Mason had the upper hand now. He pinned the man to the ground in a headlock. The man cursed in Arabic, but Mason refused to loosen his grip. The boy against the wall seemed to recover his senses, hastily falling to the ground to pick up the wallets and phones that were still scattered. Then he approached them, his eyes wide.
“Please, sir,” he pleaded in heavily accented English. “Let him go. That is my brother. I will give you back what you want … only don’t hurt him!”
Mason stared at the youth, then back at the man. “Is it true? He is your brother?”
The dark man nodded slowly. “It is, sir. His name is Rami, and I was following him because I knew he would get in trouble.”
Dale approached. “Let him go, Mason. I’m interested to hear what he has to say.” He stared at the man. “Who are you? Were you and your brother paid to follow us?”
The man’s dark eyes widened. “No, we weren’t. I know my brother has done wrong, but I am not a pickpocket. I’m smarter than that. I own my own market stall rather than steal wallets.” He grinned suddenly, showing startlingly white teeth. “Perhaps I can sell you something? I can arrange anything. A girl? Some hashish? You just tell me what you want, and I can get it for you. No problem.”
Dale grinned back. “No thanks, but it’s good to know you have connections.” He paused, as if considering. “What’s your name?”
“Sayid,” said the man, staring at Dale. “And my brother is Rami.”
“You already said that,” growled Mason, his eyes narrow.
Sayid grinned again. “I forget! He is a little … rash. You know. He is younger than me.”
“How much younger?” Dale looked back at Rami the thief who was watching the exchange with an astonished look on his face. Obviously, he had thought he would either have been beaten to a pulp or dragged to the local police by now.
“He is four years younger than me,” said Sayid. “My only brother. It has only been the two of us since our parents died. We lived on the streets for a long time.” He glanced at Dale anxiously. “You are not going to take him to the police, are you?”
Dale stared at Sayid. “I might,” he said slowly. “But then again, I might not. I might have just thought of something that I want.” He paused. “How about you and your brother become our tour guides?”
Sayid gaped at him. “Tour guides? You mean … you want us to show you around the souks? Where to buy the best shoes … that sort of thing?”
Dale shook his head. “I can do that myself, Sayid. No, what I need is information. Information that is not easy to come by, and that only a local might hear.” He stared at Sayid hard. “Are you understanding me?”
Sayid nodded slowly. “I think I do, sir. And there is nothing that happens in the Medina that Rami and I don’t know about. We can find you information…at the right price, of course.”
“Of course.” Dale held out his hand to the man. “Spoken like a true businessman. Do we have a deal?”
Sayid stared down at his hand, then took it. He broke out into a wide grin. “We have a deal, sir.”
Dale shook the man’s hand. “You’d better call me Dale. This ‘sir’ thing is not my cup of tea.”
Rami laughed suddenly. “Thank you, Mr. Dale!”
* * *
Dale stared at the two figures walking ahead. Sayid and Rami. They were weaving in and out of the crowds confidently, occasionally turning back to check that he and Mason were still there. The younger boy was like a jumping bean, springing through the crowd.
“Are you sure about this?” asked Mason under his breath. “The younger one is a pickpocket, and the older one is a con man. You mark my words.”
Dale laughed. “They are perfect. They will have their ears to the ground in this place. That is exactly what we need.” He paused. “And they have chutzpah. I like that.”
Mason grunted but didn’t deny it.
Sayid and Rami suddenly pulled up outside a tiny doorway. Dale turned suddenly, and there were Robin and Audra. Robin was wearing a grin from ear to ear.
“I take it you found what you needed,” he said slowly.
She nodded. “I did, but I need to pay for it.”
Dale turned to Rami. “I’ll have my wallet back now, thank you.”
Rami grinned, handing back his wallet and phone. “Anything for you, Mr. Dale.”
Audra raised an eyebrow, staring at them. “Who do we have here?”
Dale laughed. “We’ve found our local guides. Or rather, they found us. I’ll go and pay for this stuff and then I’ll explain everything.”
18
Robin swore loudly, kicking a cable underneath the tatty desk they had dragged into her room. “It’s useless. We’re never going to get it connected!”
Dale turned slowly, staring at her. He put down the monitor he had been holding. “Don’t lose your cool, Robin. We’ll get there. It might just take us a while.”
Robin swore again. “We’ve already been at it for over an hour, and this place looks like a bomb has hit it.” She stared disconsolately around the room. Equipment was stacked haphazardly, and a network of wires and cables were strewn everywhere. “I still have to sleep in here, you know. And most of this stuff looks like it’s from the dark ages. Not high-grade quality.”
“At least you have what you need,” he replied shortly. “It’s foreign, Robin. They don’t have the latest high-tech equipment like we do back home. You’ll just have to make the best of it.” He sighed, staring at the mess.
Robin sighed too, knowing she just had to endure it. The pain before the pleasure. She had been so impatient to get set up that they had dragged the equipment back to the riad immediately. She was so excited that she had said that she wouldn’t eat—they could all go on without her. Mason and Audra had taken her at her word, but Dale had insisted that he would help her. They could always eat later, he had said.
“Are you going to rent those rooms near where Sayid and Rami live?” she asked now, taking a deep breath.
Dale nodded, picking up a cable. “I think so. I can pay cash for them and connect the Wi-Fi from there. Then it won’t get traced back here.”
Robin nodded. It was a good plan. As long as they could get this sweet equipment set up and she could finally get properly to work.
She thought of Sayid and Rami, the two locals who Dale had inexplicably hired after Rami had pickpocketed him. They were street-smart - she could tell that just by looking at them. And Dale had told her that they had lived on the streets for a while, too; that Sayid had taken care of his younger brother. Robin’s heart tightened, just a little. She had lived on the streets too. She knew what it was like—how you would do anything to survive.
She knew what their life was and didn’t blame them one bit for making the choices they did. They operated outside the law, just like she did. They just did it in a slightly different way.
She took a deep breath. She had to stop ruminating and get to work. She gritted her teeth, picking up another cable.
* * *
Robin rubbed her neck ruefully. She was finally online with her new setup, but she couldn’t concentrate. She looked up, remembering her score from the café that day. It might be just what the doctor ordered at the moment.
Dale stared at her as she took out her bundle and some rolling papers. “What are you doing?”
“Some hash, Dale.” She expertly rolled a joint. “To help me think. I scored some strong coffee as well if you want to brew us some.”
“Hash?” He frowned. “It’s illegal, Robin. You probably shouldn’t.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “I think I’m past worrying about what is legal or not at this point. And besides, just about everyone does it in Marrakech.” She lit the joint, blowing out reams of smoke into the air. “Would you like some?”
He hesitated. He hadn’t smoked in years. But she spoke the truth—it was very common in Marrakech. He took a deep breath and accepted the joint she proffered.
“When
in Rome,” he muttered, inhaling deeply.
“That’s the spirit, Dale,” replied Robin, leaning back and smiling lazily at him. “That’s the spirit.”
* * *
Dale stared out the window, watching the stars popping into the night sky like someone had just flicked on a switch. And then he turned to the woman lying next to him.
Robin. It was Robin. They were lying on her bed in the riad and they had just finished smoking some of the best hash he had ever had.
He slowly reached out to her, stroking her face gently. “You’re beautiful, Robin. Have I ever told you that?”
She stilled. “Never.”
He turned to her and started caressing her face. She closed her eyes in rapture. He closed his, too, feeling her skin as if his fingers were made of lightning. As if every nerve ending was tingling.
They fell into each other as if in a dream. One minute she was still wearing her dress, and the next she was lying naked in his arms. He stared down at her, his eyes drinking in her pale pearlescent skin and her surprisingly full breasts. What would she taste like? He dipped his head and found one of her nipples, tugging on it until he heard her moaning fiercely. She was sweet. Like honey, or nectar, he thought drowsily.
He couldn’t stop now, nor did he want to. This had been hovering between them for a long time and it felt so right to finally be slaking the thirst for her. He couldn’t think beyond that.
He entered her swiftly, from the side, grinding himself into her. But then she suddenly flipped him over, riding him so slowly and gently that he couldn’t stop himself groaning in pleasure. She was good. She would get him almost to the point of no return before backing off slightly, leaving him teetering on the edge. And all the while she was inching closer to her own pleasure. Her moans became cries and then they turned into screams.
When it happened, it was shattering, like a million crystals falling through his body. She shuddered at the same moment, writhing, tossing her head back. He felt her spasms almost to the tips of his toes. And then she was done, falling across him like a rag doll.
He slowly stroked her hair, whispering into her ear gently, before they both succumbed to their exhaustion, falling asleep with the sweat drying like tears on their bodies.
* * *
Dale’s eyes fluttered open. He could hear a mournful voice, calling out into the night. He sat up slightly. It was the evening call to prayer. A bright moon hung in the sky outside the window, illuminating the room.
His heart lurched. Robin’s room. His eyes widened, turning to stare at her lying next to him.
She was naked, sprawled on her belly, her eyes closed. Slowly, he extracted himself from the bed, pulling on his clothes. How had he let this happen? But he knew the answer. The hash. It had let his guard down and he had succumbed to the growing attraction between them.
He looked down at her. It had been beyond amazing, but it had also been drug-fueled. What would she think, now that she was in her right mind again? Would she regret it? He toyed with the idea of shaking her awake. He shouldn’t slink from her bed like a thief in the night. But he what would say to her if he did that was beyond him.
He took a deep breath. He wasn’t ready for this. He didn’t know if he would ever be ready for something like this again. He stared at her for a second longer, then crept out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.
* * *
As soon as the door closed, she opened her eyes. She stared at it for a long time. And then a single tear squeezed out of her eyes and ran down her cheek. She brushed it away angrily.
He had run from her bed like a dog with its tail between its legs. And she was the stupidest fool that had ever drawn breath.
19
Dale watched Sayid and Rami weaving through the crowds in the Medina. Occasionally they would stop to talk to someone. When this happened, he and Mason would hang back, pretending to be interested in whatever goods were sold at the stall they were in front of. He knew that if their presence was detected, the people they spoke to might not be quite so forthcoming.
“They don’t have anything yet,” drawled Mason, pretending to inspect a lantern hanging from a hook as Sayid and Rami talked to yet another man. “We’ve been wandering the souks all morning and I need a coffee.”
“Patience,” said Dale, rubbing his neck. He had a slight headache and would kill for a coffee himself. Probably a mild hash hangover, he thought darkly. A sudden vision of Robin above him, pale and perfect in the darkened room, assailed him.
Firmly, he pushed it aside. He didn’t have time for it, he thought, gritting his teeth. And he was grateful that Mason and Audra had still been out when he had left her room and didn’t realize that something had happened between them. Small mercies, he thought. And he had avoided talking with Robin this morning, rushing out the door as if he was being pursued by an army.
Dale sighed, covertly staring at Sayid and Rami. The man they were talking to had greasy black hair and missing teeth. His eyes darted furtively around, almost like a cornered rat, as he squatted near the opening of a darkened alleyway. Then he suddenly leapt up, sliding back into the alley as if he had never been there.
The brothers strolled over to them. “Well?” said Dale. “Did he have any news?”
Sayid broke into a large grin. “Men fielaan. Yes! He has heard of the briefcase. And he says that the woman who has it will be at an underground party.”
“A party?” Dale’s heart started hammering. “When?”
Sayid’s dark eyes were gleaming. “Tonight.”
* * *
Dale blinked rapidly as they walked down into the party. It was subterranean, all right—the only access point was to follow a narrow, spiraling staircase downwards until they reached a black door where two burly bouncers stood, their eyes narrowed.
Dale and Mason stood back while Sayid talked to one, pressing money into his hand. And then the door opened. He could see flashing strobe lights.
His jaw almost dropped to the ground upon entering the space. It was decked out like a Western nightclub, with a pocket-sized dance floor in the middle, surrounded by tables on two levels. There was a long bar on the top level with an impressive array of spirits and wines. Dale looked up. He could see that there were private booths at the top, almost sunken into the wall.
“Welcome to Disneyland,” muttered Mason, coughing slightly as a waft of smoke assailed him. “It looks like we have some serious partiers here.” He gazed around at the women, all dressed in slinky dresses the size of a handkerchief, draped over men on the dance floor and in corners. Some of them were smoking hookahs, staring around with a glazed expression on their faces.
“It is illegal party,” piped up Sayid, nodding his head. “Alcohol is banned here, you see. Lots of foreign drinks and foreign women, willing to give men a good time.” He smiled knowingly.
“Praise Allah,” said Dale drily. “Let’s go for a wander and see what we can spot.”
They climbed the stairs to the upper level. Mason bought them all drinks and they surreptitiously studied the crowd. Sayid choked slightly on his drink. “It is strong. I am not used to strong liquor.”
“This is top-shelf stuff, Sayid,” said Dale, swirling his own drink. “I’d enjoy it if I was you.”
Suddenly, the skin on the back of his neck started to prickle slightly. He turned to Mason, whispering into his ear.
“That corner booth,” he said. “Is it Thompson?”
Mason looked covertly, then turned back to him, nodding his head. Dale’s heart started to hammer. He almost hadn’t recognized him. Thompson usually wore gaudy suits and power ties—slightly eccentric, but suiting the owner of one of the largest drug companies in the world. But tonight the man was bedecked out in a Moroccan-style caftan. He’s gained weight, thought Dale, noticing the puffy eyes and stubby fingers. His graying blond hair was slick with sweat, as well. As Dale watched, Thompson turned and picked up a hookah pipe, drawing deeply before collapsing back into
a pile of silk cushions.
“Opium,” said Sayid. “That is what they mainly smoke in the private booths.”
“He looks like a heart attack waiting to happen,” said Dale tightly. “Why doesn’t it surprise me to see him in this context?”
“He’s surrounded,” said Mason, his eyes flickering over the booth. “Looks like he’s brought along a small army of bodyguards.”
Suddenly, Dale’s eyes were drawn to the small dance floor below. A slow song had started, and couples were embracing publicly, shocking for Morocco. But that wasn’t what was drawing his eye. It was the sight of the woman standing slightly to the left of it. She was wearing a halter-neck green silk dress and high black boots. Beside her stood a man the size of a rock with a shock of white, spiky blond hair and a scarred face, gazing impassively around.
His heart seized. It was Carlotta. And she was carrying the briefcase.
“Mason,” he managed to whisper.
His bodyguard’s eyes widened dramatically as they followed his gaze.
“Let’s do it,” he whispered fiercely. “Let’s spring her and get it. Follow me.”
* * *
Dale felt like he was in a dream as they slowly descended the stairs and inched over towards the woman and the man flanking her. His heart was hammering like mad, and the beat of the music seemed to have entered his bloodstream. Did he still have some hash in his system? Or was it the fact that he was getting so close to the woman who had broken his heart, smashing it into a thousand pieces?
They were so close he could almost smell her perfume in the air. For a moment he wavered as the scent memory afflicted him. But then his eyes slid to the briefcase and they narrowed. Ten years of painstaking work was in there. And he intended to get it back.
Chasing the Cure Page 8
