Chapter 11 - THE WOMAN WHO SURVIVED EVERYTHING
Naïma was supposed to be in a hospital bed.
Farid called the medical wing.
No answer.
He tried security.
Static.
Naïma’s voice returned through the speaker.
“I’m sorry.”
Leïla stepped toward it.
“You had yourself shot?”
A pause.
“No.”
“Then what is this?”
“Something I should have ended years ago.”
Karim shouted, “Open the door!”
Naïma ignored him.
Leïla spoke slowly.
“Were you helping Rami?”
“At first.”
The same answer Samira had given.
Leïla almost laughed at the cruelty of it.
Everyone thought they were helping until the plan required blood.
Naïma continued.
“Twenty-eight years ago, I was Salma’s closest friend.”
Leïla leaned against the cold wall.
Naïma had known everything.
“She told me Omar threatened Dalia. She told me she was afraid.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“I was twenty-two. Omar controlled half the police contacts in the city. Hassan controlled the other half.”
Leïla had no answer.
“After Salma died,” Naïma said, “I helped Hassan hide what happened.”
Karim’s voice shook with anger.
“You buried her.”
“Yes.”
“You helped murder evidence disappear.”
“Yes.”
Naïma’s reply held no defense.
Only shame.
“I hated myself every day after.”
“So why stay?” Leïla asked.
“To watch the family.”
“What does that mean?”
“To make sure it never happened again.”
Leïla laughed bitterly.
“That worked well.”
“I know.”
Naïma explained that years later she located Rami through Salma’s relatives.
He knew nothing about his mother.
Naïma secretly helped him.
Education.
Money.
Eventually a palace job.
Farid stared at the speaker.
“You put him inside security infrastructure.”
“Yes.”
“You gave him access.”
“Yes.”
“I trusted you.”
Naïma’s voice broke.
“I know.”
Rami grew obsessed after Omar died.
He searched old records.
Found the truth.
Then found Samira.
Naïma believed exposing the crimes would bring justice.
Instead, Rami wanted revenge.
“When did you realize?”
“Three months ago.”
“Why not tell us?”
“Because he threatened my son.”
Leïla remembered Naïma’s words before the shooting.
He said if I spoke, my son would disappear too.
It had been true.
“Did Rami shoot you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I warned Samira.”
Karim turned toward Leïla.
“So Naïma isn’t the second person.”
Leïla nodded.
“Samira said someone high enough security never searches their room.”
Farid suddenly looked toward the unconscious guard.
“Get away from him.”
Too late.
The man on the ground opened his eyes.
His hand came out from beneath his jacket holding a pistol.
Farid knocked the barrel aside.
The shot exploded against the ceiling.
Karim tackled him.
Two guards pinned him.
Farid ripped away the man’s radio.
Not a security officer.
A disguise.
Leïla stared at his face.
She had seen him before.
Her father’s personal physician’s assistant.
“Who sent you?”
The man smiled through blood on his lip.
“You already know.”
Then he bit down.
His body convulsed.
Farid grabbed his jaw.
Too late.
A capsule.
Poison.
Within seconds he stopped moving.
Karim stepped back in horror.
The speaker crackled.
Naïma’s voice disappeared.
Then Rami spoke.
“Eleven o’clock.”
Leïla checked the time.
22:46.
“You have fourteen minutes.”
“To do what?”
“Choose.”
“Between what?”
A screen mounted on the tunnel wall suddenly turned on.
Two live images appeared.
Hassan tied to a chair.
Samira tied to another.
Separate rooms.
Rami said quietly:
“One door opens when you bring me the will.”
Leïla stared.
May you like
“And the other?”
“Burns.”
