The First thing Omar Nubbiri felt when he woke up was the sense of rough material against the skin of his face. He couldn’t tell straight away, whether his eyes were closed or opened. It took him a moment to remember, that he was not under the blanket in his hotel room, but kidnapped, or something of that sort. He remembered walking out of a business meeting, when he was hit hard on the head. After that - darkness. And now he woke up with a bag over his head, tied to a chair.
"Is someone there?" Omar tried "Please answer me". Silence.
"Please talk to me. If you went through the trouble of taking me, there must be something you want". Maybe it was a horrible mistake. He has been in Saudi Arabia a number of times and always felt safe. Besides, he was not rich enough to draw attention and not important enough to draw interest. Omar Nubbiri was a successful businessman, one of the young executives for the big trading company in Emirates. He certainly had money, but not enough to be the target for kidnappers. As for the religious or political extremists, why would they be interested in him, he has never been much into politics and was never considered the fanatical type. A good salesman - that’s all he was. Nothing more.
He tried again "That must be some kind of mistake. I'm sure we can work things out if you only talk to me".
‘What if someone just robbed me’ he thought ‘robbed me and left’.
He tried to free himself but without any luck. Finally, when he was sure he was alone, a very unpleasant voice spoke to him: "Should I congratulate you or kill you? Are you a puppet or a warrior of God?"
Omar felt fear rush to his head making him dizzy. This was a mistake, a horrible mistake "I don’t know what you are talking about. My name is…."
The voice cut him off "I know your name, Mr. Nubbiri. In fact, I know a lot about you. Where you live… and your family. Two daughters - Adiva and Ameera. And your beautiful wife Hessa. You have a good life Mr. Nubbiri, a lot to be thankful to Allah for"
Omar felt another wave of fear, much stronger this time, mixed with rage. "You have no business with them, if you are man enough, you’ll talk only to me. Ask your questions and I’ll answer truthfully".
The Voice chuckled in approval "You are a smart man Mr. Nubbiri. Do not worry, I have no intention of visiting your home, there are other methods of persuasion. I was just making a conversation."
"So what do you want of me?"
"To be sure"
"Sure of what?"
"Of who you are"
"You know who I am. You just told me"
"There is no way to tell before you looked into a man’s eyes"
The bag was pulled off Omar’s head and a sudden bright light blinded him. He heard footsteps closing in and then some figure sat in front of him. Omar squinted, trying to make out the face and could not bring his sight to focus. The man sitting in front of him kept quiet. It took some time before Omar could see him. He did not like what he saw. Not one bit.
The skin on the man’s face was grey - the colour of the ashes, his eyes cold and emotionless. There was no remorse or anger in them, just cold curiosity of the scientist looking at the lab rat. ‘It’s the man you can’t reason with or bargain for that matter’ was the first thought that popped into Omar’s mind. Still, he had to try; they might not want to kill him after all. He looked around and saw three men standing behind him motionless, statue-like.
"You are making a big mistake. I am just a businessman. That's all". The man did not respond.
"What do I have to do to prove it to you?" Silence.
"Are you a religious man?" Omar tried a different approach. "I am. And I swear by the name of Allah, I am telling the truth."
"You are not a warrior. You are obviously a puppet." It was the owner of the voice that had been speaking to him earlier "The question is: Are you aware your strings are being pulled? Do you know the puppeteer?"
He took a long look into Omar’s eyes piercing him through. Finally he broke the stare. "I don’t think so". The tone of his voice did not make Omar feel easier. ‘It doesn’t sound like he is going to let me go’.
"Do you know why you are here Mr. Nubbiri?"
"I told you I don’t. Why is it so hard to believe?"
"It is not. In fact, I do believe you. But you are no fool, Mr. Nubbiri. You must have some idea."
"All I know is that you made a mistake and it seems that I am the one who is going to pay for it."
"Unfortunately, you are going to pay for it. But it was not me who made a mistake….. So you can’t think of anything that might be the reason for your present misfortune?"
A sudden flash of memory hit Omar. He remembered that a few days ago one of his business associates introduced him to a factory owner, whose name he could not remember. This owner wanted to hire Omar for a short time, to make a business deal with an American company. Something about resin production. He didn’t think much of it back then, because he hadn’t consider it as a serious proposition. You don’t just come up and propose a business deal to a complete stranger. On top of that, he offered Omar ridiculous amount of money, almost five times more than his annual salary. Thinking back he realized someone was playing him. In any case, telling it to these terrorists, or whoever they were, was hardly a smart thing to do.
"No. I can’t think of anything."
"Now, see" the man shook his finger "your eyes tell me different. They tell me that you remembered something." This was a hard man to fool, even for someone like Omar, who was used to hiding the truth and manipulating people (it was one of his job's descriptions). You can not be a good business man without mastering it. But this man saw right though him. ‘I guess that comes with experience in interrogations’ this was an unsettling thought.
"Ok. All I remember is that I was introduced to some factory owner. I do not remember his name. I've never seen him before."
"And how do you think it is relevant Mr. Nubbiri?"
"I don't know if it’s relevant, but it seems strange to me, that someone I've never heard of came up to me with a very attractive proposition. I am not sure if you're aware of this, but it is not how things are done in the business world. It is almost rude. That is why I found it strange…"
He waited intensely for the man to respond. The man was silent, just looked at him with his cold, snake- like stare. "You asked me what I remembered. I told you. Now why don’t you let me go? I am sure you are not the kind who worries about the police. Besides I don’t know who you are. Your description can fit almost 90 percent of Saudi male population over 50. I am not even Saudi. I don’t think anyone would listen to me".
The man was silent, just kept looking into Omar’s eyes.
"You are not going to let me go, are you?" it was a rhetorical question "And you don’t really care what I am going to say. You've already decided. Your only interest in me is of a sadistic nature. You’ve been doing it for far too long, my friend. You’ve defeated the whole purpose of interrogation. For you it is not about retrieving the necessary information any more, is it? You just like to see people’s reaction to different methods of your ‘persuasion’ technique."
The man smiled and his smile reminded Omar a cartoon character he once saw- ‘Grinch’. Almost comically evil. Only there was nothing comical about this man.
"You are way too smart for you own good Mr. Nubbiri". He walked to a table, removed a rug and revealed a lot of different instruments prepared for the torture "I am a conventionalist, Mr. Nubbiri, and always follow the routine, even when it seems unnecessary."
He picked up a tool, which happened to be a hammer. Omar was not a hero, or a soldier trained to bear pain and to face danger. The most dangerous thing he had ever seen was the robbery he witnessed just for a split second from the window of a taxi. The driver refused to stop when he wanted to help, but even if he did stop, Omar could hardly do anything. The fact was he had never experienced anything that tests a man’s worth. But he was no coward and now facing the death he did not tremble. Instead, a sudden calmness swept over him as he realized that it was just his time. He only wished he could see his family one last time.
The man with a grey face sat in front of him again, with a hammer in his hands.<