“Now,” York said, “about my exclusive.”
York would get his exclusive, even though he had provided scanty information that would not prove to be useful. “Is there time to get a story in tomorrow’s edition of the Silvershire Inquisitor?” Kadir asked.
“If it’s hot enough, yes.”
Hot enough. An apt enough description.
Kadir stood and gave the little man a well-practiced bow. “Sheik Kadir Bin Arif Yusef Al-Nuri, Director of European and American Affairs for the Kahani Ministry of Foreign Affairs, very much alive and at your service.”
Chapter 14
On Friday morning, Cassandra took great care to prepare herself for a long day. Makeup disguised the fact that she’d not slept well, and while nothing could be done for the redness of her eyes—crying much of the night would do that to a girl—all things considered she didn’t look too bad.
Her suit was expensive—one of her best—and it was perfectly cut. The dusky blue was a good color for her. Maybe her face did look too pale against the darkness of the suit, but she doubted anyone at the ministry would notice or care.
She could lose herself in work. There was much to do, as Ms. Dunn had pointed out more than once in their telephone conversations in the past week. It wasn’t as if she’d ever actually believed that anything lasting could come of her affair with Kadir.
Sharif insisted on driving her to work. Since they’d left Lexie’s cottage in his rental car after collecting the few belongings she’d had there, he hadn’t said more than half a dozen words. But he had been attentive, rather like an ugly but dedicated guard dog. He did not take no for an answer, and he never led her to believe that she was, in any way, in charge of this operation. He refused to so much as discuss Kadir with her.
In front of the ministry, he searched the parking lot with sharp eyes. As she opened the door and stepped out he said, “Act surprised.”
Cassandra leaned into the opened passenger door. “What?”
“You know nothing,” Sharif said sharply. “You are shocked at the unexpected news, just as everyone else is sure to be.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“It’s what he wants. Remember that.”
Confused and annoyed, Cassandra slammed the passenger door. As she walked into the ministry building, she shook her head. Sharif knew English, she knew Arabic and yet half the time she had no idea what he was talking about.
As she walked into the office, all heads turned in her direction. She’d expected curious stares, but this scrutiny was more intense than she’d imagined. How on earth would she handle all the questions that were sure to be thrown her way?
Before she’d taken three steps into the office, Ms. Dunn bellowed her name.
Cassandra stepped quickly toward the director’s bellow. What now? All week Ms. Dunn had been kindly and concerned about the situation, but there was no kindness in the voice that filled the ministry and had some employees staring at Cassandra as she passed, and others cowering at their desks as if nothing unusual was going on.
Cassandra walked into Ms. Dunn’s office with her head held high. “You wish to see me?”
Ms. Dunn’s answer was a hard-eyed glare, as she tossed the newest edition of the Silvershire Inquisitor onto her desk, front page screaming, Sheik Kadir Lives!
Cassandra’s knees actually wobbled, and suddenly Sharif’s parking lot warning made sense. Act surprised? There was no acting involved, at the moment. Why hadn’t Kadir told her what he planned to do? Why had he left her in the dark?
She all but collapsed into the chair that was reserved for those employees Ms. Dunn interrogated, and she reached for the paper. When she spoke, she said, very softly, “Oh, dear.”
“You didn’t know,” Ms. Dunn responded in a significantly lowered voice.
Cassandra lifted her head, and all she could do was offer a meek shake. She opened the paper fully. Kadir had actually pushed the news about the princess’s pregnancy to the bottom half of the page. There was a photo of Kadir with his hair cut and his beard shaved, and he held a copy of the Leonia newspaper, which was dated several days after his reported death.
She scanned the article York had written. Kadir said he’d been wounded—and that was true enough—and that he’d found a remote home where he’d taken the time to heal. Also mostly true.
And then he said that he planned to return to the Redmond Estate on Saturday morning, where he’d wait until a new security detail could be dispatched from Kahani. He ended by stating that he still wished to meet with Lord Carrington as soon as the man returned to the country.
“Stupid,” she whispered.
“What did you say?” Ms. Dunn asked.
Cassandra lifted her head and looked Ms. Dunn in the eye. “I said, stupid,” she repeated angrily. “There have been two attempts on his life since he arrived in Silvershire, and he’s just told everyone where he’ll be this weekend, and he’s also informed the assassins that he has no security detail.” She felt a heat of real anger rise to her cheeks. “That’s incredibly foolish.”
“Yes, well, I’ll make sure there’s local security at the estate until his own bodyguards arrive.”
Would it be enough? Cassandra suspected not. Kadir was setting himself up as bait, hoping to catch the man who had betrayed him.
Ms. Dunn was much more relaxed, now that she believed Cassandra had not lied to her. “Would you like to resume your duties as aide to Al-Nuri?”
Cassandra almost said yes, but caught herself in time. Kadir had made his wishes clear. He didn’t love her, and he didn’t want her involved in this new, foolish scheme. She’d be better off staying far, far away from the Redmond Estate. And him.
And as far as Ms. Dunn or anyone else knew, Kadir had allowed her to believe he was dead for the entire week. No self-respecting woman would pick up where she left off as if nothing had happened. “I think not,” she said coolly. “His English is almost perfect, so no knowledge of Arabic is necessary. Anyone from this office will be sufficient to assist him.”
“Good. I’ll send Timothy to the Redmond Estate in the morning, early enough to greet the sheik.”
“Timothy is a fine choice. I’m sure he and Sheik Kadir will get along quite well.”
In fact, Kadir and Timothy Little had nothing at all in common. They’d likely get on one another’s nerves from the moment they met. That was not her problem—not anymore.
Cassandra stood, her knees much steadier than they’d been when she’d first sat down. Instead of surprise or worry, what she now felt was anger.
“Would you like to take this copy of the Quiz?” Ms. Dunn asked, pushing the newspaper toward her.
“No, thank you,” Cassandra answered coldly. “I have no desire to read the article again.”
Ms. Dunn would assume Cassandra’s animosity was the result of Sheik Kadir not contacting her about his survival instead of telling his tale to a reporter. Cassandra didn’t care what Ms. Dunn assumed, at the moment. The anger was very real.
As she left Ms. Dunn’s office, the receptionist flagged Cassandra down. “Your mother’s on the line for you.”
Cassandra sighed. Talking to almost-psychic Mum would only make her feel worse. All that foolish talk about love and taking risks had made her vulnerable. Her mother would ask questions she couldn’t answer—not yet.
This is exactly what she’d been trying to avoid in setting love aside. She hurt, and she’d been forced to lie to her boss and now she was supposed to lie to her mother, as well?
“Tell her I’m busy and I’ll call her back,” Cassandra said as she headed for her desk, hoping to lose herself in work, as Ms. Dunn had suggested.
And why not? Her work was all she had.
The Redmond Estate seemed too large and too cold, after his time at the cottage in Leonia. It had nothing to do with the size of the rooms or the view beyond the windows, Kadir knew. The estate was cold because Cassandra was not here.
But
that was for the best, since here was not safe.
Kadir swept into the estate early Saturday morning, calling upon every ounce of arrogance he possessed. He sent the staff away, ordering them on a forced vacation. Kadir told the estate employees that he wanted time alone on the heels of his ordeal, but in truth he wanted them all out of harm’s way. Most of them were elderly and would only be a hindrance if Zahid fell for his trap. Oscar took the rejection especially hard, wondering what he’d done wrong.
There were official representatives from Silvershire who were determined to act as bodyguards, as well as a small man with a tinny voice who had been dispatched from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to take Cassandra’s place. The small man, appropriately named Little, was easily intimidated and even more easily dismissed. The security guards were tougher to be rid of, but Kadir did manage to toss them out of the house and off the grounds, insisting that if they did not accede to his wishes it might cause an incident between their two countries. Eventually they, too, departed, though he imagined they’d keep a close watch on the estate.
By Saturday evening he was alone in the large house. Alarms had been set—not that he expected any security system would stop Zahid Bin-Asfour. The photographers had wandered off shortly after dark. Slipping into the estate would not be all that difficult, even with the security system on. Turning the system off would make it much too clear that Kadir expected company.
Kadir kept a number of weapons close by, including Cassandra’s sister’s six-shooter. It was by far the least sophisticated of his weaponry, but he felt a fondness for it, just the same.
The hours dragged by. He had been alone in the past. At times he had treasured those few times when he was truly and completely alone. But tonight he simply felt desolate. He had grown accustomed to the voices of others in his circle. Most of all, he had grown accustomed to Cassandra.
Sitting in a darkened room of the deserted estate—the office he had claimed as his own on the second floor—Kadir allowed his mind to wander.
Maybe if he caught Zahid, maybe if he killed the man who had threatened his life on many occasions—maybe then he could indulge in a private life. At the moment, he could not imagine a private life that did not have Cassandra Klein in it.
What would she think of Kahani? Would she find peace in the villa by the sea, as he did? Would she join him in his quest for change? To marry a woman from Silvershire and ask that his countrymen and coworkers accept her would not be easy, and yet…love was universal, and in Cassandra there dwelled all that a woman could be if she were offered the right opportunities. She was the living, breathing embodiment of what he wished to bring to his country.
Kadir sat in the dark for hours and waited for an attack of some kind of come. A bomb, a bullet, a knife in the back. The estate had been under surveillance, so another explosion was unlikely, as there had been no opportunity for a bomb to be planted. No, since the first two attempts had failed, he expected this one would be conducted face-to-face. With any luck, he’d see the attack coming and get off a few shots first.
Without luck—he was as good as dead.
Cassandra’s anger toward Kadir had bled over to his friend Sharif, who’d known all along what was going to happen. Their conversation about the situation had been short and without satisfaction, since Sharif was no more happy about the plan than she was.
For once, they actually agreed about something. That agreement was not at all comforting.
Sharif didn’t want to be here, she knew that, but he refused to leave—even when she ordered him to do so. He’d followed her to the market this morning, sullen but ever present. Since returning to her flat, he’d split his time between pacing the halls talking to himself and pacing in the kitchen, drinking the incredibly strong coffee he’d made in her machine. No wonder he didn’t sleep!
After a long Saturday of shopping, cleaning, doing laundry and worrying, Cassandra ate a salad in her kitchen for dinner before settling onto the couch to watch television. Well, the television was on. She didn’t pay much attention to what was on the screen. Sharif was in the kitchen, pacing, drinking coffee and talking to himself. Now and then she picked up a word she could decipher. Stupid. Dangerous. Nonsense. Apparently some of his thoughts mirrored her own.
When her mother called—not for the first time today—and started to leave an almost panicked message on the answering machine, Cassandra picked up. She’d put this conversation off for two days, and she supposed it was time to get it done, as best she could.
At first, Cassandra allowed her mother to rant. Piper Klein was worried, after all, and rightfully so. It was a mother’s privilege. Cassandra didn’t say much. In the end she told her mother she was fine, and that she really didn’t want to talk about Sheik Kadir and what had happened. Not yet. She couldn’t lie to her mother the way she had to Ms. Dunn and everyone else at the ministry, not even by allowing assumptions that were untrue. It was for that reason that she’d avoided talking to her mum for so long. So she told her mother that she simply could not discuss what had happened—not yet—and then she ended the call with relief.
She only gave a moment’s thought as to how she’d handle the face-to-face meeting with her mother next week, when her parents came to Silverton for the Founder’s Day Gala.
Cassandra plopped back onto the couch, relieved that the conversation she’d dreaded was over. She didn’t bother to turn up the volume on the television. The images cast oddly broken light around the room, but she didn’t really care what the people on the TV had to say.
She’d passed many nights just like this, alone in her apartment. But she had never felt quite this alone—not even on her worst days. It was all Kadir’s fault, because he’d introduced her to the reality of not being alone. Was it worth it? Was the pain she was suffering right now worth the joy she’d experienced for a few short days?
At the moment she couldn’t answer with a hearty yes…but she couldn’t answer no, either.
She thought she heard a soft shuffle from the hallway that led to her bedroom. Or was it just misdirected sound from the television? Sharif continued to mumble in the kitchen. Maybe that was what she’d heard. And then she heard the shuffle again.
Just what she needed. Mice! Mrs. Thatcher, who lived alone in the flat next door, had had a rodent problem last year, but Cassandra had never seen any mice in her place. She knew, of course, that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
Sharif continued to talk to himself, even as Cassandra made her way to the kitchen pantry to grab a broom. While it would be nice to pretend she hadn’t heard that soft noise, she’d never get to sleep tonight unless she found out for herself. A broom seemed a proper enough weapon. Her reluctant bodyguard watched her depart from the kitchen with the broom in hand. If he’d been any other man, she might’ve asked him to handle her mouse problem, but he wasn’t any other man—and she wasn’t a girl who ran to anyone to fix her problems.
Cassandra stepped into the hallway and reached for the light switch. Before she could flip the switch, a hand flew out of the dark and grasped her wrist tightly. She started to scream, but not much sound escaped before the intruder—not a mouse after all—clapped a hand over her mouth. The broom dropped to the floor as he edged her toward the light of the main room, where the television continued to play.
Sharif stood in the kitchen doorway, eyes hard, mouth grim, gun in hand and trained…on her. Heaven above, she had never trusted that man….
And then she felt the press of cold steel against her temple, and a voice she had heard before said, “Drop it, Al-Asad, or she dies here and now.”
Slowly, reluctantly, Sharif allowed his weapon to drop.
“Toss it to the floor,” the intruder commanded, and Sharif complied.
Her reluctant bodyguard took one decidedly unthreatening step forward. “Let her go. You and I can…”
He didn’t get a chance to say more. The press of steel at Cassandra’s temple lessened, she saw the tip of a suppressor as
the weapon changed direction and then the man who held her fired. The weapon made a coughing sound, which was louder than she’d expected, but not loud enough to alarm the neighbors. Sharif dropped to the floor, and Cassandra watched as blood bloomed on his trousers, just above the knee.
The man who held her relaxed considerably once Sharif was down, and he allowed her to turn just enough to see his face. She should not be surprised, not after listening to Kadir’s suppositions about who might’ve betrayed him. The first thing she said was, “You shaved.”
Hakim, Kadir’s timid personal secretary, turned his weapon on her once again.
The phone near his hand rang, and Kadir answered. Sharif was supposed to call every three hours with a report on Cassandra, and he was fifteen minutes late. Sharif was never late.
Kadir said hello, fully expecting another tirade from Sharif on how he should be here, instead of guarding a woman who meant nothing to him or to Kahani.
The voice that responded to Kadir’s greeting was not that of Sharif.
“I have them both,” Hakim said, his voice distinctly recognizable.
Kadir did not have to ask who both were. There were only two people in the world he cared about. “Let me speak to them.”
“No.”
“How do I know you have them?”
Hakim sighed. “Don’t be tiresome, Excellency. Apparently Al-Asad did not take your concerns about Ms. Klein seriously. Security was dismal. I entered her apartment through a window. It was very easy to slip the insufficient lock. Once I was in the apartment, she came after me with a broom.” He had the nerve to laugh lightly. “Taking Al-Asad was no problem at all, once I had Ms. Klein in my hands.”
“I wish to speak with them.”
“No, there is no time. If you ask again, I will shoot one of them.”
Kadir’s heart leapt in his chest. “Have they been harmed?”
“Not yet,” Hakim answered. “If you cooperate, they might both very well survive this night.”
The Sheik and I Page 16
