had just given him.
“No,” Habash shouted back. “She’s not up here.”
“Then stop wasting my time! We’re ready to leave.”
“Yes, sir.”
And, just like that, Habash turned and left, without even having to tell a lie.
The trapdoor slammed shut. The rooftop was silent. Sharaf sagged in relief against the air-conditioning unit, feeling its vibrations like a massage across his sweating back. A few minutes later they heard voices in the yard, followed by the slamming of car doors and the rev of engines. Two vehicles pulled away from the curb.
“Too close,” Sam said. “What do we do now?”
Sharaf considered the question carefully, thinking only as a policeman, and he wasn’t at all pleased with the answer that sprang to mind. He voiced it, all the same, as if merely testing its theoretical possibilities.
“We telephone my daughter, and put her to work. It is insane, it is outrageous, and, worst of all, it is exactly what she will want. But Halami is right. Right now, she is our only option.”
23
An hour after the police departed, Sam and Sharaf were back in the Beacon of Light’s canteen, staving off the jitters with snacks and soda. At dusk they watched through a slit in the curtains as a taxi arrived, the yellow Camry gleaming beneath the streetlamp. Laleh, wearing her abaya, stepped out from a rear door.
She had come straight from the office. Apparently she was more willing to brave the threat of surveillance than further doses of her mother’s wrath. Or so Sam had concluded after listening in on a series of family phone calls. Even through the language barrier the urgency and anger were unmistakable.
Sharaf was wrapping up a call to Amina as Laleh came up the sidewalk. He sounded exasperated as he hung up.
“I will be paying off this debt for years,” he moaned, snapping the phone shut. “The worst part is, I agree with her. Laleh is taking a great risk, even if only with her reputation. The way we are using her is unacceptable. I should bring this all to a halt, here and now.”
“What happened to the greater good?” Sam said.
“Yes, the greater good. Stopping a shipment of prostitutes will probably only make the price go up. Then they’ll send in another load. That is what passes for the greater good anymore in Dubai. All for the cost of a girl’s standing in her community. You can’t possibly understand how Laleh will be seen after this.”
“Like a hero, maybe? That’s how she’d be seen in most places.”
“This isn’t most places.”
“But I bet she’s all for it.”
“Of course. From listening to people like you, who will come and go before she realizes the damage she’s done.”
“Did you ever consider she might be smart enough to overcome it?”
“Please. Don’t lecture me on her intelligence. That’s what makes it tragic.”
Halami entered the canteen with Laleh in her wake. Tense excitement showed in the young woman’s eyes.
Sharaf sighed. It was just too much. No matter how logical, he couldn’t go through with this. He addressed her in English, so that everyone in the room would understand what he had to say, and why.
“I have decided this is not possible. It simply is not workable.”
Laleh’s mouth dropped open.
“I thought it was what you wanted?”
“What I want as a policeman is beside the point. As a detective I operate only on the basis of need, may God forgive me. As a father, I cannot agree to it.”
“Then maybe I’d better talk to the policeman. Although I have to say, the father’s behavior surprises me. Earlier he was so determined to remove his family’s shame, no matter what it took.”
Sharaf shot a sidelong glance at Halami, who was listening eagerly, and his next words emerged in an irritated tone.
“Please. Not in front of others.”
“Fine. But I really would prefer to speak to the policeman. Provided he’s still on duty.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment. Sharaf’s eyes flicked back and forth, as if somewhere inside he was engaged in a difficult argument. Finally he sighed and slapped a hand against the wall.
“Even as a policeman, I never let anyone act on my behalf unless they first understand all possible consequences.”
“And you think I don’t know them? Believe me, my entire upbringing makes me painfully aware of all that could follow. But what troubles me more is what will happen to both of us if we do nothing. I can live with disapproval from the outside. But from within? You should know better than anyone how unbearable that might become.”
Sharaf sagged, defeated. Or maybe he was also relieved, now that Laleh had shown him a way he might proceed as both father and policeman, no matter how contrived.
“You are sure, then?”
