Zahra cleared her throat. “We’re looking for a friend.”
“No! No more friends!” the local snapped, turning and staring at her.
“Hang on, hang on…” Zahra lifted a hand up in defense. “He doesn’t need a ride, or anything. We’re just… looking for him, that’s all.”
He calmed and faced the road.
“Can you think of anywhere an out-of-towner would go?” Rabia asked. Her voice was steady and in control.
“If you came for the nightlife, you came to the wrong place.”
“What’s the right place?” she asked. “Somewhere that will have a lot of people?”
The driver didn’t answer.
“He’s not really into nightlife, per se,” Zahra continued. “But he did get into some… trouble.”
The driver swallowed.
“Please,” Zahra said. “We’re just trying to prevent more trouble. Last we heard, he was heading in this direction. Is there somewhere busy? Like a shopping center?”
“The Big House.”
“The Big House?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yes. There is a big event there today.”
“Can you take us there?” Zahra asked.
“Yes.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “I hope to sell my goats there today.”
Chapter 87
Zahra
The trek through the Bahariya Oasis wasn’t a long one, but it took longer than she would have liked. The roads weren’t in great shape, and neither was Zahra’s mode of transportation. She felt terrible for the boys in the back. She and Rabia held back their commentary every time their driver hit a divot in the ground. The shockwave pounded Zahra’s lower back. She imagined the truck bed looking like the inside of a clothes dryer, albeit one with goats and goat shit inside.
Zahra wasn’t looking forward to smelling her associates — not that she smelled of roses, either. Right now, she couldn’t tell whether it was her own body odor she smelled, or Rabia’s, or even the local’s stink.
Probably all three, she thought. Even riding with the windows down did very little to satisfy their need for fresh air.
Zahra leaned forward and peered up at the structure at the summit of the property.
“Geez, you weren’t kidding.”
The Big House was enormous and stood out against everything they had seen so far in Bawiti. The surrounding area was made up of, mostly, farms and shops with a dusting of modern industry.
“How many rooms do you think it has?”
Rabia shrugged.
Zahra repeated the question in Arabic.
“Forty-nine,” the driver replied.
They rode in silence the rest of the way. Two minutes later, the local pulled off and announced that this was where they would be getting out. Zahra thanked him for his help, and she and Rabia waved their goodbyes. Ali, Elyas, and Tajj did not acknowledge the local in any way. They were too busy rubbing their aching backs and asses.
Zahra curled her nose.
“Don’t say a word!” Ali stopped her with a pointed finger.
She and Rabia shared a look, but neither one of them laughed. It wasn’t their fault they now smelled like a barn. She knew that if the situation was reversed, Ali would have kept his mouth shut too.
As the local pulled away, the baby goat popped his head up and bleated at Zahra. She smiled and waved, getting a second bleat out of him.
“You make friends fast,” Rabia said, stepping up next to her.
“Yea.” She sighed. “Enemies too.”
The group headed into the throng of tents and stands. The market seemed to be part of a bigger celebration, and from the looks of it, these people weren’t leaving anytime soon.
“What is all this?” Rabia asked, getting the attention of a nearby vendor.
“We celebrate!” the man shouted.
Zahra looked around. “What are you celebrating?”
“The day the first owners of Big House died.”
That wasn’t what Zahra was expecting to hear. “And that’s worthy of celebrating?”
“Yes,” the vendor replied. “They were very bad people.”
And with that, he turned to a group of patrons, holding up his wears.
Zahra’s front pocket buzzed. She removed the device and saw a number she didn’t recognize.
“Um, hello?”
“Zahra?”
She knew the voice in an instant. “Baahir!” Zahra’s hand went to her mouth, and her eyes welled with tears. “Thank God!” Zahra yelled, grabbing Rabia’s shoulder and stopping her. The sniper waved for Ali and the others to do the same. “Where are you?”
The response came back immediately. “Turn around.”
Chapter 88
Zahra
Zahra spun on a dime and frantically looked around. She saw a lone, unmoving individual gazing at her from only one-hundred feet from where she was standing. Without looking away, she ended the call and pocketed her phone. She moved off, walking slowly, at first. The crowd was thickest here. She shoved through, unapologetically, keying in on one thing and one thing only.
Her brother.
Baahir matched her stride for stride. Soon, the siblings were speed-walking, then sprinting toward one another. At the very last moment, an elderly couple walked out in front of them, making the pair skid awkwardly to a halt. Once they had safely passed them, Zahra threw herself in Baahir’s arms, and sobbed uncontrollably.
Baahir whispered to her. “It’s okay, Zahra, I’m here. I’m fine.” They separated, and Zahra wiped her eyes as he continued. “They told me you were dead.”
“She should be,” Rabia said, coming up behind Zahra. “This one has a death wish, for sure.”
Baahir grinned. “Zahra has always been a little reckless… yet here she is — alive and well.” He took in the state of his big sister. “Maybe not so well, huh?”
Zahra laughed softly, nodding. “I’ve been better.”
Baahir slipped his arm around Zahra’s shoulder. “Who are your friends?”
She ticked off the names of her companions one at a time. “This is Rabia, and the two big guys are Elyas and Tajj.”
“And him?” Baahir asked, tipping her chin at the third man.
He held out his hand. “I am Ali Badawi.” Baahir shook it. “You may know my father.”
“Wally?”
Ali nodded. “Yes, but no one here calls him that.”
“Speaking of fathers…” Baahir said.
“Dad is fine,” Zahra replied. “He’s in Port Said with Wally.”
“He’s here?”
“He is, though it wasn’t by choice.” Baahir went to say something but was stopped by Zahra. “We’ll catch up on all that in a second.”
“Baahir?”
A stunning, dark-skinned woman approached Zahra’s brother from behind. She wasn’t at all happy with the attention she was getting. Whoever she was, she seemed to know Baahir.
“Everyone, this is Durah.” He held out his phone and gave it to the woman. It was easy to see that the device belonged to her and not Baahir. “She helped me escape — hid me from Ajmal.”
“Ajmal?” Rabia asked, tensing as she gripped her bag. “Is he still here?”
Baahir shook his head. “I don’t think so. That doesn’t mean he isn’t still close by, though.”
“We need to take care,” Ali said, looking around. “He’s a very dangerous man.”
“Tell me about it,” Baahir said, scratching his head. He winced when he touched some unseen wound.
Durah eyed Zahra. “What your brother tells me, it is true?”
“I’m afraid so, yes.”