CAPTURED

Chapter 5

Saloom Ned, a seasoned blogger and public figure, was their guide upon arrival. Stepping into a place where the air was warm and dry, the first thing to catch their eye was how well-structured the city was. It was nothing like what the news preached. Well-tarred roads, state-of-the-art centers, and towers that gave the feel of a majestic empire. There was nothing impoverished about this place. Nothing at all.

"Wow, your country is beautiful," Stephanie could not help but admire.

"It's not like your people make it seem, right?" Saloom had an addictive smile. It made the party of five feel like they were with one of their own.

"I was just thinking about that," Stephanie admitted.

"Haha, well, your folks are compelled to focus on the few towns in Karan where all the madness happens. The capital is a conflict-free zone, well guarded by President Kameel's men," said Saloom.

"I see, that explains a lot," Stephanie nodded.

The Tanbough International Hotel was the most luxurious place to stay in the city. It stood at four hundred and thirty meters, built up into an incredible sight to behold. Caleb raised his camera as they stood in the lobby. "Let's make memories while we make the Network proud." The three others with them joined in.

"Steph, we're waiting for you," Lenard, Stacy, and Charles waved for her to come over. With a grin, she joined in for the group photo, wearing a goofy smile for the camera.

The next three days were an adventure. They had the privilege of meeting the Prime Minister in person to discuss how the interview would go. "The President will sit in on the eighteenth as scheduled. It will be pre-recorded, not live," the Prime Minister said.

Stephanie was not surprised by the sudden change in plans. This way, Kameel would control how the interview went. "He has instructed me to make sure you have a fruitful stay here in our humble abode," Majed Haness added, after going over some dos and don'ts for the final day. It was supposed to be live, but Haness' behavior and the wide gap in dates told Stephanie something was amiss.

Later, when she raised concerns with the higher-ups, she was told to just go with it. When Stephanie wasn’t fretting about the hard questions she had been told to cancel, her mind drifted back to the relationship she had put in jeopardy because of this. Troy had given her no chance to win him back with words. That made Stephanie bitter.

And so, the initial days were spent preparing, touring Tanbough, and having as much fun as possible. The natives were gentle and kind but lived by strict codes of conduct. The team had to change into more conservative clothing. Saloom took them to his family home, where they gained a second home. The people’s love for art and poetry was evident in their museums and tourist sites. Molds of colorful walls and tombs told the tale of how a small tribe grew into a country.

Back at the hotel, they indulged in celebratory activities: enjoying the swimming pools, booking spa and fitness appointments. It became more of a vacation than work once they went over their plan. But the only liquors allowed in the country were those made of wild grapes and palm wine.

On the day of the interview, they were picked up again by Saloom. Walking into the dragon's den felt heavy and dangerous but oddly exciting. A gallery of bloodlines and the symbol of the baton handed to leaders such as Rashed Kameel reflected how far the nation had come, though it was still looked down upon. Kameel's secretary was loud about the rules and how to address the "ruler" of Karan.

The man of the hour appeared right on time. Clothed in a full military ensemble, wearing all the honors on his chest and shoulder pads, he was two tins shorter than expected, with a dull yet familiar-looking face. His dark mane and mustache gave him maturity for a man in his early sixties. What made him distinct was the patch of silver hair on the right side of his head. Kameel wore a single ring on his left finger - supposedly his wedding band.

As a journalist, it was expected that Stephanie starts easy and save the difficult questions for later. She did just that, but when it came to the hard part, she went off script, against everyone's orders. ‘If you choose to do something, do it well,’ she told herself.

After four hours of heat, Stephanie returned to the hotel room with her head on her shoulders. Perhaps it was the thrill of standing her ground, but she did not feel afraid - not yet. They had two more days until the flight. She would spend that time preparing for life back home.

(The Following Day)

Stephanie rubbed her temple, fighting through a migraine early in the morning. She had been reprimanded by her boss for throwing the interview off track, but she braved through the scolding. Her boss might be unhappy, but President Kameel’s blameless image in the real world now had cracks. That is, if the tape wasn’t sabotaged or edited.

Breakfast was at the café outside. Her crew were talking about a party for their last night in Karan, but she wasn’t listening, distracted by the stubborn headache. "Have some coffee." Saloom poured her a cup. Stephanie glanced outside the glass walls after taking a considerable sip.

"Mm, this is good. Thanks," she smiled at Saloom.

"It takes a lot of courage to do what you did yesterday. We all read your final notes. What happened?" Charles asked without wasting another breath. To be fair, everyone else was thinking the same.

"I don’t know... I guess I was just doing my job. I can’t interview a suspicious character the way I would everyone else." Stephanie’s reply lacked the confidence she had shown yesterday.

"You're a woman of fire, Miss Door," said Saloom. "It may not seem like it at first glance, but you are. Do not let anything quench it... To be frank, I was surprised they sent a woman to interview someone like Rasheed Kameel. He likes women submissive and quiet. You remind me of the Prime Minister's daughter, an activist who stood against her father’s work. The people admired her."

"Pfft..." Stephanie laughed. "I'll take that as a compliment." She raised her mug. After a while, she lifted her eyes in thought. "This activist you speak of, how come I’ve never heard of her?"

Saloom leaned in carefully. "As I said, the voice of women is never heard in these lands. It's either you're dead or you're someone's property. Samiya Haness chose not to be property."

"So you're saying she's...," Stacy began.

"I'm saying she disappeared off the face of the earth," Saloom replied. "Her father mourned her for some days, then forgot about her completely."

"That's dark...," Caleb muttered.

"I want to learn more about your people someday," said Stephanie. "Let's keep in touch."

"Are you sure you want to go down that road?" Saloom asked.

"Yeah. Our trip was pleasant thanks to you, and now I see there is more to this place than meets the eye."

"Alright," Saloom smiled. "Next time I'll take you to the..."

BOOM!

The earth beneath them shook as the ear-shattering sound of explosives ripped through the atmosphere. Sand and dust clouded the windows; clear skies blurred. Before anyone in the restaurant could recollect themselves, a second explosive went off. The impact blew guests out of their seats, leaving many wounded and cut by shattered glass. Stephanie could not make out the people at her table or who was shielding her - all she could hear was the piercing flatline in her bleeding ears.

Then came gunshots, soon overshadowed by screams. Those who rose to run were gunned down without restraint. As Stephanie tried to crawl up, a hand caught her wrist and a familiar whisper followed. "Stay down..."

"Saloom."

Stephanie's heart plummeted when she recognized the man covered in sand and blood. She saw Caleb lying unconscious on the other end of the round table. The others, she was yet to find. Saloom had a huge chunk of glass in his thigh and could not move.

"Quick...get…under…the…table," he stuttered. Stephanie turned to the broken table two feet away, slanted against the pillar nearby.

Grabbing both his arms, she pulled his weight strategically while the attackers were busy terrorizing and killing people. ‘We need to hide, we need to...’ Her mind was in shambles. As the yelling and wailing minimized, so did the gunshots. Then a man’s voice cut through in one of the native languages. Not long after, another trembling man translated.

"Run a-and you will be killed. All the men, gather at my right-hand side...and the women, fall on the left," the translator quivered as the armed man yelled at him. "He says you have three minutes to do this or we die."

That didn’t sound fun.