Heather Graham (6 page)

The trip to the mainland was mercifully brief. With a few short questions to the driver, Raj learned where to find the government offices and the sheikh’s residence. It was strange to enter the modern buildings with their wooden ceiling fans and encounter the Arab officials working in their desert robes. Alex hovered nervously in a corner while Raj and an official spoke rapidly in Arabic; then she came forward as Raj addressed her in English with a polite, “Dr. Randall? The sergeant would speak with you.”

It was stranger still to hear the young official speak in perfectly enunciated King’s English while he stared at her in her alien dress.

It was not alien dress here. The Western world was alien in this land, she reminded herself. Throughout Cairo many wore the costume of their ancestry, but just as many had adopted Western customs and wore Western dress.

But here it was different. The sudden onslaught of riches had forced these people into awareness of other customs, and they had made certain concessions to the foreign interests that worked the oil fields. But they had chosen to retain some of their old life-styles.

The young man who spoke with her now at the offices of the legislature informed her politely that Sheikh Sheriff was not in town; neither was he expected back for several weeks. As the man at the airport had informed her, this almond-eyed official also warned, “I doubt, miss, that even should you find the oasis in the hills, Ali Sheriff will see you.”

Alex glanced at Raj, but now he was standing in the background. Alex persisted politely. “I must find him, and I believe that he will see me. Can you tell me how I might go about looking for him?”

The young official glanced at her skeptically for a moment, saw the blaze of determination in her eyes and sighed. He pulled a map out of his desk drawer and spread it across his desk. “Sheriff’s oasis is in a little valley in a cluster of hills just before the mountain range. You will note that you must travel inland, and I’m afraid there are no roads as of now into that sector of the country. You must go by what we call desert taxi—camel.”

Alex hated camels. Ever since her first trip to Egypt, when she had been about six years old and been bitten by one of the obstinate beasts, she had despised them. But there were still places in Egypt that could only be reached by such crude transportation, and she was a staunch believer in accepting the inevitable.

She swallowed and blinked rapidly, eyeing the young man levelly. “How long will it take?”

“Oh, almost a full day’s ride.”

A day on a camel. Oh, Dad, she wondered, how could you have done this to me?

“How can we go about renting a camel?”

The young Arabian stared at her again, obviously uncomfortable. “Miss, I don’t think you understand the situation. There are miles of desert between here and the oasis. Very rough terrain, and … a certain rough element. We are a religious and honorable people, but you must bear in mind that we are just making our way into the twentieth century.” He grimaced and continued softly. “Our laws are very different from yours; I would not feel safe about your going, being a woman.”

Alex stared at him in return, then said with quiet force, “I must reach Sheriff—a man’s life is at stake.”

“And I must warn you that you are a rarity in our country. Your eyes are so very blue … your face so fair. You must be blond. The color of your hair would make you a valuable prize—a unique addition to a sheikh’s harem.”

Alex nervously stuffed a stray strand of her hair back beneath the hood of her robe. “Oh, come on!” she said with a laugh. “I can’t believe that kidnapping could actually be legal!”

“Not exactly legal, but perhaps unstoppable.” He shrugged unhappily, as if she had forced him to carry a great weight upon his shoulders. “You must realize that we are ruled by the emirs of our seven provinces. And beneath those emirs, within the provinces, there are many sheikhs. Ali Sur Sheriff happens to be very powerful, and he is also a cultured man. But many of our tribes live by the old laws; they are independent and proud. They can disappear into the desert at will. And,” he added gravely, “you must remember that even Sheriff is a Bedouin sheikh—total law within his own realm.”

“But there are many Americans here!” Alex protested. “American industries have interests in the oil drilling—”

“Which centers in certain places. In town, miss, you have nothing to fear. Perhaps you have nothing to fear anywhere. I just don’t know …”

“But
you
will know that I’m out there!” Alex knew she was pleading, and she was aware that a certain amount of pretty pleading just might work in her favor. It didn’t particularly bother her to use feminine wiles when the occasion warranted. She had fought it out in a man’s world long enough to believe it only prudent to take the advantage when she saw it.

“Oh, please! I will not be alone! I will be in the company of my male companion, young Raj here!” she murmured huskily, giving him her most liquid gaze from beneath the shade of her lashes. “You really must help me. It is a life-or-death situation!”

The young Arab sighed a last time and gave in. “I cannot stop you.”

“Then you will help me?”

“Yes. But your coloring worries me.”

“I’ll make sure my hair stays covered!” Alex promised.

“And keep those robes about you—not only for protection from overzealous Bedouins, but from the sun.”

Alex smiled. “I have spent a great deal of time in Egypt. I am very familiar with the heat of the Arabian sun. Now, please, tell me what we must do.”

“I can arrange for camels. Be back here in an hour and I will have you set with your ‘taxis.’”

Alex gave a covertly triumphant smile to Raj. Just a little while, and they would be on their way.

They walked the streets until they found a little café in a small hotel and Raj ordered heavy, aromatic Arabian coffee. When they were seated upon brick benches in the slim shade of a spidery tree, Raj watched her with open, honest curiosity.

“Why is it that you must reach Ali Sur Sheriff, Dr. Randall?”

Alex chuckled softly at his careful use of her title. “Raj, if you just call me Alex, you won’t have your tongue tripping each time you want to talk to me.”

Raj flushed and lowered his almond eyes. “As you wish, Alex. Why must you reach the sheikh?”

“It’s as I told the sergeant,” Alex replied, staring into the darkness of her coffee. “A man’s life is at stake.”

Raj’s voice was tinged with a strange anger when he replied. “Then why isn’t there a man helping you? Have you no husband?”

Alex’s fingers wound tightly around her small white cup. “I am divorced,” she said aloud, more coolly than she meant to. But she had suddenly discovered that she hadn’t given Wayne a single thought in the last twenty-four hours. She had been frantic when she first realized Jim had disappeared, but she had still thought of Wayne, wishing she could find him just so he might help her. She had tried to reach him through the Luxor hotel that had been the return address on his letter, but she had been informed that he had checked out. And then she had tried, and tried and tried and tried, to reach D’Alesio.

D’Alesio! The thought of the man’s
name
could send her blood boiling. But it had been since that absurd encounter in his bathroom that she had found it difficult even to conjure Wayne’s face to her mind’s eye.

“I’m sorry,” Raj said stiffly.

Alex realized she had been cold and rude and that the cordial Arab youth deserved none of her animosity.

Only D’Alesio did, who had forced her into a one-day camel ride in a country where just being a female made her a secondary person—and fair game for emirs and sheikhs!

Alex impulsively took one of the young man’s hands between her own. “Raj, I am sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” She hesitated for a moment. “Raj,” she said worriedly, “if something should go wrong—if any of these fanatical Bedouins should come around—would you be in danger?”

“No!” he said quickly. Was it too quickly? He lowered his eyes and stared into his coffee. “No. I am an Arab, and a Muslim. I am safe in this country.”

“I wouldn’t like to place you in danger,” Alex said softly.

For the first time in their acquaintance, Raj questioned the wisdom of his friend Dan D’Alesio. What was it he believed this woman was hiding? He kept his long lashes lowered as he took a sip of his coffee, not aware that he was shrugging physically as he was mentally. D’Alesio was an honorable man; he would not hurt the woman. And despite his growing education and association with the many Western foreigners who stayed at the Victoria, Raj was an Arab and a Muslim.

This sweet and gentle creature with the hidden core of steel was a woman—one who should be cared for by a man. D’Alesio was certainly a man. If he felt the woman must be taught that she could not take the risks her headstrong nature dictated, then she must be taught that lesson.

He finished his coffee and smiled. “The innkeeper’s number-one wife is preparing a meal for us to take. I believe we need to see if it is ready, and be on our way. Our hour is about up.”

“Yes, it is,” Alex said eagerly, slipping her linen veil back over the lower portion of her face. Raj started off to find the innkeeper’s number-one wife, and she followed more slowly, muttering. “If I have to get on a damn camel for a day, I might as well get on the damn thing!”

She started as she saw Raj stare back at her with amazement and disapproval. “Well, I hate camels!” she murmured defensively.

I must be going nuts, she thought bitterly. I’m paying the man a fortune, then I’m apologizing because I’m cursing—because I’m a woman!

She ground her teeth, thinking fervently how very, very grateful she was that she hadn’t been born a Muslim in an Arab country. Someone—some man—probably would have shot her by now!

The sun, the sand and the monotonous and miserable gait of her monotonous and miserable camel seemed endless. She and Raj had given up trying to converse hours ago; the effort was too draining, Alex’s rear section was in a state of pain she had never imagined possible, and she had the feeling her bottom was bruised blue. She felt as if sand were permanently ingrained in every pore of her body. It had permeated her clothing, her eyes, her nose, her mouth, her scalp. The sun was so torturous that she could hardly bear it. There had been moments when she was sure she would start screaming from the never-ending, tedious ride. But she was afraid that if she opened her mouth to scream, her throat would fill with sand. Heat stroke, she thought mournfully as she envisioned a scene in which she ripped off the ridiculous robes she was wearing and plunged into a suddenly available Lake Michigan—one clogged with winter ice.

Only two things kept her from really going crazy. One was the belief that her father was alive, but that he was in danger. He had told her to get to the sheikh, and so she had to do so. And then there was D’Alesio. She would have walked across the whole desert to shove his words about her back down his throat.

Alex closed her eyes against the sun. Her camel was following Raj’s camel; it needed no guidance from her.

Oh, Dad! she thought. Just a little over two weeks ago everything was a fantasy! We were going to make the find of the decade—of the century! And I was going to see Wayne today, and he might have changed, Jim, he really might have! He knows now that although I love him, I will not be with him unless I believe in him.

Her thoughts then shifted to Jim’s enigmatic statement about the puzzle pieces. And she prayed again that Jim was alive. Dad, I’d ride camels all day every day for the rest of my life just to see your face, she quietly vowed as she closed her eyes tightly.

Alex reopened her eyes and reached for her sheepskin canteen. Impatiently ripping the linen veil from her face, she took a long sip of water. She caught Raj’s eyes upon her as he twisted around on the camels single hump. “Go easy, Dr. Alex, not too much at a time,” he warned.

Alex nodded dispiritedly and recapped the canteen. She thought of how she’d love to be sitting in the air-conditioned Cairo Hilton, sipping at a gigantic Scotch and water. She could imagine the size of the glass; there would be a single shot of Scotch and a full sixteen ounces of water. And ice. Lots and lots of ice. …

She blinked, laughing inwardly at herself. It was easy to see how people fell prey to mirages in the desert. She had actually managed to implant the picture of a tall, frosted glass into the sand dune ahead.

“Lucky we haven’t hit any storms!” Raj called.

“Yes, lucky!” Alex called back. She allowed her eyes to close again. God, how she hated camels! She could smell this one even in the open air. When she had mounted, she had been sure his huge eyes had stared at her malevolently, and he had let out an earsplitting bray. He had, she believed, tried to nip, but his owner, anxious for the rental money, had given him a sharp crack with the whip. He’s really not a mean camel, she tried to tell herself. He’s just a camel.

She opened her eyes again. For a minute the endless sand and dunes and blue heat-waved sky seemed to merge.

Then she saw him, and he was another mirage. She laughed out loud, because of course he was a mirage, and she had conjured him because of her ridiculous conversation with Kelly.

His robes were black, and he rode a black horse—an Arabian stallion, a beautiful animal, its mane and tail flying high in the air. He appeared alone at first, scimitar slashing and gleaming in the blinding sun, black robes flying to make him one with the extraordinary horse. He rode toward them from a distant dune, the sand kicking up behind him.

He was a figure right out of the Arabian nights, sweeping across the desert with a blood-curdling chant upon his lips, a chant that rose as he was joined by other horsemen as they appeared over the dune.

He was, of course, a mirage. Alex thought so at first even as Raj turned to her again, his eyes wide with—was it alarm or curiosity? Yes, even as her camel collided with Raj’s halted beast, she thought it was a mirage. It wasn’t until her camel—stupid, stupid beast—balked and honked out a ridiculous noise and hopped and swayed so suddenly that she went teetering off her high perch into the sand far below with a mind-shattering impact that she realized it
wasn’t
a figment of her imagination.