Bin Laden's Woman Read Online Free Page B

try
anything, such was his pain.
     
    As anticipated in the treatment, the
symptoms worsened at the beginning, that was the reaction of the
fungi, and then, they gradually slowed.
    Everyone was very grateful to Samira, even
Bin, very reserved, used to call the young woman. He liked the
stories she told from Brazil, the people, their jokes.
     
    Travel plans to Brazil were postponed, the
urgency decreased, they were enjoying that apparent safety.
     
    Life followed its course, the amounts
transferred were increasing. For safety, the money and the custody
of the bonds were moved from one bank to another, to hinder
tracking.
    Taking advantage of Samira’s ability, they
developed new operations, increasingly complexity.
    Samira created a large spreadsheet with that
movement; it was the only way to keep up with Bin’s prodigious
mind.
    He didn’t know the exact number, but he had
the bulk of each operation closely kept in his mind. No notes at
all.
     
    The only distractions Samira had were
Safiyah, Amal’s daughter, and the chickens.
     
    - Aunt Samira, make me a hair like
yours?
    - Of course, my love, come here.
    Then she washed the girl’s hair, combed them
with a thick comb, put the sides up, over the ears, they looked
quite alike. She remembered herself, little child in Bauru, in Mrs.
Samira’s arms, she began to cry.
    - What is it, aunt, why are you crying?
    - No, no, my angel, your aunt is silly. I
remembered my mother.
     
    Samira asked permission to build a higher
frame, inside the chicken coop. Like the one her parents have in
Tupã. She thought the chickens would feel safer sleeping perched.
They would have more eggs, more chicks. Arabs don’t understand much
about chickens.
     
    The chicken coop was leaning against the
wall at the back of the building. There was a single entrance door,
it was the only place where they didn’t need to watch over Samira.
From there, she had nowhere to go. They agreed with her project,
then she went with tools and boards to do her job.
    The chickens were sleeping on an old wooden
floor, it seemed building waste, improvised. Samira started
cleaning and disassembling it.
    Many pieces of wood were joined by others,
nailed, impossible to move. She began removing the nails and
releasing piece by piece, she had plenty of time.
    By the middle of the job, she found a hole
in the concrete slab. It must have been a gateway for materials,
water, or something. It was hidden by the wooden floor, it hadn’t
been closed at the end of the construction.
    Carefully not to draw attention, she looked
inside; it was a waterway, behind the house.
    She had her heart in her mouth, my God, it
was a way out, useless by now. If she went out there, she would be
recaptured and who knows what would happen to her parents.
    She arranged the boards recovering the exit,
left two of them unattached, enough for her to escape if there was
an opportunity.
    A few more days, she concluded the roost.
The set was even heavier than it already was, completely hiding the
exit. Only she knew what boards were loose.

 
     
2011
    Bin was recovered, free of pain, became
another man, a dynamo.
    He forgot the danger, only could think about
the big and apotheotic action to celebrate the tenth anniversary of
the September 11th.
    Samira became his right hand. Since the
cure, he completely trusted in the young woman.
    Maybe the old idea of marriage could be
reconsidered.
    She, in her turn, felt more and more
trapped. She couldn’t communicate over the internet, but she read
the international news.
    Bin wanted a magnificent event, but at the
same time, Americans were doing everything they could to capture
the Arab leader.
    That would eventually happen.
    Her “beloved” father had sold his daughter
for a dozen camels; you can imagine what people would do for 25
million dollars, the reward for Bin’s head.
    In fact, everybody knew that, the alert was
complete, the guard was doubled, and slept ready for the worst,
dressed and armed.