by Ted Dekker
“Why am I incapable of killing her?” Seth asked.
“You don’t have the backbone.”
“You mean that I love her, don’t you? You’ve been watching us and now you see that I have what you’ll never have. Love.”
To Miriam’s surprise, Omar didn’t object.
“But you’re right,” Seth said. He rotated the knife in his hand and flipped it through the air. The blade embedded itself in the tabletop and quivered like a spring. “I couldn’t bear to hurt any woman, much less the woman I love.”
“And that is why you don’t deserve this flower,” Omar said. “Today you will die.”
“I will die only if God has decided that I should die. Neither of us knows that yet, do we?”
Omar plucked the knife from the wood. “You stand unarmed, surrounded by twenty of my men, and you continue with this nonsense? Without this gift of yours, you’re nothing but a babbling fool.”
“My lack of sight doesn’t make the future any less real. If I could see all of the potential futures right now, I would undoubtedly see one in which both Miriam and I survive. Just because I don’t see that future now doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
Stalling was all Seth could do now. Omar was right, the game had come to an end. A lump rose into Miriam’s throat. She stared at the knife in Omar’s hands, regretting Seth’s choice to give it up. He had taken this loving your neighbor business too far.
Was Omar their neighbor? She doubted it. Seth might not have the stomach to kill her, but she didn’t have the stomach to return with Omar.
What if she made a break for it now? She might be able to reach the door and run into the desert before Omar could stop her. But they would come after her. She would have to kill herself. Jump off a cliff, perhaps. Could she really bring herself to commit suicide? How could she kill herself?
Omar flipped open his phone and calmly pushed two keys. He lifted the receiver to his ear and locked his gaze on Miriam. “We are coming out,” he said. “If the American makes a move, tell Mudah to shoot him in the head. Under no circumstances is the woman to be harmed. And don’t be fooled, the American is in a black abaaya, and she is wearing Western clothing.” He snapped the phone shut.
He motioned to the door. “Go.”
Miriam’s heart pounded like a giant piston. She could not move.
Seth wasn’t moving either.
“Are you deaf?”
“Out!” Omar boomed. His cell phone chirped in his hand. “If you don’t move, I’ll have you shot in here.”
Seth still made no move. The phone chirped again.
Omar spit and snatched the phone to his ear. “I’m coming, you fool!”
Omar took one more step and then paled. He listened, motionless, and then turned to Miriam.
“Forgive me, Abu al-Asamm. I thought you were one of my men.”
The sheik!
“Of course your daughter is alive.” Omar spoke quickly, momentarily distracted by this intrusion. He took a step toward the window and glanced out, listening now.
Miriam caught Seth’s eyes. They were wide, glinting with a determination she hadn’t seen in them before. He had decided something.
“No sir, you don’t understand. I have your assassin!” Omar paused. “Yes, I have the assassin and I have your daughter here. They are both in my control.”
Seth leaped over the table, snatched the knife from Omar’s right hand, and seized Miriam before Omar could react. He threw his left arm around her shoulders, and jerked the knife to her throat.
Omar whirled.
“Scream,” Seth whispered in her ear.
She understood immediately.
“Father! There is a knife at my throat! Father!”
The phone was still pressed to Omar’s ear.
A fist pounded on the door.
“Tell them to leave or I will kill her!” Seth shouted. “I will kill the sheik’s daughter!”
Omar blinked several times. The fist pounded again, accompanied by a muffled yell this time. “Sir?”
Omar finally came to himself. “Leave us!” he yelled to the men outside. “Get in your cars and wait for my call!”
A garbled electronic voice squawked over the phone from across the room. Her father, loud now.
“No, Abu al-Asamm,” Omar spoke into the receiver. “I assure you that there’s no danger to your daughter. My men have this place surrounded! I have the situation under control.”
“Scream,” Seth whispered again.
“Fatherrrrr!” She put her full emotions into it now, tapping the pent-up horror of facing Omar alone again. “Faaatherrr!” Agony and terror rolled into one cry.
Omar’s eyes widened in disbelief.
Seth’s ploy, however daring, probably still only delayed the inevitable, Miriam thought. Seth would not kill her, and once his empty threats played themselves out, her father would understand that. Once the sheik satisfied himself that her life was not in the balance, Omar would kill Seth and take her captive.
Miriam put the grief of this realization into her next wail. She sounded like a wounded jackal.
“Shut up!” Omar screamed.
Miriam took some small comfort in his momentary desperation. She winked at him.
“I assure you, Abu al-Asamm, there is no . . . Yes, he is here, but he’s bluffing! Your daughter’s screaming because she is with him! Speaking to her will prove nothing!”
The sheik was yelling at Omar.
Omar pulled the cell phone from his ear and glared at Miriam, lips flat and trembling.
“You will prove nothing by this!” he spit. Dropping his voice, he said, “You will both pay before you die.” He shoved the phone toward them. “Your father wishes to speak to you.”
“No!” Seth said.
That stopped him.
“What do you mean no? She will not speak to her own father?”
“No,” Miriam said softly. “I will not.”
Omar lifted the phone. “She will not speak to you.”
“Fatherrr!” Miriam cried. “I am dying!”
“She is not dying!” Omar said. “They are playing with us!”
“Fatherrrr!”
The sense of true faith came to Seth as clearly as any algebraic equation. He’d seen enough of how futures worked to know that such an unlikely event as the sheik calling when he had, for the reason he had, was not random or without purpose.
The call did nothing but stall Omar. But if there was a future in which Seth and Miriam survived, and if Seth could facilitate that future by stalling Omar, he decided it would be a good idea to stall the prince some more. But stalling meant getting the knife back, a prospect that filled him with dread. Fortunately his boldness paid off.
He still didn’t know how they were going to survive, but he did believe that had they were meant to survive, and that was enough.
“Fatherrrr!”
And then Seth knew how they were going to survive, because without warning his mind opened up, as if the roof above their heads had been blown off.
He gasped.
Miriam gasped. “Ouch.”
He’d inadvertently jerked the knife against her throat, but it took a moment for him to mentally organize the streaming images and relax his grip.
The sudden immersion into potential futures felt like diving into a clear, cool pool after being left to die in the desert. Seth lowered his arms. Now the stalling made perfect sense. Something had caused the sheik to call.
Miriam turned to him, no longer concerned with screaming. One look at his face and her eyes widened.
“Of course she will talk to you. Please, please calm down!” Omar said. He had no clue that anything had changed.
Seth spun through possible futures as if they were photos on a wheel. There—a future in which both he and Miriam survived. But it was only one of many. And it wasn’t one he especially liked.
Seth winked at Miriam, who was grinning, of all things. He took a deep breath and ste
pped forward.
“Change of plans, my friend.”
chapter 42
miriam took one look at Seth’s face and knew that he was seeing the futures.
Her knees weakened, relieved. She’d been here before with Seth, staring into what appeared to be a box canyon without escape. Yet what once terrified her now delighted her. A silly grin nudged her lips.
Seth winked at her, took a deep breath, and stepped forward.
“Change of plans, my friend.”
Omar lowered the phone. Her father’s voice sounded distorted through the small speaker. Seth lifted the knife awkwardly, only mildly threatening. “Phone, please.”
“You think your knife threatens—”
Seth snatched up the phone before Omar could finish. He brought the device to his mouth.
“I’m terribly sorry, Sheik, but I have to terminate this call for a few minutes. The prince will call you back momentarily, and I promise you he’ll straighten everything out then. Your daughter will be fine. I love her, you know. Crazy but true. And I wouldn’t storm the palace if I were you. Not just yet.”
He flipped the phone closed.
The silence in the room hummed. Omar stood motionless and unsure what to make of Seth’s commandeering.
“Checkmate,” Seth said. “Your thoughts aren’t technically futures, so I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I know dozens of things you would try given the chance. If I’m right, one thing you will do is jump me. And although you’re slightly stronger than I, I know what your moves might be, and I know exactly how to hurt you despite the fact that I’ve never thrown a punch in my life. I may even kill you.”
“You’re bluffing,” Omar said, doubt weighting his words.
“I assume you’re hoping that your men will come crashing through that door about now, but I can assure you that there’s no possibility of that for some time. You sent them packing, and they fear you. Terribly sorry.”
Omar’s hands gathered to fists. “You think this frightens me? That you can manipulate me with this nonsense?”
“I would be careful,” Miriam said, surging with confidence. “I’ve seen Seth at work. He can defeat you with one hand.” The words tasted delicious in her mouth.
Omar’s face twisted, and for an instant she wondered if her taunting had been unwise. What if there were no future in which they survived?
“Miriam,” Seth said. “As much as you’re enjoying this, we’re running out of time. As I see it, we have about thirty seconds. Do you mind turning away? This will get ugly.”
Ugly? “You don’t want me to watch?”
“Exactly. If you don’t mind. I’m not normally given to violence, and I’m not sure I like the idea of your watching.” He glanced at her and she saw that he was serious.
The scene felt surreal, Seth facing off with Omar, announcing that he was about to hurt him, taking the time to insist she hide her eyes.
“Just turn around,” he said.
She backed up.
“Maybe a quick kiss first,” Seth said.
Omar snorted and lunged.
“Stay!” Seth said, shoving the knife forward. Omar paused, struggling to maintain his control.
“Kiss, princess,” Seth said.
She looked at Omar. Yes, why not? With Seth, nothing was by accident, including a kiss. This was her part in delivering justice. She broke eye contact with Omar just long enough to kiss Seth tenderly on the cheek, then smiled at Omar. It was a pleasure to play her part.
Seth slipped the cell phone into her hands. “Hit the callback button when I say.”
Omar roared. Miriam took the phone, turned from them, and walked to the corner.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Omar,” Seth said. “So I apologize in advance. There are two ways we can do this. You can attack me, or I can attack you. And if you’re wondering, I’m talking matter-of-factly like this to unnerve you. It’ll work to my advantage, even though you already know that I’m manipulating you. Foresight is such a wonderful thing.”
“One call and my men will be here. Do you think you can overcome twenty men?”
“I don’t know. It’s not in the futures so I haven’t seen it. They won’t come. Unfortunately for you, they’re in their cars. A Mercedes is amazingly well insulated. I’m afraid you’re stranded with me, lover boy.”
Omar did not respond.
“Well, should I run at you?” Seth said. “Or should I just provoke you into—”
A loud grunt made Miriam flinch. She glanced around and saw that Omar had thrown himself at Seth. Omar was a trained warrior. He looked like a demon descending on Seth, who stood without defending himself. She averted her eyes, like a schoolgirl caught peeking.
The cabin filled with sounds of heavy breathing and crashing, followed by a tremendous thump and a grunt. Silence.
Miriam could contain herself no longer. She turned.
Omar was on his belly, face pressed into the floorboards, one arm twisted behind his back. He was gulping for breath. Seth’s knee pinned Omar’s back. He’d bent the man’s arm at an unnatural angle with one hand, and with the other he pressed the tip of the knife into Omar’s spine, where his neck met his shoulders.
“Now you listen to me!” Seth snarled. The anger in his tone made Miriam consider turning around again.
“The world doesn’t need killers like you. Saudi Arabia doesn’t need killers like you.” Seth bent over so that his mouth was close to Omar’s ear. He applied pressure to the blade and the man groaned.
“Miriam doesn’t need or want you. And I know it comes as a shock to you, but women are not dogs! You, on the other hand, might be one.” Seth pressed the blade again. Omar whimpered. A bead of sweat dropped from Seth’s chin and splashed on the man’s neck.
“I’m not a violent man, I’m really not, but I swear . . .” He ground his teeth. “You make me sick!” Seth took a deep breath, calming himself.
“Call your father, Miriam.”
She lifted the phone and pressed the callback button.
“You forced Miriam to marry you against her will,” Seth said. “Now I’m going to force you to divorce her against your will. As far as we’re concerned, she’s not married, but we’re going to make it official.”
He looked at Miriam, eyes glazed. “You aren’t supposed to be looking.”
She loved him more in that moment than ever before. The phone rang on the other end.
“This blade is very close to your spinal cord, Omar,” Seth said. “If you turn or lift, it will sever your nerves and leave you a quadriplegic. Do you want to spend the rest of your days in a wheelchair?”
The sheik answered the phone.
“Father?”
“Miriam! What’s the meaning—”
“I will never give Omar a child, Father. Never! I have refused him, and if he ever tries to touch me again, I will kill him!” She knew where Seth was headed and decided to assist.
“Omar despises me and wishes to divorce me,” she said.
Silence.
“That’s right, Omar,” Seth said quietly. “You will divorce Miriam now. You will speak it into the phone and the sheik will be your witness. If you hesitate, I will drive the knife in. Do you understand? You’ll never touch another woman as long as you live.”
Omar moaned again and Miriam wondered if he might pass out from the pain.
“Omar cannot divorce you!” Her father had come to himself. “It will ruin everything!”
“It will not ruin me!” Miriam said.
Omar groaned.
Seth nodded at the phone, and Miriam held it to his ear. “If Omar doesn’t divorce your daughter, he will leave here an invalid. There will be no son. Either way. Accept the will of God, Abu al-Asamm.”
Miriam lowered the phone to Omar’s lips. The man’s eyes were round with terror. His nostrils flared with each breath, and a string of spittle ran from his mouth to the floor.
“Say it!”
Omar closed his mo
uth and then opened it, speechless.
“Have it your way,” Seth said.
“I divorce you,” Omar said in a barely audible groan.
“Again,” Seth said. “I divorce you, Miriam.”
“I divorce you . . .”
“Miriam.”
“Miriam.”
“Again. I divorce your daughter, Abu Ali al-Asamm.”
Miriam heard her father’s voice objecting on the cell phone’s speaker.
“I divorce your daughter, Abu Ali al-Asamm.”
A wave of relief flooded Miriam. Three times in front of witnesses. The law was fulfilled. She was free. The only way for Omar to reclaim her was to go through another ceremony. She snapped the phone closed on the sheik’s protests.
Seth hesitated, staring at the back of Omar’s head. He withdrew the knife, flipped it, and brought the butt down on Omar’s head, hard. The man relaxed.
“Sorry about that,” Seth said to the unconscious figure.
He jumped up. “They’re coming out of the cars now. When they see me, they’ll fire. Count to five and then run out to our car. They won’t fire on you.”
“They won’t hit you?”
“In three out of four futures they miss.”
“The car’s out of gas!”
“We have enough for what we need. You just keep moving. They’ll go for the tires, but that’s not where our danger lies. Just do exactly what I say.”
“So there is danger? Real danger?”
“There’s always danger.” Seth kissed her firmly on the lips. “I love you, princess.”
chapter 43
seth jerked the door open. “Remember, count to five,” he said. He bolted from the hut.
Miriam dropped to a knee and began to count. Gunfire filled the desert air. Several rifles and at least one automatic weapon. How could he escape that?
In three out of four they miss, he’d said. What about that fourth?
Miriam rushed the last three counts, gathered herself, and then sprinted through the door. The black cars were lined up in a half-moon. At least six of them had their doors open, weapons trained on the shanty.
“Stop firing!” The driver from the car on the far left, Omar’s driver, ran toward the hut. “It’s the woman!” The gunfire ceased.
