“You’ll be
out in no time Clair. The judge gave me his word. We’ll just need
to address some formalities. Meanwhile they’ve promised to improve your
conditions. Tell me if it has not occurred. We’ll be back
tomorrow.” He motioned to Christine who embraced Clair one last time and
stepped to the door.
A guard appeared to escort
Clair away. She bravely waved to them and disappeared amongst the
darkened corridors.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Police Chief Halil came to see them next
with Abdullah and an entourage of men in uniform. They met the following
morning at the breakfast hall at the Katarina Inn. The chief was
obviously happy to exchange whatever inadequate office space he was occupying
with the fine luxuries of a tourist resort.
His men scattered outside, the chief
filled his plates with an enormous breakfast and joined Jack and Christine.
Abdullah, apparently not impressed with what the resort had to offer, stuck
with coffee and chain smoking. Small talk progressed until the chief
demolished his breakfast and could finally breathe.
He paid much more attention to Christine than any of the
other males they had met up to that point. He asked her opinion on
various matters and was especially interested in hearing about Paris, a place
he had once visited. She politely answered his inquiries but was visibly
irritated. Her friend Clair was wasting in a filthy prison and here he
was shooting the breeze. She finally could not resist any longer.
“I need to get my friend back
to Paris,” she said, hoping she had won his sympathy.
The chief shot her a regretful
look.
“In due time,” he said and turned
to Black Jack.
“Mr. Jack, we seem to have a
problem,” he said ceremoniously.
Black Jack did not
reply. He sat back and folded his arms over his chest. The chief
went on.
“Your client is charged with attempted
kidnapping. I personally apprehended her near the boy’s house.”
“Who tipped you off?”
Black Jack shot back.
“No
one in particular Mr. Jack. It’s our business to keep our
neighborhoods safe.”
“My client’s son was kidnapped
by her divorced husband from Paris and brought here. The courts in France
clearly ruled in her favor. She has every right to want her son
back. If anyone should be thrown in prison, it’s Mr. El Shara, not
Clair.”
“Can you provide proof of
that?”
“I sure can and I sure will if
we go to trial.”
“I mean, can you provide proof
she is here for her son and not some other boy.”
Jack knew he was treading on
thin ice.
“She claims she saw him in
that house,” he said. Pure instinct kept him from mentioning the brother.
“Then I suggest we go there
and verify her claim Mr. Jack,” the chief said.
“Let’s do it,” Black Jack
challenged. “Of course a lot can happen in two months. Isn’t that right,
Chief?”
A mischievous grin spread
across the chief’s face as he got up to leave. Jack and Christine
followed. They assembled in the parking lot - three police cars, Jack and
Christine with Abdullah in the rental.
Black Jack stopped in front of
the chief’s leading car and rolled down his window. “We take Clair,
chief, otherwise it’s no bid.”
The chief stared at him from
the passenger side of his police vehicle and gave instructions to his driver
who stepped on the gas pedal and sped out of the resort, everyone in pursuit.
They stopped in front of the
prison and waited ten minutes before Clair appeared, her hands cuffed behind
her back, two policemen in escort. Christine almost jumped out to give a
hand but Jack stopped her.
The convoy sped along to a
residential area, south of the main part of town, on a bluff above a beautiful
coral reef. They stopped in front of a single-storey white painted house
with large glass windows facing the street. They all piled out of their
vehicles and stepped onto an open porch shaded by bamboo sticks, Christine
supporting Clair who was
out in no time Clair. The judge gave me his word. We’ll just need
to address some formalities. Meanwhile they’ve promised to improve your
conditions. Tell me if it has not occurred. We’ll be back
tomorrow.” He motioned to Christine who embraced Clair one last time and
stepped to the door.
A guard appeared to escort
Clair away. She bravely waved to them and disappeared amongst the
darkened corridors.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Police Chief Halil came to see them next
with Abdullah and an entourage of men in uniform. They met the following
morning at the breakfast hall at the Katarina Inn. The chief was
obviously happy to exchange whatever inadequate office space he was occupying
with the fine luxuries of a tourist resort.
His men scattered outside, the chief
filled his plates with an enormous breakfast and joined Jack and Christine.
Abdullah, apparently not impressed with what the resort had to offer, stuck
with coffee and chain smoking. Small talk progressed until the chief
demolished his breakfast and could finally breathe.
He paid much more attention to Christine than any of the
other males they had met up to that point. He asked her opinion on
various matters and was especially interested in hearing about Paris, a place
he had once visited. She politely answered his inquiries but was visibly
irritated. Her friend Clair was wasting in a filthy prison and here he
was shooting the breeze. She finally could not resist any longer.
“I need to get my friend back
to Paris,” she said, hoping she had won his sympathy.
The chief shot her a regretful
look.
“In due time,” he said and turned
to Black Jack.
“Mr. Jack, we seem to have a
problem,” he said ceremoniously.
Black Jack did not
reply. He sat back and folded his arms over his chest. The chief
went on.
“Your client is charged with attempted
kidnapping. I personally apprehended her near the boy’s house.”
“Who tipped you off?”
Black Jack shot back.
“No
one in particular Mr. Jack. It’s our business to keep our
neighborhoods safe.”
“My client’s son was kidnapped
by her divorced husband from Paris and brought here. The courts in France
clearly ruled in her favor. She has every right to want her son
back. If anyone should be thrown in prison, it’s Mr. El Shara, not
Clair.”
“Can you provide proof of
that?”
“I sure can and I sure will if
we go to trial.”
“I mean, can you provide proof
she is here for her son and not some other boy.”
Jack knew he was treading on
thin ice.
“She claims she saw him in
that house,” he said. Pure instinct kept him from mentioning the brother.
“Then I suggest we go there
and verify her claim Mr. Jack,” the chief said.
“Let’s do it,” Black Jack
challenged. “Of course a lot can happen in two months. Isn’t that right,
Chief?”
A mischievous grin spread
across the chief’s face as he got up to leave. Jack and Christine
followed. They assembled in the parking lot - three police cars, Jack and
Christine with Abdullah in the rental.
Black Jack stopped in front of
the chief’s leading car and rolled down his window. “We take Clair,
chief, otherwise it’s no bid.”
The chief stared at him from
the passenger side of his police vehicle and gave instructions to his driver
who stepped on the gas pedal and sped out of the resort, everyone in pursuit.
They stopped in front of the
prison and waited ten minutes before Clair appeared, her hands cuffed behind
her back, two policemen in escort. Christine almost jumped out to give a
hand but Jack stopped her.
The convoy sped along to a
residential area, south of the main part of town, on a bluff above a beautiful
coral reef. They stopped in front of a single-storey white painted house
with large glass windows facing the street. They all piled out of their
vehicles and stepped onto an open porch shaded by bamboo sticks, Christine
supporting Clair who was
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