“We don’t know yet. Rifal is on his way right now. The security cameras are down.”
“How long have they been down for?” He cursed the lax security. He couldn’t understand why it was so hard to get people to take it seriously here. High Street shopping centers in England were under better surveillance than most of Ubar’s sensitive installations, despite his and his brothers’ best efforts. He could hear frenzied talking at the other end of the phone as the car descended the foothills and sped across the plain in front of him. “How long?”
“About fifteen minutes.”
Zadir growled with frustration. Of course, as usual, they’d have no evidence of what happened. This time he wasn’t going to sit around waiting for someone else to solve his problems. He was going to do it himself. “Hold tight, beautiful.”
They were back on the old road between Nabattur and the mountains, so he accelerated past the car in front and ripped across the plain to the airstrip as fast as he could go. “See that vehicle over there?” He pointed to a dark blue van in the distance. “Take a picture.” The roads were usually empty this far from Nabattur, and the presence of a vehicle made him suspicious. The van had yellow lettering, but he couldn’t make out what it said. It was speeding across the grasslands from the area of the airfield, keeping a wide distance from the high palace walls, and wasn’t heading toward Nabattur. It seemed to be making for the hills to the east.
He was torn between following the suspicious vehicle and heading to the airfield to see what was going on. Veronica held the handle in the ceiling with a death grip, and her face looked drawn. He didn’t want to scare her with a high-speed chase that might end in a hail of bullets if his suspicions were correct, so—directing his men to chase the vehicle and call for reinforcements—he headed for the airfield, where a thick plume of black smoke now obscured the area.
Traveling eighty miles an hour over an old camel track, they arrived at the airfield almost at the same time as the security staff from the palace and the firetrucks from Nabattur.
His heart sank. The jet was engulfed in white-hot flame, orange tips shooting high into the sky, capped by the menacing plume of black smoke that the wind was starting to carry across the plain toward Nabattur. He closed the air vents on the car to prevent the polluted air from penetrating the cabin.
“That’s my plane, isn’t it?” Ronnie’s voice sounded thin.
“I’m afraid it is.” He screeched to a halt as near to the conflagration as he wanted to drive. “You’d better stay here, I’ll go see what I can find out.”
“Are you sure it’s safe?”
“I don’t know what to think right now.” He took hold of both of her hands, which were cold and shaking. “Don’t panic. I’ll get you on another plane if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Just be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Her caring words were a balm to his spirit. But this was bad. He and his brothers had bought this jet for their personal use, and there were no other planes in Ubar, which had no real airport. Osman had promised to shut down the borders if another incident happened, and unless he wanted to contravene his brother’s orders to take Ronnie to an airport in a neighboring country, there would be no way out.
The smell of burning jet fuel was overpowering, and the blaze gave off an intense heat he could feel even over the hot desert sun. The head of security from the palace had arrived, and he directed him to photograph every aspect of the scene with the best equipment available, paying close attention to tire tracks on the concrete. If they found that van he wanted to be able to tie it to the site.
He paced around the burning wreckage, as their newly ordered fire engines poured special foam on the flames, which barely seemed to notice. Dammit! Everything was going so smoothly, and now this. Worse yet, this could have been an explosion that happened while Ronnie was on the plane. Fury ripped through him. He wouldn’t sleep until the perpetrators had been brought to justice.
“The borders are closed. We’re after the blue van.” The security chief tried to reassure him.
“But what if they take cover somewhere and disguise the van?”
“My men are right behind it. They’re almost ready to overtake it.”
“And it’s still speeding away from them?” That was almost proof of guilt.
“One moment, please.” He spoke rapidly into his satellite phone. Although Zadir had spent his formative years here, he didn’t know all the regional dialects, but it sounded like they’d caught the van.
“Did they stop it?”
“Yes, they shot out the tires. They’re storming it now. Bullets are being fired.”
Zadir’s blood rushed through his body. He wished he was there, not uselessly standing here watching his plane burn. He glanced back at the car, where Veronica no doubt felt worried and helpless. He wanted to reassure her that the culprit was in custody.
“Do they have him yet?” he asked into his phone.
“Yup. Two of our men were wounded, but he’s in custody. They’re going to bring him to the palace for questioning.”
Bringing him to the palace wasn’t ideal. It smacked of old-world despotism. But it was still the security nerve center for Ubar. The police station in downtown Nabattur was better suited to browbeating pickpockets or unlicensed prostitutes.
“I want to interview him myself. Have no one speak to him until I get there.” He didn’t entirely trust the security staff. It was hard to run background checks on people in a region where little was recorded other than birth and death. Sometimes their incompetence seemed too convenient to be genuine.
He strode back to the car, lungs recoiling against the acrid smoke, and climbed in.
“Are you okay?” He spoke softly.
“I’m all right.” Ronnie’s expression was serious. All traces of the joy they’d shared earlier had vanished.
“The driver of the van we saw is in custody and they’re bringing him to the palace. He tried to evade my men, and shot two of them.”
“Oh no! Are they badly hurt?”
Zadir realized with horror that he hadn’t even asked about their condition. He was so focused on bringing this person—and the one who’d tried to kill them in the desert—to justice. “Let me find out.” He called security headquarters so as not to disrupt the immediate investigation, and asked to be kept updated on their condition. He was reassured that they both had flesh wounds and were being treated.
“They should be okay.”
“I feel lucky to be alive.”
“No thanks to whomever did this. I’d like to wring the life from his body with my bare hands.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Would that be legal in Ubar?”
He blew out hard. “Nope. I doubt it would be legal anywhere.”
“But you could probably get away with it, since you’re the king—or soon will be.” He could tell she felt wary about the situation.
“Don’t worry. I won’t, despite the temptation. I’ll pursue the normal course of justice, but I intend to question him myself. I may not be able to kill him with my bare hands, but he won’t get off on a technicality in Ubar; you can believe that.”
“I suppose that is reassuring.” She shivered, despite the heat. They pulled back onto the road and left the smoke behind them. “Though I can’t help but think he isn’t alone.”
Back at the palace everyone was rushing around and making phone calls. Zadir found Sam to keep Veronica company, then headed straight for his brothers, who sat solemnly at the dining room table. “The suspect should be here any minute.” Osman’s voice was as low as Zadir had ever heard it.
“I want to speak to him first.”
“I understand. He might have been involved in the earlier sabotage that caused the crash.” The expression in his brother’s green eyes was grim.
“Exactly. I want to look him in the eye, and I’ll know if he’s the one who tried to kill me.”
“Don’t be so sure,” said Amah
d. “Contract killers are seasoned sociopaths. He could probably tell you he loves you right before he shoots you.”
“True, brother. I’ll bear that in mind. I’m glad Ronnie wasn’t injured, but I’m furious that this will interfere with her getting back to the U.S. tonight. She has an important meeting on Wednesday, the day after tomorrow, one that could affect her entire future career.”
Osman shook his head solemnly. “She can’t leave the country. I couldn’t guarantee her safety.”
“What about if I escort her to the airport in Dasalam and put her on a commercial flight?”
He shook his head again. “And put the lives of everyone on that flight at risk? I’m sorry, brother. We have to take this very seriously. As we know from world history, a plane in the wrong hands can be a deadly weapon.”
Zadir banged his fist on the table. He’d promised Ronnie that he’d get her on a plane. “Is that bastard here yet? I need to give him a piece of my mind.”
“Don’t forget, brother,” said Amahd. “He’s innocent until proven guilty.”
“Not if his tire tracks are found on that airstrip. Besides, he shot at our guards. He’s guilty of something.”
Osman’s phone buzzed and he answered. Then looked up. “He’s here. They’re taking him to the old harem.”
They called it the old harem because the name had an exotic, edgy charm when they were children. They didn’t really know what it had once been used for, but the windows were high and barred, unlike the rest of the palace with its decorative wooden shutters.
“I’m heading straight there. Make sure they videotape everything.”
“The room is monitored.” Osman’s brow furrowed. “What we really need is information about his motive. Why he’s doing this and who for.”
Zadir cracked his knuckles as adrenaline surged through him. “Now that we have him, it shouldn’t be too hard to find out.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Sam led Ronnie into a comfortable room with a big walnut desk and a seating area with four low-slung white Barcelona chairs. “Come in, Ronnie, this is my office.”
The space was comfortably cluttered with files and equipment. Two framed prints sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. “It’s my personal escape hatch when I’ve had enough of being an Ubarite royal.”
“Does that happen often?”
“Often enough.” Sam winked. “It’s a big adjustment to go from being an itinerant film producer living in a Brooklyn apartment, to swanning through life at the palace. The people here are lovely, though. They try their best to be warm and welcoming. Even the stolid old men who’ve been here since before time began.”
“But sometimes you need to unwind.”
“Exactly. I imagine in time that walking to dinner through an archway of swords will seem normal, but for now I still need some downtime to adjust.”
“I hear you.” Ronnie smiled, but it wasn’t an entirely genuine smile. She was stressed to the max right now. “So events like this happen regularly here?”
“The explosion?” She grimaced. “I have to admit there have been a few since I’ve been here. I can’t fully understand why they haven’t made more headway finding the culprit. I’ve been after Osman to hire a real professional to overhaul security. You know, the kind you’d be scared to cross.”
“I agree. This place seems dangerous right now. I could draw the conclusion that Zadir is bad luck. Every time I’m near him, someone tries to destroy a perfectly good airplane.” She tried to sound more nonchalant than she felt.
“It stinks. I wish I could think of something better to say.” Sam gestured for her to sit in one of the chairs. “Would you like some lemonade?”
“Love some.” She realized she was thirsty after all the drama and their mad race back here. Sam poured tall glasses from a jug in a mini-fridge, and came to sit with her. A young woman in traditional costume brought in some cakes and put them on the table, then Sam thanked her.
“Zadir’s a really sweet guy.” Sam leaned back in her chair. “I’m sure he’s devastated that this happened while you’re here.”
“I know it’s not his fault.”
“So you won’t hold it against him?”
“Of course not.”
Sam sipped her lemonade. She was beautiful in an understated way—no makeup and simple straight hair—and her warm personality shone in her clear blue eyes. It was easy to see why Osman had fallen in love with her. “Do you like him?”
Ronnie stiffened. It was a very personal question from someone she’d only met recently. She decided to be truthful. “Yes. I do. He’s been very good to me, more than I deserve, and I really enjoy his company.”
“I’m glad to hear it. He so wanted you to like Ubar.”
“I do. It’s unique, like stepping back to another era.”
“That part needs a little work. We’re still upgrading the electricity so we can actually pretend we’re in the twenty-first century. They’ve made a lot of progress, though. And social changes are just getting started here, so we could use more strong female role models.”
Like you. She heard the unspoken words as clearly as if Sam had said them aloud. She wanted to say, not like me! I’m not moving here! But she managed to hold her tongue. “They’re overturning the ban on divorce this week. It’s been in effect for hundreds of years. Do you think that’s why people are upset?”
Sam shrugged. “There are definitely some outspoken opponents. Probably men who are afraid their downtrodden wives will leave them at the first chance they get. I, for one, am glad to give them an opportunity.”
A knock on the door made her jump. Sam leaned forward and whispered, “You’re never alone for long in Ubar.” Then she called for them to come in.
Ronnie’s chest tightened at the sight of the glamorous Zahaina and her wizened mother, Barbit, both wide-eyed and talking rapidly in their own dialect.
“Goodness, isn’t this terrible.” Zahaina rushed toward Ronnie, arms outstretched. Ronnie did her best not to recoil. Her expensive scent was overpowering. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”
I doubt that, thought Ronnie uncharitably. “It was a nasty shock.”
“I suppose they’ll have to put you on a commercial flight.” Zahaina came and made herself comfortable on one of the chairs. “If the borders don’t stay closed.”
That was Ronnie’s biggest fear right now. Zadir had promised to put her on a flight. He wouldn’t go back on a promise, would he?
“I always say no good comes of trying to make change too fast.” Barbit waggled a wizened finger in the air. “These boys think that running a country is like running a company.” Barbit looked so traditional in her long, floral embroidered caftan-like dress, it was almost bizarre to hear her speaking such good, if accented English. “They should go slow. Rule the country the way it has always been run, then when everyone relaxes they can start to look for ways to improve it.”
“Osman sees the divorce edict as a human rights issue.” Sam poured the two newcomers some lemonade. “And I feel the same. It has personal meaning for Osman, Zadir, and Amahd, because they believe their mothers were killed so their father could take a new wife. They wouldn’t hear of delaying it because they don’t want one more woman to secretly suffer the same fate in Ubar.”
“Their father was a piece of work.” Barbit sipped her lemonade, which made her upper lip crinkle like a concertina. “Very handsome in his day.” She sighed. “But not a kind man. Still, he knew how to run a country. You didn’t have any of this explosion business.”
Ronnie took a deep breath. “What do you think they’re trying to accomplish with the explosions?”
They all turned to stare at her, even Sam. She’d asked her question of Barbit, who she suspected of having more calculating depth than she wanted people to think hidden beneath her patterned chiffon headscarf.
Barbit stared at her with beady brown eyes. “They want to disrupt, that’s obvious. Perhaps they want to turn things back
to how they used to be.”
“Which is impossible.” Ronnie put her lemonade glass down on the table. “The old monarch is dead. The kingdom, which has been united for centuries, is now divided into three, with young rulers who want to bring change. Surely they must realize nothing can stay the same or go backward.”
“I can’t help but wonder if the protesters aren’t a smokescreen,” said Sam with a tiny frown on her smooth forehead. “It just seems too convenient for a bunch of old men with hand-scrawled placards to be parading about. The explosions are deadly—people have been killed—I think something else is going on.”
“I agree.” Ronnie looked at Sam. “I suspect it’s something to do with the oil.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Zahaina flipped her shiny gold-streaked hair. “The most ardent and effective terrorists in the world are usually driven by ideological motives, not money.”
She had a point. “What would you suggest doing?” She tried not to feel hostility toward Zahaina, who couldn’t help being beautiful.
Zahaina sighed. “They’re men. You have to treat them like children and keep it all very simple. Tell them what they want to hear with your mouth and get on with what you want to do when they’re not looking.”
Ronnie glanced at Sam, who returned her glance with an amused look. Barbit took another sip of her lemonade as if she were as deaf as a post.
“Why are we all sitting in here sipping lemonade when Ubar is in crisis?” said Ronnie. Someone had to ask the tough questions.
Sam sighed. “Because to a certain extent Zahaina is right. Ubarite men aren’t used to women running things. If we were out there rushing around giving orders, the staff might start to question the new king’s grasp of power. It’s a gradual process to make them realize the world can be different. Better to sneak up on them bit by bit.”
“That’s depressing. I want to get on a plane and get out of here.” Ronnie’s voice sounded thin.
Sam looked sad. “I know you do.”
“Don’t you feel that way sometimes?” They were being honest right now.
Desert Kings Boxed Set: The Complete Series Books 1-6 Page 32
