The Sheikh halfheartedly led the diplomatic tour through the facilities at the complex, showing them the state of the art conference rooms and fitness facilities, bracing himself for another of Rebecca’s tirades about the flaws with the conference center. Fortunately, they never came. If anything, she seemed to be avoiding him. When lunchtime finally rolled around, he led the group to the cafeteria where they could choose what they wanted to eat from several different food serving stations. Once the group sat down with their meals, he walked by Rebecca and tapped her arm, staring down at her.
“Uh-oh, I think I’m in trouble,” she teased, drawing laughter from the other delegates at her table.
Zaid didn’t bother to reply and simply continued walking past the table, knowing she would follow. He stepped into the hallway outside the cafeteria and waited for her.
A few moments later, he saw her petite frame emerge from the cafeteria. She wore a suit with pants instead of a skirt today. Watching her walk his way, he kicked himself for being mad at her. He didn’t want to be angry with her, though after the way she’d run from him the night before, it was hard not to be a little hurt. He wanted to whisk her away from the conference center and take her back to his quarters at the palace. He wanted to forget her challenges to his authority. But he couldn’t forget, and he couldn’t keep letting it slide.
He also couldn’t keep ignoring what she was trying to tell him. He trusted her more than he did Alacabak, and as soothing as Alacabak’s answers were, Rebecca’s words were starting to get through to him. The numbers and reports were starting to make him realize that there was a problem beyond the reach of the labor board and their regulations.
“I’m not going to apologize, if that’s what you want,” Rebecca said as soon as she approached him.
“I’m not looking for an apology,” he insisted. “What I’m looking for is some respect.”
“You’ve got to work for that, Zaid,” she said. “You don’t earn it by default just because you’re one of the Sheikhs of Sharjah. Not in today’s world. In today’s world, Zaid, your actions earn respect.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “What I mean is I want you to stop attacking me in public. You could have brought those figures to me in private. You’ve had ample opportunity when you could have done so instead of choosing to make it public,” he said.
“Would you have listened? You can’t simply ignore what is going on outside the palace walls and assume that everything is okay based on some monthly reports you might receive. Those migrant workers are being mistreated right under your nose and if you don’t fix their problems, they will eventually come to fix you.”
She placed a hand on his arm. “Believe it or not, Zaid, I don’t want to see that happen. By helping these people, you will help your family continue to prosper here in Sharjah.”
“And I keep telling you that we’re trying to help by investing in those sections of Sharjah where people are suffering.” He’d been thinking about the investments in Rajak and Timina a lot since Rebecca had brought them up. They’d already pumped a lot of money into those neighborhoods. They should have been doing much better than it seemed they were.
He added, “The investments we need won’t happen if we run the investors off by talking about the people who fall through the cracks, the ones who aren’t supported by the laws. Our only hope to fix what’s wrong with those people is to lift them back up through the cracks, back to the surface so to speak.”
“You’re going to be angry with me for what I’m about say, Zaid,” Rebecca told him. “Not once have you mentioned sharing any of the Sultan’s money to help these people. You could pay to improve infrastructure and housing in the short term while you work to bring in more jobs for the long term, and that could potentially drag them out of poverty ahead of schedule.”
Zaid laughed. “We didn’t introduce prosperity to the Emirate at large by sharing royal money. We introduced foreign investors and foreign companies. As the jobs came in and the labor board issued protections for registered workers, the wealth of the average Emirati grew immensely. We will only continue that work by introducing more jobs for the rest of our people.”
“Then do it,” she challenged. “Show these people why you need their investments and their jobs. Show them what would happen over here if you didn’t have a way to pay workers or provide benefits. Show them why foreign money has helped more than the Sultan’s money. That is, unless you think there is something wrong with the way you’ve been doing it.” She cocked an eyebrow at him.