I felt an iron grip closing around my leg and I looked below. Two men had appeared from nowhere and pulled me down and one drove his fist into my face nearly crushing my jaw.I fended of the next one by covering my face and the blows landed on my head, a kick glanced my ribs and I was really scared of being beaten to death; after a break, Kuwait was once again theirs and were vicious in their victory, mercilessly thrashing corroborators ,informers and thieves. The big man , a multani, flashed his light on my face and recognizing me, stopped the beating. He was a gate-guard for the block behind and knew me, I had lived next door. Still I had a lot of explaining to do. Someone had called the police and I was driven to the station and locked up.The pain of beating persisted,I thanked my good fortune of not being lynched and suffered through the night.
My detention started almost rough but softened when I showed my US army work permit and a letter to travel .I had written that myself and the paper conveyed an authority and though it was received with an undercurrent of abhorrence , the chief did not pursue it much further, they were too indebted to Americans to do me any harm.
Next day morning, Abu Sameer ,younger brother of my erstwhile employer arrived and looked me over. He had added a few pounds and looked like he had been on a long holiday and after a brief conversation with the police chief , he asked me
“What were you doing here? It took me a minute to collect myself
“Here? In Kuwait?
“Yes and what were you looking for”
“I’m working for an American army contractor and since I was in Kuwait, I thought I could collect my books I’d left behind .The front door was locked and nobody answered, so I went around to see whether any one was inside”.
“So why didn’t you contact me”………
“I tried the office numbers and there was no response and went behind to look whether anybody was about so I could contact Abu Daoud.
He asked me a few more routine questions ,listened gravely and shook his head and lifted his chin and signaled . Eshmel was brought in, gaunt and wasted and his eyes burned with wild fury, and…,well that’s a brief description. On seeing me his satisfaction showed visibly on his face and drew on his scraggy beard and jiggled a bit. I could not fathom the source of his pleasure and it became evident soon . Phoo… was he in a haste to tear me.
“We had three million in currency at that time and I had moved the money with your assistance to a safer place. It is missing and you were the only other person who knew where the money was hidden"…..he screwed his lip and nervous ticks turned facets on his face.
“You have your figures wrong ,Mr. Eshmel, we had close to five hundred thousand in foreign currency and we had packed them in bags and had left the useless dinars behind if you remember that”…. I had acquired a slight American accent and stressed it to intimidate him.
“Yes, Yes, Yes, what happened to the money and the dinars” asked the police chief.
“I’m not sure, the money should be safe, I’ll not know until we search the place. The dinars,……… Iraqis might have pissed on that” …..I said with vengeance and the interrogators winced, I had hit a raw nerve without knowing that was exactly true.
