Right now, at this very moment, thousands of pretty, young, impressive women are roaming the main streets of beautiful Prague, dressed very lightly, showing their wide bodily qualities proudly, and they have their lives perfectly planned, at least in their dreams, walking proudly, with their heads up, so they seem as unstoppable, humiliating the weak men around, who admire them from the distance, knowing, that they will hardly possess such beauty, ever.
Who could stop these women, anyway? They have everything they need, to gain success in all senses. They are like experienced hunters, picking the right opportunities, and ignoring the rest. They are modern, educated, capable, balanced, determined. Or at least they seem, and you, fool, you believe their lies and pretending, their silicione breasts, fake lashes and nails, because they are willing to mutilate their own bodies with plastic and chemistry, to secure a good future.
Still, in the end, almost all of them will fail. No, they won’t find articles about them in the newspaper, they will be always condemned to remain the mere readers of the shiny tabloid media, not creators of public commotion. They would like to be a star, so much… but their time is limited, and they know that. In the end, the decadent postmodern world will crush almost everyone, unless you find Islam in your life, the only way to freedom, peace, truth, morality, protection, purity and destiny.
These infidel women are slaves, mindless and consuming, seducing the world around them to sins and decadence. And another army of dumb, drunk male fools are following and pursuing them, like mad, worshipping them, as some false prophets, because those fools never realized, that there can be something else in life, and what immense treasures can be found under hijabs and abayas, what great love challenge means a woman of Islam.
This decadent country, and many suffering, wandering people, simply need Islam, as the only cure of their infidel disease.
There was a time, when another one of those girls was walking in those streets as well. Long time ago, she was a top fashion model here, called Marketa Korinkova, with perfect height of 177 centimeters, slim body, long well-defined legs and pretty face, watching the world with her seducing brown eyes, but she always knew, that those streets are too small for her, to be able to fly to the stars, to find, or rather create her destiny.
The path of life, and wise guidance of Almighty Allah, led her into the glamorous United Arab Emirates, a place, where you can live your dreams, and you can find and create yourself, discovering Islam there.
There was no other option in life for her, than to convert to Islam, to submit and self-surrender to the will of Allah, to become His devoted servant and slave, never looking back. And Allah, who created you, He knows everything you do, who you are, what is your purpose: so, when Marketa approached the Imam of famous Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque, located at Abu Dhabi, the wise man of Islam suggested her a new Islamic name, Maryam, meaning “Mother of Isa (=Jesus)“, like if she would be determined for great things, which can change the world.
The religious man knew maybe nothing about the dark background of Marketa’s path. That certain questionable, even dangerous entities tried to misuse her for their malicious plans, how to gain more power and influence in the whole world. And the question remains: was she only their pawn, or was she clever, pretending weakness and submission, to get, where she needed to be?
This final place was the Zabeel Palace of Dubai, home of the Sheikh Mohammed Al Maktoum, and his two wives. Nothing else and smaller was demanded from Marketa Korinkova, than to seduce the Sheikh himself, and this love affair was planned to have immense conseqences for the whole world, rewriting the world geopolitical map, disrupting the axis of Islamic power, so the Israelis could arrange the world affairs, as they wanted, to secure the sustainable future of the Jewish state.
However, to get to the Sheikh, to conquer and rule his heart and mind, was a difficult task indeed. This man, the ruler of Dubai, prime mininster and vice president of UAE, was not some horny fool, who would succumb to the female magic easily. There was only a tiny empty space in his armor, and the masterminds of Operation SKINNY PUPPY thought, that they found a suitable battering ram into the ruler’s world, impersonated by Marketa.
The reason was, that the woman was clever, pretty, educated, capable, but also extremely unbalanced, even unstable. Inside her, two basic feelings were fighting with each other: a cute vulnerable puppy, who wanted to be caressed, who spoke softly, who was an innocent, fragile, vulnerable angel, and a psychotic monster, ambitious to the edge, ruthless, full of anger and obsession, madness to get out of her eternal confinement of unhappiness and unfulfilled desires.
The experienced psychologists of Special Unit C102: PSYOPS, a shady part of the Special Forces of the Czech Army, who delivered Marketa’s personal profile to Israelis, they considered such extreme personality as the most suitable for the mission: her obsession for success will get her high in the social ranks, and then, close to the target, she will suddenly change to the tender puppy, who will snuggle in the Sheikh’s manly embrace, disarming him, and removing his resistance.
No man can be immune to such special combination of female qualities, even a ruler. The world is full of averageness, and if you are different, there are two options: you will either fail, not understood and rejected by the general society, who likes and prefers mediocrity, or you will reach the stars, with the help of Allah.
Marketa was an exact example of this curse. Never fully understood and really loved by men, she balanced the emptiness and burning desire inside her heart with cold calculating, making bold surprising moves, as a queen, who uses the emotions for her welfare, always knowing, where the real opportunities are, what direction to take.
Maybe it was fear, which gave her this unique skill. Fear of being alone, deserted, isolated and forgotten, never making real success, missing all the chances, succumbing to bad choices.
Even after her conversion to Islam, her relations to the Ummah, the Islamic community, were not too deep, as she got used to her lonely life in a large residential suite of Burj Khalifa, the tallest building of the world, where she also worked, in “Armani Prive Lounge” night club, located at 144th floor, as a VIP hostess, leading the most powerful people of the world to Islam, executing the sacred Da’wah there, the Islamic missionary activity.
Closer you are to the stars, more alone you are. All the friends Marketa had in Prague, mostly other female fashion models, were too far, and how could they understand her special path, if they were just local losers, small stars, absolutely unknown just one meter from the national Czech border?
But the world knew about Marketa, there was many news articles dedicated to her, and such success only provokes envy, hatred and denial. So, this problem was never solved in her life, and the only option, a cure, seemed to get married, to gain stability in life, to have somebody for real, a man, who supports you, who loves you, and who declares publicly his will and promise, to take care of you always, to remain with you forever, even if you won’t be beautiful, like today. Also, a marriage was the only allowed way, how to live a classic partner life, as any extramarital sexual relationships were strictly forbidden in Islam, and highly recommended step for any Islamic believer.
If only to find a suitable man would be so easy… but there was such a man, the Sheikh himself, and through time, Marketa realized, that he is the only man, who can be considered, because he has everything she needs, and he seemed as a person, who could give her, what she wanted, a happy life. Maybe he was much older, but Marketa needed a fatherly figure in her life more, than a young, sexy and fresh body of a sportsman in his 20s or 30s.
So, it was the irony, that in the end, the interest of many third parties, who wanted Marketa and the Sheikh together, was followed by Marketa’s own choice… but to marry the Sheikh, one of the most powerful men of the Arabic world… girl, it seemed as an impossible task, so she rather put it away in practice.
The Sheikh was married twice already. And in comparison with his wives, Marketa was still nothing. For example, his noble junior wife, Her Royal Highness Princess Haya from Jordan… how could a young Czech woman compare with a real princess, real nobility, aristocracy, blue blood?
No no, this fairy tale seemed impossible to be achieved, even for bold and obsessed Marketa.
But the Princess herself had also her own interests here, and in the end, she became the person, who explained all the advantages of accepting the Sheikh to Marketa, perceiving him as an ultimate asset for her life.
That day in Zabeel palace, where Marketa was escorted by the Princess herself, indeed changed everything, including the mindset of the girl: a new wave of obsession controlled her, and suddenly, she saw the Sheikh as her ultimate goal, like if he would be her destiny.
The same was valid for the Sheikh himself, who watched Marketa attentively for very long time, although he kept proper distance. But that day, he realized, that he is desperately cornered by the women in his life, he gave them too much power and influence, and it seemed, that they can crush him, talking about women rights endlessly, like sick, making a revolution against him.
He thought, that Marketa could become a counterweight against all of them. She was from a different place, and she could be a very good help indeed: she could block their influence, she could protect the sustainable future of the Emirates, by keeping the rule of the Sheikh.
Of course, there was also another, and very disturbing option: that in the end, Marketa will become a poison, who will launch this revolution, if inserted too close to the Sheikh. She was not an Arabic woman, not obedient, she was an European, and no one could guarantee, that her intentions are pure… indeed, in certain sense, they wasn’t, as it was the Israeli operation to send her here!
But the Sheikh still knew, that she is important. Maybe he was not satisfied in his personal life, or he was scared of the rising influence of women in the UAE… and listening to Marketa, who just warned some Kuwaiti women from too much modernity and independence, a decadent Western ideas, created to disrupt the traditional Arabic world, he knew, that she could make a difference, giving him good advices, how to counter this threatening women empowerment movement, backed by Americans and Israelis.
In the end, the Sheikh decided to face Marketa directly, to make his final opinion about her: and this party in the Zabeel palace was a perfect opportunity. So, he ordered his servant to send for her, awaiting her in his personal study alone.
Marketa avoided him that evening deliberately. She wanted to be inaccessible, distant, to provoke him to start pursuing her, deepening his desire towards her. She was a clever female indeed, she knew, how to make a man interested, by being a difficult prey, confirming her quality, and raising attractiveness.
But it simply had to happen. So, when another servant, a female, to keep the proper decorum, approached Marketa, still browsing in the gardens and enjoying the evening, she knew, that it’s here, the moment she was waiting for.
Indeed, her heart started to beat rapidly. She was so close to her destiny… and in so many senses, be it emotional needs, professional career, or simply the will of Allah.
When she was following another woman, walking on her long slim legs, Maryam knew: this all ends here, and today.
She will become the Queen of the Emirates, because such is the will of Allah.
And this day will be remembered: February 1, 2013.
Although the invited guests of the party expected the Sheikh to make a welcoming speech, and he knew well, how risky is to remain outside the crowd for too long, still, he decided to hear Marketa first, to make his own decision, what to do with her. She promised him so much… but also threatened to take so much from him.
But there is always an ultimate price for love.
He used the remaining minutes before the fateful meeting with Marketa to calm himself, by reading in the Qur’an, the Holy Book of Islam, and remembering his favorite verses, suitable for the situation, inspiring him, how to decide correctly in this extremely complicated affair, far exceeding only his personal needs and desires: the whole future of the Emirates was in stake, it seemed.
“Your Higness, sister Maryam is here, asking for your reception,” the Sheikh’s aide informed the ruler.
“Granted,” the Sheikh said with effort to make his voice indifferent, but inside him, he was shaking, like if he would be young again, full of desire, before meeting his chosen princess.
When Marketa entered the room, dressed only in a modest black abaya and head covered with hijab of course, to present her modesty and obedience to the will of Allah, she was surprised, how modestly was the room furnished.
“Allah loves simplicity,” it was the motto of the Sheikh, and he followed it.
When her and his eyes met, and the introducing servant left the room, although it was against official protocol to leave the Sheikh with an unrelated woman alone, both of them saw their destiny in the eyes of the other.
“You called for me, Your Highness,” Marketa bowed her eyes, because in Islam, any interaction between a man and a woman must be kept as innocent, as possible, keeping desirable distance from the other gender all the time.
“I did,” the Sheikh confirmed. “There is something important, what I would like to discuss with you in privacy, sister,” he made a gesture, inviting her to sit down at the other side of a conference table, where he accepted the most powerful rulers of the world, including presidents. And now, this young beautiful woman was sitting there, not less important.
He watched Marketa again, before starting his speech.
“Not long time ago, I announced publicly, that I want to appoint you as my advisor for female affairs, sister. In many occasions, you proved your perfect qualification for such demanding task, directly influencing the future of the Emirates. This evening, when you were speaking to these Kuwaiti women, you only confirmed my good feeling about you, your mindset, your skills, for the welfare of the country,” the Sheikh said with strong voice.
“You know, sister, I was thinking. And more I think about it, I feel, that you are extremely important for the future of this country. You don’t know, what is happening here, behind the high walls of this palace, you have your own interests, but let me tell you openly: this country needs you, and so do I. And let me tell you, why:
What you described in your garden speech, it’s exactly happening here. Like if you would read my mind… I never told anybody, it’s so sensitive issue, but let me assure you, that it really disturbs me.
I was not sure, whether to tell you this. But someone has to know, and you seem as the only right person around. I am risking, when I am telling you so sensitive information, but you have to take risks in life, to achieve things. Or, should I just watch, what is happening, being only an object of history?
No, I am a ruler, and I need to make decisions, even risky ones, and then accept responsibility.
So, I am asking you, to become my advisor in all the female issues, with immediate validity. But there is no time for you to consider my offer: I need your answer right now, because time is running out, and you never know, what hour on the clock is the last.
Indeed, I am risking widely right now: if you will reject me, from whatever reason, I will accept it as the will of Allah. I won’t beg you, bribe you, or persuade you. If you have the truth in your heart, you will say yes, and you will prove me, who you really are.”
Maryam was listening him attentively, and when he finished, she asked, whether she is permitted to speak.
“Granted,” the Sheikh said decisively, as a noble ruler.
“Your Highness, I come from a foreign land, from a distant and different culture,” Maryam started explaining. “I lived in this female empowerment very long time, and when I could compare it with the Islamic culture and society, when I started to live here, in the Emirates, I saw clearly, how bad and decadent is this empowerment for us women.
The freedom that our Western society gives us, the rights we are calling for, are destroying us in practice. The world is never giving things for free: there is always price to pay, and the price here is fear.
In all that Western magazines, you see modern, independent, strong women, without any limits in their career or family life, but it’s another vicious propaganda of our vicious masters, who want to fill our souls with obsession, and eternal unhappiness.
Moreover, my opinion is also influenced by my own personality: I have to confess, and repay your honesty, Your Highness, that my love life was never satisfying. The men I met back there, they could never give me, what I wanted and needed. I always asked, why? Is there some problem inside me? Am I so bad, deviated, that all men will run away from me in the end? Of course, they have initial interest, they follow me, they seem enchanted… but as soon as I will show them my vulnerable side, my real me, they start to become more distant.
I know, that maybe I was pushing them too much, desiring for family, stable life, and they want adventure and conquest, to remain boys forever, they don’t want responsibility, so maybe I even disappointed them, by not being that particular kind of woman, which they expected me to be: an independent and selfish fashion model, a luxurious accessory to your business suit, who is wild and always exciting, always surprising, never belonging to you completely, because she would lose her precious freedom.
Here, you live differently. Your family life is different, more deep and intense. I feel, that I belong here, and if I will have another opportunity to speak my mind, and help you to protect your Islamic values, I will be glad to accept your offer, Your Highness, because I think, that your way of family life should be preserved, women should remain home, taking care of the children, creating the world of love for all the family members, and this can’t be made between meetings with your female friends in cafés, yoga lessons and exotic business trips.
You shouldn’t try to mimick our way of life, which we lead at the West. Selfish, indifferent mothers, who take care of the others more, than of their family… who always need to be somewhere else, than where their children need them, always busy, always checking time, as too much other things is allegedly important.
So, my answer is yes, without slightest doubt in my heart: just let me suggest you, Your Higness, to make this position honorary, unpaid, so it will be completely clear to the people of the Emirates, that it’s not about job, work, employment, professionalism, but beliefs, and duty.”
“Granted,” the Sheikh agreed. “I knew, that Allah sent you, to help me with this complicated affair, because you know the best, as a woman, how complicated the female world is, and for any man, to drown there is too easy, if you allow ‘estrogen mafia’ too close,” the Sheikh smiled.
The ruler of Dubai then sent for a small refreshment, to make a symbolic celebration of getting a new asset for his government.
“I am glad, that we met eventually, and we can talk,” he let the girl to serve the tea. “You are indeed an inspiration, sister Maryam: you bring people to Islam, you defend right Islamic values. Indeed, you belong here, between us.”
“Your Highness, you said it just perfectly: I belong here, and such was the will of Allah,” Maryam confirmed proudly.
But the Sheikh seemed distracted, thinking deeply about something, and not sure, whether to tell his current thoughts to the girl.
“Your heart seems pure, and your faith as well. If you are now my reliable aide in female affairs, and you have my full trust, there is the first problem I would like to discuss with you, and your insight could be helpful, sister.
As you know, I am married to two women. And the junior one, Princess Haya, is making me trouble. The people of the Emirates like her, she represents the country well, but I have a feeling, that she is trying to grasp too much power for herself. And I can’t stop her: she has her positions well secured from all sides, and in the end, you are afraid to provoke her, because the response could be unpleasant.
She is treacherous: she never attacks her enemies directly, you know the tactics of your female breed, sister. Always indirectly, like Chinese.
This development in my family really makes me concerned. And I see almost no option, how to counter the rising influence of the Princess. Would you know, what to do? And you can speak absolutely openly, sister.”
“I met with Princess Haya myself, Your Highness, just today,” Marketa decided to share her tale, to make an ally against the dangerous Princess, so they could help each other with the Sheikh. “And she made an impression on me, that she is indeed ruthless, hard to read, and able to use many questionable means to achieve her goals. Moreover, she has certain control of your security apparatus, either formal or informal, I don’t know, and she is willing to use her clandestine connections, while speaking about the welfare of the Emirates loudly… but I was not convinced by her good intentions, let me tell you that!
She is the kind of a woman you rather scare, than admire, she is a small Napoleon, who believes, that it’s better, if people fear you, rather than love you… but you are different kind of ruler, Your Highness, and I appreciate that.
I also understand your deep concerns, regarding females. Of course, that I know them, and their endless games with men… ineed, we are able to get any man onto his knees, regardless of his physical strength. We simply test him so long, until we will find some weaknesses, and then, we simly exploit them. Sooner or later, any fortress will fall, as we use water to undermine the foundation, rather than brute force, only provoking swift reaction. Indirect approach, as you said.
If you want me to become certain counterweight against her influence, I will do it for you, and the Emirates. But I have to warn you: no woman can be trusted, she always uses the opportunity for her own benefit.
If you give me such competence, you are risking, that soon, I will grow over your head, and you will find, that in order to eliminate her, you created much more dangerous demon, who knows all your secrets, and weak spots.
I can’t guarantee you, Your Highness, that I won’t become such a woman. I am not bad inside me, but inside any woman, there is obsession, to touch the stars, climbing on the shoulders of powerful men, who can grant desirable access to useful resources, like money, influence, protection, physical force, and so on.
It’s strange, that your junior wife even supports this madness inside me. To tell you openly, originally, I was even hesitating to visit you today, but she came, and literally forced me to go here, like if she had some important interest in the affair. Why? Why does she want me to be here?
She asked me, to please you, because you allegedly like me. She pretended to do it for the country, because a satisfied ruler means satisfied citizens. But still, I couldn’t trust her.
I have even feeling, that she wants to misuse our meeting for some purposes. Maybe inviting tabloid media… this could bring you hard times.”
“Stop, sister, it was enough already,” the Sheikh ordered suddenly. “I see, that you are well aware, what is happening, and we don’t have to discuss it further, because time is precious now. Just tell me: what do you suggest me, to do, to contain the situation, to stop the Princess?
I know, that right now, I am putting very sensitive information inside your hands, and if your intentions are not pure, the country will be seriously damaged. But I made this decision already… so let’s move further. You are a capable woman, and you definitely have some suggestion, what to do, regardless how much power you can gain from it in the end. Just speak!”
“The divorce would be a very bad choice,” Maryam started carefully. “If her position is stable, she could turn all the dirty laundry wave against you, because we women, we can revenge pretty terribly, and painfully… no, the divorce is out of question. Forget divorcing her, at least for now.
Another choice would be, to get an army of powerful men around you, who will be immune to her influence. But such task will be really hard to achieve… she knows well, how to persuade anybody. In the end, they could be her pawns, inserted into your vicinity. This would be a short-sighted, even dangerous and risky solution.
If you allow me to speak completely openly now, Your Highness, even to be rude… then I suggest you to marry another woman, who can counter the Princess just perfectly. She has to be special, and immune to her influence: on the contrary, the best situation would be, to let them fight each other, so you will be safe, staying in the middle, still holding the most of the power, able to support the weaker side, so they will be balanced, and no one of them can ever win. Eternal wars are always the most beneficial for getting power: the parties will exhaust themselves, and then, if a new, strong player steps in, he can collect much of the benefits. The old Latin philosophers defined this approach well: ‘Divide, and rule!’
But I must warn you: in the end, both women could connect against you, and then, you would be destroyed easily, because one would push you from one side, and the second from the other.
This always happens, because we women are talkative, like to meet with others, and sooner or later, we become friends against a man. In the history, there was many cases of a wife and a mistress, who initially fought each other, but in the end, they made an alliance.”
“And where could such woman be found: resistant, immune?” the Sheikh was interested. “In certain sense, she will become the difference between my own victory, and failure, so she will be even ruling the Emirates effectively. She will gain extreme power!”
“Yes, she could extort you, Your Highness: fulfill my wishes, otherwise I will connect with your enemy, and you will be destroyed,” Marketa agreed.
“So, the marriage is not an option as well?” the Sheikh sighed. “Too risky. Sooner or later, she will realize, what game she can play.”
“Unless you will be able to control her,” Maryam suggested. “But I agree, that it will be very difficult venture, risky, and exhausting. You would live in constant pressure… but if there were three wives, instead of two, you could always find an ally.
It’s another rule of our female world: two women always keep together, but if they are three, there is eternal fight going on, temporary alliances are made and broken all the time… yes, three wives could do it! You wouldn’t be dependent on one of them… and there would be always at least one of them, willing to connect with you against the other two.”
The Sheikh seemed very satisfied, when he saw the magic of the number three. “Yes, I will do it… this situation is not sustainable, and it needs to be resolved quickly.”
Maryam just nodded, not commenting. How could she be so foolish to think, that he would marry her? A heat wave of disappointment and embarassment went through her body.
“Sister, you are indeed a perfect help! Without you, I would never find this good solution,” the ruler thanked his new servant.
“I was glad to inspire you, to find the right solution yourself, Your Highness,” Maryam said with respect, but rather quickly, trying to cover her emotions. “Now, if you will allow me, Your Highness, I will return to the other guests. I am still a woman of Islam, and we spent too much time together today. Rules are rules: men should spend most of the time with other men, to keep their brotherhood, and women with other women.”
“Granted,” the Sheikh let her go generously, so he didn’t see the tears, bursting of her eyes just behind the door.
When Maryam returned to the garden, she wanted to escape from this place immediately. She felt so dirty… so miserable… so dumb… from all the skies, she just fell to the ground, realizing, that she is still just a servant, eating only the slivers, not invited to have a real party with the elite, where they treat you as equal.
After several minutes, she calmed, realizing the good news and her achievements. She has a very good position now! The Sheikh needs her, and relies on her… he is even dependent on her, and she can create artificial crises and threats, to push the man more and more towards herself… and one day, he will understand, what proper move he should make!
So, why was she not satisfied? Because she wanted everything immediately, like a child?
Yes, she was not mature. She was not called a puppy just by chance…
When she left the study, the Sheikh felt great relief. He knew, that betting on this card was a good move. Because he will be able to control this Maryam, unlike his junior wife.
But what if she plays weak, vulnerable and devoted servant, giving good advices, to get the Sheikh into a position, where she needs him to be?
And he was back in his doubts again.
The Sheikh was finishing his cup of the strong Arabic tea, he almost went to make the welcome speech already, to greet all the guests cordially, like if nothing happened, thinking: when will this affair be solved? Never. He will always suspect Maryam from treason, and she will have power over him, if he will use her attractive services, regarding female matters.
Such were laws of love… a ruthless war without rules.
He watched the cup, from which Maryam was drinking, and he couldn’t stop to feel some kind of tenderness towards her, believing again, that she is a good girl.
He could still feel her perfume, sweet and strong, as the Arabic women liked… maybe she was a dangerous monster, but she was so unique, special, fascinating, and she made you to feel life.
But then, a telephone on the table started ringing.
The Sheikh had three of the devices there, as a proper ruler: the three lines, well protected against eavesdropping, were used for different purposes.
Usually, it was the right one, which rang, where usual matters of the Emirates were communicated. The middle one meant, that some important event happened, directly influencing the Emirates.
The left one meant an announcement of a direct threat to the national security of the Emirates. This special line had utmost protection: it transferred not your own voice directly, but the integrated modules on both sides altered the voices, so the surveillance systems of the lurking superpowers, able to identify your voice easily, were fooled, not able to intercept the call properly.
Moreover, the advanced system altered the spoken words automatically, to hide the real content of the conversation, as modern surveillance systems worked with keywords, to find interesting content.
To prevent them from succeeding, for example, if the message was “a truck, filled with explosives, was detonated by the Islamic State near Abu Dhabi police station at 8.00 o’clock, seven casualties, four policemen, three civilians”, then the surveillance stations of the American ECHELON system caught only something like: “the price of crude oil increased by seven points at the world exchange, four points above our national projection, and other three points can be expected in following 20 hours. The reason is reported to be Level Two seismic instability in Nigeria, limiting the production.”
When received, the transmission was then altered back again by the device, so you could speak completely openly… if the invention could be trusted.
“Your Highness, permit to present a report. Threat level: red,” an agitated male voice resonated at the other end of the line, mostly in the headquarters of the Emirates Counterintelligence.
“Speak,” the Sheikh said with cold voice, ready for any tragedy.
“Your party guest, Marketa Korinkova, is a tool of Israelis, to get into our vicinity, and she is extorted by the Czech tabloid media, threatening her to release some incriminating evidence about her, that she was a VIP prostitute here, and she faked her conversion to Islam. They push her to have an affair with you, at all costs. And it seems, that the Princess wants to use the potential affair between you two for some unknown purpose, so she ordered the partcular surveillance tape to be erased, but we restored it from a backup,” the voice said with uncertainty, but the Sheikh knew well.
“Fine. Do you have anything else?” the ruler asked.
“Yes. One of your other guests, present at the palace right now, is a fashion model from Germany, called Alexandra Pianka. She could be connected with the Czech Foreign Intelligence. No more details available, unless we will extract information from a local Czech asset, who participates at the Maryam extorting operation, called Nikola Dotkova. Do you want her to be detained, and interrogated?”
“No,” the Sheikh ordered. “Do nothing for now. Call me again, if you will other updates.”
“As you order, Your Highness,” the voice said instead of goodbye.
The Sheikh sat back to the conference table, trying to put all pieces of Intelligence together.
If Maryam was extorted by the Czechs, her countrymen, maybe she is clean. But it could be also a deliberate smoke screen, to make an alibi for her: such tactics, to present your foreign operatives as dissidents, so they can gain more trust at the rear of the enemy, was very common.
Will he ever know the truth about Maryam?
But if the Princess has her own interest with her… she will never allow Maryam to be just deported from the country, and stopped in her mission.
The crisis seemed to rise any minute now.
What should the ruler do, to contain it?
There was only one person present at the Palace, who could help the Sheikh right now: his name was Imam Faraj, a man in his 50s, who had the full trust of the Sheikh, and he served in an Austrian mosque, bringing more Islam into those faithless European lands.
But what about waiting guests?
“Send for Imam Faraj immediately, and inform the guests, that I have an important phone call with the U.S. president, regarding our joint project of drilling operations in the Indian ocean,” the Sheikh ordered his servant. “I will join them later.”
Indeed, this explanation could be sufficient, to leave wolves calm, at least for a few beneficial moments.
After another ten minutes, when Imam Faraj came into the study, both men embraced. “Brother, it’s so good to have you here today! I thank Allah for His providence!” the Sheikh confessed with relief.
Imam Faraj was not a common guest at the Emirates, as he was originating from Yemen. But his reputation of a man, who can be always trusted, far exceeded his homeland, or Austria, where he worked and lived in a large city under the Alps.
“All servants of Allah are exactly, where they are supposed to be,” the Imam replied with calm smile. “Only infidel fools are running here and there, trying to catch their destiny. But your destiny is set by Allah, and you can’t escape Him… well, nice to see you again, brother Mohammed! You have something important to discuss?”
Both men sat down to the table again, and the Sheikh served the tea himself: when you are with an Imam, your worldly position means nothing, and it’s a good time to stop playing all worldly games. Also, the dignity has to be kept, so, at first, the polite questions about families had to be asked.
“Imagine this, brother,” the Sheikh went to the point then. “There is a large conspiracy against me running right now, and many parties want me to have an affair with a young Czech woman, who converted to Islam here in the Emirates, at least allegedly. Also the Princess is a part of it.
I don’t know, what to do, how to stop it. Even Israelis are in the game… it seems, that the whole world wants me to fall in love with this particular woman, like if it would be critically important for the future. Isn’t it funny?”
The Imam listened attentively, like if he would be back at his mosque, thousands kilometers from here. Many people visited him there, and presented endless array of religious or worldly problems.
“And this girl… you know her?” the Imam wanted to know.
“Yes, I know her, brother, and I can’t deny certain attraction towards her,” the ruler of Dubai confessed. “But how could I trust her, if she was sent to infiltrate my world? She is an ambassador of my enemies, a dark angel of destruction, using her female weapons to get close to me, so the vultures, waiting patiently outside, can start biting me from all sides. A good plan, indeed… perfect! Definitely another masterpiece of Israelis!”
The Imam seemed quite indifferent. “You say, it’s the Princess behind the alleged conspiracy, it’s the Israelis, or who knows else… but what if Allah is standing behind all the affair? What if He wants to give something good for you?
You said, brother, that you like this woman, and the whole world tries to put you together as well. So, why should you resist? Just follow Allah, and your heart!
Forget about all that alleged vultures, they mean nothing, anyway, and they will fail in their treacherous efforts, because Allah won’t allow them to win!
If your heart feels, that this woman is the one… then do it! It’s Allah who wants to see you together, for some purpose no one knows, except Him. But it’s not our mission to judge the decisions and intentions of Allah, only to obey: He knows the best, what is right.”
“Even if I will let the enemies to destroy my rule, and the Emirates?” the Sheikh was wondering.
“Who says, that they are able to achieve such a thing?” the Imam disagreed. “Maybe your connection with the woman will be a blessing for the country in the end. Maybe she didn’t come here with clean intentions… but love will heal her, and she will come to your side, betraying all of those vultures.”
“That is a sweet imagination… too sweet, brother, that love will change this wolf, masked as a puppy,” the Sheikh was not willing to believe.
“Trust the guidance of Allah, brother! He turns all apparent crises into victories. And if He wants your rule, or your country, or the whole world to crumble, for some special purpose, then it will happen, and we shouldn’t oppose it, on the contrary: you should help the Lord to make the changes he wants! And if one love will be created in the process… Allah will be pleased, and even if the world will disappear and collapse, it’s still a good price for such achievement,” the Imam said without any doubt in his voice.
The Sheikh sighed again. “If such is the will of Allah… then, I want to ask you for a special favor, Imam Faraj.”
“And that is?”
“I want you to arrange an immediate marriage between me, and her, if Allah will permit it. In any case, I will follow Allah, as you recommended me, to the edge,” the Sheikh said with final relief, and smiled, after very long time.
“Yes, but only if you love her from your full heart, and she loves you,” the Imam agreed with one condition.
“You will be a direct witness of her answer,” the Sheikh replied.
Such is the will of Allah: in one moment, you feel like a loser, but He has an intention with you, and it will be always materialized, regardless of human desires, plans and dreams.
Marketa returned to other guests, reconciled, even liberated from her own desires, knowing, that she failed, at least temporarily. She took a glass of mineral water, and joined the female group around the Princess boldly, who welcomed her with her eternal smile.
“Ah, our dear sister Maryam!” the Princess introduced the girl to the female social elite of the Emirates, and abroad. “She is reputated as a woman of Islam, leading others to the faith. Once, she was a fashion model, conquering the world with her body, and ambitions… today, she is a devoted servant of Allah, and an example for us all.”
All women seemed to have respect towards Marketa, and the girl smiled too, like in the old times, when she was walking on the catwalks to the stars…
Another female servant of the Sheikh approached the group, and asked Marketa, to meet with Imam Faraj, another missionary of Islam, who would like to meet her in person, to discuss inviting infidels to Islam.
“Allow me to leave you temporarily, Your Royal Highness. I will be delighted to join your company later,” Marketa kept the decorum.
“Of course, we won’t hold you here, just go,” the Princess released her, and turned back to her female friends.
Here, at the public, the Imam couldn’t speak with Maryam privately. So, the female servant remained nearby.
“Salam Alaikum, sister Maryam,” the Imam greeted her, of course, without shaking her hands, as touching an unrelated member of the opposite gender is not permissible in Islam.
“Alaikum Salam, Imam,” Marketa replied and smiled just decently.
“I heard about your Da’wah here, in the Emirates,” the Imam seemed pleased. “You are from the Czech Republic, and I am serving to Allah nearby, in Austria. You should visit our mosque sometimes! It’s beautiful, under the Alps. You can find peace there.”
“Thank you for the invitation, Imam,” Marketa was delighted. “With the permission of Allah, I will visit you soon. It’s always good to be near an Imam… who can give good advices, how to be yet better servant of Allah.”
“How old are you, sister?” the older man asked surprisingly.
“Twenty four… why?” Marketa couldn’t resist to smile. In certain sense, it was very indecent question, if a female was asked. But maybe the rules were different, than in the Western Europe.
“You have a good age for a marriage, sister. And you shouldn’t postpone it, because to establish a family, to have children, that is the ultimate da’wah!” the Imam explained his strange interest.
“A good husband is hard to find,” Marketa made a shrug, and a bitter smile, indicating, that she is not against the idea, but Allah still hasn’t sent the right man.
“I would have just a perfect husband for you,” the Imam said seriously. “He loves you, and I am most certain, that you keep certain feelings towards him too.”
“Oh, really?” Marketa was surprised. There was only one man in her life lately, that unknown admirer, who sent her a bouquet of flowers, together with a message. But since that, nothing.
“I decided to ask you, instead of him… he is busy, right now. But I am sure, that if your feeling are mutual, you won’t hesitate,” Imam Faraj continued.
“But I really don’t know, who he is…maybe there is somebody, whom I can imagine as my husband, but I think, that it’s not him,” Marketa opened her heart a little.
“You are saying ‘maybe’, sister… but I need to hear your clear answer, because when I will marry you two, both the groom and the bride have to be absolutely certain,” the Imam insisted, without a slightest indication, who is the admirer, who would like to marry Marketa. But she was pleased… what woman wouldn’t be pleased, if someone asks for her hand?
“Sister, it’s almost time for the Isha prayer,” the Imam checked his wrist watch. “You are a devoted believer in Allah, so you won’t miss a mandatory daily prayer, will you? Join me, so we can worship Allah together,” the Imam walked away, while the female servant indicated by hand, that she will accompany Marketa to the mosque.
Marketa followed her. The rememberance of Allah, making an act of worshipping Him, is the perfect solution for all worldly problems.
Both women walked really far, even meeting several armed patrols, so Marketa started to have suspicion, where are they taking her. But after the events of today, when she was literally dragged from her home here, she won’t be surprised by another kidnapping…
The mosque was small, seemed deserted, and inside, it was quite empty, as Marketa found after making the necessary wudu, the ritual ablution.
Only three men prayed in front, and three women, including Marketa, followed them in the back. Imam Faraj led the prayer himself.
After the additional rakats were made by all people in the mosque, to worship Allah yet more, someone closed the door, and secured it from the inside, as Marketa noticed.
Imam Faraj summoned Marketa to him.
“Sister, your potential husband is nearby, but to avoid embarassment, and other problems, he will come here, only if you will say ‘yes’ to his proposal,” the Imam informed Marketa with urgency.
“What can I tell you about him, so you can make the right decision?” the Imam kept the rules. “He is a man of Islam, who tries to serve to Allah, and the others, as well as he can. He is quite modest, in comparison with the glamour of the Emirates, and I know him for many years. I always respected him, what he does for the country. What you can see all around, it’s his merit.
He is married, twice already, so you would be his third wife. But let me assure you, that you will be the most important of all wives, from many reasons.
As the situation is tense, the ceremony has to be made immediately, without delay, and secretly, also from many reasons, therefore the precautions. Only necessary people will be here, including notary, and here is a draft of the marriage contract, including ‘mahr’ (=amount of money or posessions for the exclusive use of the bride), which is more than generous, if I may say, as the groom really wants to take care of you properly in all senses.
Now, read it. Some minor changes can be made, but if you won’t agree with the contract in some substantial part, the marriage has to be cancelled. There is no time to discuss the details… in other words, accept the offer, as it is, or refuse it completely,” the Imam explained like a professional marriage counsellor.
Marketa was reading the document, and she was a woman, so she checked the part with mahr details very carefully.
When she saw, what is offered to her, she was completely astonished. She looked at the Imam, with a simple question in her beautiful brown eyes.
“I can’t say his name. But I can say ‘yes’ or ‘no’, if you will say his name,” Imam Faraj helped her.
“If it’s His Highness Sheikh Mohammed Al Maktoum, who is asking to marry me, then I accept the offer, and I demand no changes in the contract,” Marketa said with a decisive voice. “I will marry this man, and no one else. Indeed, I love him.”
The Imam only nodded, and walked away.
Marketa was standing there, under the ceiling of the mosque, not able to believe, what is happening. This had to be a direct intervention of Allah… oh, Lord, it’s you who gives me everything, and now even a husband which I wanted, so I swear, I will worship you until my last breath, and I won’t give partners to you…
Her flexible young body started doing another two rakats automatically, to confirm her deep faith in her Creator: Allah.
When she ended with her prayer, the Imam, the Sheikh himself, and several other people were awaiting her.
This must be a dream… everything she wanted, everything she needed, is becoming reality, as such is the will of Allah.
Her long slim legs started walking towards the group with certainty.
She is going to meet her destiny.