"What you've done is transgress on another man's possessions," the partially dressed woman said, "and the punishment must fit the crime."
Waheed had visions of being dragged off to the nearby Malaz jail and begged for forgiveness, "Madam it truly was an honest mistake, I am an honorable person, please do not consider me a criminal."
"Stay right there," she ordered, "and I will think what should next be done to you?"
Waheed almost pissed his pants with the tension as the lady went into a bedroom and appeared to be dialing a number on her cell phone. The police in Riyadh were not particularly known for their kindness, notably to foreigners from South Asia.
I
It had been a typically searing Riyadh afternoon, temperatures in the high 40's and hot winds blowing. Waheed had suffered a flat just after leaving the office and was first drenched in sweat while changing it. Then he was dried out immediately by the total lack of humidity. His head hurt as he negotiated the final few turns before the parking lot of the furnished hotel apartments he had been living in for a while. Walking through the central lobby and inside garden, he reached the three storey section which housed his unit. It was tough to climb the stairs as he was carrying a load of items that had been sitting and steaming in his vehicle. Thankfully the door opened in a second when he inserted the key into its slot. A welcome coolness hit his face. He wondered if he had left the air conditioning running prior to leaving for work and then put the thought out of his head. Putting the load down just inside the doorway, he made a beeline for the washroom to splash some welcome cold water on his face.
"Who are you? What are you doing here? How dare you enter this place?" the screeching in Arabic instantly broke him out of his funk.
In less than a second he realized he was not in his own apartment, number 320, but in number 220, the one directly below. Yelling at him non-stop was an attractive thirtyish woman, who was also fighting hard to cover herself with a much too small towel, having just stepped out of the bathtub.
II
For the fifteenth time in the past twenty five days, Waheed had to slog over to the reception desk to have his key card reactivated. Regardless of where it was placed, or how far it was from any electronic device, the damn card would stop working after a day or two, even though he was registered for a month and had advised of long term plans for the next year.
This time around, he had come back from a long business trip, and the bellman had carried his suitcases over to the apartment. Waheed nearly blew a fuse when he was unable to open the door. At well past midnight, he had no intention of going to the reception desk and back.
"It's okay Sir, why don't you take this pass key," the bellman offered his own, "it will not expire for months."
The large tip he got put a real smile on the bellman's face. After all, Waheed had a reputation for being kind to the staff and tipping well for small jobs. He had come from humble beginnings and appreciated the work down by the junior staff.
"Thanks, this should really ease the troubles the damn key card has been causing!"
III
Waheed cursed the bellman who had been so helpful so many weeks back. In all the days in between, there had been no need to go back to reception and get an activated card. He was aware that his pass key would open all doors on the property. What he did not expect was to have a downside as the one he was now facing. He could see a visit to the nearby jail, followed by a sentence for some months, and then deportation without having any of his work dues paid or any money retrieved from the local bank account.
In an instant, he was on his knees imploring the lady to understand that his actions were accidental and that she should have a heart.
"Madame, please, I will do whatever you want," he begged, "just please do not report me to the authorities!"
The lady stopped yelling at him. That was a good sign that apparently she spoke English and understood his intentions were not bad.
Despite the cool interior of the apartment, Waheed felt sweat going down from his neck to his waist. He mouthed every prayer he could as the lady walked into the adjacent bedroom and appeared to be making a call while he waited.
"Okay, I will forgive you," the lady returned and said in accented English, "but you will have to obey me on whatever I ask you to do!"
"Thank you," was all he could say as he staggered back up off the floor.
"Go drop your things in the apartment, drink some water and change," she directed, "and then come back to me here in exactly one hour!"
Waheed rushed out and reached the safety of his apartment in less than a minute. He wondered if it was just a dream, but quickly realized that a bullet had been dodged.