Naked in Dangerous Places - Cash Peters [69]
“And there's something else,” Tasha says.
Nick brushes wisps of fair hair from his eyes, trying to figure out the most tactful way of framing it. “We've arranged for you to meet a very senior member of the government. 'E's major, mate. Close connections to the Maktoums. You're lucky to 'ave 'im on the show. It'll make for a great segment. Nice guy. Friendly, but…”
“But…” Tasha echoes ominously.
“But what?”
“… he's very high up, very important, and if you upset him, then …”
Before the threat can be fully fleshed out—though I'm sure it probably entails being arrested and thrown in prison for five years; call me psychic—Tasha chips in with a curt “Just don't upset him, okay?”
“Alrighty … and what exactly would I have to say to upset him?”
She stands up and makes to go. “Just don't.”
If you're wondering where Dubai is, it's at the eastern end of the Arabian Peninsula. And if you're wondering where that is, well, you could always buy an atlas—hm?
Basically, we're talking about the Middle East, but not the part where people slaughter each other daily for no good reason; rather, the relatively nice part of the Persian Gulf where the lifestyle, because they have the buffer of vast oil reserves and the high-minded good sense not to squander them on war or nuclear weapons, is peaceful, and steeped—steeped, mind—in five-star opulence. That's Dubai.
“Safest country in the world,” Nick trumpets.
Thousands of people agree with him and have set their sights on living and working here. Unfortunately, most arrived before Dubai was quite ready for them, and the city is struggling to keep pace.
“Why is it the safest?” I ask, as we crawl an inch at a time through bumper-to-bumper traffic along an unfinished four-lane highway en route to our first location, an unfinished tower block. “You mean there are no terrorist attacks here?”
He shakes his head.
“But why not? Surely, this whole place is one great big bull's-eye for Al Qaeda.”
Same way Las Vegas is. Stands to reason. If anywhere in the world has Great Satan written all over it, it's Vegas. Or it did, until Dubai came along, which will soon be bigger, glitzier, more lavish, and a whole lot satanier than Vegas could ever dream of.
“The earth has a new center,” a giant billboard screams at us from the roadside. And what extremist wouldn't welcome the chance to bomb the center of the earth?
Yet Nick remains adamant. “Won't 'appen, mate.”
“But why?”
For the second time this trip, he turns mysterious and lowers his voice, even though there's only me and the crew here.
“It's rumored that someone in the government is related to one of Bin Laden's cousins, and they've … y'know … done a deal, sort of thing. ‘We'll scratch your back, mate, and you don't bomb ours, okay?’ And that's what we think 'appened.”
“So … is it true?”
He shoots me an alarmed glance via the rearview mirror. Already said too much.
“Safest country in the world, mate.”
And the topic is quickly dropped.
By Nick, at least. Me, I'm nowhere near done yet.
Dubai nowadays is a modern marvel. That's how far it's come. Half a century ago there was almost nothing here, except for a modest fishing port renowned for its flourishing trade in precious pearl oysters. Everything else was just a very large patch of sand. One of seven similarly large patches of sand known as emirates, or Arab sheikhdoms, bordering the Persian Gulf.
For a while in the nineteenth century, the region was under threat of attack from the ever-expanding Ottoman Empire, centered in Constantinople (now Istanbul). Luckily, in 1873, the British came along and put their foot down (which was a shock: normally people only put their feet up on Ottomans), offering protection to the sheikhdoms and their trade routes. Until 1971, that is,