The Sheikh's Secret Son (Sharjah Sheikhs 3)

g in any of the United Arab Emirates pay fair wages, provide acceptable benefits, and provide work hours in accordance with our labor laws. Alacabak might know a little more about the specific details of this particular project, but if you want concrete answers, you’ll have to go to the labor board.” He had prepared for these types of questions. He was not going to let her blindside him. Besides, he was rather proud of the labor laws.

“But aren’t those regulations in place only for registered Emirati citizens, leaving little to no protection for migrant workers?” she countered.

Why she had to make it her purpose to find flaws with everything in Sharjah, to constantly bring up the workers and poverty, he didn’t know, but he’d be damned if she got him to lose his cool. It was like she wanted some sort of vengeance against him personally, when it wasn’t his fault he hadn’t been there for her. For their son. She hadn’t even told him. If he hadn’t found that picture, maybe she never even would have.

“I believe that is true. There are very few protections for migrant workers. We’re trying to discourage the use of migrant workers, as we have plenty of able-bodied citizens here who can do this work. The labor board has restrictions on when migrant workers can be used and how many can be employed at a time,” Zaid explained.

“Yes, I know about the restrictions, but estimates show that as much as seventy percent of the workforce in Sharjah is made up of migrant workers, many of whom are undocumented, allowing employers to keep their reporting numbers low so that they remain within the legal limits. These workers are not guaranteed living wages, reasonable hours, or benefits by the labor board. Furthermore, there is no national minimum wage that would protect all workers. The labor board assigns or approves wages based on the job itself. That works out great for registered citizens, but again, those regulations don’t apply to migrant workers.”

Zaid stammered. “I don’t know about those estimates,” he said, looking at Alacabak. “We’ve been striving to enact better regulations for all of our workers. If that many people are falling through the cracks then it will be up to the royal family to investigate the situation.”

Some of the others began to fidget audibly and he watched Candace lean toward Rebecca to say something to her, but she held up her hand and Candace backed off. It looked as though she was just getting started.

“You know, Sheikh Zaid,” Rebecca said, “you keep giving us great promises in your answers, but I see now that you really have no idea what’s going on. I’m willing to bet that you didn’t know that thousands of mostly migrant workers live in squalid conditions right here in Sharjah. Because they are classified as migrant workers, they are beyond the reach of your labor board’s regulations. Dozens of these workers were deported for protesting their squalid conditions.”

As Rebecca talked, Zaid could hear the other members of the tour grumble louder as some began to talk amongst themselves. Looking around, he was surprised to see that two of them had pulled out their cell phones and were recording their interaction.

Alacabak stepped up to address her accusations. “Claims made on behalf of undocumented migrant workers are hard to prove precisely because they are undocumented,” he said. “UAE law provides for penalties against companies who use too many migrant workers. We take these claims very seriously, specifically because of the work each Emirate has done to ensure the safety and well-being of our workforce. I currently oversee investigations into migrant complaints here in Sharjah, and so far, my team of labor board investigators has only been able to prove a handful of claims. Those employers have faced hefty fines and increased scrutiny because of their labor violations.”

Zaid couldn’t believe what Rebecca had claimed. He felt comforted by Alacabak’s response, but he was still concerned over the numbers Rebecca had thrown out. He looked around the room, and it seemed that everyone else was glad to accept the advisor’s rebuttal and calmed down. After being called out in front of the group, Zaid didn’t feel much like taking them on a tour of the facilities.

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.

“I’ll make a deal with you, Rebecca,” Zaid finally said.

“Uh-oh, I don’t like the sound of this,” she said.

“No, it’s a good deal. If you stop derailing the tour in front of the delegates visiting us, I will take you on a personal, private tour of Rajak and Timina. I will show you what we’ve done to help and how much work remains to be done,” he said. It sounded like a reasonable solution to him and despite the way the previous night had ended, despite what she’d done today; he still wanted to spend time with her.