The Kirstin woman moved her hand from Ahreed's shoulder to his hand. "Calm down, Ahreed. You will be back with your family tonight."
Ahreed felt confused again. "Why are you taking me to Canberra? How do I know you won't hurt me?"
"Because Ahreed," continued Kirstin, "This is Australia. You are an Australian. We will not hurt you. We simply need your help."
Too many thoughts were fleeting through Ahreed's mind. The most obvious question was who could he trust? He looked at Kirstin's eyes, then back down into his lap. Slowly, he asked again, "Why are you taking me away?"
The woman tried to gain back Ahreed's eyes. "Because we need your help, Ahreed... Australia needs your help. We have been helping you for the past few years and now we are asking you to help us."
Ahreed pulled his hand away from the young woman. "How have you helped me?" he asked, looking back up into her eyes, anger flashing across his face.
Kirstin sat back in the back seat of the hire car and looked back out of the window. She considered her answer carefully. This young, fourteen year old boy was scared - she could see that. But it was important that she did not reveal her assignment too early. There were many secrets Ahreed would need to keep for the Australian Secret Intelligence Organisation, some of them stretching back into a history before he was born, others reaching out into the future security of Australia.
"Your School," she began, fixing back on his expectant, deep brown eyes, "It's a special school we sent you to with your father's permission."
Ahreed paused. He wondered about what the woman Kirstin had just said. "What do you mean, my Baba gave the permission?"
Kirstin again thought carefully about her answer to the boy while holding his worried gaze. She did not want to reveal anything about Ahreed's father that perhaps, his father had not explained to him. But at the same time, she needed to win his trust. The government had spent a lot of money helping Ahreed, his father and the rest of Ahreed's family. This long term plan depended heavily on this conversation with Ahreed and what choices he might make in an uncertain future.
Kirstin blinked. "Ahreed, your dad has helped the Australian Government a great deal," she took hold of his hand again, "And we trust your dad so much, it's difficult for me to explain. Here," she continued, looking down for her phone,"Call him... call your Baba now and ask him
Ahreed adjusted his posture in the back seat of the car, reaching into his pocket for his own phone. He did not trust the young woman. He felt he could not even trust that 'Kirstin' was her real name.
The phone only rang once when his Baba suddenly answered, "Ahreed? Is that you??" Ahreed could hear tension in his voice.
"Yes, Baba.. - " Ahreed was unsure what he should say to his dad.
"Ahreed, are you ok? Tell me you ok." Baba called over the headset, sounding a bit panicked.
"Yes Baba, but I'm scared, Babi," tears welling up in his eyes, "I want to come home..."
"You will, you will Ahree," reassured Baba, "I should see you tonight, it all will be ok."
Ahreed was sobbing, "But why, Baba? Why is this? I'm scared they're going to hurt me, Baba.."
Akram Hussein, 67, was worried about his youngest child and knew he had to explain. He'd always known ASIO was coming for Ahreed because the Australian Government had been supporting his whole family since its arrival in Sydney nine years ago. ASIO had also alerted him of their plan to move Ahreed to a new school in this year, but Akram had expected it would be at the end of the year. He assumed the speeding up of the process was because of the Melbourne terror alert he had heard about. Everyone was on edge after the Australian Prime Minister's emergency announcement to the nation about a possible gas attack in a Melbourne sports stadium.
His daughter Noora was also studying at Melbourne University while Ahreed and his older brother, Ahrou were attending the Kings School, Sydney's most prestigious secondary college. Noora was doing medicine and Akram and both of his sons, Ahreed and Ahrou were very proud of her.
Akram could not be certain if his daughter would have done so well if not for the Australian Security Services. Because of his previous work with the Iranian Government's nuclear program, Akram and his family were welcomed as refugees, but at a cost. One of his beloved children should give back and Ahreed, even brighter than his older sister, had been chosen before the boy had started high school. He was to do two years at the Kings School, then move to Alnoori Muslim School. If successful at this next process Ahreed was facing right now, he was to become a sleeper cell embedded in the radical Muslim community by ASIO. They were especially interested in the radicalization of young teenaged boys.
The aging engineer had already faced his own struggles in Australia. The fear of detection as an agent by others in the Muslim community, the regular moving of their home for security reasons, the loss of his beloved wife. Having no mother from four years of age, Ahreed too, had suffered. Akram explained all of this to Ahreed for what seemed like hours, though it was really only a precious few minutes. The phone call suddenly ended.
Ahreed frantically lifted up the phone, immediately suspicious that the ASIO people had done something to the end the call. But it was just a flat battery. Agreed had seen the woman Kirstin using the phone: she must have known the battery was almost flat.
Mr Bhaduri looked across his maths class at the Kings School. Ahreed's desk was empty and he'd heard nothing about why. Slightly annerved, he continued to walk up and down the aisles as the rest of his students worked away at the test. Ahreed was a special student and Mr Bhaduri had often wondered about the boy's background, potential and the possible disturbance of losing his mother at such a young age. There could very well be the spark in that boy and the maths teacher had plans for him.
The two Hussein brothers were rare Muslims at the leading Sydney school. Bhaduri had waited some years for this type of student and soon, he would be sure of their safety. Ahrou Hussein was doing very well but the maths teacher was suspicious of the boys' origins. Their baba being a truck driver and a single parent, how on earth could the family pay such high prices for education? One of Bhaduri's Syrian friends had also noticed the peculiar name of Ahrou, not being familiar with it as a Syrian name, plus the boy's accent and speaking style. Bhaduri's friend was even more perplexed when told Ahreed's name which was, again, not familiar in Syria. Yet according the student files of the boys, they were Syrian.
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