The Witness (23 page)

He handed the passport to Dalia, who opened it up. “Andrew Cooper?”

“At your service,” Marwan said with a half bow. “I’m just down here honeymooning with my new wife, Helga, and I—”

“Helga?” Dalia said with a mortified look on her face.

“Gertrude?”

“Uh, no,” she answered.

“Minnie?”

“Minnie? Very funny.”

“So, my dear, what would you like your name to be?”

Dalia looked around and saw the sun coming up over the barren hills of Saudi Arabia on the far side of the gulf. “How about Dawn?”

“Dawn,” Marwan said thoughtfully. “I like it. Dawn Cooper née Khoury—we have to account for your accent somehow. Switch back with me.”

They traded seats again, and Marwan took the wheel.

“Oh yeah,” he said, reaching into his waistband and pulling out the gun he had taken from his first victim last night. Holding his hand overboard, he let it drop into the gulf.

They were getting near the shore. Marwan spotted a small dock with some open slips, and he pointed the boat that direction.

“What are we doing now?” Dalia asked.

“Getting new transportation. We’re almost out of fuel.”

“Then what?”

“I’m not sure. We could drive north to the Med, then make our way up to Lebanon. I’ve got tons of resources there. Or we could try to sneak into Israel through Eilat.”

Dalia chuckled. “‘Sneak into Israel.’ That’s almost funny.”

“Yeah, I guess Israel’s not known for easy border access.”

“I say we keep going to my parents’ house in Ma’an.”

“No way,” Marwan said, looking hard at Dalia. “I’ve already put you in danger. There is no chance I’m going to do the same to your parents.”

“But they can help us. I know they can. Dad used to be in the military. He still has connections.”

“It’s Jordan; everyone used to be in the military. But it still isn’t safe.”

Leaning forward and grabbing his arm with both her hands, Dalia pleaded, “You yourself said that there was no way the people chasing you could know who I am. Please, Marwan, you know I’m right. And I really feel like I need to see them right now.”

Marwan didn’t say anything as he eased the boat into the slip and tied her off.
How can I say no to her after all I’ve put her through? She needs this. Besides, once you have a safe place to work from, you should be able to put this all to bed.

“Okay, but you have to promise to follow my lead and do exactly as I say,” Marwan said.

“Of course, honey,” Dalia said with a wink. “After all, we’re married. Isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be?”

Marwan couldn’t help but smile as he shook his head. He had a feeling that in the years ahead, Dalia following his lead and doing exactly as he said would be the exception rather than the rule.
But with this girl, I really wouldn’t want it any other way.

51

Once they were onshore, they started walking north up the coastline. It felt good to be out of the boat and stretching their legs. The morning was already starting to get warm, but the sand was still cool on their feet. They mostly made small talk, and every now and then Dalia would kind of fade out for a few moments. Then, just as quickly, she’d be back in the conversation. Marwan figured she was processing the events of the previous night. He decided not to pursue it.

After about a mile, they came upon a market area. Marwan saw some boats piered, so he sent Dalia off to find provisions while he went to rent a boat.

His cover story of being a newlywed staying at the Sirtaki Hotel was accepted without a question in this tourist town, especially after the generous tip he added for the all-day rental.

He was a little disappointed when he saw where the owner was leading him. The boat was old and smelled like fish, but it was functional and had a healthy-sounding engine. By the time Dalia found him on the dock, he and the owner had it ready to go. After one final warning to watch for big cruise ships and to stay away from the Saudi Arabian shoreline, the man tossed off the lines and waved good-bye.

“How does the owner feel about you stealing his boat?” Dalia asked, only half-jokingly.

“Oh, he was perfectly fine with it. Says he has them stolen all the time,” Marwan answered. “Besides, we’re renting it just like we said. We’re just going to return it to a different location. And trust me, there’s enough money on that card number for him to cover whatever expenses he has getting the boat back, plus more.”

“Well, I guess that makes it all right. Doesn’t it, Mr. Cooper?”

Marwan turned to her. “Please, Dalia, I don’t feel good about this either. This is not how I like to operate things. I pride myself in staying aboveboard and legal. This, however, is an unusual circumstance, and I’m forced to do things out of necessity that I wish I didn’t have to do. Your comments are not making it any easier.”

“You’re right,” Dalia said, moving behind him and draping her arms over his shoulders. She sighed heavily and leaned against him. “I guess I’m still having difficulty with the transition from bored flight attendant to international fugitive.”

“It gets easier,” Marwan laughed. Dalia gave him a light slap on the shoulder, then followed it with a quick kiss after she saw him wince. His shoulder was definitely getting better, but it was still a long way from healed. “So what did you find us in the market? I’m starving.”

Dalia retrieved her bags and showed off her purchases. “We’ve got fruit—pears, figs, dates, and a few bananas. I found some cheese, a little dried fish, and some wonderful-smelling bread.”

“Fantastic. I’ll have a little—no, make that a lot—of everything.”

They ate as they headed north up the gulf. Marwan had checked a map at the boat rental shop and estimated the distance to be a little over a hundred kilometers to Aqaba, Jordan. With this boat, that would mean about a three-and-a-half to four-hour trip. He actually wished it were longer. As long as they were out on this boat in the middle of this beautiful blue water, it felt like all their troubles were miles away. Here they were safe. Once they hit shore, who knew what would be waiting for them? They would be sneaking into another country under false identities with nothing but the clothes on their backs.

“Oh no,” Marwan abruptly yelled out.

“What?” Dalia cried, dropping low.

Marwan saw the fear in Dalia’s eyes. “It’s nothing. It’s just . . . I thought of something we left back in the hotel room.”

Relief flooded Dalia’s face as she lifted herself back onto the seat. “What, clean underwear?”

Marwan chuckled. “Yeah, that too. No, I just realized I left the Bible that Kadeen had given to me. It was his own personal study Bible, and it meant so much to him. I can’t believe I lost it!”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Dalia tore another piece of bread, laid a piece of fish and some cheese on it, and handed it to Marwan.

He nodded his thanks and took a bite. “What do you think about the Bible? Do you really think it’s the actual Word of God? Because Kadeen did. To him, that book was straight from the mouth of the Almighty.”

“I think I do,” Dalia answered. “I remember my dad preaching in the church, giving all these reasons about the truth of God’s Word and the truth of who Jesus was. He called it ‘evidence that demands a verdict’ or something like that.”

“Yeah, Kadeen told me about some of that stuff. He talked about all the copies that are out there of the New Testament and why we can trust the Bible we have today.”

Dalia nodded as she bit deeply into a pear. The juices ran down her arm, and she scrambled to find something to wipe herself off with. “I remember my dad talking about those things, too,” she said, using an old rag she found on the deck to mop up her arm. But then she smelled the rag and dropped it to the ground. “Yuck! What’s stayed with me most, though, even after all these years, was when he talked about the disciples.”

Marwan took another bite and asked through a half-filled mouth, “Those were the guys who hung out with Jesus, right? Like Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Peter, Paul—all those guys?”

“Well, not all of them. I know Luke and Paul weren’t disciples—they came later. And I don’t think Mark was either. But anyway, yes, the disciples were the ones who were with Jesus. Do you know that every single one of them was killed for preaching about Jesus? No, wait, I take that back. John was only exiled to some island.”

“You mean John the Baptist? the guy who ate grasshoppers and nasty stuff like that?” Marwan asked. A few of the stories about Israel he had read in in-flight magazines were coming back to his mind.

Dalia shook her head and laughed. “No, a different John. Sometimes the names get confusing. But anyway, all the rest were killed. I remember my dad saying that if you were about to be killed for something you knew to be a lie, don’t you think you would admit it and save yourself?”

“I see what you’re saying. Either these guys were caught up in some mass hysteria, were smoking some things they should not have been smoking, or they actually believed what it was they were preaching about.”

“Exactly.”

“See, I’m a pretty quick student when I put my mind to it,” Marwan said, bouncing his eyebrows a few times. “But, Pastor Dalia, I don’t see what that has to do with the Bible.”

“First of all, don’t call me that,” she said, sounding serious. “I’m so far from deserving that title, I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Fair enough.”

“To answer your question, most of the New Testament was written while these people were still alive. If any of the facts were wrong, they would have been challenged. I remember there’s one point where Paul is talking about Jesus rising from the dead—where was it? I memorized it once for a scholarship to Bible camp. I know it was at the end of a long one like Romans or Corinthians. But anyway, in this section he actually comes out and challenges them to check his facts. He’s like, ‘Jesus died, he rose again, and he appeared to the disciples and five hundred or so other people, most of whom are still alive.’ According to my dad, that was like a flat-out challenge.”

“But with all that, you’re still not convinced.”

Dalia looked off into the sea. Then, without looking at Marwan, she said, “No, I think I’m convinced. My problem is that I keep trying to convince myself that I’m
not
convinced.”

Marwan slouched back in the seat. Even though he still had the same salty spray cooling him down, the same wonderful smell of the sea, the same hot sun cleansing his pores, he no longer felt the same peace he had just minutes before. There was a restless feeling inside of him, a feeling he only got when he started thinking about this whole God thing.

It seemed that every time he turned around, more evidence was piling up about the Bible being what Kadeen said it was and Jesus being who he said he was too.
But that’s still not for me. Why should I pick Christianity? Why not Islam or Hinduism or Buddhism? They’ve got just as many followers who are sure about their beliefs.

But the more he tried to slam the door on God, the more it felt like someone’s foot was blocking the way.

52

After so many miles of nothingness, it was both exciting and a little scary to see civilization ahead. At the top of the gulf, separated only by a narrow border, were the resort cities of Eilat, Israel, and Aqaba, Jordan.

Marwan veered right. Aqaba was Jordan’s only seaport, and as such, it was crowded with boat traffic. He hoped to be able to blend in and get them ashore without any hassle from border agents.

“Who are you?” he asked Dalia.

She sat up straight in the seat next to Marwan and recited as if giving a test answer in school. “My name is Dawn Cooper née Khoury, recently married to the man of my dreams, Andrew Cooper, a computer consultant with Datalan Network Infrastructures. I was formerly a flight attendant for British Airways until I met my future husband while he was on a quick business trip to Denver, Colorado, USA. By a stroke of luck, Mr. Cooper was on my flight back to London. The rest, as they say, is history.”

“And what are you doing in Jordan, Mrs. Cooper?”

“I’m on my honeymoon. I have visited several places along the Red Sea, but Aqaba by far is the most scenic, romantic seaside city I have stepped foot in.”

Marwan smiled. “Nice embellishment.”

“We Jordanians appreciate the fine art of flattery.”

Despite her humor, Marwan could hear the fear in Dalia’s voice and see it in her eyes.
You’ve got to remember, she’s never done this before. Who are you kidding? You’ve never done this before. But at least you’re used to dangerous situations.

Seeing a harbor area with a number of boats docked, he made his way that direction. However, as soon as he cleared the narrow area between two rock jetties, he knew he had made a mistake. Every one of the boats was far nicer than the one he was piloting, and a sign announced that they had just entered the Aqaba Yacht Club.

Unfortunately, it was too late to turn around now without attracting more attention.

“Did you mean to come in here?” Dalia asked.

“Yes and no. Yes, I meant to come in here. No, I obviously shouldn’t have. We’re going to stick out like a beggar in a luxury suite.”

“It’s okay,” she said, sounding like she was trying to convince herself more than Marwan. “We’ll get through this.”

He smiled at her. Scanning the docks, he found an open slip and pulled the boat in. Quickly he tied it off, helped Dalia out of the boat, then started down the wooden dock with her hand in his.

When they had made it halfway to shore, a figure stepped out of the boathouse and onto the end of the pier.
Good, it’s only the harbormaster. I can handle—

Marwan stopped short as he watched the man point their way. Two uniformed officers appeared on either side of him and began walking toward them. Dalia’s hand squeezed Marwan’s hard. He gave two gentle squeezes back and began walking to meet the men.

“Officers,” he said in a perfect British accent, “I think I may have committed a serious gaffe here. We were looking for a place to port, and—”

“Passports, please,” the older of the two officers said.