in joining the swim team or whatever euphemistic term is currently in vogue for harem. Got that?’
Helena stared at her in disbelief, her dark brown eyes unwavering. ‘You are brave, yes; but, how brave?’ She turned towards the two men, raised her right hand and snapping her fingers. They immediately began to move forward, rounding the pool side by side.
Sarah watched their progress, waiting. They were approximately ten feet from her when she moved, grabbing Helena around the neck from behind while twisting the girl’s left arm painfully upwards behind her back. When Helena struggled, Sarah applied more pressure. A single scream echoed through the room, galvanising the two eunuchs into action. Positioning herself perfectly for the onslaught, Sarah gathered all her strength then pushed Helena forward hard, sending both her and the eunuchs into the pool.
Sarah bolted for the room next door, hoping to find an exit but her heart sank as she raced into a veritable labyrinth. Surrounded by a dozen startled women in varying degrees of undress, she was forced to twist and turn between more potted plants, sofas and mounds of brightly coloured pillows. She tipped over a large bowl of walnuts sending them cascading across the Persian carpets before encountering a tray overflowing with fresh fruit. Pausing only long enough to scoop up a small pearl-handled paring knife, she sent the fruit flying, pelting those close by with oranges, pears and bunches of grapes.
She dashed for the door at the far side. It was locked. Slowly she turned, pressing herself hard up against it, the knife clutched tightly in her right hand. The women stared at her, horrified.
‘I want out of here and I want out of here now!’ she demanded, breathing hard.
Slowly the women parted and Sarah came face to face with the spectre of Maharsh. She swallowed hard as his eyes washed over her while all the while smiling in a manner which could best be described as appreciative. She knew without a shadow of doubt that this monster was most definitely not a eunuch.
‘I see,’ she gasped, ‘so, we’ve moved from a Thousand and One Nights to King Kong, have we?’
‘Such a pretty knife in such a pretty hand; what do you do with it?’
‘Right now, making a point is about all I can hope for.’
‘If you think to terrify, this is what you need.’ He offered for her inspection a stainless steel blade at least eight inches long.
‘Very nice,’ she managed, ‘Jim Bowie would be proud of you.’
‘You have caused much distress but no more, I think.’ He moved fast, grabbing her by the wrist, twisting it just enough so that she dropped the knife. With a grunt of satisfaction, he brought his blade to within a hair’s breadth of her neck. ‘You will do now what is asked of you yes, or I will cut you. From this will come much pain and much blood.’
Sarah nodded, swallowing hard.
‘Good,’ he growled as he stepped back from her. ‘Return now, back the way you have come.’
Helena stood rigid with rage; the centre point of a vast pool of water that radiated outwards across the tiled floor. Fists clenched, her costume, makeup and elaborate hairstyle now in ruins, she watched tight-lipped as Sarah casually strolled back into the room with Maharsh right behind her.
‘English bitch!’ Helena screamed.
.
‘I’d rather be an English bitch than a French whore.’
Helena lunged for Sarah’s throat but Maharsh stepped in between them. With a growl he tossed Helena to one side, sending her sprawling across the wet floor. Sarah’s smile of triumph lasted but a moment as the two eunuchs quickly moved in.
Capritzo had watched the whole performance from the concealed balcony above. He leaned away from the latticework screen then turned to address his head eunuch. ‘Take her and lock her away from all and especially Maharsh. Have him come to me, in my office … now.’
‘Yes lord.’
As the eunuch was about to leave, Capritzo added, ‘I want her guarded both day and night.’
‘Yes lord.’
Capritzo frowned. ‘What game is it you play, Richard?’ He turned back towards the screen.
Sarah caught only the essence of movement from above but it was sufficient for her to concentrate her attention, seeking to find what was behind the latticework. When the eunuchs sought to take control of her, she wrenched herself free. Helena watched in horror as Sarah moved closer, not taking her eyes off one section of the balcony where she felt sure someone stood, watching. Her eyes, cat like roamed the intricate diamond-shaped pattern until she found what she was seeking. ‘You bastard,’ she whispered, ‘I’ll get you for this.’
Only time would prove how prophetic these words would be.
*****
When the plane landed, Laird smiled across at her. ‘Almost there.’
‘Is that suppose to make me feel better?’ she growled.
Laird flushed. ‘At the back of the plane you will find Mr. Develin’s personal cabin. You’re free to make use of the facilities there. I ah … I believe there is a dress and other items which you’re welcome to change into; toiletries of course and, well, whatever you require.’ He cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed. ‘We’ll be on the ground for about forty minutes so you have time, I think, to …’
Laird paused as the cockpit door opened.
Sarah’s first impression was of an undertaker — black suit, parchment-colored skin drawn tight across a skeletal frame, languid blue eyes. The new arrival gazed down at her with all the enthusiasm of the clinically dead. ‘Who are you?’ she demanded.
‘Who I am is of no consequence to you, Miss Churchill. I am here, like Doctor Laird, to ensure your safe arrival.’ Extracting a tiny key from the pocket of his suit, he quickly unlocked the handcuff. ‘Follow me, please.’ He headed towards the back of the plane, threw open a narrow door then paused, waiting. ‘You have thirty minutes,’ he intoned as Sarah stepped across the threshold into a sumptuous boudoir.
‘Oh, my God,’ she gasped as she looked around her. The door closed behind her with a metallic click, that suggested … When she tried it, it was locked.
She turned, taking in the room in a matter of seconds. Across the expanse of the double bed was spread a pale green silk shirtwaister dress, matching camisole, black silk underwear, stockings, black leather pumps and a hairbrush.
When she went into the bathroom, she found a variety of shampoos and hair conditioners, toothpaste, everything she would need with the exception of make-up. No lipstick, no blush, only foundation creams - all of them expensive.
In the wardrobe she found suits - his, she assumed. Expensive, finely cut worsteds in shades of dark blue and grey, and in the drawers, tailored shirts, heavily starched. In a lacquered box were cuff links and tie tacks, many containing semiprecious stones -
