course, the amounts transferred were increasing. For safety, the money and the custody of the bonds were moved from one bank to another, to hinder tracking.
Taking advantage of Samira’s ability, they developed new operations, increasingly complexity.
Samira created a large spreadsheet with that movement; it was the only way to keep up with Bin’s prodigious mind.
He didn’t know the exact number, but he had the bulk of each operation closely kept in his mind. No notes at all.
The only distractions Samira had were Safiyah, Amal’s daughter, and the chickens.
- Aunt Samira, make me a hair like yours?
- Of course, my love, come here.
Then she washed the girl’s hair, combed them with a thick comb, put the sides up, over the ears, they looked quite alike. She remembered herself, little child in Bauru, in Mrs. Samira’s arms, she began to cry.
- What is it, aunt, why are you crying?
- No, no, my angel, your aunt is silly. I remembered my mother.
Samira asked permission to build a higher frame, inside the chicken coop. Like the one her parents have in Tupã. She thought the chickens would feel safer sleeping perched. They would have more eggs, more chicks. Arabs don’t understand much about chickens.
The chicken coop was leaning against the wall at the back of the building. There was a single entrance door, it was the only place where they didn’t need to watch over Samira. From there, she had nowhere to go. They agreed with her project, then she went with tools and boards to do her job.
The chickens were sleeping on an old wooden floor, it seemed building waste, improvised. Samira started cleaning and disassembling it.
Many pieces of wood were joined by others, nailed, impossible to move. She began removing the nails and releasing piece by piece, she had plenty of time.
By the middle of the job, she found a hole in the concrete slab. It must have been a gateway for materials, water, or something. It was hidden by the wooden floor, it hadn’t been closed at the end of the construction.
Carefully not to draw attention, she looked inside; it was a waterway, behind the house.
She had her heart in her mouth, my God, it was a way out, useless by now. If she went out there, she would be recaptured and who knows what would happen to her parents.
She arranged the boards recovering the exit, left two of them unattached, enough for her to escape if there was an opportunity.
A few more days, she concluded the roost. The set was even heavier than it already was, completely hiding the exit. Only she knew what boards were loose.
2011
Bin was recovered, free of pain, became another man, a dynamo.
He forgot the danger, only could think about the big and apotheotic action to celebrate the tenth anniversary of the September 11th.
Samira became his right hand. Since the cure, he completely trusted in the young woman.
Maybe the old idea of marriage could be reconsidered.
She, in her turn, felt more and more trapped. She couldn’t communicate over the internet, but she read the international news.
Bin wanted a magnificent event, but at the same time, Americans were doing everything they could to capture the Arab leader.
That would eventually happen.
Her “beloved” father had sold his daughter for a dozen camels; you can imagine what people would do for 25 million dollars, the reward for Bin’s head.
In fact, everybody knew that, the alert was complete, the guard was doubled, and slept ready for the worst, dressed and armed. They wouldn’t be captured, not even alive.
The plans were focused in attack the trains.
The modus operandi was pretty much the same, it wouldn’t be as spectacular as the twin towers fall, but they could do a great damage.
American trains are very fast and large, all that mass multiplied by the high speed comes to a huge destruction potential.
They are also very safe, it’s almost impossible for a train to collide head-on with another; the system has many alternatives for each mistake.
Everything was harder.
– These Americans are paranoid – they complaint –, they have security enforcement all over the place!
They asked Samira to download a video they’ve seen on TV. A recreation of a big disaster that happened years before.
A ferryboat bumped into a rotating bridge, minutes before the passage of a high speed train.
The impact of the ferry in one of the ends dislocated the bridge a little bit.
The disaster was huge. That was it! Instead of the ferry bump, suicide bombers would move a bridge seconds before the train arrives.
Samira did what they told her to, she was fighting for her life... Even so, thinking she could be part of such an atrocity was killing her.
That was a night like many others; they were all retiring to bed.
Samira woke up with the sound of helicopters far way. At the first shot, she got up and began to run. Everybody was running, trying to understand what was happening. Amal goes to check on Bin, she knows he’s the target. She looks through a window and sees Samira holding her scarf and running to the chicken coop.
- This Brazilian is crazy – mumbles Amal, to herself. – Better this way, I think she was starting to threaten me. When everyone finds out that, in a moment like this, she was taking care of the chickens, they will laugh at her. Stupid girl!
In the middle of that troubled dark night, Samira removes the boards, hidden by the frame she built, passes through the hole and gets out into the channel, outside the house.
She goes along the small trickle of water toward the trees. When she comes to the forest, the flash of the explosion of a helicopter illuminates the sky. The shots cut the air. It was an attack for real, nobody would survive. She runs a little longer between trees and comes to the street.
People are coming out of the houses to see what happens. She joins a group that runs away from the combat and comes to the main street.
Then she gets on the first bus that passes, it goes to Islamabad, a blessing.
She puts one hand into the pocket, caresses her Brazilian passport first and then her credit card.
Samira passes the other hand on her neck and follows a pendant that hangs her memory card, the spreadsheet with the transactions and all the passwords. Only Bin and she knew those accounts.
Whatever happens in the coming days, everyone will be too busy putting themselves together.
Probably, for all purposes, she’ll be the widow of a very important man, every Muslim should watch over her.
Sammy will have time to find a safe place and enjoy the rest of her life as a free and rich woman. Very rich.
ISBN 978-85-914195-5-5
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