06.1 Ransom

Jamal climbed down from a boat in the marina with a bag on his shoulder, a hat on his grizzle, purple polo shirt and dirty sneakers. He caught a cab and told the driver to take him to the meat factory in Ezpeleta.

He had shown not a slightest worry or it never occurred to him of the gravity in the criminal act involved. His mind preoccupied with an intention to seduce her. He took this ride to Ezpeleta because he was fearless.

Workers were up and trucks rolled out. He passed a stack of pallets towards the huge warehouse. In a moment, he located the doors and even grabbed his chance to slip into the cool storage when a truck rolled and a worker opened the doors.

He stood at the far end of the passage looking down on the white tiles, crate stacked on both sides and narrowed in the distance in his perception. No sign of Marina, not a trace of blood.

He advanced slowly to the spot she was lying. He was thinking this could be the wrong section for this facility was huge. Jamal looked everywhere and decided to scram because he could not be a nuisance here.

Next, he arrived at a chopping section. A meat cutter wearing glasses glanced at him. There were different types of implements in front of him. He picked the heftiest knife.

Jamal asked, “Where is Pedro?”

He jabbed the cleaver on the board and yelled, “Pedro!”

And there appeared a thickset bloke.

“No, not him,” said Jamal, “young man, a thin boy…delivery truck driver.”

He shook his head, “No Pedro.”

“He was here the other night.”

He grabbed the cleaver and muttered in a whisper, “Get lost!”

Jamal looked away and made his move towards the driveway. His brain working fast and images jumping from spot to spot. He saw that piece of paper Sinclair was holding that night five years ago, ‘Castillo, 1051 Route 604, Santa Rosa’. He could see the church and the pew, the Gaucho Monument in the splendour of Montevideo, the moon at Santa Rosa, Carlos holding a gun and then an SS officer in black coat and swastika on his sleeve…he snapped it off.

Jamal thumbed a taxi and climbed.

“Hola! Where are we going?” asked the taxi driver.

And there was no response.

“Buddy, you have to name a place!”

“Caminito,” said Jamal.

“Caminito! Do you like Boca Juniors?”

“Shut up and drive!”

“Excuse me, señor! Don’t get angry, we are going there, going there…”

Jamal closed his eyes. Decided not to go to Santa Rosa but he had that feeling they’d take her there.

Zaid Falak arrived on Monday and the group was called to pack and leave to Buenos Aires on Wednesday. The two maids, Layla and Adela, were fired however they would remain at the Silverside Club and face further police enquiries. Idris would stay in Quilmes.

In the diplomatic front, concerned bureaus exchanged dialogue, including Morocco. Besides, in the Arab World, governments were traumatised by the abduction that involved a banker. Zaid Falak and his family made a fairly relevant trip colliding with holidays. However, his motive could be somewhat different based on allegations of his interest in seeking investments in South America. Hence, it entered into a financial probe. He was a UAE citizen living in Saudi Arabia. To make matters worse, some financial interest buzzed Clarín with a rumour that exposed Zaid Falak’s billion-dollar talks to take a stake from the Rogers Bank – in order to bring it to centre focus. This appeared on 24^th Wednesday.

Another paper mentioned an American Jamal with a picture of him on the front page and his Dodge abandoned at the Quilmes train station.