The Last Option
Chapter Fifty-Nine: Dubai

Bernard had never traveled so far or for so many hours, fifteen in total, from New York to Dubai, not counting the forced stopover of five hours and forty minutes in Kuwait City, as he had chosen Kuwait Airlines, despite Phil's recommendation to use another airline such as Turkish Airlines, which had a stopover in Istanbul, and based that choice on the fact that precisely the stopover would be shorter, as in Istanbul he would be waiting almost ten hours for the transfer. He would later learn from a comment made to a woman by another passenger in the Dubai airport terminal, that he had made a stopover of one hour and twenty minutes in Istanbul. He didn't understand how stopovers could vary in time with the same airline. But anyway, he was now in Dubai, and his next destination would be the spectacular Burj Khalifa in the center of the city.

He had arrived at eight o'clock in the evening, and he had to admit, while going by taxi to the tower, that Dubai was a very impressive city, with its lights and grand stores and buildings reigning supreme at night. Before arriving at his destination, driving down a busy street, he noticed to his left an imposing, illuminated structure almost entirely of glass, with extensive gardens and palm trees, which caught his attention powerfully. He quickly saw the name at the center, apparently projected on a huge liquid crystal or plasma screen: The Dubai Mall. He remembered that he had once read somewhere it was the largest shopping mall in the world, with more than twelve hundred stores inside. He set out to learn more about it the next day, thinking about what he could do to carry out his plan.

But the admiration for the mall was quenched by the breathtaking view immediately after as they began to drive down Sheikh Zayed Road, from the Burj Khalifa, and its more than eight hundred-meter height. The cab driver, evidently proud, uttered a comment in regular English about the building, but Bernard did not hear it well.

"Excuse me," Bernard said, having woken up a bit, "I didn't hear what you said."

"I asked you if you didn't think it was a beauty," the driver said, referring to the building. "Our best work. It attracts many tourists like you all year round."

Bernard remembered one of Phil's last pieces of advice when he was saying goodbye to him at JKF: "If you really want to pass yourself off as a multi-millionaire, think and act like one. Remember you are used to luxury, so try not to be impressed by what you see. Dubai is a very luxurious city, and the Burj Khalifa is the most luxurious thing there so far."

"It's very impressive, but I'm not here for tourism. I'm here on business," Bernard said, with a hint of indifference. The driver looked at him in the rearview mirror for a few seconds, and then turned his attention back to the road, already arriving at his destination.

The entrance of the hotel was also very impressive, with the walls covered with different types of polished stone and stucco, while the floor was covered with polished rock, very similar to marble, highlighting the white, brown and black colors throughout the entire stay. He had tried to book one of the suites two days before his flight, but due to high demand he had to settle for one of the hotel rooms on the eightieth floor, which he reached after checking in. He had to take an elevator to the thirtieth floor, then another to the sixtieth, and finally another to the eightieth. The elevators went up at breakneck speed and he thought they were really very fast.

The room was no less spectacular. It was spacious, modern in style, with modular furniture and bed and a mahogany-colored laminate floor; the interior walls were a combination of gray and white, and in front of the bed a large floor-to-ceiling glass window, showing the tips of the surrounding buildings on the right side, and on the left the imposing desert that surrounds the city. Bernard was told at the reception that in the day he could cause the window to be polarized with a remote control, to prevent it from very much sunlight.

He took a shower, and when he went to bed he fell asleep quickly. The long trip and how exhausted he was made him sleep soundly.

The next day, after breakfast was brought to his room, he psyched himself up to play his role as a billionaire as best he could. He reached into his wallet for the photo of Rebecca Hicks that Phil had given him, one he had cut out of a magazine where she was posing with Nathan at a Southern Hilltop Gold benefit. He memorized the face of his target, and for a moment he stared at Nathan, thinking about everything had happened to him and about his son, little Nathan. A wave of sadness invaded his heart, and as he felt that way he willed that sadness to be displaced by the need for justice he was longing for and why he was in that city. For the first time he found himself thinking that she might not be responsible for what happened to Nathan, Norma and Margaret, but with her disdain, contempt and rejection of the child, she did not deserve to have all that was her brother's.

And hence he proposed to strip her of everything. Perhaps if she had accepted the child as her nephew, the story would be different.

By mid-morning he left the hotel, and when he found himself outside the building again, he wanted to take a look at the imposing structure. He could not believe it stood almost a kilometer high and had more than one hundred and fifty floors. He was near one of the three overhanging wings or sections of the building, which ascends in the form of a spiral staircase to the left and encircles it. He looked up for a moment longer and remembered Phil's words in reference to not being so impressed by things in Dubai.

He decided then to go to The Dubai Mall to get to know it a bit and buy a new suit. He thought at that hour maybe Rebecca Hicks would still be sleeping after a night of madness, and he would take the opportunity to replace out about the places she might frequent.

He hadn't considered the fact that locating her might be a bit difficult, but given what he had been told about her, he hoped to replace her quickly, if he could get into her mind and guess her steps. The Burj Khalifa was connected to one of the entrances of the Dubai Mall, where precisely he was, and he headed there, admiring everything around him, but without giving the impression he was just another tourist, amazed by everything he saw. That is to say, he feigned a little indifference.

Without intending to and without knowing how, he arrived at the Burj Plaza, and realized he had left the mall aside, but he didn't give importance. Everything there was huge: the mall, the building and now the plaza. He decided to spend a little time in the square to admire it a bit, and minutes after walking a bit he came across a huge fountain and, a bit further to his right, already returning to the building, a lake. He could not help but be impressed this time. He stopped in front of the fountain and began to admire its design and construction. There were many restaurants overlooking it. He thought it would be perfect for an evening with the one he loved, and thought of Camila, and how much she could enjoy it all with him. He felt homesick for having her so far away, and suddenly he found himself thinking about little Nathan as well. He wished he could share with them everything he now saw. "Impressive, isn't it?" he heard someone next to him say in English. It was a woman's voice. "I never tire of coming here every day to admire it."

Bernard turned and found a young blonde woman also admiring the fountain.

"It's very pretty," he said, going out a bit of the surprise the woman caused him.

"Pretty?" she turned to look at him, surprised by his terse comment. "You don't seem to have been very impressed. What about the Burj Khalifa? Is it "very pretty" too?"

She pointed at the building, laughing. Bernard turned again to look at the impressive building. He was trying his best to fake his role as a millionaire accustomed to luxury.

"Well, I have to admit it's impressive," he said, trying to soften the situation and not seem so indifferent.

"That adjective does convince me more," she said, extending her hand to him. "I'm Bernadette, nice to meet you."

Bernard couldn't believe such a coincidence. She almost has the same name as him.

"Bernadette?" he said, feigning some surprise. "I'm Bernard, and it's nice to meet you too."

The woman looked at him suspiciously, but still smiling, perhaps thinking the chances of meeting someone called that on that side of the world must be very low.

"How small is the world!" she said, accepting the situation. "Who would say that I would replace a person with almost my name, and who also spoke English in this part of the world? Because you are from North America, right?" "New York," Bernard said.

"I'm from Cleveland, but I've been living here for three years now, sent by my company. And what are you doing here? From what I see, you seem to be a businessman."

"Precisely. I'm here on business for a few days. I just got in last night."

"Well, you might do well. This place lends itself well to business."

At that moment another woman's voice was heard calling Bernadette a few meters away. Bernard turned to see who was calling the blonde, and found another woman, also blonde and tall. When he detailed her properly, he realized it was her. It was Rebecca Hicks!