The tunnel seems to go on forever. We come to a fork, Rais unerringly takes the lefthand path. Now there’s choice of three, and he heads straight on. I begin to feel we’re never going to get out of here, when we come to a set of steps going up. Dharr takes the lead now, Rais holding me at the bottom as I watch the guard cautiously ascend.
“All clear,” he calls out.
Not knowing where the stairs will lead me, I follow Rais up the worn steps, realising these passageways must have been hidden under the palace since ancient times. The harsh daylight of the morning sun hurts my eyes when we emerge, and I have to shade them and blink until I can focus properly.
I’m not given long to adjust. Ghalib appears, all business today, the friendly grandfather-like figure totally missing. “Sheikh.”
Rais bows and returns the greeting.
“This way, Sheikh, Your Highness.”
Now the light no longer hurts my eyes, I see Ghalib’s tribesmen surrounding a monstrous looking helicopter. This is no friendly craft designed for transporting people from A to B, this is a serious looking military machine.
“Aiza, come.” It’s only when Rais tugs at my hand I realise I’ve stopped moving. “We’ve no time to dawdle.”
“Hunter?”
“I’m going back to find Rami.” Hunter takes my hand, squeezes it, then lets it drop. “We’ll talk later.”
Before I can worry that later might not come, I’m being helped into the helicopter, buckled into the front seat and putting on headphones which have been handed to me. Without delay, Rais sits behind me in a seat higher than mine. Feeling it’s a strange arrangement, I crane my neck to look behind me, and watch him do some pre-flight checks, and then we’re rising into the air.
As we go higher I look back below, seeing the destruction to the beautiful historic palace, which brings a sob to my throat, and, as the figure of Hunter disappears from sight, the sudden realisation that I may never see Rami or him again hits me, and tears start to fall from my eyes.
Rais stretches forwards and gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Stay strong, Aiza.”
Chapter 32
Hunter
This isn’t over yet, I think to myself as I allow myself to linger for a few seconds while watching the helicopter rise up into the air. Not by a long shot. Even had I been able to pilot the military craft myself, Rais is probably the best man to watch over her as they fly across the desert. Whether he’s the best man to marry her, I’ll pass on that for now. Whatever Rais thinks, I haven’t given up. He thinks he’s possessive… He hasn’t seen possessiveness yet. I will take her away from him.
A throat clearing gets my attention. I pause a moment longer to watch the helicopter become just a small speck in the sky, then I turn to Ghalib. “Prince Rami is in the palace. We need to get him out.”
“My job here is done, the princess is safely away. Now my men are at your disposal.”
“What’s been going on, Ghalib?” I’m out of touch. In the tunnels there’d been no radio or phone reception.
He wastes no time updating me. “It was a targeted attack. Explosions to get our attention and keep everyone busy while they tried to invade the royal suite from the air.”
“How did they know that’s where she’d be?” I wonder aloud. It’s a fair assumption, but logically she could have been anywhere in the palace. “Did they make multiple entries?”
“No, just the one. Apart from a small task force who tried to distract us, they concentrated on entering the royal suite.”
They knew she was there. At that particular time. As I follow Ghalib and his men back to the main palace entrance, thoughts are going fast through my mind. Someone inside the palace must have been in contact with the terrorists. And Rami had disappeared right before the attack. A coincidence? Did Rais just give him the excuse he’d been looking for? Had the perfect reason to be gone and out of danger just fallen into his lap?
No, It’s impossible. Rami wouldn’t turn on us like that. He’d been part of her rescue from the yacht. He’s been around far too much. My sixth sense doesn’t like it.
As we turn the corner, my eyes look into the now empty sky. Rais had played a part in liberating her from Twafiq too. Now he’s flying Aiza away. What if he’s a traitor, bought by Amir al-Fahri? If I suggested such a thing to Kadar he’d deny it in a flash. But unlike those closer to him, I can distance myself and look at things logicially. I’ve not been brought up alongside Rais, the most powerful of the desert sheikhs. What a coup if the terrorists have managed to get him onside. What would that mean for Aiza? On that helicopter he’s in charge of communications. If he’s turned bad, there’s no way to warn her.
A big part of me no longer trusts him. He changed his tune quickly enough when we gave into his demands to marry Aiza. Having had her, he no longer wants to share her. Though he gave no actual promise, he led us to presume he was on board with a four-way relationship. Then he went back on his word. Has he now stolen her?
My phone rings. I answer.
“Sheikh Nijad.”
“As far as I know Rais has her safe.” While I give him the reassurance about his sister, my eyes look at the empty sky again, a niggling doubt in my head.
“Where is he taking her?” As I repeat Nijad’s question, I realise I don’t know. In the rush to get her away I’d not asked. “Al Qur’ah, I assume.”
“No, I don’t know… Yeah, he might do that.” Yes, Rais might take her into the desert to one of the tribal camps. I seethe with frustration. Turning, I hit my hand against the roughly hewn palace wall, hard enough to graze my knuckles. Why hadn’t I found out?
“No, Sheikh. Prince Rami got separated from us…”
“Yes, I’m sure King Asad is concerned. I’m going to try and find him.”
“Look, Nijad, I’ve been taken up with keeping Aiza safe. Let me get a status update and I’ll get back to you. We’ve all got to be sensible about this. Best you stay in Al Qur’ah until we know more about the situation.”
I end the call, cutting Nijad off in mid flow, and hopefully having stopped his first impulse to come to Z̧almā to see the damage done to his palace and take over operations himself. He’d only be one more royal we’d have to protect. Christ, this thing’s all gone to hell in a handbasket. What a fuck up.
The palace grounds, normally so peaceful, full of aromatic flowering shrubs and well-maintained lawns, look very different now. Bodies lie strewn across the ground, odd body parts too. I see two arms and a leg which are clearly not from the same torso. Women are huddled, wailing and weeping, obviously evacuated from the interior. Our side has vanquished the intruders, and soldiers are guarding captives.
General Zaram is close by the doors. As I approach he gets my attention, asking urgently, “Well? Princess Aiza?”
“Sheikh Rais has taken her.” I leave my statement ambiguous. Until someone proves I can trust the man, I’ll be as suspicious of him as anyone else. “We got separated from Prince Rami.”
The general nods grimly. “The prince is safe. He was with us when the explosions started.” He nods towards the uninjured men being held captive. “We’re going to start interrogating them now.” To punctuate his words, he waves his hand in instruction for his men to start leading the prisoners away. “Do you want to come with us?”
Recognising Mustapha, Rais’s lieutenant, the man whose methods of torture are renowned and certainly not condoned by the international community, I decline. I’ll focus on working with the intelligence people instead. “I doubt if you’ll get much from them. Foot soldiers I imagine.”
“You might be right.” He rubs at the tip of his nose. “Apart from the ones who attacked the royal suite directly, they weren’t as well trained as our men. We’ll give it a try. We’ve not much else to go on.”
Leaving him to it, I walk inside the destroyed atrium, carefully picking my way through the glass that’s fallen from the ceiling, my face twisting in disgust as I see one of Zaram’s men lying dead, a shard
obviously having pierced him. Others, injured, are still being led out of the ruined palace, and military engineers have already started cataloguing the damage and roping off areas which are unsafe to enter.
Luckily, the boardroom where we hold our meetings has survived unscathed. I enter to find a discussion in full swing.
“Hunter. The princess got away safe?”
Wishing I had a sign I could hold up rather than constantly answering the same question, I nod to Bertram, who I know is with the CIA.
“Bloody business this is.” Kentwell, my boss at MI6 has come over.
“We got any more info?” I hate feeling out of the loop.
Kentwell sighs. “Going through all the palace staff and guards now. They were cleared on the official check. What we do know is the place was sealed up tighter than a gnat’s arse, and everyone in the palace at the time of the attack had the right to be there.”
“Hey, Hunter.” Ryan gives me a slap to my back. “Good to see you’re okay.”
“You too, man. Casualties?”
He nods gravely. “Three household staff and five guards were killed in the explosions. Jibran lost a man in the fighting, and Zaram another couple more. Oh, and Seth took shrapnel to his arm. He’s with the medics now. He’ll be back as soon as his dressing’s been done. Fifty or more walking wounded, none of them serious.”
It could have been worse. Raising my hands in the air, I clap loudly to get everyone’s attention. “Let’s get seated and organised and thrash this thing out.” Someone has to take charge, and Zaram hasn’t reappeared yet.
When chairs have been pulled out and asses planted, I begin. “Sheikhs Nijad and Jasim are chomping at the bit to get down here. For now I’ve dissuaded them. I don’t want any more lives put at risk until we get to the bottom of the attack today.” I break off, and my eyes roam around the table. “Someone knew exactly where the princess was going to be at that precise moment in time.”
“You’re right, Hunter. That’s our summation too. The bombs were meant to distract us, together with a halfhearted attempt to storm the palace. The real attack was from the helicopter.”
“The men who entered Aiza’s suite from the air were no unseasoned fighters. The attack was similar to one our SAS would carry out.”
Bertram nods at his English counterpart. “Sure was. That’s who Zaram needs to focus on interrogating. They’ll be al-Fahri’s trusted troops, not cannon fodder.”
“And the ones best prepared not to talk,” Kentwell replies.
So that’s why Zaram’s using Mustapha.
“The bombs were interesting,” Ryan starts, and I raise my chin to give him permission to continue. “The main damage was caused by the three dropped from the air. There were four others, more localised explosions from devices planted in the palace.”
“We got people looking for clues?”
“Yeah. Already found a timer. It’s a sophisticated device.”
I brush back my hair with both hands. “Did we not fucking check for bombs?”
“We did,” Ryan confirms. “Last search was early yesterday morning. They must have been placed between then and the attack.”
I catch his eye and hold it. “So that clearly shows it has to have been an inside job.”
He doesn’t flinch. “It does.”
“Motherfucker,” Bertram spits out.
Now it’s the CIA man I focus my eyes on. It means we’ve failed—we being the intelligence community. Our ears to the ground and eyes open means we should have been forewarned. Perhaps if I hadn’t been so blasé in thinking we were safe and trying to get in Aiza’s panties this wouldn’t have gone down like it had. Nevertheless, it did. The time for remonstration will have to come later. Now we’ve just got to get on and work with the hand we’ve been dealt.
“I’ve got two suspects in mind,” I begin, causing all eyes to snap to me. “I’ve no evidence at all, but I don’t think we can sweep this under the rug.”
“Spit it out, man.” Kentwell leans forwards to encourage me.
“Prince Rami.” I pause for that to sink in. “It seems convenient how he was missing from the suite when the attack occurred.”
Kentwell and Bertram exchange glances. It’s the former who speaks. “Anything suspicious about him leaving?”
I can’t tell him the truth. That he’d just heard from the man himself that Rais had just stolen Aiza away from him. That he’d become too emotional and overcome by loss and disappointment. Instead I shrug. “We had a slight disagreement.”
“Was he behind that?”
Again, the truth. “No, it was instigated by Sheikh Rais.”
Before we can say anything more there’s a knock at the door, and one of General Zaram’s senior officers enters. “Sorry to interrupt you. I thought you ought to know. The helicopter taking Sheikh Rais and Aiza has disappeared off the radar. We can’t raise it by radio.”
Fuck.
I dismiss him, he’s clearly just the messenger. When the door closes behind him, I say what I would have thought was the unthinkable. “My second suspect is Sheikh Rais.” My suggestion elicits an audible gasp, yet following on from the soldier’s information, there’s not as much shock as there’d otherwise have been.
“He got Rami out of the room. Reduced the men guarding her by one,” Kentwell observes.
Ryan stands so quickly his chair topples and almost falls. He leans over, putting both palms flat on the table. “Not Sheikh Rais. Not in a million years. Rais would never betray his country like this. I know him. I’ve worked beside him…”
“People can turn. Or be turned,” Bertram butts in drily. “Never say never.”
Ryan gives him an incredulous look. “If he was working for al-Fahri I would know it. No man’s worked harder than Sheikh Rais to get the oil field up and running. He’s provided his tribespeople to ensure the pipeline is protected. It’s not Rais. I’d stake my life on it.”
Bertram gives him a pointed look. “Doesn’t mean he can’t be bought. Perhaps he’s not getting what he wanted.”
Last night he was.
Ryan looks angrier than I’ve ever seen him. “I trust Rais. Kadar trusts him. He’ll have used his desert knowledge to get Aiza completely off the grid. If we can’t find her, neither can al-Fahri. That makes more sense than what you’re suggesting.” He shakes his head, then scoffs. “Waste energy trying to find dirt on the sheikh? You’ll be looking in the wrong direction, delaying looking for the real culprit and playing into the terrorist’s hands.”
Kentwell raises an eyebrow at me. “He’s got a point.”
While it’s hard to accept my suspicions of Rais may be biased and come more from his seduction of the woman we’re trying to find, Ryan, who’s said a lot for a man who doesn’t normally speak, has made sense. There’s a sinking feeling inside of me. I was meant to protect her. Now I’ve no fucking idea where she is.
Chapter 33
Aiza
The inside of the military helicopter certainly isn’t the luxury travel I’m used to. However, Rais expertly handles the controls of what he’s told me is an Apache, one of the fastest helicopters in the world. To ease the tension, he told me I’m sitting in the gunner’s seat, and have weapons at my disposal should I want to use them. I’m tempted to try out the machine gun.
Sitting up front, I have a perfect view of the scenery. As we fly over empty desert, leaving the palace far behind, my heart beat at last begins to slow. I’d been terrified by the explosions, the gun shots, reminding me all too much of my recent rescue from Twafiq’s yacht and sending me back into a state of panic. My one comfort, if I could have chosen the man to be here with me, I couldn’t have picked anyone better than the man now in the pilot’s seat behind me. The man I’ve loved from afar for so long, and who I’ve agreed to marry. Casting a quick look over my shoulder, his eyes catch mine and he gives one of his rare, fleeting smiles. Making me recall, with something akin to amazement, that he said he’d wanted me as long as I’ve want
ed him. For a second time he reaches and squeezes my shoulder before he returns his attention back to the controls.
Why, at eighteen I was attracted to him, I don’t know. He’s not handsome in a pretty-boy way, and there’s something dark about his countenance, as though it’s hiding something underneath. All my life it’s been impossible to read him. Dark impassive eyes always scanning his surroundings, his body always tense, as though readying itself for a fight. At times he’s reminded me of an unexploded bomb, just waiting for a trigger to set him off.
Last night he afforded me a glimpse of the man underneath the façade. Even now I can’t be certain which is the real desert sheikh. The one who was so gentle and caring as he took my virginity? Or the stern and brutal man I’ve known all my life. Is it that he’s an obvious bad boy that I’m completely enthralled?
Desert life isn’t easy. While Kadar rules the country with diplomacy, taking, and keeping leadership over the fiercely independent desert sheikhs needs a strong man, someone who isn’t afraid to demonstrate his strength. The rumours he’s killed his opponents with his bare hands are whispered in the corridors of the palace of Amahad, and on just one meeting with Sheikh Rais, no one has difficulty believing them.
His prowess in battle during the border wars was unequalled. He’d left his military rank behind him when he returned to his desert home.
A sudden cold shiver runs through me. In the palace, surrounded by my guards and my friends, he hadn’t seemed so overwhelming. Now I’m alone with him, it’s a different matter. I owe him my life. But at what price? My lady parts throb in memory of last night, my heart swelling as I recall his declaration of love, while my head counsels caution. There’s something thrilling, exhilarating, as well as frightening being alone with such a man as we fly over this desolate place.
Staring ahead I realise the helicopter’s flying very close to the ground, Rais expertly navigating over the sand dune, the craft dipping and rising as we follow the profile of the land. “Why so low, Rais?”
Hard Choices (Blood Brothers #6) Page 28
