A Desert Rose

Chapter 2 - The Arrest

Chapter 2

*6 weeks later*

Aimee stared up at the electronic departures and arrivals board before her.  People were milling around her and one man almost tripped over her suitcase. Just behind the board she could see the rows of fake palm trees and torches against the wall.  A golden palm tree rose up below her and the lights glinted off all the golden trinkets.  Of the many airports Aimee had walked through, this was her favourite, Dubai International.  

“All passengers for flight L815 to London please report to gate 18 for further instructions,” announced a woman’s voice over the paging system. 

Aimee’s mood sunk.  A delay was the last thing she wanted.  She was fervent to get back to the university to study the material they had unearthed in Riyadh.  What was initially suspected to be mere pottery shards turned out to be pieces of a tablet.  

Gate 18 it is.  She thought to herself as she extended the handle of her suitcase and walked down the length of the hall towards the boarding gate. 

As she approached she saw Marc and waved him over.  He was a tall, skinny man with red hair. He looked like a tourist clad in jeans and a T-shirt.  Despite the fact that he bathes in SPF 50, he picked up a tan from being in the desert for 6 weeks, the women at the university will be all over him.  

“There’s some sort of delay,” he offered as he drew his suitcase next to hers.  

A lot of people were already checked in and waiting in the lounge.  

"Why?  Surely it can't be the weather!  Why does this always happen to me?"  Aimee scoffed.  "Maybe someone important..."  As she turned to survey the passengers she saw two security officers talking to each other as they scanned the passengers still in line at the gate.  

The stewardess at the gate tried to answer multiple questions from the passengers and Aimee could hear the end of her sentence.  “… it will be sorted out quickly, please remain patient.”  

Aimee looked over at Marc, “probably something to do with customs,” she said as she waved in the direction of the security guards, “let’s hope they sort it out quickly, I’m dying for a nap.”  

Marc just nodded tiredly in agreement.

Aimee’s wave had attracted the attention of the security officers and they were gesturing to each other while looking over at where she and Marc were standing.  One raised a walkie-talkie and talked for a few moments.  After apparent confirmation from the other end of the system they made their way over to where Marc and Aimee stood.  

“Excuse us Miss, but are you Miss Aimee Willows, the archaeologist?”  

Aimee stood for a moment surprised to hear her own name in the Arabian accent.  “Ah, yes, why, is there a problem?”  

The guards looked at each other for a second then took a step towards her.  

“Would you please come with us?  There seems to be a problem with your passport.”  They stepped closer to her and though they did not physically restrain her, they were making sure she could not run.

Confused, Aimee looked over at Marc for support.  But he seemed just as surprised.  

“Don’t worry, I’ll sort this out!”  He called to her as they flanked and escorted her towards a ‘Security Personnel Only’ door.

She was walked down a corridor and a flight of stairs, a guard on each side of her while she pulled her suitcase behind her.  At the end of another passageway she was led into a room where she was asked to sit down and hand over her boarding pass and passport.  Aimee handed them over and they left with a ‘please stay here’.  

After they left she looked at the small room she was sitting in.  It was clean and void of anything except the table and chairs. The walls were light grey and a security camera blinked form the corner.  

Aimee pulled her suitcase to her and made it stand next to her chair.  What could this be about?  She wondered to herself as she waited.  There was certainly nothing wrong with her passport, and at this rate she was going to miss her flight.

Fifteen minutes slowly passed and to her surprise Marc showed up with a very official looking man in uniform.  He had dark hair and a thick moustache and swung the door open with force.  Marc entered and he looked nervous and worried.  The other man just closed the door and stood on the other side of the room.  

As Marc saw her he immediately launched into an explanation, “it’s Muscat Aimee!  That guy who was beating the woman.  He pressed charges against you for assault.  They won’t let you fly out.”  

Aimee’s mouth fell open.  "What?"  

She looked at the other man and her eyes fell on something shiny attached to his belt; a police officer.

Memories flooded back to her.  After a short tour through the frankincense routes a few weeks ago, they were walking in a busy market place in Muscat the capital of Oman in the south of Arabia when she passed an alley.  

Screams attracted her attention and roused her suspicion.  To her disgust she discovered a man was savagely beating a woman who was crying and begging him to stop.  Adrenaline pulsed through Aimee and without thinking she reached for her whip, which was fastened to her backpack.  She had stopped the abuser from what he was doing and took the man and woman to a police station to report what had happened.  She signed the report and that had been that.  She didn’t give it another thought.

Marc looked at her worriedly; he was having trouble standing still and kept shifting his weight from foot to foot.  

“This is serious Aimee.  This man wants to take you back to Muscat.”  Marc looked over to the police official.

He stepped forward and placed a paper on the table facing Aimee.  “Miss Willows, I’m inspector Ratliffe with the police department in Muscat.  The woman who was being beat didn’t want to place charges against her husband.  And now he’s placed charges against you for assault.  This document explains the details,” he said as he indicated the paper.

“This is preposterous!”  Aimee exploded.  She did the right thing and now they want to arrest her for it?  “How is this possible?  He was seriously abusing her; this is insane!”

Aimee frowned reading the charges, then looked at Marc again.  “What about you?  Our flight…”

“…Is still delayed,” he answered “they are waiting for me.”  Marc did not look happy, he was still nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot and kept glancing between Aimee and the inspector.  

Aimee was shocked.

"Waiting?" She repeated.  

“I’m flying back to London to oversee the crates and to demand from the government to clear this up.  You have to go with them Aimee.  There is nothing I can do for you here.” His voice faltered slightly.  Marc was not good at handling pressure. 

Aimee tried to make sense of all of this; she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  After a second she stood up and hugged Marc.  

“Of course, you have to go.  Take my case with you please.  I don’t think I’ll need it where I’m going,”  she hated how resigned her voice sounded.

Marc grabbed her shoulders with both hands and shook her a little.  “Aimee, I’ll fix this.  Just be patient.  They can’t do this and I will stop at nothing.”  

She nodded silently and gave him another hug.  “Thank you Marc, now go.”  

He looked at her again, picked up her suitcase and left.  The inspector stepped forward and offered her a pen to sign the document.

 “Miss Willows, I’m placing you under arrest for assault on a citizen of Oman. You are to be deported there for prosecution.  Please come with me.”  He picked up the pen and paper and led her to the corridor. 

They walked back through the departures hall but towards the back of the building, through a gate and outside to a private runway and plane.  An hour later they landed in Muscat.  Aimee was charged and placed in a holding cell to await her fate.