Neela

My son Mark dropped in, a delightful surprise. He had been very hard to get in touch with since achieving employment at the CERN Large Hadron Collider near Geneva, and hence my pleasure at the unexpected visit.

There was, of course, more to it than filial love.

Mark had in tow a very attractive fellow physicist, a sweet young thing named Neela Karim, who was in a spot of trouble. Both were worried, and after settling them down with a good helping of Laphroaig, I asked just what was up.

It was a bit complex.

Neela had spent her childhood in Waziristan, and her beauty was noticeable even at a young age. Now in that area of the world, girls were commodities to be used for the benefit of the clan. (For clan read the male members). At the age of ten, she had been promised in marriage to a Pakistan trader operating in London. Neela, now sixteen, was duly sent off, but upon arrival discovered that her espoused had married another (and richer) woman. In Waziristan, the local mullah immediately issued a fatwa against the trader, calling for his death. At this point, however, clan warfare erupted -- something about goats -- and her parents and sundry tribal elders had simply forgotten about her.

Neela quickly made an alliance with another Pakistani family, who, to their credit treated her as a human being. She attended school, and her natural intelligence began to assert itself. In Mark's words, she was "bright as hell" and after her graduation, Neela had posted a paper she had written for her A level physics course. Mark had seen it, and suggested to his CERN colleagues that Neela would be an excellent candidate for one of the three internships that were currently available. Long story short, Neela was accepted, and the sun shone brightly on the land.

Well, not quite.

Back in Waziristan, after a number of people had been slaughtered and the goats returned, someone got around to remembering Neela. One of the clan elders, sixty years old and recently widowed (his oft-beaten wife had hurled herself off a cliff) indicated to Neela's parents that he would deign to marry her, thus bestowing great honour on Neela's parents. Her two brothers were sent to fetch her.

They traced her to Geneva, but by this time Neela had got wind of the enterprise. Mark had some leave time available, and he and Neela had fled, and then plunked themselves down at the Manor. In Mark's words, "Mum will know what to do."

Yeah, sure. Solve anything. Anytime. Anywhere.

Before taking any action, however, I wanted to know a bit more about Neela. I took her aside, and learned the following.

A. She really was extremely bright. (Well, so am I. Big deal)

B. She had come to the conclusion that Islam was a crock, and was beginning to think that all organized religion was a gigantic power and money grab. (I began to warm to this girl.)

C. She was aware of her beauty, but didn't trade on it. (If only some similar girls -- oh, never mind.)

D. She was hopelessly in love with Mark. (Uh, oh. This could be problematical. I will have to have a talk with Mark.)

I next had a conversation with my son, and learned that he was smitten, and was convinced that Neela was his entire universe. Well, these things happen. In any event, I decided to act. I realized that the pursuing brothers would not give up easily, "honour" being at stake and all, and therefore a strategy was necessary.

Now a number of people scattered around the global village owed me favours (and I them). I was thus able to learn that the Karim brothers were still in Geneva. I got in touch with a Swiss police officer with whom I had dealings. A few years ago, I had assisted in bringing down an arsonist who hated Swiss cheese and had burned down a number of stores selling the stuff. He was glad to help, located the Karim brothers through their hotel registrations (the Swiss register everything) and discussed the situation with them.

He informed them that their sister had fallen for a wealthy Mexican, and she had left Switzerland for that country. He gave a forwarding address (the Swiss are thorough) at a palatial villa on the outskirts of Ciudad Juarez, but warned them that it was probably a hangout for one of the drug gangs that currently infest Mexico. I doubted if the Karim brothers would follow that lead up, but if they did, the Mexican drug cartels were just as thorough as the Swiss. Good luck to them.

Still, it would be better if Neela had a new identity entirely. After some help from Sir Harry, who had been pleased at my assessment of the North African eruptions, Neela became a British citizen, with a passport in the name of Beena Patel. At which point we all went out to dinner, and an intense discussion of the where and what of the Higgs bosun.

Well why not?