Grains of Truth (42 page)

This was the first time anyone verbalized that intention. No one challenged it.

Chapter 49

The one thing Julia knew with disheartening certainty was that she had no choice whatsoever. She had to go along with whatever Ahmed, aka Sharif, wanted. At least until she found a way to escape. In spite of being exhausted, traumatized and terrified, she remained in complete control of her faculties.

There wasn’t a chance in hell her friends weren’t looking for her. Mohamed would never have returned to Cairo, even if his life depended on it, which it very well might. And she felt sure that Alexander Bryant would leave no stone unturned to find her. If he was still alive.

If Ahmed spoke the truth—that they hadn’t reported her missing to the police—they had a damn good reason. She thought she knew what it was. The first priority, unquestionably, would be to prevent the atrocities. Yet she did believe—from the bottom of her heart—that rescue would somehow come.

She had to believe it.

The other thing she knew deep in her gut was that these men could not afford to allow her to live. She could identify them and, sooner or later, one way or another, they intended to kill her.

So far, her charismatic captor appeared to be blessedly unaware of her role as a U.S. operative. Nor did he seem to know she’d uncovered the despicable criminal plot that appeared to be, if not of his own design, at least under his direction. Thank god for that. If she could convince him of her willingness to cooperate—of her “feelings” for him—she might have a chance. As long as he didn’t expect her to consummate their new-found friendship, it might work. 

The rousing sensations his touch evoked out there in the desert had alarmed and confused her. After much guilt-ridden analysis, she recognized—with overwhelming relief—that her response had been a natural, human one. Kidnap victims often became attached to their abductors. And she was fairly sure that most kidnappers did not demonstrate such sophisticated charm, not to mention the physical attributes of a dark Adonis.

Her unintentional response did not mean that she was a contemptible, weak, sex-crazed deviant. Once she’d reached that conclusion, she found it much easier to control any further irrational urges.

Nevertheless, it was crucial that he continue to think she desired him, and he obviously did. This was a dangerous and deadly game—like dancing with the devil.

~

“You will need clothes.” 

Ahmed smiled as he held out the burqa. Julia had done her best to convince him that she reciprocated the attraction, and of her sincerity in wanting to help him cross over into Jordan. The idea of his touching her or, god help her, having to allow him to use her sexually, now made her flesh crawl. Ironically, the same Islamic law that tormented her for years, keeping her and Mohamed apart, now provided her salvation. Ahmed would not sin by having sex with any woman other than his lawful wife. He left the outrageous idea of that possibility dangling between them.

He watched her closely as she gave solemn assurance that she would cooperate in the task of purchasing a wardrobe appropriate for a bride for the trip across the Gulf that would supposedly liberate them both.

~

Joshoa sat back on his heels on the dusty sidewalk with his back against the wall of a block of run-down flats. Although he’d been there for a considerable time, his eyes never left the house. His pulse quickened at the sight of a man coming out the front. It looked like Arabiyat. He walked around the wall and disappeared. A few minutes later, a car pulled up to the gate.

  Rising slowly so as not to draw attention, Joshoa saw another man and a black-shrouded figure emerge from the courtyard and get into the back seat of the car. The route they must take came down the dirt road and onto the side street. He moved quickly to the corner of the main street to be in place to follow, whichever way they turned. Without a vehicle, he prayed they weren’t going far. 

As expected, and hoped, the car turned left toward the main part of town. It was after mid-day and the traffic dense. He kept up easily, inconspicuously blending into the crowd as the car edged along the busy street. Several blocks later, it pulled into an alley behind a row of upscale shops.

A tall man and the figure in black got out and walked to one of the shops in the middle of the block, a women’s boutique. The driver, now clearly identifiable as Arabiyat, locked the car and crossed the street to enter a coffee shop. Joshoa stepped back into a doorway and pulled out his phone.

~

Julia knew the rules. If she spoke one word or made the slightest attempt to communicate with the salesgirl, it could cost both their lives. She submissively let Ahmed lead her to one of the curtained dressing rooms in the back, where he pulled the velvet drape behind him. His eyes met hers with a steady, clear warning before he removed the burqa and the bindings on her hands.

His lips touched her ear, sending shivers—this time only of fear—down her neck before he whispered, “I will speak to you in Arabic. Do not attempt to answer. Try on the clothes I bring and choose whatever you like.” 

The salesgirl swooned at the dazzling smile of her gorgeous customer.

His wife needed something chic to wear to a wedding in Jordan. What could she show him? He selected several items at her suggestion and took them to Julia.

It didn’t take long. She would basically be traveling as herself and her attire was the least of her concerns. As long as whatever she wore allowed her freedom of movement. For she planned—at the first possible opportunity—to run like hell.

With Julia once again shrouded from head-to-toe, they left the shop. One thing she found puzzling, as she passed the sales counter, was the large stack of garments. Why would Ahmed have purchased them all? What would be the purpose of that?

The gag covered her mouth and her hands were bound in front. At least her vision wasn’t totally impaired by the burqa’s grill. As they paused at the door for Ahmed to shake the smitten girl’s outstretched hand, Julia stood stock-still.

Across the street she saw a petite woman crowned with rambunctious blonde curls. No. It simply wasn’t possible. She must be hallucinating. The head bent over an unfolded map. Julia fixated on those curls as Ahmed tugged at her arm. 

One second before she turned away, the head came up and Julia found herself inexplicably looking directly into the sparkling green eyes of Sarah Littlefield.

The deliverance in those dearly beloved, indomitable eyes rang out like the bells of Westminster Cathedral. Thunderstruck, Julia stumbled over her robes on the crowded sidewalk and was only kept from falling by Ahmed’s firm grip on her arm. When she regained her balance and looked back, the vision had disappeared. Was she hallucinating after all?

Her eyes desperately raked the crowd for another glimpse of Sarah, to no avail. But then she almost fainted at the sight of another gloriously familiar face: Leaning against the wall of a building halfway down the block was the unmistakably elegant Brad Caldwell.

Hallelujah and praise the Lord! Rescue was on the way. Julia’s veins flooded with the most overwhelming feeling of joy she’d ever known. It was all she could do not to shout out to her friends. Her mind whirled with ecstatic and disjointed images of salvation. 

Fortunately, the presence of the gag allowed time for her mind to send up a red flag. Why hadn’t they grabbed her from Ahmed’s clutches? There must be a logical explanation. She could only rely on Brad’s knowledge and professional expertise to save her. And wait for them to make their move.

But, oh god, dear god, they were here! Here to save her!

For once, Julia was glad to be invisible in black, lest her euphoria give her away.

~

“Did she see you? Are you sure?”

“Oh, yeah,” confirmed Sarah in answer to Alexander’s terse questions. “Message received, loud and clear: The cavalry is here.”

Until the instant when her eyes met those of her dearest friend, Sarah hadn’t been completely honest with herself about her feelings. Oh, she’d believed they would find her. The feasibility of a successful rescue was another matter, a scary one at that. Now, after being so close, she knew they would get her back. They just had to.

The car drove straight back to the compound. Joshoa insisted on continuing as sentinel. That left the rest of them to reconnoiter and formulate their plans. Mohamed went ballistic when he learned of their failure to pluck Julia from the villains’ grasp.

“It’s not that simple.” A usually flippant Brad had been replaced by a hardened operative. “We don’t know how many others were nearby. We don’t know if they were armed. But we do know they wouldn’t hesitate one second in killing her on the spot.” This blunt statement had the desired—sobering—effect.

Alex, Brad and Linda huddled to discuss the pros and cons of filling in their new partners about the arms transaction. Brad stood firm.

“I know you’re against this, Bryant. But we have to bring them into the big picture.”

“Why? They might tend to react negatively to learn that we’re selling weapons to terrorists planning on invading their country.”

“Yeah. But we won’t let that happen. We really have no choice. We need their help. The only way to guarantee their cooperation is to make them part of the team.”

“Besides,” Linda cut in, “we’ll ensure the Egyptian police are on the scene to confiscate the weapons before they ever leave the warehouse. Those guns will never make it into terrorist hands.”

They all sincerely hoped that was true.

~

Alex spoke briefly with James a short while later, who assured him that, at that very moment, a private yacht flying the British flag as well as a divers’ flag was cruising up the Gulf of Aqaba headed for Nuweiba, loaded with a sizeable shipment of deadly handguns. It would not come into port but weigh anchor out in the Gulf, about a mile south of it, near a well-known dive site.

Tomorrow, Alex related to James, he planned to meet Jalal at the harbor, where they would take one of the ubiquitous and unremarkable dive boats out to the yacht to inspect the weapons. If everything went according to plan, another boat—already at anchor near the rendezvous point—would help ferry the crates to a secluded cove under the cover of darkness. Jalal’s men would be waiting on shore with trucks to remove the crates to the warehouse. The local police had been generously compensated for being otherwise engaged that evening. 

While the transaction took place, the expanded rescue team would descend on the house—hopefully left sparsely defended—and liberate Julia. They hoped to take her captors alive and into custody to try to learn the location of the chemical weapons. With her freedom secured, the Egyptian military would be brought in to arrest the others and confiscate the guns. And, just in case, a U.S. warship stood ready in the nearby Red Sea.

That was the plan.

The group went over it and over it and over it again. Alexander Bryant believed it to be a viable plan. Yet he couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling about the contents of those crates.

Chapter 50

Ahmed, following the successful acquisition of the handguns, planned to take Julia across. The chemicals would be cleverly camouflaged in several large trunks, disguised as part of her trousseau. She was, after all, marrying a very wealthy man. He congratulated himself on having devised this latest scheme. If Julia gave the slightest sign of betrayal en route, he could easily render her unconscious. He spent the rest of the day working on the final details, and at his prayers. 

Julia spent the rest of her day and night alone, borne up on waves of elation—contemplating impending freedom—to the valleys of despair at the thought of everything that could go wrong.

What if things got ugly and someone got hurt? Or killed? One of the people she loved? She couldn’t bear the thought of that. If only she could find a way to escape before her friends were put in further danger. Or at least make it easier for them to locate her. She paced the room endlessly, forcing her mind to focus on trying to think of a way. At last, as she lay on the bed wide awake in the dead of night, an inkling of an idea began to take shape. 

Her feet swung to the floor. She removed Sarah’s gift, her talisman, now wrapped around her neck, and tiptoed to the window. The shutters had been left open, as the iron bars prevented any possibility of escape. She tied the blue scarf around one of the bars, with the ends hanging down to stand out against the whitewashed wall. Sarah would recognize it and know exactly where to find her.

A long, deep breath escaped her lips as her head once again met the pillow. If help hadn’t arrived by morning, she would use her feminine wiles on Ahmed to let her take some exercise in the courtyard. She wanted to learn all she could of her surroundings. Just in case.

~

The sun began its ascent from the Underworld of the Dead. Ahmed and Faoud, returning from the mosque, trudged up the dusty road in the early morning light. Their steps slowed at sight of the length of bright blue silk dangling from Julia’s window, dancing in the sea breeze.

“I…washed it. And hung it out to dry.”

Ahmed stood before her in her room, the scarf held loosely between his graceful fingers. His electrifying stare caused a deafening rush to howl through her ears. Without having uttered a single word, he turned away, pulling the door closed behind him.