Fever

by V. K. Powell

  She’d managed to squirrel away some helpful items during her daily outings in the small gated yard. The guards either didn’t notice or didn’t care that she gathered a few leaves and twigs from the plants with each visit. They served well as tissues and toothbrushes, and she’d begun to fashion a makeshift glove from the remnants to use as a weapon. During the night while everyone slept, Zak slowly rebuilt strength in her arms and torso by exercising against the thick metal bars. Being physically idle during the daylight hours gave her time to think about her situation.

  She replayed the information she’d gathered on Wachira and decided that it might be helpful in her defense after all. The man she’d taped and photographed talking to the minister of education after Wachira left that last night had asked about an assignment. The minister had put him off with a prediction that at some later time he could solve two problems for him at once. What if those two problems were Wachira and her?

  It would make sense to get rid of Wachira if he was getting greedy or had become a liability. And her vendetta against the police commander was widely known, as was her association with the Ambrosini school project. Who better to take the fall for Wachira’s murder? She wondered if Ben had gotten the information to President Kibaki, and if so, whether this mystery man would be of any interest to them. How could they link him to Wachira’s death? The connection was the minister of education, but she worried that Kibaki might not want to explore that option and the ties to his vice president.

  The Company with its resources could easily identify the man and uncover any other connections between him and the minister of education. But Zak wasn’t sure she could depend on Stewart for help. As far as she knew, he had made no effort to intervene on her behalf. While she understood the policy on plausible deniability, the reality sucked. But something else about Stewart bothered her, something buried in the back of her mind.

  That night while Zak hung from the steel bars of her cell in the middle of her workout ritual, the memory became clear. She lost her grip and almost fell to the hard dirt-packed floor. Stewart had been the one who told her about her father’s death. Zak was on assignment in Venice at the time and had been pulled out immediately. On her flight back to Kenya to meet her mother, Stewart had briefed her on the details. Everything she knew about her father’s case came by word of mouth from the Company. She never saw any written documentation, not even an autopsy report.

  Stewart told her about Wachira’s involvement in the incident. He commanded the police unit that converged on the group of workers and gave the order to fire into the crowd. According to their intelligence, Titus Wachira was directly responsible for Frank Chambers’s death. And Zak believed it, all of it. Even after the training she’d received about double-checking facts and never taking anything at face value, she’d failed in the most important case of her life.

  Zak fell to her knees over the long drop and threw up, purging the rage and hatred from her system until her throat was raw. She was so grief-stricken and desperate for someone to blame that she hadn’t asked to see the evidence. Stewart had lied to her and perpetuated her rage, keeping her captive to her misguided emotions. She’d heard him say many times that the only good agent was one who had something to gain or lose. And Zak was driven by her need for revenge.

  Suddenly her past behavior seemed callous and shameful. No wonder she hadn’t been able to initiate and sustain a loving relationship. Her heart had been too full of negativity and doubt. Her gut must have known that something was wrong because she’d simply buried herself deeper in her work instead of trying to establish a real life. The fear she’d seen in Sara’s eyes on more than one occasion now made sense. Her spiteful grudge against Wachira had taken over her life and replaced it with blind fury. A heart as full and damaged as hers had no room for love.

  Oh, Sara, I am so sorry, my love. Her hostility had marred even their single night of lovemaking. But Sara calmed her and showed her that another way existed inside her. She prayed for a second chance to make it right, to shower Sara with the feelings that were suddenly free inside her. Sara filled her heart and she missed her fiery red hair, her chocolate brown eyes, the sprinkle of freckles across her upturned nose, and her luscious lips. But she longed most desperately to be held in her arms, to feel the love and compassion that seemed to ooze from her as effortlessly as breathing. The intimacy she’d experienced during their brief time together would have to sustain her until she was free again. And if that never happened, she would die knowing that she’d been loved and was capable of love.

  Her dreams of Sara were halted as the dark African night gave way to another gray dawn. But this one was different. Soldiers were talking in hushed tones in the outer office and there was more activity than a normal day required. Before she could fully focus on their voices, two guards entered the cell area and headed toward her. They motioned her to the back of her cell and unlocked the door. With a wide sweep of his hands one of the men spoke in broken English. “Today you leave Africa. Come.”

  She was hurried to the showers and provided a relatively clean change of clothes. In three hours’ time she’d had a substantial breakfast and was on a plane out of the country. The only information she received from her escort to the airport was a message from President Kibaki. She had been released with a full pardon but was to leave the country immediately without contacting anyone, especially Sara Ambrosini.

  Chapter Twenty

  As Sara’s corporate jet skidded to a halt at Charles De Gaulle Airport, she wondered why she’d accepted Estelle’s invitation for a visit. The school was nearly completed after several delays that seemed as much failures on her part as not being able to find Zak. Fortunately, Imani was handling the hiring of teachers, but they still had a lot to do before classes could begin. But Estelle had insisted that she take a break, and Sara hated to disappoint her further.

  It was a difficult and a joyous time to have her mother’s final wish realized. Sara had grown so much since the project began. And she finally understood what her mother was trying to tell her with all the caveats to her will. Sara realized that she loved teaching and that it was possible for her to both build schools and participate in the education process. The manual construction had also taught her that she was stronger than she imagined, bodily and mentally.

  But it hadn’t been easy to overcome the obstacles in transforming the dream to reality. She thought of Zak and pain shot through her. Was the effort worth the cost? Her connection to Zak was so strong that she didn’t dare think of it often. When she did, she became physically and emotionally weak. The atrocities the jeshi could have inflicted upon Zak during captivity or her eventual death tormented Sara nightly. Only work and trying to locate Zak kept her somewhat distracted. Since Zak’s disappearance a month ago, Sara had worked tirelessly to find news of her, but none of the tips she received from the publicity blitz panned out. The private investigators had also come up empty. She seemed to have vanished. Even President Kibaki had failed to provide anything useful.

  Estelle and Sara met with Kibaki and turned the evidence on Wachira over, but received no further communication from him. Fortunately, Estelle’s FBI contact had made copies of the documentation as a backup in case it was needed later. They also identified the man who met with the minister of education as a known assassin for the African resistance. His bank records in an offshore account led directly to the minister of education.

  The only indications that Kibaki trusted any of their information were a short press release two days ago announcing that he had fired his minister of education and the arrival of a plain envelope containing Sara’s missing land and building permits. No word of Zak. How would she be able to look at Estelle and not see Zak staring back at her? As she stepped from the plane, she took a deep breath and steadied herself for the jolt she felt every time she glimpsed Estelle since Zak had disappeared.

  At the bottom of the stairs Sara stopped, the breath hung in her chest. The vision was too similar, the s
hards of pain too gut-wrenching. Her eyes clouded with tears and she couldn’t stop them. But the figure running toward her was too tall and slender to be Estelle, her clothes too loose. Realization struck like a shot of adrenaline. Zak. She dropped her bag and ran too, initial laughter turning into sobs of joy. She stopped inches away, staring, appreciating, wanting.

  Zak raised her hands and cupped Sara’s face. “I love you, Sara Ambrosini.”

  Sara didn’t move as the deep timbre of Zak’s voice and her words washed over her, leaving her warm and content. If this was the last time she saw Zak, she’d survive now because she knew that Zak was alive and that she loved her.

  “Is this what confinement did to you?” She couldn’t take her gaze from Zak’s face, the sunken cheeks, pale skin, and steel blue eyes rimmed with fatigue.

  “It made me realize how I feel and what is important.”

  “How are you, really? Are your wounds healed? Did they hurt you, mistreat you? Where were you? When were you released? How long have you been here? Why didn’t you call?”

  Zak smiled, probably amused by Sara’s rapid-fire questions, but her tone was touchingly serious. “Did you hear me? I said I love you.”

  Sara stood on tiptoes and brought their lips together. “Yes, darling, I heard. And I love you. Now kiss me before we both explode.”

  Their kiss was tentative at first, cautious and tender, but became more urgent as their tongues touched and teased. Sara pressed her body against Zak’s and fire sparked between them.

  “Ahem, excuse me, but we probably need to take this elsewhere,” Estelle said. “This is Paris, but even the French have their limits.”

  Sara pulled reluctantly from Zak’s embrace, unsure of how she felt about Estelle’s deceit. She’d spent weeks worrying about Zak’s welfare. How long had Estelle known Zak was okay? How long had she been here?

  “I can see the questions in your eyes, cheri. Let’s go.” Estelle motioned to a small office inside the private hangar.

  Zak took Sara’s hand, and they followed her mother into the office. Estelle turned to face Sara. “I know you’re wondering why we didn’t call and let you know Zakaria was safe, but we couldn’t. It was too dangerous until you were out of the country.”

  Sara searched both of their faces, waiting for Estelle to clarify.

  Zak took over. “I’ve just been able to piece all the bits together. After you delivered the tapes and photos to Kibaki, he confronted the minister, who admitted to the conspiracy with Wachira. He also confessed that he had his man kill the commander after I left that night. Apparently they’d been waiting for me to confront him alone. His plan to frame me worked perfectly because of my history with Wachira. Once the minister confessed, the president had me released and flown to Paris. They phoned Mother, told her to expect a package, and gave her the date and time of my arrival.”

  “And why was I left in the dark?”

  “Kibaki instructed his men not to allow me phone calls or contact with anyone, especially you. I was taken directly from the holding facility in Liboi to the airport. He needed time to locate the minister’s accomplice or accomplices inside the government. We agreed on one week, not a second more. But more importantly, he needed to find the assassin before he found you.”

  “Me?”

  Estelle hugged Sara to her. “Yes, cheri, your publicity campaign to locate Zakaria was getting too much attention. Kibaki joined in the effort but the minister of education instructed his man to silence you. The invitation for a visit was to get you out of Africa. I realize it was bad timing for the school, but we wanted you safe and my daughter needs you.”

  Sara gazed at Zak. Her muscles were strong and more pronounced against her visibly thinner frame. She had obviously not been fed properly and her face was etched with the shadows of too little sleep. And something else was different as well. It was evident in the depths of her concentrated stare, in her attentiveness to Sara’s every move, and even in her touch. This change was more fundamental, more essential. “How are you feeling, darling?”

  “Better now that you’re here.”

  “So you’ve been here a week?” Sara continued her inspection, noting and memorizing even the slightest nuance of change to the woman she loved. The bright blue shirt that exquisitely highlighted Zak’s eyes hung loosely from her shoulders, making her appear almost delicate. A pair of baggy blue jeans rested atop the flare of her hips and dipped too severely over her lower abdomen.

  “That’s what Mother says. The plane trip and the first few days are a blur. I think I slept straight through.”

  Estelle looked at Zak with the loving eyes of a mother. “She was exhausted but worried constantly that you were in danger and she wasn’t there to protect you. It was all we could do not to tell you she was safe.”

  “I hated keeping it from you. It was like using you for bait while we waited for Kibaki’s men to finish their roundup.”

  “And did they arrest the killer?”

  “Yes.” Zak hung her head, and her shoulders slouched in a defeated posture. “He followed you to the airport and was arrested there. We got the call just before you arrived.”

  Sara stroked the side of Zak’s face, trying to soothe the worry lines etched across her handsome features. “Don’t blame yourself. My God, you were being held captive.”

  “But if I can’t protect you, what good is all this damn training I’ve had?”

  Sara knew that no answer would appease Zak. “And what about your boss? Did he come through at all?”

  Estelle raised her hand before Zak could answer. “That’s my cue to leave. I’m catching a plane myself. I have an art show in London this weekend, and the two of you need some time alone. My flat is at your disposal. I think you’ll find everything you desire there.” She kissed them both on the cheek and started toward a small jet that had just arrived. “Love you both. See you soon.”

  *

  Estelle’s flat on the Left Bank epitomized the woman and the artist—light, airy, and alive with color and ambience. The view from the third-floor balcony overlooked a stretch of half-timber homes and shops along the Seine River. Zak barely gave Sara a chance to take it in before she swept her up and carried her to the king-sized bed by the windows. She placed her gently in the center of the yellow satin duvet and started to join her.

  “Should you be doing this?” Sara asked.

  “Oh, am I being too presumptuous?” Zak slowly backed away.

  “Not at all, but you’ve suffered some pretty serious injuries recently, been held prisoner for weeks, and I just got off an eight-hour flight.”

  Zak tried to hide her disappointment. All she wanted was to be close to Sara, to hold her and show her how much she cared. “Are you hungry, then?”

  “Famished.”

  “Okay, I’ll order something, unless you’d prefer to go out.”

  “The only thing I’m hungry for is you. I just want to be sure you’re okay, physically, because I can’t promise to be gentle this time.”

  Zak settled beside her on the bed. “I’m healed enough and don’t want to waste another minute with you.” She reached for Sara, remembered the fear in her eyes the last time they made love, and hesitated. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

  “Please.” Sara opened her arms invitingly and urged Zak into them. “I’ve missed you so much. I was afraid I’d never see you again.”

  “Estelle told me how hard you worked to find me. I’m sorry you had to go through that, but thank you for not giving up on me.” Zak lightly kissed Sara’s eyelids, her cheeks, and her lips. She ran her fingers gently over Sara’s bare shoulder and felt their connection.

  “I will never give up on you. Don’t you know how desperately I love you? Part of me was missing when you were gone. How can that be after so short a time together?”

  Zak didn’t know how to answer Sara’s question, but she understood perfectly. A piece of her heart had been returned today. She stroked a strand of hair from Sara’s face a
nd tugged at the French braid that hung down her back. Zak worked the plait apart and fingered her copper tresses loose so they fell over her shoulders. She wanted to experience the feel of Sara’s hair brushing across her body like thousands of tiny fingers when they made love.

  “Will you make love to me, Zak?”

  Zak’s eyes filled with tears. “Yes, my love. I want to look at you and feel you close to me.” She felt no shame or embarrassment as the tears streaked down her cheeks and landed on Sara’s light green dress. She didn’t try to control them or explain them away. Part of the joy of this moment was that she truly wanted to experience every feeling possible with Sara. “I want you to know how very much I love you and how precious you are to me. You are my life.”

  “And you are mine.” As Sara cradled Zak’s head against her chest and rocked back and forth, Zak felt their connection grow and strengthen.

  “May I undress you?” she asked. As she waited for permission, her hand quivered as it hovered over Sara’s body.

  “You may do whatever you like with me. I’m yours.”

  Zak straddled Sara’s knees and slid her hands under her dress and up the side of her thighs, stretching the fabric out as she ascended. Bunching the material in her fists, Zak pulled it over her breasts and unwrapped her like a greatly anticipated gift. When she lay naked except for her thong, Zak gazed at her with a combination of gratitude and appreciation.

  “You are truly gorgeous,” Zak whispered as she brushed her lips lightly across Sara’s. She hooked her thumbs in the sides of her thong, peeled it down her legs, and threw it on the floor. The short penny-colored curls between Sara’s thighs glistened with moisture, inviting her to enter and testing her control. Desire clawed inside like a caged animal, urging her to claim this offering. Zak’s body was covered in a light sheen of sexual heat, so pervasive that while it burned deep inside, goose flesh stippled her skin. She’d never wanted anyone so badly that her muscles ached from restraining the passion. But her heart and mind held her in a slow, methodical exploration sweet with sensation and anticipation. This time she had to take it slowly, to show Sara how much she loved her and how deeply her emotions ran.