is a total mystery man. But he has helped us several times today.”

Tariq walked back over to Mohd and asked, “What of these loyal men that you have planted to stop him? Are any of them good enough?”

Mohd breathed deeply again and thought only of Saleem. He had a good feeling about the rugged Pakistani’s potential in warfare. But it was only a hunch. And even Saleem was a long-shot against the determination of his son.

Mohd said, “What of this American tourist? If he was able to speak to my son and live, then he may have a chance.”

“Yeah,” the commander grumbled, “we’ll see.”

*****

As the time approached four o’clock, Basim had parked his car and started to run through the crowded downtown. Despite the Emirates disdain, even the restrictive news stations were beginning to report some of the story. But they were only allowed to call it a “disturbance.” However, Basim thought better of it, and he was not going to wait to find out more, hours later, that it was much worse than what was first reported.

He also thought that he might be ready to send his cousin Ramia back home to Jordan or maybe move to America with her where the culture would be less restrictive and more of her liking. But America and its large urban cities, where the majority of the jobs were, could be dangerous too. Or maybe London could be an alternative.

All of those options crossed Basim’s mind as he continued to run through the crowds for the International Suites. But none of his new ideas would mean anything without Ramia still being alive.

*****

Not only was Ramia still alive, but she continued to help hundreds of others to survive the nightmare in broad daylight.

“We have only twelve floors to go,” she told Johnny on the fifteenth floor of the building as they continued to move their way up after the soldiers secured the safety of each floor.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need the longest full-body massage in the
world
after this,” Johnny complained lightly.

“Yes, but think of all of the beautiful women of the world who love a real hero,” Ramia teased him.

Johnny paused and had a thought. “You want to take a picture of me on my cell phone inside the hallways.”

“No!” Ramia snapped at him candidly. “This is not a time for pictures. So keep your mind on the benefit and welfare of the families that we are helping to escape.”

“Yeah, I know, I know. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Ramia grinned while still thinking and worrying about the mysterious American traveler, Gary Stevens.

*****

Back on the twenty-sixth floor, Gary worked his way down behind a group of new escaping hostages from the top floor, who were mostly the wealthier bigwigs with few children. And as they worked their way down the staircase, Gary noticed that soldiers had captured his ally.

Saleem sat in the floor between three armed men who were still trying to figure out what to do with him.

Gary saw him and went into acting mode. “Hey, that’s my partner, Muhammad. We’re working together.”

The men looked at Saleem and then back at the American.

“He was knocked out while trying to fight with Heru,” one of the men commented. “And he was lucky that we found him when he did. He was well on his way to being murdered. But he told us his name is Saleem, not Muhammad.”

Gary thought fast and said, “Yeah, Saleem Muhammad. He’s probably still a little dizzy, that’s all. We all can forget our last names sometimes.”

Saleem eyed him and was not at all amused.

“And what is your name?” the men asked Gary. They all continued to call him “the American,” even their head commander.

“I’m Gary,” he answered, “Gary Stevens from Louisville. Now let me get my partner back. We work much better together. Did you guys see us in the lobby earlier?”

He was hamming it up to get Saleem out of there. And it took awhile, but it eventually worked.

“You two need to go back down and let us professionals handle this,” a more confident soldier boasted.

Saleem nodded in submission, as if accepting it all, but only until he could walk alone with the American down to the twenty-third floor.

“We need to get back up there and try him again,” Gary whispered. “Maybe you and I both would be able to deal with him.”

Saleem nodded, still massaging his aching forehead. “He’s indeed a tough man to take. And he used my own strength against me, knowing that I could overtake him.”

As they slipped onto the twenty-third floor, Gary asked, “So what’s his weak spot?”

Saleem thought about it and said, “The bombs. That is his ultimate goal here. So he will continue to fight the soldiers to protect them.”

As soon as Saleem said that, powerful gunshots began to ring out at the higher floors of the building again.

“Let’s go,” Saleem said. “You go back up with the soldiers, and I’ll take the opposite stairs.”

Neither one of them had a gun, but with so many dead bodies with guns on the top floors of the building, they didn’t need to carry one. They only had to grab another one from a dead body.

By the time Gary had returned to the twenty-sixth floor, the tough-talking soldier was pulling a knife out of his neck while bleeding profusely.

Jesus! This guy is good!
Gary told himself as he proceeded back into the hallway of the twenty-sixth floor. New dead of the UAE soldiers were everywhere, like plague. Heru was a serious one-man army.

Gary then heard more shooting and soldiers running on the floor above him. Grabbing another assault weapon and a pistol, he ran up the stairs and back to the twenty-seventh floor, where he arrived just in time to catch Heru climbing up into the ceiling.

Gary aimed and shot at him immediately, just missing his foot. Not wanting to chance him getting away again, Gary ran up the hallway after him and continued to shoot, forcing Heru to jump back down from the ceiling and shoot back.

Gary was forced to dive into an open room for safety. But as Heru ran to the opposite end of the hallway to take the staircase back down, Saleem charged through the exit door and cracked him with the butt of his assault weapon.

He now realized that it took too long to aim a heavy rifle inside of a small hallway. And you could never be slow against a man with the speed and anticipation of Heru.

Heru lost his gun from the hit and stated, “You again,” and kicked Saleem in his chest to create distance. But Saleem grabbed on to his right leg, only for Heru to whip around his left leg and send the Pakistani face-first into the wall again. However, Saleem would not let his right leg go.

“Gary!” he screamed down the hall to the American to help him.

Gary jumped back out into the hallway with a gun, aiming to shoot, but knew that he couldn’t fire with so many different changes in their position. He could accidentally shoot Saleem.

“Help me!” Saleem hollered.

Heru tussled with him and finally kicked his foot free while reaching down to grab his second blade from a holster on his ankle. Gary arrived down the hall just in time to distract Heru enough to swing his sharp blade in his direction instead of at Saleem.

“You missed,” Gary teased. “And I’m not dead yet.” He fig ured talking trash might be a way to throw off the Egyptian’s concentration.

“Keep talking so I can hear you moan when I finally cut you,” Heru said.

“Come on and bring it,” Gary challenged him, bouncing on his toes with readiness.

Heru stood between both men in the hallway with his blade in hand, knowing that he could not afford any wide swings. Everything had to be quick and straight, which was more risky with two men who were also good at combat. So he was hesitant to strike, not wanting either man to get an edge on him.

Gary faked a jump forward to try and force a reaction, only for Heru to slice his right arm.

Gary squealed.

Saleem then made his move, only for Heru to whip his blade back around across his face. Saleem dodged it just in time. However, Heru caught his shoulder instead on the downstroke.

“Arrgghh,” Saleem responded. But he remained hesitant to use his own blade out of fear of Heru being better with his.

Gary attempted to strike him with a fast elbow, only to catch the same right of Heru’s blade in his arm.

“AAAHHH!”

“That’s the scream I promised you,” Heru teased him back.

On cue, Saleem decided to pull his own knife and jabbed with three moves that all missed. But Heru was able to slash him across the chest with his move, enough to make him bleed, but not enough to kill or damage any organs.

Frustrated by being too cautious with fear, Gary, in desperation, grabbed Heru’s arm from which he wielded the knife.

“Get him now!” Gary hollered to Saleem.

When Heru went to punch him with his second hand to break free, Gary caught his fist in his palm, holding him two ways for Saleem to strike him. But Heru twisted his nimble body in the air and kicked Saleem’s knife out of his hand, punching it deep into the wall. That forced Saleem into his own act of desperation as he tackled Heru’s lower body to the floor.

Heru then switched hands with his knife, cutting the back of Gary’s wrist and freeing himself in an attempt to bring his blade down on Saleem’s back, but Saleem grabbed Gary’s wrist just before Heru could strike him. Gary helped to pull back Heru’s arm right as another round of UAE soldiers arrived at both sides of the hallway with their guns drawn.

“Wait, don’t shoot! We have him!” Gary screamed.

Saleem wasn’t so sure. He felt that he and the American might have to sacrifice themselves for the greater good of the people. Heru was simply too skilled to be captured alive. But as the armed men closed in on them, Saleem began to believe that they could indeed capture Ra-Heru, the leader of the most memorable labor revolt in the short history of Dubai.

Realizing that the soldiers were closing in on him with nowhere left to go, Heru dropped the knife and punched Gary in the face with his free hand before rolling over, grabbing an assault weapon, firing it recklessly at the soldiers and diving back into the room where the men had taken out the bombs earlier. However, they hadn’t checked under the mattress of the bed in that same room. That’s where Heru had hidden a parachute, which he quickly slipped onto his back before shooting out the window and jumping, all before Gary, Saleem and the soldiers were able to get to him.

“Are you
kidding
me?” Gary commented as he and the others, having arrived in the room just a second late, watched the Egyptian soar from the hotel room with a guided parachute.

Saleem took one of the assault weapons and started firing at him to take him down. But Heru still had the gun with him as well, spinning in their direction to clear them from the window with a stream of bullets.