Riyadh, Sahara Airport Hotel, Friday, 19:10
This is a work of fiction.
Any resemblance to actual events or to real persons, dead or alive is, naturally, strictly coincidental
37
Riyadh, Sahara Airport Hotel
Friday, 19:10
It was just after 7pm and Lara’s phone-alarm woke her up from her sleep. It took her a while to get to sleep after Peter called her with the news — she wasn’t one to take afternoon naps, but she was tired, so tired. And she was worried: will they actually make it out of here this time? Will they get on the plane? And what about Daniel? What will happen to him? Will she ever find out?
All these questions spun in her head like laboratory mice on a wheel. She turned the light on and stared at the ceiling. Her head felt so heavy she could hardly lift it off the pillow, but it was time to get up.
She splashed her face with cold water at the sink, then showered and brushed her teeth. Her bag was already packed, she just had to put her pyjamas and wash-bag inside and zip it up. She headed downstairs at eight twenty-five. Peter was already waiting in the lobby.
“You look like you didn’t get much sleep,” he said.
“I didn’t.”
“Too many thoughts?” he asked sympathetically.
Lara nodded. She checked out, and headed to the taxi Peter had called for them. Lara sat in the back and Peter sat next to the driver. She had become so used to this strange arrangement by now, it almost felt normal.
It was dark by now but the many city-lights gave it a surreal glow; Riyadh now almost looked like London or New York in the dark. Lara wondered whether she would ever return here. Probably not, she thought, and she was surprised to feel regret. It was like another planet and, as such, there was something magical about it. Not that she would want to live here, hidden behind a veil for the rest of her life, reluctant to walk the streets on her own. But it was magical nevertheless, in some weird, distorted way.
They arrived at King Khalid International Airport just before nine and walked inside the terminal building. It was nearly empty.
They saw a group of thirty or forty people waiting a short distance away and could hear them talking loudly in English. They approached the group.
A short, bulky man walked around with a list in his hand. He looked in charge.
“Excuse me,” said Peter. “I am Peter Westfall from the World Health Organization. This is my colleague, Lara Williams. I believe we are joining you for a flight to Washington.”
The man looked at his list and ticked two names.
“You are the WHO people,” he said. “I am Martin Grey, from the consular section. Glad you could make it.”
He turned to Lara.
“You are Ms Williams?”
“Yes,” said Lara. She was relieved to be able to finally take charge and speak for herself.
“Good. There are some others who will arrive shortly, but we can proceed to the gate. We have a chartered plane waiting for us, so there should be no lengthy procedures.”
“Thank you for getting us out of here,” said Peter.
“My pleasure,” said the man, and looked as though he meant it.
Lara examined the group and noticed it was composed mainly of women and children. There were very few men, probably businessmen, carrying their laptops or nervously typing text messages into their phones.
“Have you ever been evacuated before?” the man asked Lara. She shook her head.
“It’ll be fun, you’ll see,” he said and laughed at what must have been a private joke.
They proceeded through passport control, where they formed an orderly line. Two grumpy-looking men examined each passport carefully, and reluctantly stamped them.
Lara held her breath when she handed her passport to the Saudi official. He held her light-blue UN passport back to front, then turned it the right way round. He carefully examined every page, then looked at Lara and said something in Arabic to his colleague. Lara felt blood rushing to her cheeks.
The man looked at her again, then looked down at the passport, stamped it and handed it back to her. Lara felt as if she was about to faint.
She took the passport and stumbled away, following the group. Peter’s passport was stamped quickly and he joined her within a couple of minutes.
“You okay?” he asked. “You look as if you’re about to be sick.”
“I am,” said Lara, and dashed into the nearby toilets. She barely made it to one of the cabins before throwing into the toilet. She stood up, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, rinsed her face and washed her hands at the sink. She stared at her face in the mirror, and could barely recognize the pale creature that stared back at her. What was wrong with her? Why did she feel so faint, so stressed?
She then left the bathrooms and rushed out, to find Peter waiting for her.
“You don’t look so great,” he said. “Let’s go straight to the departure gate.”
The others started through the gate, getting ready to board the chartered Airbus.
Lara leaned onto Peter as they walked through the long corridor and into the plane. An air-hostess welcomed them inside and the two pilots stood in the front galley to greet their passengers.
“Welcome back to the U.S.,” said one of them to Lara, mistaking her for an American. Lara barely managed a smile.
“Nice to be here,” said Peter, who followed right behind her.
The spacious Airbus was mostly empty, the thirty-something passengers spaced out between the mostly-empty rows.
Lara chose an empty row and landed on her seat with a thump, her legs finally giving in. Peter occupied the row right behind her, and stashed their luggage in the overhead compartment.
Lara looked forward to a long, peaceful rest as soon as the plane took off. She was feeling better already.
“It looks like we might actually make it out of here this time”, she said to Peter who fastened his seatbelt in the seat behind her. She could hear him chuckle.
“Good morning, everyone. We are just waiting for one last passenger and we’ll be on our way,” said the flight-manager on the PA system.
Lara cracked her fingers nervously. She then touched the chain around her neck, with Carmel’s crystal. She took a deep breath. It seemed to calm her down.
“Crew, please close the doors, we are ready for take-off,” said the pilot over the PA system. Lara saw a tall man advancing along the narrow aisle, looking for a free row. She nearly stopped breathing.
The tall man was Daniel.
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