Blink of an Eye (45 page)

“I'm not a violent man, I'm really not, but I swear . . .” He ground his teeth. “You make me
sick
!” Seth took a deep breath, calming himself.

“Call your father, Miriam.”

She lifted the phone and pressed the callback button.

“You forced Miriam to marry you against her will,” Seth said. “Now I'm going to force you to divorce her against your will. As far as we're concerned, she's not married, but we're going to make it official.”

He looked at Miriam, eyes glazed. “You aren't supposed to be looking.”

She loved him more in that moment than ever before. The phone rang on the other end.

“This blade is very close to your spinal cord, Omar,” Seth said. “If you turn or lift, it will sever your nerves and leave you a quadriplegic. Do you want to spend the rest of your days in a wheelchair?”

The sheik answered the phone.

“Father?”

“Miriam! What's the meaning—”

“I will never give Omar a child, Father. Never! I have refused him, and if he ever tries to touch me again, I will kill him!” She knew where Seth was headed and decided to assist.

“Omar despises me and wishes to divorce me,” she said.

Silence.

“That's right, Omar,” Seth said quietly. “You will divorce Miriam now. You will speak it into the phone and the sheik will be your witness. If you hesitate, I will drive the knife in. Do you understand? You'll never touch another woman as long as you live.”

Omar moaned again and Miriam wondered if he might pass out from the pain.

“Omar cannot divorce you!” Her father had come to himself. “It will ruin everything!”

“It will not ruin me!” Miriam said.

Omar groaned.

Seth nodded at the phone, and Miriam held it to his ear. “If Omar doesn't divorce your daughter, he will leave here an invalid. There will be no son. Either way. Accept the will of God, Abu al-Asamm.”

Miriam lowered the phone to Omar's lips. The man's eyes were round with terror. His nostrils flared with each breath, and a string of spittle ran from his mouth to the floor.

“Say it!”

Omar closed his mouth and then opened it, speechless.

“Have it your way,” Seth said.

“I divorce you,” Omar said in a barely audible groan.

“Again,” Seth said. “I divorce you,
Miriam
.”

“I divorce you . . .”

“Miriam.”

“Miriam.”

“Again. I divorce your daughter, Abu Ali al-Asamm.”

Miriam heard her father's voice objecting on the cell phone's speaker.

“I divorce your daughter, Abu Ali al-Asamm.”

A wave of relief flooded Miriam. Three times in front of witnesses. The law was fulfilled. She was free. The only way for Omar to reclaim her was to go through another ceremony. She snapped the phone closed on the sheik's protests.

Seth hesitated, staring at the back of Omar's head. He withdrew the knife, flipped it, and brought the butt down on Omar's head, hard. The man relaxed.

“Sorry about that,” Seth said to the unconscious figure.

He jumped up. “They're coming out of the cars now. When they see me, they'll fire. Count to five and then run out to our car. They won't fire on you.”

“They won't hit you?”

“In three out of four futures they miss.”

“The car's out of gas!”

“We have enough for what we need. You just keep moving. They'll go for the tires, but that's not where our danger lies. Just do exactly what I say.”

“So there is danger? Real danger?”

“There's always danger.” Seth kissed her firmly on the lips. “I love you, princess.”

chapter 43

s
eth jerked the door open. “Remember, count to five,” he said. He bolted from the hut.

Miriam dropped to a knee and began to count. Gunfire filled the desert air. Several rifles and at least one automatic weapon. How could he escape that?

In three out of four they miss, he'd said. What about that fourth?

Miriam rushed the last three counts, gathered herself, and then sprinted through the door. The black cars were lined up in a half-moon. At least six of them had their doors open, weapons trained on the shanty.

“Stop firing!” The driver from the car on the far left, Omar's driver, ran toward the hut. “It's the woman!” The gunfire ceased.

Miriam slipped at the corner, scrambled to her feet, and tore around the hut. Then she was at the car, panting. Seth sat behind the wheel, waving her in.

“Hurry!”

“I am!” Miriam clambered around the back, threw the front door open, and dived in. “Go!”

“When we get to the Mercedes on the far left, I need you to get out,” Seth said. “They still don't know that Omar has divorced you. You'll be safe. I won't be—”

“I understand,” she said. “It's Omar's car. His driver's in the hut now. Drive!”

“That's right. Don't worry about the tires—”

“Go! Hurry!”

Seth threw the stick into reverse. The car shot backward, throwing sand. They cleared the shack. A dozen rifles spun their way.

“We're cutting it close,” Seth said. “Omar's up.”

He jerked the stick into drive and roared for the abandoned Mercedes. Gunfire popped across the sand. Metal pinged and one of the tires blew. They flew, and Miriam was sure they would slam into the hood of the car.

Seth hit the brakes at the last moment, and they slid to a stop, inches from Omar's car, nose-to-nose.

Miriam shoved her door open and stumbled out.

Immediately the gunfire stopped. Once again, the men's fear of Omar worked against him. She leaped to her feet, swung around the open door, and ran for the driver's side of Omar's Mercedes.

Seth ran for the other door, protected by the heavy car.

Miriam slid into the driver's seat. Seth piled in beside her.

Omar and his driver spilled out of the hut.

Beside her, Seth was smiling. “Take us out of here, honey.”

She pushed the accelerator to the floor. They slammed into the car they'd just vacated.

“Sorry, I saw that coming,” Seth said. “Other way.”

She dropped the gearshift into reverse, and they spun backward in a tight loop. Something thumped into the car. Two more. Bullets! Then a whole row along the rear windshield. She glanced at Seth and saw that he was still grinning.

“Any other car, we'd be dead,” Seth said. “This one's bulletproof. Literally. Omar's parting gift.”

Of course! “Ha!”

“That's right, ha!” he mimicked.

“The tires?”

“No chance.”

“Ha!” She slammed the steering wheel in elation. They roared over the sand, leaving the circle of cars behind in their dust.

“Left or right?” she asked.

“Left, back to the highway. Then south, toward Jidda.”

Miriam pushed the car to a breakneck speed. For a full minute neither spoke. She glanced at the rearview mirror—a plume of dust rose from the dirt road.

“They're following!”

“Don't worry, we have an ace behind the wheel,” Seth said. “I told you your driving would come in handy.”

“We were nearly killed back there!” she objected. “What if they call ahead and have the road blocked? We're in Omar's territory now, not the United States.”

“Omar may try to block the road. But your father will withdraw his support now. The coup will crumble. King Abdullah will regain the upper hand. Khalid and Omar will be forced to run for their lives. Think about it, Miriam, they have no use for you now. Neither does King Abdullah. You are no longer their pawn.”

She thought through his analysis. It made perfect sense.

“You see all this?”

“No. I don't see anything now. It's gone.”

She looked at him, alarmed. “Then how can you be so sure?”

“Because I saw enough when I did see to know how this works.

I'm pretty sure my days of seeing are over. We'll have to wander around in the dark now, but I'm not sure that's so bad, are you? Have a little faith.” He grinned. “We're free, princess. Trust me, we're free.”

Seth pulled Omar's phone from his pocket and dialed a long number. He looked at her and let it ring.

“Clive? Hello, Clive—”

Seth listened for a moment.

“Easy, my friend. Omar's divorced Miriam. The sheik is withdrawing his support. The coup is history. I have Miriam now and we're headed for the embassy in Jidda. Yes. Please have it open for us. I'll explain later. In the meantime, tell the State Department to call the sheik. He'll confirm everything.”

Seth cut the connection.

They drove in silence for several long minutes. The plume of dust still hung on the horizon behind them, but if she wasn't mistaken, it was farther behind than it had been a few seconds ago.

They reached the highway and Miriam turned south toward Jidda. Seth was right; Omar would have more on his mind than chasing down a woman he'd just divorced. He would be fortunate to survive the night.

It occurred to Miriam that she and Seth had begun their relationship like this, in a car fleeing south over miles of pavement. A Saudi princess and an American outlaw. Bonnie and Clyde. Stranded between two cultures. When would the running stop? Where were they running to? What future awaited them?

Only God knew. Love.

Emotion swept over her like a tide. The road blurred and she blinked her sight clear.

“I don't think I can live without you, Seth.”

“As long as I'm alive, you won't have to,” he said. “I swear it. I won't let them take you back. Do you hear me?”

Miriam wasn't sure why, but she began to cry softly. It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to her.

“I love you, Seth. I love you very much,” she said.

“I love you, Miriam. I will always love you.”

epilogue

s
amir stood at the mosque's entrance, gazing over the floods of men who milled about after prayers, talking in low tones and nodding in agreement. Sheik Abu Ali al-Asamm stood near the front, discussing matters with several lesser Shia leaders here in Dhahran. Soon the sheik's day would pass, and one of the lessers would rise up to be the voice of the Saudi Shia. And what would be the word of that leader? Would it be a word of love and peace or a word of the sword?

Two weeks had passed since the failed coup attempt. Samir could not have imagined such soul-searching as had plagued him in these last fourteen days.

A lump rose to his throat. He had not discerned the sum of the matter yet, but he was confident the answers would not elude him for long—God would never indefinitely withhold the truth from any diligent seeker. In the meantime, several observations had presented themselves to him, none of them particularly welcome.

The least welcome of these was that he had lost Miriam's love forever. She had been and still was the only woman he ever loved, and he'd sacrificed her for a misguided ideal.

“Forgive me, dear Miriam,” he mumbled. He turned from the entrance and walked down the steps to the street.

How could a good Muslim reconcile the militants' ideals for Islam with true love? How could a good Christian kill Muslims in the name of love?

How could he have turned Miriam over to a beast like Omar?

Samir held no ill feelings toward the American, Seth. In a strange way he was thankful that a man of such obvious character had taken her into a new life. How many men would have risked what Seth risked to rescue Miriam?

The American wasn't Saudi, of course. Nor Muslim. The pair would endure a host of cultural challenges if they were to wed, but in the end, Miriam would be happy with Seth. If there was anything Samir could do for Miriam now, he could wish her happiness.

“Afternoon, Samir.”

Samir turned to the voice. It was Hassan, a fifteen-year-old son of the sheik.

“Afternoon, Hassan.”

“God is great.”

“God is indeed great.”

The boy smiled and hurried off.

Yes, God was great, but those who swung the sword on his behalf were not, Samir thought.

Omar was dead, killed trying to escape the day after the coup. Killed by the sheik's men, no less. A kind of poetic justice. Khalid still hid somewhere out of the country. As long as the House of Saud remained in power, Khalid would be on the run. Ostracized, but not powerless. Others expelled from the kingdom had wreaked havoc throughout the world. Samir expected no less of Khalid.

The sheik had not only been spared but commended for his reversal of loyalty in the eleventh hour. Though he'd been one of the plotters, he was still more valuable to the king as a friend than as an enemy. It was the way of the desert.

The world's religions had engaged themselves in a great struggle. A struggle between those who wanted to fix the world with the sword and those who wanted to fix it with love. One day all Muslims and all Christians and everyone else would understand that the world was tired of the sword.

Like many of his countrymen, deep in his heart, Samir was a lover, not a fighter. One day, if he would be so fortunate, he would find another woman to love. This time he would love her as he only wished he could love Miriam now, with all of his gifts and all of his gratitude. She would be free, and if she was not, he would set her free. Like a bird.

“Fly, my dear. Fly free, dear Miriam.”

Samir walked down the street, vaguely comforted.

Conversation with the Author about this New Edition

1.
Blink of an Eye
was originally released several years ago as
Blink
. How is this version different?

In one word,
movie
. One of the primary themes of the previous version of
Blink
was love, and for the movie edition, I've drawn out that same theme in a number of ways while dialing back on some elements that were more distracting to the primary love story. The plot itself remains primarily unchanged, but the story around that main line now reads much tighter. The characters remained unchanged, as do the settings and the back stories, but the colors of the story are brighter and will keep readers turning the pages faster without sacrificing character depth.