Well fed in a room with a real bed, instead of the streets or a vehicle, made Brian feel a new level of calm. A shower sounded wonderful. He picked up his messenger bag and went into the bathroom for a shower. He locked the door put the bag as close to the shower as he could. Every minute or so he would peek out of the shower to make sure the door wasn’t open or his bag disturbed. Who was this woman? Watching the way she handled her attacker, the police and the stress made him think she was one of the bad Bond girls or the girl with knives for feet in Kingsman. It never crossed his mind that desperation and sheer determination combined with a little luck made her look better than she really was. He took a short shower nevertheless.
He stepped out of the shower and brushed his teeth. He had very few possessions. 1 T-shirt and a 2nd pair of boxers. He changed and washed everything else quickly. He went outside and put out his clothes to dry on the small balcony.
Amina was thinking along the same lines he was. He was powerfully built. She felt confident about her looks, so she was not surprised that he did not fight her when she forced them to kiss. She smiled as she thought to herself, what man on earth wouldn’t want to be kissed by a beautiful woman of mystery such as I. She was both teasing and encouraging herself. What kind of man was able to kill not one but two of her husband’s guards. She knew how Hasan had constructed his security team. Most were part time or even college-aged kids that looked good in the blue tunic and turban. Then there were a group of bank grade guards and retired military or policemen that worked for him because he paid better than the banks. Then there were the elites. Six or eight, she wasn’t sure, that were serious men. Battle hardened in one form or another. He killed 2 of the latter.
She killed a third. She justified her actions as being in self defense. But it was not skill. Any woman will rack a man, when attacked, given the opportunity and panic. If, if, she suddenly realized that she did not know his name. She was about to get totally naked, in a confined space, protected by nothing more than a hotel bathroom door, from a man who had killed two of Hasan’s best guards and she doesn’t even know his name.
She began to feel sorry for herself and weep. How did she let it go this far? She examined her life closely. All those men. Did she really do it for the money? Was she that shallow? Was she so weak that she could not have told her husband No! His words, from years ago, still stung in her ears and heart. “You don’t go to temple, you don’t pray, you’re a whore in your own house but your draw the line at short evening gowns? Hypocrite!” But she did pray. And if Allah is all knowing and all seeing did she really have to go to the mosque to be seen by Him? Betrayed and spied on by two of her servants whom she trusted. She knew at least one was having sex with her husband maybe both.
“I’m a terrible judge of character. I could be totally wrong about this man too. I could step into that bathroom disrobe and get into the shower. Seconds later, with very little effort, he could break down the door or twist off the knob and rape and kill me. All her money and jewels would be there on the counter, it would be profitable for him.”
When Brian opened the door, he saw the tears streaming down her face. Maybe she wasn’t “Black Widow.”
You look stressed.
I’ve never been attacked. And now I have to trust a man I don’t even know. About that, what is your name?
I’m Brian. Brian Baxter. I’m sorry you had to go through that. I cannot imagine what you’re going through. You’ll feel much better after a shower. You won’t have to worry about me. If I were going to attack you I would do it right here and now. The bed is much better than a cramped shower.
At that moment he stomped his foot towards and yelled “Boo!”.
She leaped to her feet and screamed.
His face held the goofiest looking grin. Then he began to laugh and apologize. The laughter made the apology seem so insincere. But the laughter was totally genuine.
I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. I had to find a way to lighten the mood.
Like bullets from a machine gun, came a string of syllablse dripping with anger. He was clueless whether they were Arabic or French or a language he didn’t know at all. He still laughed
Stop it!
I’m trying. I promise. I’m trying.
He forced the laughter to stop. Then wiped the smile off his face with his hand. He looked at her arched eyebrows and mouth taught with anger. The whites of her eyes were showing. And he started to smile again, then bust out laughing.
Another string of angry syllables came flying. She grabbed her leather purse, hit him with the strap on the way by and slammed the bathroom door shut. He could still hear her swearing.
She went through the tedious process of unpacking herself. Carefully and quietly laying out the cash and the jewelry. Despite the heat, and the left over steam from Brian’s shower, she shuddered at the thought of what would happen if he were to break in right and take her cache. With or without Brian she was going to meet up with whom she believed to be her one true love. Or is he her second love? There was a time when she did not believe she could love anyone more than Hasan. He was a peaceful man. By that she did not mean that he was passive. On the soccer field or in classroom or on the debating floor he was quiet competitive, even aggressive. He lived with the grace of a leopard. No wasted movement or emotion or thought. He knew the sweat of hard physical labor and was not afraid of it or ashamed of it. He indulged himself in it. When it came time to study he worked it like a physical job. He is a smart man but not brilliant. But the intensity and focus of his studying made him look brilliant. People believed he was and treated him accordingly. It was this focus that scared her most. He had thought ahead and sent a man to Tangier to find her.
Back at the airport she knew she had to get rid of her phone. He walked by a group of young men totally enthralled in their laptops. Nerds she thought. She walked up to the one she thought was the nerdiest looking, wearing a black Einstein t-shirt and shaggy hair that hadn’t been combed in years.
I need some cash do you want to buy my iPhone.
The man looked up from his computer, slightly annoyed, but intimidated that such a pretty woman would talk to him. He was the timid sort and shook his head and stuttered out a no.
Really?
He just shook his head again.
Damian, your such a third derivative, said a young man, about the same age but looking much better groomed. How much do you want lady?
She wasn’t sure how she felt being called “lady”. She wasn’t more than 7 or 8 years older than he. 125 euros
100 euros
I really need 125. And we both know how much it really costs.
Yes, but I don’t know if it’s stolen or damaged.
Take a look. She drew the security pattern on the phone, pretending to hide it, so he could check it out.
He ran through a couple of apps. Hit the lock button and handed it back to her.
100 euros
120 euros
100 euros
She fumed and stamped her foot. Then said fine. He reached for his wallet. She pulled a pin out of her purse and ejected the SIM. Phone and money changed hands.
As she walked away she made a dramatic gesture of throwing the SIM in a nearby ash tray. And she kept walking. About 40 feet away, she turned slightly. Her bet had paid off. He waited a bit then leaped to his feet and retrieved the SIM. He was reinserting it as she turned the corner. The night before she had deleted anything of value. From the internet she downloaded a few suggestive selfies by a woman that looked similar enough to her. They enjoyed the free internet and international calling. They called friends in 5 or 6 European countries and Japan.
She hadn’t changed outfits yet, so the boys all remembered her in all black, but fashionable full coverage robes. Later that night, one of the guards broke into the house the boys stayed at and pummeled the well dressed boy to get the truth of where he got the phone.
What did she look like, foreign dog?
Medium height, pretty face, long black hair, dark robes.
Lying foreigner.
Here, here’s her selfie. He handed the phone to the bully while clutching his stomach and nursing his lip.
The man looked at him. Slapped him hard enough to send him to the floor and left. He took the phone with him.
Amina had considered that they might try to track her through her phone. But she did not think of the treatment the buyer of her phone might receive. Would she have acted differently if she had known?
She finished her shower and burdened herself again with her treasure trove. When she came out she found Brian already in bed, asleep on his side facing the wall. His clothes were drying on the balcony and his bag was underneath the pillow. She could see that he had one hand on the strap. He did not trust her. Were her journals in that bag. Her tickets to freedom were so close, just within reach. She could use the lamp and bludgeon his head, take the journals and leave. A tear began to form. Was she becoming as evil as her husband? She chose to think about completing her escape and the happy future that awaited her. She laid down, facing away from him and started to pray. Asleep in two minutes.
Frugal Pilgrim 