Chapter 49

Emir Demir, feeling the weight of his financial burdens, made his way from his office in Adana to the remote and sparse buildings of Bereketli Yemcilik. His daughter needed more tuition fees for the next term, and his son had just written off his car and was begging for another. These distractions clouded his mind as he arrived at the animal feed company’s premises.

Hassan Al-Khatib, the CEO, welcomed him warmly. Hassan appeared to be a nice man, pious and courteous, yet Emir had noticed some irregularities in the accounts that made him uneasy. As he entered the complex, he observed its high level of security. Despite this, there was only one bored local guard at the entrance, who never seemed to venture inside.

The atmosphere was tense as Emir stepped further into the facility, trying to shake off his personal worries and focus on the task at hand.

Hassan Al-Khatib smiled warmly at Emir and said, “My friend, here we export grain for the animals but also money for the poor. As the Quran says, ‘The example of those who spend their wealth in the way of Allah is like a seed of grain that sprouts seven ears, in every ear a hundred grains’ (Al-Baqarah 2:261).”

Hassan paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Of course, sometimes certain ... incentives can ensure that everything runs smoothly. Perhaps a small token of appreciation for your troubles?” His voice was calm, but the implication was clear.

Demir recalled Mr. Al-Khatib taking an interest in his troubles during their last meetings in Adana. As he wandered around the complex, he found it unclear how they made so much money from selling cattle feed. Other than the young Turkish security guard, the only other employees he saw were a shaven-headed man in a boiler suit doing something unspecified and another man in a face mask cleaning out a container.

As they supped coffee, Demir asked, “Do you have a receptionist?”

Hassan Al-Khatib smiled and replied, “Mr. Demir, forgive me, I love women, but my religion forbids me to employ them. I owe it to my wife not to have distractions.”

Mr. Demir laughed, “Of course, I understand. There would only be gossip anyway!”

Both men laughed. Emir Demir then turned his attention to a map of Europe and the Middle East with various locations marked. The map piqued his curiosity, hinting at a broader network of operations than he had previously realized.

“What’s that?” he asked, looking at a bullwhip and cattle prod hanging from the wall.

Hassan Al-Khatib followed Demir’s gaze and chuckled. “Ah, those. They’re actually old relics from when we first started the business. Back then, we handled some livestock directly before focusing solely on feed production. Now they serve as a reminder of our humble beginnings and the challenges we’ve overcome.”

Demir nodded, accepting the explanation, though he couldn’t shake a lingering sense of unease. The tools seemed oddly out of place in a facility that no longer dealt with animals directly.

“Mr. Demir, we are both criminals here,” Hassan Al-Khatib said with a serious tone. “We do not deal in the suffering of animals. We only try to ensure that religion is not forgotten. Sometimes, governments don’t like it.”

Mr. Demir, who was not religious, didn’t mind this revelation. He felt a tinge of sympathy and saw an opportunity for some money. “Mr. Al-Khatib, I won’t lie, there are irregularities here, and in particular this need to charter a private plane for exotic feed and seeds, but as you say, it’s probably from a good spirit. If you help me, I can help you.”

Hassan’s eyes lit up with interest. “And how might that be, my friend?”

Demir leaned in slightly. “I can overlook the irregularities and even support your cause, but in return, I need financial assistance. My daughter’s tuition fees, my son’s car—these are pressing matters for me.”

Hassan nodded slowly, considering the proposal. “Very well, Mr. Demir. Let’s discuss how we can help each other achieve our goals.”

Mr. Demir left the complex feeling much happier. His suspicions about the Azmarian government were correct but he felt good. No one was being hurt and he could not only pay his debts but perhaps have a little holiday.

Elira Dervishi was sprawled across her bed, staring at the ceiling in utter boredom. Another monotonous day had passed with nothing to do but watch TV with her parents and brothers, or endure the company of the same tiresome classmates she saw every day. Life felt painfully dull, and she longed for something exciting to break the routine.

With a sigh, she grabbed her phone and retreated to the solitude of her bedroom. As she scrolled through her social media feeds, she noticed that Adnan was online. Her heart skipped a beat. Adnan, with his charismatic smile and exciting life, was the subject of her daydreams and the crush she couldn’t shake.

She quickly sent him a message. “Hi Elira! Sorry, just working online on a forum with some guys. We are planning a get-together for a band,” he replied.

Elira’s curiosity was piqued, and a pang of jealousy twisted in her stomach. “Oh cool!” she typed back, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Who else is gonna be there?”

There was a pause. She watched as the ellipsis indicating he was typing appeared and disappeared, but no response came through. Adnan wasn’t on his webcam, and the silence stretched on, amplifying her insecurities. Elira’s mind raced. She felt so helpless, so ordinary compared to the vibrant life Adnan seemed to lead. Why would he be interested in her? Her room, her life, felt like a cage, and the thought of him in Sarajevo, surrounded by music and interesting people, made her feel even more isolated.

Maybe he wasn’t serious about her coming to Sarajevo, she thought, her heart sinking. The possibility of him being just polite or uninterested gnawed at her, making her feel even more insignificant. She tossed her phone aside and buried her face in her pillow, wishing desperately for a life that felt worth living, and for a boy who saw something special in her.

“Hey, I got new underwear today, want to see?” Elira typed, biting her lip nervously as she waited for his response. Her heart pounded in her chest, her cheeks flushing with anticipation.

When his reply came with a smiling wink emoji, she jumped off her seat, a mix of excitement and anxiety surging through her. She dashed to her dresser, opening the drawer where she kept her newest purchases.

There were a few options to choose from. She could go with the delicate lace set in a soft pastel pink that made her feel both elegant and cute. Or perhaps the bold red thong and skimpy bra with intricate embroidery. There was also the simple but stylish black set, which was classic and subtly sexy.

Elira hesitated for a moment, her mind racing. She wanted to choose something that would make her feel attractive and confident, something that might impress Adnan.

Finally, she settled on the red thong set. It was a daring choice, but she felt a thrill as she put it on. She looked at herself in the mirror, adjusting the straps and smoothing the fabric, feeling a rush of empowerment.

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her phone and snapped a photo. She sent it with a quick, “What do you think?” and waited, her heart pounding, for his reaction.

“Wow, Elira, you look absolutely stunning! That red really suits you. I can’t wait to see you in person. You’re amazing!”

Elira was elated, and a wide smile spread across her face as she read Adnan’s response. She felt a surge of confidence and excitement and looked at herself in the mirror once more.

But at that moment, her father walked in unannounced through her door. “Elira, what the hell are you doing?”

Elira’s face flushed as she fumbled for words, quickly pulling on a nearby robe to cover herself. “Oh ... er ... Dad...” she stammered, her mind racing to find an explanation. “I ... I was just trying on some new clothes I bought.”

Her father’s expression was a mix of shock and anger. And where did you get those clothes? Are you some kind of whore?”

Elira took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Dad, I bought them with my own money. I just wanted to try something different, something that makes me feel confident.”

Her father shook his head, his voice rising. “This isn’t how I raised you! Sending pictures like that? What are you thinking? Who the fuck is that?” He went to grab her phone.

Elira felt a lump in her throat but forced herself to speak calmly. “Dad, I’m an adult now. I need to make my own choices, even if you don’t agree with them. I’m not doing anything wrong.”

Her father’s face twisted with anger. “You little slut!” he yelled, ripping the phone from her hand and hurling it against the wall. The phone shattered, pieces scattering across the floor.

Elira stood frozen, shock and hurt washing over her. “Dad! How could you?” she cried, tears welling up in her eyes.

Her father’s eyes were seized with fury and something else—something darker. He gripped her by the hair, pulling her to the bed, and threw her across his lap.

Elira’s heart pounded with fear and confusion. “Dad, stop! Please!” she cried, struggling to get free.

But his grip tightened. “You need to learn a lesson,” he growled, his voice low and menacing.

Elira felt a wave of panic. “This isn’t right! You can’t do this!” she shouted, trying to push herself up.

Ignoring her pleas, he raised his hand, and Elira braced herself, feeling utterly helpless and terrified. With a thunderous “Slap!” his large hand struck her buttock, leaving a red mark where it landed.

“You will learn respect!” he shouted, his voice echoing with anger. Elira gasped in pain, tears streaming down her face. “Dad, please, stop! it hurts!” she cried, struggling to get free. But he struck her again and again as Elira felt humiliation and revulsion at what was happening to her.

“Alban!” Suddenly, Elira’s mother was in the doorway, appalled at the sight of her daughter in her underwear over her husband’s knee, shrieking in pain. “Alban, what the hell are you doing!” she screamed, rushing into the room. Elira’s buttocks were now the same color as her red thong.

Elira’s mother quickly pulled Elira up and away from Alban, wrapping her in a protective embrace. “This is not how we handle things!” she shouted, glaring at her husband. “You can’t treat her like this!”

Elira clung to her mother, sobbing. “Mom, please, make him stop.”

Alban froze, his face contorted with anger and confusion. “She needs to learn respect,” he muttered, his voice shaking. “I caught her showing herself on the internet.”

“Is this true?” Elira saw her mother’s expression change, her embrace loosening as she took in Elira’s nearly naked form, the skimpy red lace barely covering her lily-white skin. “Elira, what in God’s name have you been doing!”

Elira felt a fresh wave of shame wash over her. “Mom, I ... I was just trying on some new lingerie I bought,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her mother’s eyes filled with a mixture of shock and disappointment. “Elira, this is not how I raised you! Dressing like this and sending pictures?” Suddenly, she lost herself and slapped her daughter across the face, sending Elira reeling over the bed.

“Fucking slut! Our family will be a disgrace because of you!” she spat, turning away in disgust. She and her husband stormed out of the bedroom. “You will get married off before you disgrace us further. Then you can be someone else’s problem.”

Elira cradled her face, tears streaming down as she absorbed the sting of the slap and the harshness of her mother’s words. She was left alone, trying to piece her phone back together, and pulling on her pajamas over the damned lingerie.

Mekonnen Tesfaye spent another day filming the American college girls training in track and field. Though bemused by his instructions, he didn’t mind; he desperately needed the money for himself and his family back in Eritrea.

Lucy Seratova, at nineteen, effortlessly balanced partying, studying, and athletics. She peeled off her skin-tight track pants, bending over and giving Mekonnen excellent footage as her blue shorts came into view, encasing her toned buttocks and revealing the valley of her backside as the fabric disappeared between her cheeks. She adjusted her shorts, smoothing her flat stomach and smiling at how good she looked before picking up the pole to vault.

Her body arced through the air as she went feet-first over the bar, landing gracefully on the cushioned surface on the other side. “Yay!” she exclaimed, legs spread wide. She kicked herself up, the thin blue fabric of her shorts between her legs maintaining her modesty. Laughing with her track mates, she adjusted her skimpy bottoms once more, ready for the next vault.

After practice, Mekonnen’s next task was to approach Lucy and another girl and try to get their phone numbers while recording himself doing it. He had bad experiences with this in the past with local and Austrian girls, but he had no choice but to comply.

“Hi girls! Wondering if you need a guide in town?” he asked.

Lucy and her friend Fiona, both in tight sports pants and tops, were laughing in a carefree manner but immediately became guarded when the dodgy-looking youth appeared.

“We’re fine,” Fiona said, trying to shut it down.

“Are you sure? Why don’t you give me your phone number?” Mekonnen persisted.

“Leave us alone!” Fiona responded firmly, clearly annoyed.

Mekonnen sighed, feeling the sting of rejection once again. He had tried his best, but now he had to follow through with the next part of his instructions: finding out where Lucy and Fiona lived. As he pondered his task, he couldn’t help but wonder who these people were who gave him such odd and invasive tasks.

Determined to complete his assignment without looking like a creep, he decided to be discreet and careful. He hung back, maintaining a distance, and tried to blend into the background as he followed the girls from a safe distance. He needed to gather the information without drawing attention to himself, all the while questioning the true intentions of those who had hired him.