Riders of the Pale Horse (31 page)

“I understand perfectly,” Wade replied calmly. “I have spent more than a year in places where strangers are tested as a matter of habit.”

Cyril's gaze turned keener. “Ah, yes. You were in Grozny, I believe.” And with that he switched to a passable Russian. “You were no doubt instructed in the local tongue.”

“Many of the locals,” Wade countered, also in Russian, “would dispute your calling this language their own.”

“Indeed,” Cyril said, returning to English. “Most interesting. Well, I suppose that brings us to asking for a description of the three men.”

“Four,” Judith corrected. “Don't forget the American. I was just finishing up the descriptions when you arrived.”

Wade asked, “Is there any chance you could find me a job or something where I can earn my keep?” Swiftly he explained the problem with Ben Shannon.

“It so happens that I know Dr. Shannon,” Cyril replied, avoiding any eye contact with Judith. “Quite well, as a matter of fact. I shall write a note for you to carry back with you to clear things up.”

“That would be great,” Wade said, visibly relieved.

“If I were in your position,” Cyril went on, “I should trust Ben Shannon with everything you know. He is both well connected and extremely trustworthy.”

“I was worried that somebody that close to the locals might pass the word.”

Both Cyril and Judith shook their heads to that. “Not a chance,” Judith stated flatly.

“I quite agree,” Cyril said. “Ben Shannon positively loathes the activities of terrorists. You will do well to trust him with your secrets, young man.”

“While we're at it,” Judith interjected, “it probably wouldn't hurt to supply you with a little pocket money.”

“An excellent idea.” Cyril rose to his feet. “I am afraid that a prior appointment forces us to end our discussions for now. I suggest that we plan to meet again on...” he thought for a moment, then asked, “Would Thursday suit both of you?”

“Thursday's fine with me,” Judith said.

“If I can get off work,” Wade said.

“Trust Ben Shannon with your secret,” Cyril said, “and you will find any number of impediments disappearing from your course. And rest assured that we shall in the meantime make every effort to seek out the men you have described.”

He offered Wade his hand. “As my colleague mentioned, it is very seldom that people surprise me. You, young man, have succeeded in doing so. I shall look forward with anticipation to our next meeting.”

After Wade's departure, the pair stood and watched the closed door for a time before Cyril murmured, “Most remarkable.”

Judith took that as her cue. “You're going to use him as bait too, aren't you?”

Cyril nodded. “Now that all else has failed, it may be the only way to draw the lion from its lair.”

“You're not going to warn him to stay out of harm's way?”

“Oh, I am certain he will remain enclosed and relatively safe for a time.” Cyril smiled frostily. “Perhaps even as long as a day or two.”

“And then?”

“Then the same determination that has brought him this far will push him out into the open yet again.”

“They'll be waiting.”

“And so shall we. You must double the guard at the clinic.”

“That will just about strip the cupboard bare.”

“The cupboard has up to now produced nothing of substance,” Cyril replied. “Let us place all our resources where we have the best chance of succeeding. Allison and this lad must be watched every step of the way.”

Judith smiled. “I know that look.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“You do have plans for this young man, don't you?”

“Yes, well. It is so very seldom these days that one finds a person who combines a talent for adventurous derring-do with an ability to think on his or her feet.”

“What about Allison?”

“Oh, our young lady has all that and more.” He gave a fond smile of remembrance. “Her father would be so very proud of her.”

Judith watched him with wise eyes. “They would make quite a team, wouldn't they?”

“I find it is best not to raise my hopes too high,” Cyril replied. “But yes, I admit the thought has crossed my mind. And yes, they would make a truly formidable pair.”

“So will you tell her about him?”

Cyril thought it over. “I think not. This is Ben's turf, at least within the clinic. It should be his decision.” The glint of humor resurfaced. “Besides, not telling them should grant our dear Dr. Shannon yet another reason to be irritated with me. That should please him no end.”

The three-hour trip back to Aqaba that afternoon was long and hot and far too quiet. The Land Rover's air conditioning provided a fitful stream that blew only when the truck was
coasting downhill. The trip left Allison feeling sticky, dirty, and frayed around the edges. But that was not what bothered her the most.

It was Wade's total lack of interest in her that really hit where it hurt. Not that he was anything like her ideal man. Yet here she was, upset because Wade sat and stared straight ahead, not speaking with her, not noticing her at all.

She didn't know anything about him. He probably had a girlfriend. Maybe he was even married. She checked as unobtrusively as she could—no ring. Not that it meant anything these days.

Allison looked out at the arid landscape and could almost hear her girlfriend's condescending voice. A nurse—are you kidding? The bartender at Clyde's would be a big step up. Yet she could not deny she was attracted to him.

Since Wade's attention remained focused outside the car, Allison took the opportunity to furtively inspect him.

Nice hair. Beautiful green eyes—his best feature, really, with that strong, purposeful gaze. Not too strong a chin, but he was so determined it was hard to notice.

Clearly not a snappy dresser. But Aqaba was not a place that attracted men from the pages of
GQ.

Great teeth. She wondered what his smile would look like.

Then she recalled his caring attitude toward the patients and felt that little catch to her breath once more.

Was she really interested in a relationship with him? She pushed the thought away as hard as she could. Definitely another Mr. Wrong, to be avoided at all costs.

And yet there was something to him that she could not put her finger on. Something that called to the heart's small voice. Something that would not be denied, no matter how hard and loud her mind might object.

Allison risked another furtive glance at her silent neighbor and wondered at the emotions welling up inside.

Wade was immensely relieved when they arrived back at the clinic. As soon as the Land Rover pulled up to the main gates, he bolted as though flung from an ejector seat.

Sitting next to Allison the entire way to and from Amman had been sheer agony.

She was without a doubt the most beautiful woman he had ever met. And because of that, she was utterly beyond his reach.

Wade had tried as hard as he could to hold his attention to the matters at hand, but with Allison beside him it had been impossible. The fact that she had been so close and yet so unreachable had left him hollow.

Wade found Ben in his cramped office, working his way through a pile of forms. He knocked on the open door. “Can I bother you for a moment?”

“Only if it's good news,” Ben replied, giving him a tired smile. “I've had one of those days.”

“I'm not sure whether this is good or not,” Wade ventured doubtfully. “Maybe I should wait until tomorrow.”

“What, and leave me to worry all night?” Ben shook his head. “Too late for that. Come in and sit down.” When Wade had done so, Ben asked, “What's on your mind?”

Wade offered him the note from Cyril. “Maybe you ought to read this first.”

“Read what?” Ben opened the letter. He read the note a second time, growing grimmer by the minute. Finally he said to no one in particular, “Is this his idea of a joke?”

“He told me you would understand.”

“Oh, I understand, all right. I understand my old friend suffers from an overdose of international intrigue.” He focused on Wade. “Go find Allison and bring her here, please.”

“But I'm not—”

“Now,” Ben said.

Wade departed in utter confusion. He found Allison in the dining room, glumly passed on the message, and responded
to her query with a shrug. He followed her back into Ben's office and allowed himself to be guided into a seat.

“All right,” Ben said. “I'll start the ball rolling. Allison Taylor is here at the request of Cyril Price.” He ignored Allison as she bolted upright in her chair. “She is assisting British and American Intelligence in trying to track down smugglers of nuclear scientists.”

Allison protested, “Why are—”

Ben stopped her with an upraised palm, his eyes never leaving Wade's face. “Now it's your turn.”

“I'm not sure—”

“I am,” Ben interrupted. “These shenanigans will not extend to cat-and-mouse games inside my clinic. Now then.” He folded his arms across his chest. “You trust me, you trust her.”

Resigned to his fate, Wade gave them a scaled-down version of his experiences over the past month. When he finished, he risked a glance at Allison. She stared at him in open-mouthed shock.

Ben, on the other hand, responded with a grin. “That tale is far too wild to be a lie.”

“I've told you the truth,” Wade responded quietly.

“Yes, I believe you have.” Ben eyed him with newfound respect. “And what would you call the coincidence that has brought you to this particular clinic at this particular time?”

“A miracle,” Wade said softly, warmed by Allison's uninterrupted gaze.

19

Allison was awakened by a knock on her door. “Sorry to trouble you so early,” Ben said. “There's been a change in plans. If you want to come with us, you need to be ready in ten minutes.”

She struggled to blink away the sand still clinging to her eyelids. She scratched her head and instantly regretted it. Her hair still felt stiff, despite three washings that had turned the shower floor brown. “Come where?”

But he was already moving away. “I'll have someone bring you a cup of coffee. Please hurry.”

The afternoon before, the skies had darkened and shadows lengthened and dogs howled, and evening had descended hours early. Then the southwest wind had delivered a deluge of fine red dust that was finer than sugar frosting, lighter than face powder. Swiftly every flat surface—floors, desks, cabinets, shelves, beds, and patients—was layered with the stuff. The clinic staff was kept frantically busy trying to keep damp cloths over the mouths of patients—an almost impossible task, since a perfectly clean pail of water was polluted with silt ten minutes after being filled.

Late that night, when the wind began to settle, they found the dust would not. The slightest footstep sent rust-colored plumes wafting to the ceiling. The only way to clean it up was with a damp cloth, on hands and knees, scouring away at everything. Stripping all the beds. Washing down every surface. Sterilizing all the equipment. It had even managed to infiltrate half of their refrigerators.