Tracks by Niv Kaplan

one in Dahab and definitely the only one willing to work with us.”
    They reached the car and went
looking for accommodation.  Black Jack could barely touch the steering
wheel it got so hot. They checked into the Dahab Katarina Inn, a resort
resembling the Nueba Hilton, in close proximity to the beach with pools and
jacuzzis, bars and restaurants and even a gym with saunas.
    With plenty of daylight left,
Christine bought snorkeling equipment and a one-piece Speedo bathing
suit.  She and Jack spent the rest of the afternoon among Dahab’s coral
reefs enjoying the magnificent views and colors of the corals and fish. 
Jack even claimed to have spotted a shark.
     
    Over dinner they discussed
what measly progress they had made. 
    “When do you start negotiating
with them?” Christine asked, picking at her salad.
    “The judge will instruct the
attorney.  We’ll know their opening bid tomorrow.”
    “What leverage do we have?”
    “None.  
But we’ll fake it.  These people are too greedy
to let this opportunity pass.”
    “Do you want me there, Jack?”
    “Yeah,
but only as a witness.   You cannot voice an opinion, not in
front of the judge.  But they cannot disregard your presence.  Once
agreed, your word will be as good as mine.”
    They met Abdullah at the
café the following morning.  He did not seem to be in any
hurry.  He challenged Jack to a game of backgammon, which evolved to a
series.  Two hours passed before they got up to leave.  Abdullah led
them through the bustling market to an old, three-storey building full of
mortar and shell holes from the numerous conflicts the region had suffered.
    Clair waited for them in a
small windowless cell - the visitation room, as Abdullah described it. 
They embraced.  Clair held on to Christine, sobbing silently.  Tears
welled in Christine’s eyes.
    “He’s here, I know it!” Clair
said once they all settled down.  Abdullah had left them alone. 
    She was a small, energetic
woman, in her mid-thirties.  Attractive in Jack’s eyes
with short, silky blonde hair and stubborn gray eyes.   She had a
small upturned nose and sensuous red lips in stark contrast to her pale white
skin. She wore a stained white gown similar to the Galabia worn by Abdullah and
though clearly distraught and troubled, she looked extremely determined.
    “How are they treating you
here?”  Black Jack asked, concerned.
    “They let me use my makeup for
the first time this morning,” Clair said.  “I’m in a room with four other
women who are very suspicious of me and I haven’t seen a ray of sunlight since
they threw me in here.”
    “Those freakin assholes,”
Black Jack cursed.  “I’ll get the French ambassador to see this before
we’re through.”
    “There’s a guard who speaks
French,” Clair said.  “I gave him some baksheesh, money I managed to hide,
and he’s been keeping me informed.”
    Black jack perked up. 
“What has he been telling you?”
    “This here is just a detention
center for those awaiting trial.  The real prison is in Alexandria where
they will send me once I’m convicted.”
    “Did they tell you when you’ll
be up for trial?”  Christine asked.
    “Soon is a common word around here
which could mean anywhere between a few minutes to a few years.”
    “What have you been charged
with?”  Black Jack asked.
    “Attempted kidnapping, I
guess. No one really told me.  I went to the house where Ibrahim was
staying hoping to see him.  Hussni had the police waiting there for me.”
    “How did you manage to find
them?”  Christine asked.
    “It was all quite bizarre,”
Clair recalled.  “Hussni’s brother, Yusuf, called me in Paris.  The
two had not been on speaking terms since Hussni married me.  He told me that
if I want to see my son I should meet him here in Dahab.  He told me to
come alone and I was on the next plane to Egypt.  Actually I flew to
Israel and crossed the border.  Yusuf warned me I might be on an