Page 167 - James Caan - The Real Deal

15 · Kidnap

a country where the culture, the language and the infrastructure
were unfamiliar, and Adam and I were dependent on our hosts.
We spent a day at their house waiting for the phone to ring with
more news while I made arrangements to get the cash with my
friend who worked for the bank. He knew I had assets and would
be good for the loan, but there was no way I could sign the
paperwork.
‘You’re going to have to trust me.’
‘I do trust you, James, but we’ve got procedures. I’ll see what I
can do and call you back.’
Every minute was like an hour, and when the bank didn’t call I
started to panic: if I couldn’t arrange the cash, then it would be
my fault if anything happened to my dad. I must have looked at
my watch every minute, but still the bank didn’t call. Eventually
the phone rang: it was Aisha.
‘Are you sitting down?’
‘Just tell me!’
‘Your uncle called,’ she told me. ‘The police have found your
dad. He’s alive and they’re taking him to the house.’
‘Really?’
The relief was intense, but instantly I had so many questions –
how had they found him? Was he OK? Had the kidnappers been
caught?
‘I don’t have any details, only that he’s alive.’
Thank you, God.
Even though there was a risk that the kidnappers were laying
some kind of trap, there was no way I wasn’t going to the house:
I had to see my father.
We knocked on the door and, of course, as no one knew we
were in the country they were amazed to see us. When I saw my
father I was just as shocked: he was filthy and unshaven and I
realised I had never seen him with a beard. And it was a white
beard: it had been so long since I’d seen him that he had started

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