The Helen Bianchin Collection

by Helen Bianchin

  When he released her she stood, momentarily bemused, then reality returned, and with it a measure of anger.

  ‘That was unnecessary!’

  ‘But enjoyable, don’t you agree?’

  She wanted to hit him, and her fist clenched as she summoned a measure of restraint. ‘You’re despicable.’

  ‘Come,’ he bade her easily. ‘We’ll explore the garden further then return indoors. By that time your anger will have cooled.’

  ‘Don’t bet on it,’ she returned inelegantly, unsure just how much control she could exert during her sojourn in the desert. Shalef bin Youssef Al-Sayed was a law unto himself, but when it came to a clash of wills she intended to do battle.

  Shalef was as good as his word, and during the ensuing few days he assumed the role of perfect host. In the company of Nashwa, with a Filipino chauffeur at the wheel of the Mercedes, he ensured that Kristi saw many of the sights Riyadh had to offer. They visited the museum, the Masmak Fortress and the Murabba Palace, followed by the King Faisal Centre for Research and Islamic Studies. There was also the King Saud University Museum, and Kristi displayed a genuine interest as their assigned guide explained the history attached to each of the finds from the university’s archaeological digs at Al-Fao and Rabdhah. The Souk Al-Bathaa, Shalef explained as they explored what remained of it, had become a victim of Riyadh’s rush into the twentieth century.

  Being in Shalef’s company almost constantly had a disturbing effect on Kristi’s composure, as he meant it to have. His behaviour was impeccable, although she was acutely aware of the intensity of his gaze as it lingered on her a trifle longer than was necessary, the touch of his hand when he directed her attention to something of interest, the moment he caught hold of her arm when she almost tripped over the hem of her borrowed abaaya.

  Frequently she found her gaze straying to the firm lines of his mouth...and remembered what it felt like to have it move over her own.

  Kristi didn’t know whether to feel relieved or dismayed when one evening he suggested that they dine together in town.

  ‘The night-life here is notoriously thin,’ Shalef revealed, watching the fleeting play of emotions on her expressive features. ‘However, the hotels have excellent restaurants, and the Al-Khozama has one I can recommend.’

  With Nashwa and Fouad present, there wasn’t much she could do but agree.

  The abaaya was a necessary addition, but beneath it she wore silk evening trousers and a camisole top, and kept her make-up to a minimum. In some ways it had been amusing to discover that Nashwa, Aisha and Hanan each wore modern Western clothes beneath their abaayas. Saudi Arabian women, they assured her, spent a fortune on European couture.

  Shalef was accorded due deference at the hotel as the maître d‘ escorted them to a table reserved, Kristi surmised, for the privileged few.

  Choosing mineral water, she deliberated over the choice of starter and main course, conferred with Shalef and was guided by his selection.

  ‘When do you leave for the hunting lodge?’

  ‘Tomorrow.’

  At last, she breathed silently with a sense of relief. There were questions she wanted to ask, but refrained from putting them into words, choosing to wonder in silence when Mehmet Hassan would arrive, and how soon it would be before negotiations for Shane’s release could be initiated.

  ‘How long will you be away?’

  Their drinks arrived and it was a few minutes before he answered.

  ‘A week.’

  ‘I can only wish you an enjoyable and successful sojourn with your guests.’

  He inclined his head in mocking acknowledgement. ‘While you will be glad to be free of my presence.’

  ‘Of course,’ she agreed sweetly. ‘It will be a relief not to have to pretend to be enamoured of you.’

  The starter was served and Kristi found it delectable. The main course, when it arrived, was a visual work of art.

  ‘It seems a shame to disturb such artistic symmetry.’ She picked up her fork and carefully speared a segment of lamb, then paused in the action of transferring it to her mouth as a waiter approached the table and spoke to Shalef in a respectful undertone, listened to the response, then bowed his head and moved away.

  ‘Fayza is visiting her family in Riyadh,’ Shalef revealed. ‘She is here with her brother and suggests we join them for coffee. Do you mind?’

  Oh, joy. ‘Why not?’ Her smile was bright, her tone vivacious.

  ‘You’re in danger of creating a case of overkill,’ he drawled.

  ‘Why, Shalef,’ she reproved with deliberate mockery, ‘would I do such a thing?’

  His eyes gleamed with dark humour. ‘I suspect you might.’

  ‘We could,’ Kristi mused thoughtfully, ‘consider it pay-back time for your unwarranted kiss in the garden.’

  One eyebrow rose. ‘Unwarranted?’

  ‘Finish your dinner,’ she bade him solemnly. ‘We mustn’t keep the lovely Fayza waiting.’

  ‘Remind me to exact due punishment.’

  ‘A threat?’

  ‘More in the nature of a promise.’

  She pretended deliberation. ‘Is she merely one of many women in your life or is she special?’

  ‘I have known Fayza for a number of years.’

  ‘Ah,’ Kristi responded with comprehension, ‘the “we’re just good friends” spiel. Does she know that?’ She looked at him, then shook her head. ‘No, don’t answer. She lusts after you, and your wealth is a magnificent bonus. Or should it be the other way round?’ She savoured another mouthful of food. ‘Mmm, this is good.’ She summoned a winsome smile. ‘Should I play the jealous “companion”, do you think? Take your hands off him, he’s mine? Or the bored socialite who knows she has you by the... Well, let’s just say I’m very sure I have your attention.’

  Shalef finished the course and replaced his cutlery. ‘One day some man is going to take you severely in hand.’

  ‘Rest assured it won’t be you,’ Kristi responded, pushing her empty plate to one side. ‘Shall we enter the battlefield?’

  Fayza greeted Kristi with polite civility, proffered Shalef a stunning smile, and allowed her brother to perform his own introduction.

  You just had to admire Fayza’s style, Kristi commended her silently almost an hour later. Demure, with a touch of the exotic, the hint of seething passion beneath a chaste exterior. Was Shalef fooled? Somehow she thought not.

  ‘You are a professional photographer?’ Fayza made it sound the lowest of lowly occupations, and Kristi had a difficult time remaining calm.

  ‘It’s a job,’ she dismissed, and glimpsed the young woman’s deliberate raising of one eyebrow.

  ‘I have a degree in business management. But, of course, it’s unnecessary for me to work.’

  ‘What a shame,’ Kristi sympathised. ‘All that study and no need to apply it.’

  Fayza’s eyes darkened. ‘Surely a woman’s focus should be looking after a man? Ensuring his home is a tranquil haven?’

  Oh, dear, what had she begun? Kristi wondered. She was in the wrong country, and probably in the wrong company, to converse on feminist issues. ‘One has to allow that it’s possible not all men desire tranquillity,’ she opined with due cautiousness.

  ‘Shalef,’ Fayza appealed with just the right degree of helpless virtue, ‘Miss Dalton has little understanding of a woman’s role in Saudi Arabia.’ She honed her weapons and aimed for the kill. ‘However, I imagine such knowledge is of no importance to her.’

  It was obvious that she was unsure of the precise depth of Kristi’s relationship with Shalef bin Youssef Al-Sayed, despite the inevitable gossip which would have circulated among the cream of Riyadh society. It allowed Kristi the advantage of responding with an enigmatic smile.

  ‘You’re wrong,’ she submitted quietly. ‘On both counts.’

  Fayza managed a creditable attempt at disbelief. ‘Really?’

  ‘If you’ll excuse us?’ Shalef asked Fayza and her brother. ‘It’s
quite late.’ He signalled to the maître d‘, signed the proffered credit slip, then rose to his feet.

  The fact that he took hold of Kristi’s hand and enfolded it in his didn’t escape Fayza’s notice.

  ‘One imagines you will fly out to the hunting lodge during your stay in Riyadh?’

  Shalef’s expression mirrored polite civility. ‘It is something I allow time for whenever I am here.’

  ‘Falconry sounds such a fascinating sport,’ Kristi offered, and she gave him an adoring glance. ‘Perhaps you could take me out to the lodge some time, darling? It would be a fascinating experience to witness your skill with the falcon.’

  Shalef’s fingers tightened measurably on her own, and there was little she could do to wrench them from his grasp as Fayza and her brother accompanied them to the hotel foyer, then stood briefly while the doorman summoned both cars to the main entrance.

  Immediately Shalef and Kristi were seated the chauffeur eased the Mercedes onto the road and headed towards the palace.

  ‘You excelled yourself tonight,’ Shalef commented with dangerous smoothness, and she turned to look at him. The dim light inside the car accentuated the strong angles and planes of his facial bone structure.

  ‘I wasn’t the only one acting a part.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed as the car sped through the quiet city streets.

  All too soon they reached the palace gates, and Kristi followed Shalef from the vehicle when it drew to a halt outside the main entrance.

  ‘Thank you for a pleasant evening,’ she said politely once they were indoors. ‘Will I see you before you leave tomorrow?’

  ‘The helicopter pilot has been instructed to be ready at seven.’

  ‘In that case I’ll wish you a pleasant stay and ask that you be in touch with any news.’ She turned away only to come to a halt as a detaining hand clasped her shoulder and brought her back to face him.

  ‘Don’t,’ he warned with threatening intent, ‘concoct a scheme to visit the hunting lodge.’

  Her eyes were wide and remarkably clear. ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘You’ve dared many things in your career.’ His hands crept up to cradle her head. ‘The hunting lodge and the identities of my guests are my business. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes.’ She did understand. Yet that didn’t change her intention to put a carefully devised plan into action. For days she’d surreptitiously observed the servants’ routine, and she knew where the keys to the vehicles were kept. She also knew how to disengage the palace alarm system, as well as the system connected to the garages. She had a map, and over the next few days she would encourage Fouad to enlighten her about the art of falconry and to disclose the precise whereabouts of the hunting lodge.

  However, Shalef wasn’t to know that.

  ‘Make sure that you do,’ he said hardly. His head descended and he took possession of her mouth, plundering it in a manner that bordered on the primitive, and when he released her she lifted a shaking hand to her bruised lips.

  ‘I think I hate you.’

  His eyes were so dark that they were almost black, and he offered no apology.

  Without another word she turned and made her way to the wide, curved stairway that led to the upper floor, and in her room she slowly removed the borrowed abaaya and the silken evening clothes beneath it before entering the en suite bathroom. Minutes later she slid into bed and systematically went over every aspect of the palace security system, then mentally calculated when she would initiate her plan.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  KRISTI dressed quickly in blue cotton trousers and a matching cotton shirt, dispensed with make-up except for moisturising cream, twisted her hair on top of her head and secured it with pins, pulled on a cap, pushed her feet into trainers, then scrutinised her appearance, satisfied that she could easily pass for a reed-slim young man.

  With a swift glance round the elegant suite, she caught up the backpack into which she’d pushed a change of clothes and minimum necessities then moved silently into the hallway.

  The palace was quiet. In another hour Amani and Abdullah would begin organising the staff with daily chores.

  Part of her deplored the subterfuge of removing the remote control and spare set of keys to the four-wheel drive from Abdullah’s desk. It made her feel like a thief.

  Kristi gained the ground floor and made her way to a rear side-door, disengaged the security alarm, then slipped outside and moved quickly to the garages.

  For the first time she sent a prayer heavenward for expensive equipment as she depressed the remote control and saw one set of double doors lift upwards with scarcely more than an electronic whisper.

  The four-wheel drive was large, with wide tyres and attached spotlights, spare petrol and water cans. There was no time for second thoughts, and she deactivated the alarm, then unlocked and opened the door.

  She had driven a Jeep and a smaller four-wheel drive, but this was a monster by comparison. CB radio, car phone...the interior was crammed with every conceivable extra imaginable.

  Kristi checked the low reduction, ran through the gears, then started up the engine. All she had to do now was deactivate the security alarm at the gates, release them, and she was on her way.

  There wasn’t a hitch, and she gave thanks to heaven as she gained the road and moved the heavy vehicle swiftly through its numerous gears.

  During the past few days she’d spent considerable time memorising streets, time and distance. At this early hour of the morning there was no other traffic to speak of, and her passage through the city was uneventful.

  In another hour it would be light, and by then she’d be on the long road snaking into the desert.

  She calculated that she had two hours, perhaps three, before her absence would be noticed. What she couldn’t surmise was how Nashwa would react to her carefully penned note. Doubtless Abdullah would be consulted, and Fouad. There was always the possibility that she would reach the hunting lodge before anyone could notify Shalef.

  His anger was something she preferred not to envisage, and a faint shiver feathered her skin at the prospect of weathering his wrath.

  The buildings began to dwindle, the houses became fewer and far between, then there was nothing except the sparse expanse of desert, stretching out beneath the vehicle’s powerful headlights.

  Kristi seemed to have driven for ages before the sky began to lighten, dimming the shadows and bathing the land with a soft, ethereal glow. As the sun rose the colours deepened and the sky changed to the palest blue.

  There was a sense of isolation—the grandeur of the sand and the gentle undulation of the land, the stark beauty of the contrasting colour between earth and sky.

  The desert seemed so vast, so...inhibiting, Kristi mused. Frightening, she added, aware that a sudden sandstorm could cover the road, obliterating it entirely from view.

  Don’t even think about it, she chastised herself silently. It won’t happen. And even if it did she would only be briefly stranded, for she could notify the palace—anyone—of her whereabouts via the car phone or CB.

  As the sun rose higher in the sky its warmth began to penetrate the vehicle and Kristi switched on the air-conditioning and donned her sunglasses.

  With careful manoeuvring she extracted a water bottle and a packet of sandwiches from her backpack, then ate as she drove, not wanting to stop and waste time.

  As the sun rose further the bitumen began to shimmer with a reflective heat haze. It played havoc with her vision and brought the onset of a headache.

  There was almost a sense of relief when she glimpsed a vehicle in her rear-view mirror. It gained on her steadily, then pulled out to pass.

  There were two men in the front seat and the passenger gave her an intent look then turned to the driver. Instead of passing, they maintained an even pace with her vehicle, then gestured for her to pull over.

  It didn’t make sense, so she ignored the directive, accelerating to gain speed. Within seconds they were abre
ast of her once again, and this time there could be no mistaking their intention to have her pull over and stop.

  When she didn’t comply, the driver positioned the side of his vehicle against hers, and she felt the sickening thud of metal against metal.

  She sped ahead, reached for the CB speaker, depressed the switch and spoke into it rapidly, giving her identity, approximate location and indicating the problem.

  The men drew level again, and this time the four-wheel drive took a pounding. Kristi held onto the wheel for grim death and managed to get ahead of them.

  Risking a quick glance in the rear-view mirror, she felt fear clutch hold of her stomach as she saw their vehicle in hot pursuit.

  She was an experienced driver. With luck, skill and divine assistance, she thought she might manage to outdistance them.

  Within a matter of seconds the vehicle was right behind her, then it pulled out and inched forward until it was abreast. The passenger gestured with a rifle for her to pull over.

  There was no point in arguing with someone wielding a loaded firearm so she began to brake.

  There was the sound of a shot, followed almost simultaneously by the soft thud of a blown-out tyre, then the vehicle slewed horribly to one side.

  For what seemed like half a lifetime she battled to maintain some sort of control and bring the four-wheel drive to a halt, then she hit the door-locking mechanism, grabbed the car phone, hit a coded button, and when a heavily accented male voice answered she relayed an identical message, hoping, praying that whoever was on the other end of the line understood English. In desperation she repeated it in French before replacing the receiver.

  She watched with mounting apprehension as one man crossed to the passenger side while the other attempted to wrench open the door closest to her.

  They yelled instructions in Arabic, and shook their fists at her when she indicated a refusal to comply.

  The man with the rifle crossed round to the passenger side, carefully took aim, then shot the lock.