Sheikhs, Lies and Real Estate: The Untold Story of Dubai (28 page)

Syed escorted his client out while Edward, Rav
and I stayed behind in the boardroom.

‘Rav, what the fuck were you thinking?’
screamed Edward as soon as the door was shut. ‘We are about to close the
biggest deal in our history and you’re telling the guy we can’t take his
fucking money?’

‘Edward, it is my job to ensure that proper
process is followed,’ replied Rav calmly. ‘We can’t just accept a suitcase full
of cash from somebody we know nothing about. Tariq wouldn’t allow it.’

‘Why fucking not? He’s giving it to us! The
risk is with him. I cannot believe you sometimes, I swear to God!’ He stormed
out of the room. 

Over the next two days, there was a desperate
scramble to get everything in order for Vladimir’s return. Tariq had been kept
up to date on all the developments by Rav, but the onus was left to him and
Edward to take care of the fine details and ensure that the deal closed in a
timely manner. On the sales floor, elaborate plans were already being forged to
celebrate, including an all-day boat party around the Palm Jumeirah and an all-expenses-paid
team weekend in St Tropez. Syed’s name was now sitting proudly at the top of
the Milestone sales board, and the entire team assumed that the deal was as
good as done.

On the morning before Vladimir was due back in
the office to sign, Edward, Rav and Tariq were locked in a meeting for most of
the day. Nobody knew what was being discussed, but I assumed that Tariq was
giving them a last-minute briefing for the big day.

‘Is everything on course for tomorrow?’ I asked
Rav as he finally emerged from the boardroom.

‘Yes. But there’s been a small change to the
venue. Tariq has suggested the yacht club in the Marina instead of here at the
office. He prefers a more informal setting to ensure that Vladimir is fully
relaxed.’

It was an odd decision, but I thought nothing
of it. ‘Okay, I don’t see how that’s a problem. What time are we leaving?’

Rav hesitated. ‘Erm, that’s the other thing.
Tariq doesn’t think it’s necessary for you to attend this meeting.’

 ‘But he was interested in the fund, Rav. I
think this guy can be a big investor for us!’

‘Yes, perhaps, but he will only be signing the
papers for the buildings tomorrow. The fund discussion can wait until everything
is finalised.’

I lost my cool. ‘No, Rav! I have a vested
interest in this meeting and I’m not going to lose this opportunity. I will be
at that meeting whether you like it or not.’

Rav sighed and shook his head. ‘It is against
Tariq’s wishes.’

‘I don’t care! Tariq wants me to find investors
for the fund! We have a great lead here and I’m not going to let it slip away.
I’m going to that meeting whether you like it or not!’

The next morning, Syed, Edward and I got into
the Milestone minibus and made our way to the yacht club. Syed couldn’t contain
his excitement and wore a permanent smile all the way.

As we arrived, Vladimir was already waiting for
us in the lounge. He was dressed in a shiny grey suit and a matching pink
shirt, tie and handkerchief. He was joined by a small, unassuming Russian colleague
wearing a pinstriped suit and thick glasses. Vladimir’s gold-plated pen was ready
on the table in front of him.

‘Gentlemen, I am glad you made it. Please meet
Boris, my lawyer,’ he began. Boris nodded but remained expressionless. ‘What
are you all drinking?’

Edward took the lead. ‘Nothing for us, Mr
Vladimir, thank you. Is it okay if we get down to business? We have the
contract here for you as promised. Please take a few minutes to review it.’
Edward placed the document in front of the Russians and Boris scanned it eagerly.
After a few minutes, he whispered something into Vladimir’s ear; his client picked
up the pen and signed the contract in three places.

‘It’s a pleasure to do business with you,
gentlemen,’ he said as he shook our hands one by one.

‘You too, Mr Vladimir,’ said Edward. ‘Now,
regarding the remaining funds...’

Boris immediately produced a suitcase, which he
opened and discreetly showed us its contents. Again, it was full to the brim
with brand new bank notes. He closed it and handed it over to Edward. ‘It’s all
there. You can count it if you like.’

‘No, I don’t think that will be necessary, Mr
Vladimir,’ smiled Edward.

‘Good.’ Vladimir turned to face me. ‘Now, about
your fund idea...’

Suddenly there was a huge crashing sound, like
a giant explosion.

‘
Yalla, yalla
! Go, go, go!’

Twenty men in army uniforms armed with guns
stormed into the bar from every direction. Within seconds we were completely surrounded.

‘Put your hands on your heads!’ We all did as
we were told. ‘You are under arrest for money laundering and human trafficking.’

‘What is this? What is going on?’ protested
Vladimir as one of the soldiers cuffed his wrists. Another seized the suitcase
of cash and a third escorted out Boris, who was almost in tears. Edward, Syed
and I were also cuffed before being bundled into one of two vans outside.

‘What the hell is going on?’ screamed Edward. 

‘Don’t talk,’ said one of the armed men,
slamming the doors of the van shut, leaving us in darkness. I heard the engine
start and we began to move. The three of us didn’t say a word to each other for
the duration of the drive, which seemed like an eternity.

Finally, the van stopped and the doors swung open.

‘Get out, get out!’ cried the Emirati officer,
waving a rifle in our direction. We did as we were told. ‘You two go this way,
you come with me,’ he said, pointing to me. I noticed that we were in some kind
of closed compound. There were dozens of huts to my left and right, and in the
distance were acres of unspoilt desert. The officer began to frisk me
aggressively, and confiscated my mobile phone and wallet from my inside blazer
pocket. He then ushered me into one of the huts and down a long corridor. At
the end of the hallway was a small makeshift cell, which he unlocked before
shoving me in. ‘You go in here.’

‘But I haven’t done anything!’ I protested.

‘Be quiet, don’t talk!’ The door slammed shut
behind me.

The inside of the cell was filthy, with what
looked like dried vomit and faeces splattered around the floor. It smelt like a
rotting corpse, which made me gag a few times, but I somehow managed to prevent
myself from throwing up. I wasn’t alone in the cell. In the corner sat an
emaciated Indian man with no shoes and ripped clothes. His hair was dishevelled
and his beard unkempt. He had his head in his hands and didn’t flinch, despite
the commotion of my entrance.

I was terrified and took a seat on the dirty
floor to try to calm my nerves. I wanted to cry, but I did my best not to show
any emotion in case it was interpreted as a sign of guilt. It seemed like an
age before I saw any movement outside when the officer who had escorted me into
the cell reappeared and opened the cell door.

‘You come with me. Come, come.’ I followed him
back down the long hallway, only this time we bore left and into a small, dimly
lit room with a desk and chair at either end. ‘Sit down, sit down.’ My heart was
racing uncontrollably now and a million questions were rushing through my head.
What would happen next? How would I be punished? Would I be deported or
imprisoned, or worse? Was I entitled to a lawyer? Would my family be told?

In walked a huge Emirati man in a spotless
dishdasha
,
who sat on the vacant chair to face me.

‘Mr Adam?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ I replied nervously, still shaking.

‘I am Mr Jassim from CID.’ 

‘What’s CID?’

‘Let’s say we are like a special police unit
for Dubai. But I will be asking the questions from now on. Okay?’

‘Okay.’

‘First, where are you from and what are you
doing in Dubai?’

‘I’m from London in England. I work for
Milestone Properties.’

‘Where are you from originally?’

‘You mean my parents?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, they were born in Pakistan. But they
live in London. They are both British citizens.’

‘I see. You look like an Arab.’

I nodded.

‘Have you always worked for Milestone?’

‘No, I first came to Dubai to work for Imperial
Bank. I left them a few months ago.’

‘And why did you leave Imperial Bank?’

I sighed. ‘Well, things weren’t going so well
there. And I decided I wanted to work in real estate.’

‘Ah, you think real estate is better than
banking? Why?’

I shook my head with embarrassment. ‘I wanted
to make more money I guess.’

‘I see, more money.’ He paused to scribble
something on his notepad.

‘Can you at least tell me what’s going on here?
Am I in trouble?’

‘Please, Mr Adam, I said no questions.’

I nodded again in acknowledgement.

‘How do you know Mr Vladimir?’

‘I don’t know him! He was a client of one of my
colleagues.’

‘So why were you at this meeting today?’

‘I was in the process of setting up an
investment fund for Milestone. I assumed he could be an investor.’

Again he scribbled away on his notepad. ‘Mr
Adam, am I correct to say that you were a student at Oxford University?’ My
heart sank suddenly. How could he possibly have known that? ‘Mr Adam?’

‘Yes, I was.’

‘And am I correct to assume that when you were
at Oxford, you were also working for an establishment in London called The
Rooms?’

I couldn’t believe my ears. ‘Yes, I was. How
did you know that?’

‘That’s not your concern. Mr Adam, do you know
why you are here?’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Mr Tariq, your boss, called us to tell us
about the deal happening today. He had some suspicions about Mr Vladimir and
informed us immediately. According to our background checks, Mr Vladimir has
been laundering funds from the Russian mafia for years and we have been
watching him closely for some time.’

I couldn’t believe it. ‘Tariq knew about this?’

‘Yes, he cooperated with us to set up this
sting operation.’

‘So why am I in trouble?’

‘You’re not. But we needed to check you out as
a precautionary measure. You are free to go.’

‘Wait, are you saying I can leave?’

‘Yes.’

The guard waiting outside entered the room to
escort me out of the building.

‘Wait,’ said the CID officer before I left the
room. ‘Regarding The Rooms in London...’ He stared into my eyes. ‘Let’s just
say I never forget a face.’ He smiled for a split second before beckoning the
guard to take me outside. ‘
Yalla!
’

I was led to where Syed and Edward were being
ushered into a car by two other guards. One of them handed me back my mobile
phone and my wallet before pushing me into the car with my colleagues.  

‘So what about the deal?’ asked Syed, as the
guard closed the door behind him. I could see the tears building in his eyes.

‘It’s off, Syed. The deal is off!’ said Edward,
shaking his head.

The car dropped us back at the Milestone
offices and I immediately stormed into Rav’s office.

‘Do you know what the hell just happened, Rav? Did
you know about this?’ He looked up at me and nodded.

‘Yes, I did. Tariq used his government contacts
to do some background checks on Mr Vladimir. It turns out he is a point man for
the Russian mafia in Dubai. The Dubai authorities have been watching him for
months, and after Tariq’s tip-off the CID decided to catch him with illegal
funds. This deal was the perfect scenario for them to catch him red-handed.’

‘So why the hell did they arrest all of us?’

‘That I can’t answer. The police do things as
they wish to.’

‘But if there was the risk of that, why didn’t
you tell me not to go?’

‘I did try to warn you, Adam. You didn’t listen.’
I was irate, but Rav was right. He had tried to discourage me, and I had been
too adamant to take his hint.

‘So what happens with the money?’

‘I guess it will be used as evidence. But we
won’t know that for sure. Anyway, that’s not our concern. Milestone has a
reputation and we are not willing to jeopardise it by any means. That’s why
Tariq remains so respected by the authorities.’

After discovering the questionable source of
Vladimir’s funds, Tariq had done something that most others in his position
would not have dreamed of. He had tipped off the authorities to protect his
firm’s reputation. Most other real estate companies would have welcomed a
suitcase full of crisp bills without question. They were taking hundreds of
millions of dirhams from unsavoury characters like Vladimir every day; indeed,
for many agents their entire business models were built around this kind of
business. But Milestone was not like every other broker and Tariq stuck to his
ethics.

After one of the most stressful and frightening
days of my life, I couldn’t wait to get home and put it all behind me. I left
the office a little early and patiently waited in the nearby queue for a taxi.
It was unusually humid and my sweaty back was making my shirt cling uncomfortably
to my skin. A large Filipina woman behind me was carrying her child in her arms
and the baby didn’t stop bellowing for a moment. Excruciatingly slowly, the
taxis arrived one by one and the queue inched forward a little more.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed an
awkward-looking Indian man with a rucksack loitering a few metres to my right.
He seemed like he was watching me at the same time as the approaching cars,
although I couldn’t immediately tell what he was up to. I was at the end of my
patience when I finally found myself at the front of the line. As my taxi
approached, I prepared to jump into the back, but something quite unexpected
happened. The Indian on my right flagged it down before it had reached me and
jumped in. It was the last straw. I lost every semblance of composure and exploded
with rage. I ran up to the taxi before the driver had a chance to pull away and
almost ripped the back door off.