Dazzle The Complete Unabridged Trilogy (151 page)

'Ransom!' Abdullah snorted. 'You make us sound like
common kidnappers.'

Najib let his silence speak for itself.

'In the past,' Abdullah said, 'we have never had a hostage
of her calibre. Just think of the pressure we can exert through
holding her.' He clenched his hand and shook it. 'She is one
of the most famous women in the world; there will be an outcry
from millions of fans worldwide. Half the governments of the
Western world will pressure Israel to relent. I would not even
be surprised if they debated her fate in the United Nations.'
His black eyes glittered like coal. 'And then, my half-nephew,
just think! Think of the vast, limitless power which shall be
mine if I gain the release of the prisoners! Even Arafat will
not have a single supporter left, nor will the leaders of any of
his splinter groups. They will all join me!
Me!'
He pounded
his chest with his fist. 'I will be the most powerful leader in all
of Islam!'

He's mad. This proves it beyond any remnant of a doubt.

Abdullah continued his pacing, working himself into a fren
zied excitement.

'Have you given any consideration to where we are?' Najib
asked him softly.

'What do you mean?' Abdullah was so caught up in his
vision of grandeur that he barely gave him a glance.

'We happen to be in Saudi Arabia,' Najib reminded him unnecessarily, 'and the Saudis enjoy excellent relations with the United States. They depend upon America for oil dollars,
technical know-how, and military hardware. At the moment, negotiations for an entire new fleet of American fighter planes
are in progress. The Saudis will not do anything to jeopardize
that. They would hand us over on a platter to the Americans
if the sale of the fighter jets hangs in the balance.'

'You worry too much,' Abdullah said with a negligent grunt.
But he had stopped his pacing.

A sudden revelation came to Najib. 'The Saudis
...
I take
it they do not know you are here?'

Abdullah's lips drew back in a chill smile. He continued his
pacing. 'Why should they? What they do not know will not
hurt them. There are many ways to cross the border unde
tected.'

Najib leaned his head back and shut his eyes for a moment.
He was almost too dumbstruck to think. Abdullah's madness-
hatched plot could easily bring outright war to the entire
Middle East. As if there were not enough sparks to set off the
powderkeg, now Abdullah was adding more. It went beyond
madness. Wearily he opened his eyes and sat forward. 'And
if what you propose should work,' he said carefully, 'what
happens to the Boralevi woman then?'

'As long as she is a bargaining tool, we will keep her alive,'
Abdullah said flatly. 'Once our use for her is over, we will kill
her.'

'Even if—and I repeat,
if
, since it's such a long shot—the
prisoners should be released?'

Abdullah blinked. 'I do not see why that should make any
difference.'

'But if her release is part of a deal—'

'Deal!' Abdullah scoffed, his voice hard and knifelike. 'You
have grown too soft, half-nephew. One doesn't deal with one's
enemies. I see now that it will do you good to stay with us for
a while. It will make a man out of you all over again.'

Najib flushed, but chose to ignore the insult. There were
more important things to do than spend the time fighting. For
one thing, he had to give himself leeway; he must not be
trapped here. He, too, could all too easily become Abdullah's prisoner; all it would take was his half-uncle's displeasure. Anything was possible: Abdullah had lost all sense of reality.

'It sounds like this is a lengthy proposition,' Najib said. 'I
cannot stay here for such a long period of time, you know that.
Without me constantly staying on top of things, my entire
business empire could collapse.' He paused, frowned, and
drummed his fingertips on the arms of his chair. 'But with
the jet, I suppose I
could
juggle my schedule and commute
between here and New York.'

Abdullah's lips also turned down into a frown. After a while
he nodded. 'Then juggle things,' he said with finality. 'But be
here when I return from Tripoli. I have something important
I need to talk over with both you and Khalid.'

'Can we not discuss it tomorrow, after Khalid and the
woman arrive?'

Abdullah shook his head. 'There will not be enough time
tomorrow. Also, much of what I will propose depends upon
my meetings with Colonel Qaddafi.'

'Very well,' Najib said with resignation. 'I shall be here
when you return.'

'I hope so.' Abdullah gave him a half-smile. 'I guarantee
that what I will propose to you will shake the world to its very
foundations.'

Chapter 10

Soft giggles and ghostly whispers roused her from her sleep,
while rough-skinned hands propped her up into a sitting posi
tion.

Opening her eyes, Daliah shrank back in horror. She
struggled with her bonds, but the ropes around her wrists held
tight.

In the light of an upheld kerosene lamp, three apparitions in black robes seemed to be dancing devilishly around her.
Gnarled fingertips touched her tentatively, and muffled voices
chattered and giggled. Elongated witchlike shadows twisted
and writhed monstrously on the drooping walls of the tent.

A sudden chill dread came over her, and her eyes darted
around as she turned to keep up with all three of the ghostly figures. They were robed in black from head to toe, and only
their glowing eyes were visible. They were eyes without faces,
like doctors masked for surgery or burglars dressed for break-
ins.

One of the masked heads leaned in close to her. She could
hear the sounds of breathing and smell the sour odour of
sweat. The eyes in front of hers were dark and luminous and
surprisingly gentle.

She let out a deep breath and began to shake with relief.
These were no nightmarish ghosts or masked bandits, she real
ized. They were merely flesh-and-blood bedouin women, and
the reason they had looked so threatening was that veils
covered the lower halves of their faces—veils decorated with colourful embroidery and hung with rows of clinking gold
coins, symbols of their husbands' wealth.

She was almost faint with relief.

Unexpectedly, the woman beside her reached out and ran her hand gently through Daliah's hair, fingering its fine, silky
texture. The other two giggled and sighed and fussed at her feet: they had caught sight of her pearly toenail polish and were examining her toenails closely, feeling the lacquer and
exclaiming aloud with delight. That was when she first realized
that her feet were sticking out from under a heavy scratchy blanket. Night had fallen and the temperature had plunged, but someone had been thoughtful enough to cover her while
she had been asleep.

'We have brought you water,' the woman who had fingered
her hair told her in Arabic. 'You must be thirsty. Fadya!' She
clicked her fingers and gestured to one of the other women.
'Myeh!'

The woman tore herself away from Daliah's toes and sprang
into action. She knelt beside Daliah and held up a goatskin
bladder, the nozzle just an inch from Daliah's lips.
'
Min Fed
lak,'
she said. 'Please.'

Daliah made a face. She could smell the bladder: it reeked
sourly of decayed filth, and in the light of the lantern she could
see that the nozzle was encrusted with dirt. For an instant she
felt a wave of revulsion, but managed to stifle the onslaught
of nausea before it could grab hold of her completely. Throw
ing up was the last thing on earth she needed. Her body had
no more moisture it could spare.

'Min
Fedlak,
'
the woman said again, gesturing with the blad
der. Water sloshed around inside it.
'Myeh.'

Obediently Daliah opened her mouth. The woman expertly
squirted a stream of water into it, without spilling a precious
drop. Daliah closed her lips, sloshed the water around in her
mouth, and swallowed it slowly. She almost sighed with
pleasure. It was warm and silty and tasted stale, but it was water. Wonderful, precious, life-giving water. It tasted better
than any expensive bottled water or mountain stream she had
ever drunk from.

She opened her mouth for a second squirt, but the woman
shook her head and put the bladder down. Swiftly Daliah
lowered her eyes. She was suddenly embarrassed by her obvi
ous greed: she knew she should have been grateful for a
mouthful, and that she should have waited to see if more
would be offered before asking. To bedouins, water was more
precious even than gold.

'Shukkran,
'
she said hoarsely, raising her eyes and thanking
the woman.

The nut-brown laugh lines around the woman's eyes crink
led with pleasure at Daliah's use of Arabic.

'Min
Fedlak,
'
Daliah begged in the language she'd learned
so long ago and remembered only haltingly. 'Please, kind friend. The ropes hurt me. Could you untie me?'

The woman's voice was soft and sympathetic and muffled
by the veil. 'No, no, we cannot do that, Excellency!' she said.

Daliah's eyes were imploring. 'Then can you at least tell me
where we are?'