Strangers by Carla Banks Page A

arrived in the Kingdom, they were made to sign contracts written in Arabic–the only contracts that were legally enforceable–only to find that their promised salaries were much reduced and the length of time they were required to remain in the Kingdom much increased. If they broke their contracts and left early, the cost of their transportation would be added to the already substantial debts they had accrued. It was probably a debtof this nature that had driven Patel to take his fatal shortcut.
    Once they were in the Kingdom, Nazarian took no further responsibility for the migrants. Their employers were free to act as they wished. In a country that had only abolished slavery in 1962, this form of labour exploitation raised few eyebrows. Nazarian’s empire had never been challenged. He knew the game backwards, knew who had the power and who didn’t, who to flatter, who to pay. Damien had tried several times to try and break the stranglehold he had on the unskilled labour market, but Nazarian was too well connected.
    But maybe the ‘good times’ were finally nearing an end. The system was breaking down as the Islamists in Saudi recoiled from the exploitation of fellow Muslims, turning away from the corruption in the heart of their society and back to older, stricter ways. A few months earlier, an attempt had been made on Nazarian’s life.
    The Armenian was a difficult man to contact, but Damien’s name got him through the barriers that he surrounded himself with. He left some messages and waited. After half an hour, his phone rang.
    ‘O’Neill!’ Nazarian’s voice was deep and warm. Along with his other assets, he had a great deal of charm. ‘Good to see you the other night. How are you? Well, I hope.’
    They exchanged the usual courtesies, thenNazarian said, ‘I’m glad you called. I wanted to talk to you.’
    ‘So you said.’ Damien waited to see what Nazarian wanted.
    There was silence on the other end of the line, as though Nazarian was choosing his words carefully. ‘The hospital,’ he said after a moment. ‘You recruit many of the doctors, am I right?’
    ‘Yes.’ Hospital recruitment was high on Damien’s list of responsibilities.
    ‘Obstetricians,’ Nazarian said abruptly. ‘Do they get the best here, or…?’
    Damien suddenly understood what the problem was and, for the first time in his association with the man, he found himself feeling some sympathy towards Nazarian. Social restrictions made it close to impossible for male obstetricians and gynaecologists to work in the Kingdom. Nazarian was worried about the standard of care that would be offered to his daughter. ‘They get the best,’ he said. And it was true. Saudi trained its women to a high standard in women’s medicine, and the Kingdom had always recruited and paid for the best when they couldn’t fill posts from their own schools and universities.
    Nazarian grunted, only half convinced. ‘I keep thinking about taking her to Europe. That’s where she…’
    Majid would never permit that, but it was something that the two men would have to sort out between themselves. He felt a stab of sympathyfor Yasmin who apparently was not allowed any say in this issue. ‘She’ll get excellent care here,’ he said.
    ‘OK.’ Nazarian closed the subject abruptly. ‘You wanted to talk to me.’
    ‘Yes. Something’s come up.’ Damien saw no reason for subterfuge. Whatever had happened with Patel, Nazarian would have nothing he needed to hide. There was very little he could have done to the man that the authorities would have worried about. ‘I’ve had a query about a man called Haroun Patel,’ he said. He wanted to see if the name–one of thousands on Nazarian’s books–would be recognized.
    There was a moment of silence. ‘A query about Patel? From whom?’
    ‘That’s what I’m not sure about.’ Damien didn’t want Amy in Nazarian’s sights.
    There was another beat of silence. ‘Maybe we need to talk about this. Can you