The following week, his mum (her name was Emeer Noori) took Khalid to the doctor for a check up to ensure everything was healing correctly and to evaluate him for physical therapy. He wanted me to go in with him but his mum gently persuaded him to let me have the afternoon alone. As alone as one could be with a royal escort and guards. I asked if I could see the Tower and she surprised. “It’s the tallest building in the world,” I explained. “My wish list is to climb the world’s top ten.”
“He means climb up the top ten,” Khalid said with a warning look. He knew of my penchant for climbing.
Driven downtown in a Mercedes limo, I gawked at the modern, clean city with its public health care, free schooling, and incredible racecourse. The sultan of Dubai stud was globally famous.
I had mentioned wanting to see it and a tour was scheduled for next week if Khalid was up to it.
As the limo stopped in front, a valet came out and offered to park it but the Sheikhs driver shook his head and said he was to stay with the vehicle at all times so they valet escorted us inside. Business people watched to see who the celebrity was. Their eyes passed over and dismissed a European, a teenager, settled on one of the Security guards, another of Khalid’s cousins and me. A lot of his family was in security. I’d asked if oil was their main source of income and he’d told me it was only a small part, most of it came from real estate, old money, and gold mines.
The lifts were state of the art bullets that flew up the outside faster than I could blink. What was funny was the look on Khalil (a third cousin) face as we rose to the 128th floor.
“Scared of heights?” I asked him in Arabic and he nearly vomited a litany of words at me.
He closed his eyes, I told him that made it worse, touched him on the arm, and his eyes opened, wide and staring. Spoke to him low enough so that no one else heard and he gaped at me in fascination, nodded once, and relaxed.
His family looked at him, back and me as he lost his fear. He told me his name was Khalil Omar.
He came with me to the top floor of the observation Tower. We couldn’t go outside; the wind today was too fierce and the building’s security had locked us out but I could walk the entire roof and stare down at the rest of the city.
“You’re not afraid of heights, Aidan?” he asked me. “Khalid said you like to climb onto the roof at school and mock the bullies.”
“Yeah. It takes them down a peg or two when you’re forty feet up and they can’t reach you,” I answered. I couldn’t see anything on the ground from up here.
“He told me what happened,” Omar added.
I was surprised. The only one he’d talked to about it personally was his dad and me. “What about?” I asked, cautiously. “About…everything?”
“He told me the two boys were after you. Did you know he tried to stop them from following you that day? That’s why they went after him and beat him.”
“I didn’t know,” I was silent. He was the one should be honored and feted. “They raped him, all seven guys. I’d called a friend and told him about those two, was going to take care of them. Someone came. While I was looking for our teacher to help us. He…” I hesitated, rushed on, swallowing the nausea. “He cut their throats, got rid of the bodies.”
“That was a kinder fate than what I would have given them. You have nothing to fear from them or the police, Aidan. My father has seen to that. Will there be any repercussions for the two’s disappearances? The school is well known for its student roster.”
“You mean will their parents make a big brouhaha? Chelmsley’s dad is a Labor party bigwig, Glenellen’s father is Lord Somebody-or-other,” I answered.
“And your father?” asked Omar.
“On sabbatical in Africa. Out of touch.”
“In this time of cell and satellite phones, Aidan? Khalid might buy that but I know better.”
“My parents think I’m dead,” I mumbled.
“My uncle, Sheikh Melek tried to find them. All he could look up were Lord and Lady Argent, Earl and Countess of Bowden. They had a son. Forty years ago. He died. Tragically.”
“Painfully,” I didn’t say anything else, just stared out the glass-covered panorama and saw a jet streak by and it seemed close enough to touch.
“Aidan, I saw a picture of their son.”
“Looks like me, does it?” I smiled.
“It is you, Aidan. Even down to the scars on your back, belly, and chest. My aunt and Khalid said you were special. Are you the Angel of Life?” He was serious so I didn’t laugh at him although I wanted to. That was as good a name for me only, I thought more like the Angel of Death.
“I don’t know what I am, Prince Omar,” I sighed.
“I’m not a prince. Khalid is, so is Rashid. The rest of us are just family.”
“There are a lot of you. I’m glad Khalid had your support,” I told him. “It’s getting late. Don’t we need to get back for Khalid?”
“He was having another MRI and CAT scan. He’ll be late, perhaps even stay the night,” he said.
“He’ll want me with him,” I headed for the door to the lifts and he followed.
“Are you and Khalid lovers?”
The question made me stop in my tracks. “No!” I denied vehemently. “He’s not like that! Nor am I.”
“He had an affair, once,” he said calmly and it was my turn to stare at his pleasant face.
“You?” He nodded. “Do you still love him?”
“Yes.”
“He likes girls. He told me that.”
“Did he mention me?”
“Not by name. Said it decided him he liked girls better.”
He was silent. “You?”
“No. Never.”
“It's your eyes,” he said. “Like jewels that suck you in, make you an irresistible elixir, a drug that is addictive. But then, if you are the Angel of Death, you would be a fatal fascination, wouldn’t you?”
He frightened me and I had no words to give him as we traveled down the lift to the Lobby and met the driver. We rode back to the hospital annex in an uncomfortable silence.