I AM NUMBER 69 (CAW 12 Entry)

I AM NUMBER 69

The heat waves shimmered in the distance, inexorably rising off the sand in an unmerciful display of mother nature’s authority. In the midst of the chaos of Dubai, the recovery truck was nowhere to be found. Off to the left, Abu Dhabi race track could be heard, the police were signalling the traffic to move on and watch for yet another broken down jeep; ours.

It was the summer of 69. It was the summer of travel and mystery.

This story starts on day three of my summer adventure abroad. I was visiting my favourite uncle and aunt who lives Dubai. My uncle took me shopping to The Mall of the Emirates, we spent all day chatting, shopping and browsing the fabulously expensive and extravagant stores. I had a funny feeling all day, deep inside me that someone had been following us throughout the mall, but I had been putting it out of my mind.

We made our way back to my uncle’s white Mercedes Jeep that was parked on level six of the multi-story car park and packed it full with all the wonderful purchases he had bought for me. As we closed the trunk, a black Mercedes with black tinted windows passed us by very slowly before speeding off once it had passed. Another strange occurrence, on an already bizarre day that was about to get a lot more weird.

We left the multi-story car park and got onto the main stretch of road, just before the major intersection where the four roads joined into one; we heard a loud BANG come from the engine compartment. Smoke gushed from the engine as we both got out of the car to check it.

All the cars around us blasted their horns at us, and there I spotted the black Mercedes again, it slowed to a gentle stop in front of us. The driver went around and opened the back passenger door, out stepped an older Arab man dressed in a very fine dishdasha with a keffiyeh; he emerged and walked towards us as he waved his driver away.

”Oh my, you seem to be having some car trouble, yes?” he asked already knowing the answer.

I looked at my uncle then to the older man, as I frowned ”Yes we are, it was fine then a loud Bang! We don’t know what’s wrong…Yet.” I sighed as I put my hand in the engine and carried on looking for the problem.

The man looked at me quizzically, I had forgotten women are not meant to speak, let alone know anything about cars. He and my uncle wandered off and continued to speak in English and Arabic, I could understand a little of the conversation but was not entirely sure as they walked further away.

”My driver is at your disposal…he shall take you anywhere you would like. And I shall have your car repaired.” he smiled as he nodded to my uncle and shook hands.

The police arrived just as I found the problem, the radiator pipe had been damaged, either accidently or on purpose, who knows. The radiator had lost all water making it explode.

”Come Claire, I’ll get the bags and we can get a lift home from this nice gentleman.” my uncle pulled my arm.

I did not trust this man in the black Mercedes but he was kind and helpful, I could not be disrespectful to him as he offered us a lift home and to fix my uncle’s car. There was something I could not put my finger on about him, but it was there, that little piece of doubt.

”Okay, uncle.” I lifted some of the bags from the jeep and placed them in the trunk of the black Mercedes as the driver closed it.

We got into the car with the older man who offered us a cool beverage after being out in the blistering heat, which I graciously accepted. An ice cold bottle of water to quench my thirst. My uncle conversed with the man as I sat across from them both and watched. The man who then introduced himself as Alaa Al Haddad, Sultan of Abu Dhabi. My uncle’s face dropped and all the colour drained from it, myself I could not help but smile at him unsure what to do or how to react.

We, my uncle and I were sat in the Sultan of Abu Dhabi’s car; in the presence of the Sultan! This had turned out to be a most adventurous day indeed.

My uncle was completely flabbergasted by the revelations; I was left to resume the conversational flow.

”So…you’re the Sultan…Do you have a palace?” I could have slapped myself across the face, asking such a stupid question.

”Yes my dear, of course I do.” He chuckled a deep loud laugh.

”Would you like to see it?” He raised an eyebrow.

”I would LOVE to.” I smiled and nodded as my face flushed a deep crimson colour with my overly eager answer.

My uncle was still in shock, nodding along with the plans as the Sultan and I continued to talk about general things, the weather and such until I asked about seeing him earlier.

”It was you earlier, wasn’t it? That drove passed us so slowly then sped off?” I asked as I narrowed my eyes quizzically.

”You do not hold anything back my dear, do you?” he looked at my solemnly.

A few awkward moments passed before he resumed to answer me, once he had realized I was not about to pass the subject over.

”Yes, it was I. I saw you in The Mall and wanted to make sure you got to your car safely…” he trailed off.

”We are almost home, Sultan.” The driver interrupted our conversation.

I took a sip of my water, the condensation dripped of the bottom of the bottle, running down my bare chest between my ample bosom and down the deep valley of my cleavage. The Sultan sat across from me watched my every move and traced the line of the water droplet with his eyes.

The black Mercedes drove up to the palace entrance, black steel gates with the solid gold royal seal on it, the Royal Khanjar’s crossing one another in a circle, the gates effortlessly opened for us.

”Ah, come my dear. I shall show you my home. David? Will you come inside?” he paused for my uncle.

”…Yes…yes Sultan.” my uncle opened the car door, stepped out and held it open for The Sultan.

”After you my dear…” he smiled.

”My name is Claire…… Sultan.” I shot him a half smile as I went to get out.

”I know, call me Al…Claire” he touched my hand as I clambered out the car like I was drunk.

”Okay…Al” I smiled as I stood looking at him as he gracefully emerged from the car.

We walked up the cascading mountain of marble that was the stairs, passed the identical water features on either side of the grand and lavish staircase. We strolled along a long solid marble hallway and into the entrance room which was more marble, floor to ceiling; with the most magnificent chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. It had ornate carvings in the marble walls, a huge self portrait of the Sultan on a twenty foot wall. Plush silk sofa’s with matching curtains and throws cushions big enough to seat 40 comfortably.

We stopped at a double doorway that opened to reveal a huge solid wooden table; it could have been 100 feet long with at least 60 chairs. It was overflowing with fresh fruit, water, coffee, tea, confectionary, everything you could ever want and more.

”Please, help yourselves.” The Sultan motioned to us.

”Thank you, Sultan.” My uncle Dave stammered.

”Thank you…Al.” I replied.

”You know, it feels very strange calling you Al.” I said quietly.

”Well…what would you rather call me Claire?” he enquired.

”Oh no…I wasn’t meaning I should get to call you anything else, I just mean everyone else is calling you Sultan and I’m calling you Al.” I scrambled to explain, blushing again.

”You are very cute, when you’re flustered Claire…” he laughed.

My uncle intervened by coughing to let us know he was still there.

”Well…I think it’s time myself and Claire was getting home. My wife will be worried about us.” he announced.

”Oh, okay. Well my driver can take you home.” he snapped his fingers.

”Ramey, take Mr. Bale and Claire home.”

”Yes Sultan!” he replied from nowhere.

The Sultan walked us out to the car where we said our goodbyes, thanked him for rescuing us and for a lovely afternoon at the palace. We figured that, that would be the last we would be seeing him.

A week later we received a phone call from the Mercedes dealership to say the car was ready to be picked up, worked out to be the chance meeting with the Sultan again.

My uncle was at work when we received the phone call so my aunt drove me to the dealership to pick the car up; as we approached I spotted the black Mercedes again.