The Great Heist

Chapter Seventeen

For seven years, Mr. Josua Hermann had lived in Qatar. Six out of that seven years, he had spent as the General Manager of one of the biggest hotels in the oil-rich country—the Waldorf Astoria Hotel.

Since becoming a naturalized citizen here in Qatar, he could scarcely recall for once a scenario where he had seen on the part of any organs of her executive branch the willful exercise of force or aggression on her citizens. Let alone claim that he saw with his own eyes any form of human rights violations on many of his cruises across the capital city in his stable of sports cars. Or while eating in one of the high-end restaurants in Lusail. Nor when shopping at the big malls across the country.

Unfortunately, he was bearing witness to all that presently.

All the GM could do as he momentarily stood at the end of the long, axminstered hallway on the hotel’s third floor, was gape pie-eyed in startling disbelieve at the clutch of men across from him in the hall. The men, a baker’s doz