Danger in the Desert

by Merline Lovelace

  When she brought her gaze back to Deke, he picked up the thread of conversation they’d begun earlier.

  “You mentioned a Thursday-night study group as one of the motivating factors that brought you to Egypt.”

  “I would have come sooner or later on my own, but the group certainly added to my determination.”

  “I can see how it would.” Nonchalantly, he leaned back in his chair. “How did you get involved in it?”

  “One of my coworkers at the university told me about it. Since I’ve always been interested in ancient civilizations, I was really eager to join. It was almost six months before they had an opening, though.”

  “Six months?” He hooked a brow. “Sounds like a tight group.”

  “It is. I was fortunate to get in at all. But my timing was perfect. They’d just wrapped up their study of the Hittites and were starting on Egypt.”

  She leaned her elbows on the rickety table and let her enthusiasm bubble over.

  “We’re so lucky to have a native-born Egyptian as a member of our group. Dr. Abdouh adds an incredible dimension to our discussions. He’s a physician by training and has offered fascinating glimpses into ancient medical practices. Did you know the Egyptians did brain surgery to remove tumors more than five thousand years ago?”

  “Wonder how many of their patients survived?” Deke drawled.

  “More than you would imagine. Dr. Abdouh had us read translations of several inscriptions from the Tomb of the Physician at Saqqara. We think we’re so smart, but you would be amazed at the skill of ancient physicians.”

  “I’m surprised the doctor didn’t come along on your tour to act as guide.”

  “He wanted to, but I think there was some kind of problem with his visa.”

  “Leaving the States or getting back in?”

  “I don’t know. He didn’t say and I didn’t ask. Our group has strict rules about that. We gather to discuss ancient cultures, not personal issues.” She met his eyes. “No politics or religion allowed, either. Not anything later than the second or third century AD anyway.”

  “Must be hard to shy away from current affairs,” Deke mused. “Especially with a native-born Egyptian as part of the group. He’s got to have a different take on, say, the current government here in Cairo than the rest of you.”

  “We’ve never discussed the current government.”

  He quirked a brow. “You’re kidding.”

  “What can I say? We’re more interested in pharaohs than presidents.”

  The arrival of the waiter interrupted their conversation. Deke picked it up again after Jaci had downed a long swallow of the tangy, refreshing orangeade.

  “I hear what you’re saying, but it still seems strange this friend of yours… What was his name?”

  “Dr. Abdouh.”

  “Seems strange Abdouh wouldn’t prep you a little more on modern Egypt for your visit.”

  “He follows the rules and keeps his personal views to himself.” She made a face. “Wish my Saturday-afternoon Beethoven study group would do the same. Some weeks we spend more time talking grandkids and daughter-in-law problems than sonatas or concerti.”

  Deke cocked his head and gave her curious look. “How many of these groups do you belong to?”

  “Four. Well, three. The fourth isn’t really a study group. It’s a more of a cat lovers coffee klatch,” she explained with a laugh.

  Jaci loved her life back in Florida. Her job was both challenging and satisfying. Her various study groups kept her intellectually stimulated. A large circle of friends provided companionship, and she had Mittens and Boots to cuddle up with during her rare free hours. Only now, hearing herself recite her litany of interests, did she realize how narrow and circumscribed they must sound to other people.

  Like this intriguing, sophisticated man. He probably thought her a complete ditz for going on about kitty klatches and Hittites.

  “What about you?” she asked. “I can only imagine what an adventurous life you must lead, jetting all around the world the way you do.”

  The Texan in him came out then. Stretching his long legs, he crossed his ankles. “Too dang adventurous at times, darlin’.”

  “Tell me,” she demanded, propping her chin in her hands. “What exotic cities have you visited? How many other women have you had to rescue from camels or rickshaws or runaway trams?”

  A belated thought occurred to her.

  A very belated thought.

  “And, uh, who have you got waiting at home? I’m guessing it’s not two cats.”

  Shrugging, Deke answered the last question first. “You guessed right. Especially not two cats. One would be too many.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  As Ace had intended, his comment roused his companion to an indignant defense of her precious pets. It also successfully deflected her probe into his personal life. That mission accomplished, he provided a counter to each of her passionate as sertions concerning the superiority of felines over all other forms of animal life.

  By the time their spirited exchange wound down, she’d finished her orangeade and her shoulders had started to droop. All Ace had to do now was get her back to her hotel and the room Kahil’s men had bugged.

  “You’re tired. I shouldn’t have kept you up so late.”

  “It has been a long day,” she conceded with one of the shy smiles that evoked instant images of an apple-cheeked Doris Day. “But…”

  “But?” Deke prompted.

  Jaci hesitated, tapping a finger lightly on the table while she searched a way to express her appreciation without scaring the man off.

  “I thought the pyramids or the Grand Mosque or the City of the Dead would top my list of all-time favorites in Cairo,” she said slowly. “Sitting here with you…watching boats sail up the Nile as they have for countless centuries has made my Egyptian experience more personal.”

  So much more personal. Once back in Florida, she would fantasize about this man and this night.

  And the one to come! She had dinner at his friends’ home to look forward to. In a house right out of Arabian Nights, according to Deke. She hugged the delicious prospect to herself as they wrangled their way through Cairo’s still frenetic streets.

  The excitement that prospect stirred was nothing compared to the thrill that shot through her when Deke pulled up to the hotel entrance and insisted on escorting her to her room.

  He didn’t ask to come in for another nightcap, though. Probably because she was so exhausted she couldn’t align her key card in the damned slot.

  “Here, let me.”

  He slid it in, the green light blinked and the door clicked open. Instead of handing her back the key, however, he leaned an elbow on the doorjamb.

  “Listen, Jaci…”

  The intent look in his eyes made her stomach do a silly somersault.

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve got to take care of some business in the morning, but I have the entire afternoon free. I could clear my schedule for the following day, too. Why don’t you let me…how did you phrase it? Personalize the rest of your stay in Cairo?”

  As tired as she was, she had no difficulty formulating a dozen reasons to refuse the astoundingly generous offer. One, he shouldn’t put his business interests on hold to squire her around. Two, she’d paid big bucks for this all-inclusive tour, and the money wasn’t refundable. Three…

  He cupped her cheek, and every rational thought flew out of her head. All she could think about, all she could focus on was the warmth of his skin against hers. Until he dipped his head and covered her mouth with his.

  This kiss was different from the one they’d shared in the parking lot. Less tentative. More primal male, elemental female. The sensations that catapulted through Jaci were as timeless as the Nile.

  Oh, man. She was way out of her league here. No one, including her high school sweetheart, had ever backed her against the wall. Or seduced her with just his
mouth. Or demanded a response in kind.

  She gave it. Willingly. Then she had to gasp for breath when he lifted his head.

  Nostrils flaring, he rapped out a terse order. “You’ve got my card. Or Mrs. Grimes does. Call me at noon sharp. I’ll pick you up, wherever you are.”

  Chapter 5

  Ace arrived at the Ministry of Defense headquarters early the next morning. Kahil had a visitor’s pass waiting and sent an underling to escort him through concentric rings of security.

  “I am Major Nebbut, sir. Colonel El Hassan has told me many stories about you.”

  “Don’t believe any of ’em.”

  Grinning, the major walked his charge through a series of perimeter checkpoints. At the headquarters’ visitor’s entrance, Ace removed his shoes to pass through a metal detector. Once inside, he was hand-searched. All too aware of the need for this vigilance, he let the security guard pat down his sport coat, shirt and jeans.

  “This way, sir.”

  As at the Pentagon in Washington, D.C., these marble-tiled corridors echoed to the footsteps of military personnel in army khaki, navy whites and air force blue, with a healthy sprinkling of marines thrown in for balance.

  Seeing all those uniforms gave Ace a distinct twinge. He’d thoroughly enjoyed his years in the military. The camaraderie, the urgency of the mission, the absolute certainty that someone was checking your six in combat and out. He’d never expected to experience that tight brotherhood of arms again until Lightning had recruited him for OMEGA.

  “In here, sir. Colonel El Hassan is expecting you.”

  As deputy director of military intelligence, Kahil ranked a cramped suite of offices. The deputy’s position was normally held by a general officer, but Kahil’s combat record and demonstrated abilities had led to his appointment over other, more senior officers.

  His heavy responsibilities hadn’t erased the cockiness that was part and parcel of every F-16 pilot, however. The moment his secretary showed the visitor into his office, the colonel jumped up and rounded his desk.

  “Ace, you son of a diseased camel.” Still whip-cord lean and tough, Kahil pounded his longtime friend on the back.

  “Hello, Kahil. Ugly as ever I see.”

  It was an old joke—one that went back to their student pilot days at Vance Air Force Base. With his curly black hair and smoldering good looks, Kahil El Hassan had proved such a babe magnet that his entire squadron had lined up behind him for the leftovers. Hence his call sign, Nookie—as in lots of it. The nickname had stuck with him until he met Fahranna.

  Grinning, the now-reformed Kahil waved Ace to a chair in front of his desk. “Have you plowed up any more potatoes, my friend?”

  Another joke, this one a reminder of the time the nose gear on Ace’s jet had failed on landing during a joint exercise involving eleven nations. His F-16 had corkscrewed wildly and skidded down the runway before finally coming to rest in an adjacent potato field.

  “Not lately,” he returned drily.

  “Nor have you lost your touch with women, I see.” Still grinning, Kahil dropped into the chair behind his desk. “I watched last night’s surveillance tapes from the cameras in the hallway of Ms. Thorn ton’s hotel. They were very interesting, to say the least. I thought for a moment you intended to go above and beyond the call of duty.”

  “I thought so, too,” Ace admitted ruefully.

  He had absolutely no excuse for last night, other than the fact that Jaci Thornton had looked up at him with a smile trembling on her all-too-kissable lips. He’d gone into the kiss thinking it was the perfect way to convince her to jettison her tour and put herself in his hands. He’d come out wound tighter than a Chinese-made watch.

  That reminded him of the business at hand. Reaching into the inside breast pocket of his sport coat, he produced a small, tissue-wrapped object. Kahil’s face went still as Ace peeled back the tissue.

  “This is what Jaci found buried in the sand at the City of the Dead. She thinks it’s one of those mass-produced replicas you see in every souvenir shop.”

  “It may well be, my friend. It may well be. Then again, there is this flurry of email and cell phone traffic to consider. Someone obviously believes the scarab is very ancient.”

  Kahil took the beetle and studied it intently. As chief of security, he was a master at shielding both his emotions and his expression. But Ace had known him too long to miss subtle signs. The beetle excited him.

  His dark eyes intent, Kahil stroked the scarab with his forefinger. “I’m certainly no expert, but this feels like malachite to me. And when this dull metal is burnished,” he murmured as he traced the slender antenna, “I very much suspect it might shimmer like gold.”

  “Well, hell! You think the thing is for real?”

  Carefully, Kahil turned the scarab over and traced the markings on its belly. He studied them for long moments before shaking his head.

  “I don’t know, my friend. As I said, I’m no expert. But I notified the director of the Cairo Museum after your call last night. He’s got a team standing by to examine the scarab. I’ll have it delivered to him immediately.”

  Kahil rewrapped the beetle and sealed it in a pre-addressed envelope. “Nebbut!”

  The major hastened in from the outer office. “Yes, sir?”

  “I want you to deliver this personally to the director of the Cairo Museum.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  When the major saluted and performed an about-face, Ace felt the tendons in his neck cording. Dammit all to hell! He’d seesawed back and forth so much during this op that he was starting to get whiplash.

  Those hours with his target yesterday afternoon and evening had all but convinced him she was the wide-eyed tourist she appeared to be. Then Rebel had dropped that bombshell about her study group pal.

  Ace was sure he’d pumped Jaci dry about this Dr. Abdouh at the club last night. By the time he’d taken her up to her hotel room, he once again believed deep in his gut she was an innocent player in this dangerous game.

  He’d relayed a report on that session to Rebel, then received one from her early this morning. After a long night of combing through contacts and databases, Reb confirmed she hadn’t turned up any connection between Jaci and the Egyptian expatriate outside those Thursday-night sessions. No phone calls to or from his home or office. No personal emails. No tie in any way, shape or form to the funds Abdouh had funneled to his friends in Egypt.

  Neither had Kahil, it turned out.

  “We’ve traced some of these funds,” he informed Ace grimly. “They were used to buy black market weapons. Glocks, Walther 9mm’s, brand-new Kalashnikovs still in their shipping crate. Much of this is from Iraq,” he added, “provided by your country to the Iraqi Defense Forces.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Ace raked a hand through his hair. The arsenal of weaponry provided to both Iraq and Afghanistan over the years kept coming back to bite U.S. troops in the ass.

  “Who’s buying them?” he asked Kahil.

  “A ragtag fringe group of fundamentalists who want to take Egypt back to its pre-democracy days.”

  “The same group who’ve been waiting for Ma’at’s messenger to appear?” Ace mused.

  “It doesn’t appear so, but I can’t rule out a connection at this point. I’ll have a better feel when I get a definitive report on the authenticity of the beetle.”

  “Speaking of which, I told Jaci you would return the scarab when I bring her to your place tonight,” Ace said. “We need to have an acceptable substitute ready.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  Nodding, Ace shoved out of his chair. Kahil rose as well but didn’t let him off the hook that easily.

  “So, my friend. About this Jaci Thornton. Like you, I’m very close to believing she is who you think she is. I shall know more tonight, after I assess her myself.” He shot Ace a look. “But after watching those surveillance tapes, I must tell you she does not strike me as the kind of woman you would b
ack against a wall.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. Your women tend to back you against the wall.”

  “Okay, I admit I don’t usually go for the innocent, girl-next-door type. You didn’t, either, until a certain doe-eyed doc reeled you in.”

  A look of unholy glee leaped into his friend’s eyes. “Are you saying this Jacqueline Thornton stirs more than mere lust in you?”

  “Oh, for…” Exasperated, Ace headed for the door. “I only met the woman yesterday. Besides, she’s my assignment. Lust is all I’ll let myself feel for her, and you know damned well I won’t act on it.”

  “That’s true,” Kahil acknowledged as he walked Ace through the halls. “I’ve never yet known you to seduce an innocent. If she is an innocent.”

  Ace was pretty sure he knew the answer to that. In the more figurative sense of the word, anyway.

  The subtle inquiries Rebel had instigated confirmed Jaci dated occasionally. Odds were she wasn’t a virgin. Not at twenty-nine! But she had no steady man in her life, and she certainly didn’t come across as promiscuous in the profile OMEGA had built on her.

  Nor, he could now confirm, did she send out the signals his personal radar was so attuned to. Those subtle signs he could pick up across a crowded bar or busy hotel lobby. The sideways glances. The slow smiles. The spark that told him a woman was not only interested but she played the game by the same rules he did.

  Jaci was interested, all right. Her eager response last night provided ample evidence of that. It also told him she didn’t play games. She hadn’t held back, hadn’t even pretended to hold back.

  The contradictory feelings that were generated surprised the hell out of Ace. Any other time, any other woman, he would have backed off immediately. The fact that he didn’t want to back off told him the sooner he wrapped up this op, the better.

  Jaci knew she was in trouble the moment she spotted Deke descending the stairs at the Golden Salamander Restaurant.

  The place was noisy and crowded with six bus-loads of hungry tourists. Laughter and boisterous conversation rifled through the long, arched hall. Monster iron chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, adding to the ambiance of the waiters in traditional Egyptian robes and the round tables jammed around the dance floor.