Black Book of Arabia by Hend Al Qassemi Page A

alternatively, if someone from the detective’s family or one of her acquaintances came to know about it?
    Convinced by my demeanor, the consistency of my answers, and the overwhelming amount of evidence I presented, the detectives agreed to help me. They advised me to tell the blackmailer that I would go ahead with his plan, just as he demanded.
    My father was not informed of the details of what was happening; he only knew that I had received threats and that Hamdan was nowhere to be found. However, my mother and elder sister knew and feared for my safety and sanity. I informed my mother of what Al Ameen had said and she was in the car waiting outside the Mirage Hotel in Dubai where I had agreed to meet the blackmailer. I brought a suitcase packed with cash, as promised. What he did not know was that the police were everywhere dressed as civilians, laughing, chatting, and doing what people in a hotel normally do. They were going to tail us and step in as he received the money, capturing him and, hopefully, his accomplices.
    Fearing a trap, the blackmailer told me to follow him to another location. He was smart, but I had done my homework. I had been cornered and tortured, and I was genuinely frightened. My fingers would not stop twitching. I informed the police of what was happening through the bug they placed on my earring. When I asked why they put it there, they casually said it was in case I had to leave mycar or my bag, or if my clothes were removed. This practical consideration terrified me.
    I drove behind the man who had taunted and terrorized me, following his black Range Rover in my blue-tinted Bentley. The police followed at a distance to avoid detection. I smiled inside to think that the hunter was walking into a trap of his own making. The end could not come soon enough. I was finally going to be released from this prison of madness. I wanted nothing to do with this pack of animals.
    He pulled his Range Rover into the Grosvenor House hotel. My cheeks were wet with tears. I was crying out of hope that the nightmare would soon end and out of fear that it might not. I kept my hands on the steering wheel the whole way, afraid that wiping my face would cause the car to swerve in a way that would raise his suspicions. From the way he kept glancing in his rearview mirror and making turn after unnecessary turn, I sensed he was jittery. I struggled to control myself. As I stepped out of the car with my suitcase filled with cash, I covered my face. I did not want him to see that I had been crying, even if it was from relief.
    I walked into the hotel and saw him. He was a tall, handsome man with a cheeky goatee. He was wearing dark glasses even though it was 8 pm. In his white thobe he looked to me like Lucifer. I had so much fear and hatred for this cruel man that I did not know how to act. My legs froze, and I just stood there, staring at him. Finally he crossed the lobby to collect me, grabbing my hand anddragging me with him. In the elevator he thanked me for covering my face, so no one would recognize me with him. Then he laughed and said, “If you haven’t brought enough money, I can always uncover your face and make my millions.”
    â€œWhy . . . why are you doing this? I never did anything to you.” I could not imagine how much ugliness resided in him. “Is Hamdan here? Does he know what’s going on? Please take your money and disappear. Please.”
    The lift arrived at his floor too soon. My calm was replaced with panic.
    Shaking from fear, I was dragged along behind him. I shot furtive glances up and down the halls, hoping to spot a police officer. Something was wrong. Where were the police? When we got to the room, I refused to go in. Something was amiss. The past few nights of little sleep were taking a toll on my strength and reason. There were no police. What if this madman raped me and the police showed up afterwards? What if he captured it on video? I would rather