‘We should go out and see if we can help.’
Or at least stop them killing one another, she thought as she grabbed a scarf from her bag and pulled the strands of sweat-damp hair back from her face, securing the flaming waves at her nape in a ponytail that was neither smooth nor elegant.
As she got to her feet, head down to avoid banging it on the door frame, Rob opened one eye, nodded, then closed it again and began to quietly snore.
Cool was the wrong word, but at least the temperature outside was marginally less oppressive than that inside the car.
‘So, what’s the verdict, guys?’ she asked, adopting a cheerful tone.
Her attitude did not rub off on the two men.
On the occasions she had worked with the lighting technician previously, Jez had always had a joke up his sleeve to lighten tense situations, but his sense of humour had clearly deserted him today. Frowning heavily, he stepped away from the inner workings of the steaming engine, his face glistening with sweat as he dropped the bonnet back into place.
‘It won’t go and, before anyone asks, I haven’t got a clue what’s wrong or how to fix it. If anyone else feels the urge...be my guest.’ The thickset technician tossed a challenging look in the direction of the younger man but the intern’s aggression had drained away and he was standing biting his nails, suddenly looking very young and very scared.
‘No need to worry, Jez. I’m sure once they realise they’ve left us behind they’ll come back to look for us,’ Abby said, determined to look on the bright side, despite the fact that the sun was quickly setting and darkness was starting to steal across the desert around them.
‘We shouldn’t have stopped,’ the younger man muttered under his breath as he kicked a tyre.
The older man nodded his agreement. ‘What’s he doing?’ He nodded towards the vehicle where the self-acknowledged photographic genius lay sleeping, exhausted, presumably by the effort of taking several dozen shots of an unusually shaped rock with a lizard sitting on it. By the time he had been satisfied with the result, the two lead vehicles in their small convoy had vanished back towards the city they’d come from earlier in the day.
‘He’s asleep.’
Abby’s announcement was greeted with astonished looks and a cry in unison. ‘Un-bloody-believable!’
The two men looked at one another and laughed, their mutual disgust for Rob draining some of the hostility out of the situation. The smiles didn’t last long though.
‘Anyone got a phone signal?’
Abby shook her head. ‘Well, what’s the worst that could happen?’
‘We die a slow and painful death from thirst?’ Rob’s voice suddenly cut in as he made a graceful and yawn-filled ascent from the vehicle.
Abby threw him a look. ‘Seriously, what is the worst that can happen? At least we’ll have a story to tell over dinner when we get home.’
‘Guys.’
They all turned to look at Jez, who grinned broadly as he stabbed a finger towards plumes of dust in the distance. ‘They’ve come back for us!’
Abby sighed and wiped the moisture from her forehead. ‘Thank God!’ She frowned at the sound coming from the direction of the fast-approaching vehicles. ‘What was that?’
The young man shook his head, looking as puzzled as Abby felt. The two older men exchanged sharp glances, Rob turning to her. ‘Maybe you should get back inside, Abby, love.’
‘But—’ This time the sharp cracking noises were louder and Abby felt her initial relief at being found slip away, replaced by the first flurries of fear as she stared at the approaching dust cloud. ‘Was that gunfire?’ she whispered.
‘We’re fine,’ Jez said, shading his eyes. ‘We’re in Aarifa... It’s safe as houses. Everyone knows that.’ Another volley of gunfire cut across his words. He glanced at Abby. ‘Maybe just to be on the safe side you should go inside and keep your head down...?’
* * *
The pure-bred Arab horse picked his sure-footed way through a darkness that was profound, a thick, velvety blackness against which the flowing white robe of his rider stood out.
Rider and animal, at full gallop, moved in harmony across the sand, slowing only when they reached the first rocky outcrop. At a distance, the column of rock seemed to rise vertically from the ground, but in reality the spiralling path to the summit, though not one recommended to someone without a head for heights, was a series of shorter ascents punctuated by relatively flat sections.
The highly bred horse was panting by the time they crested the summit and paused, the animal drawing air through flared nostrils, the rider waiting for the usual sense of peace this spot gave him.
Not tonight though.
Tonight, even the three-hundred-and-sixty-degree panorama—incredible any time of day but especially magnificent at night, set against the backdrop of a velvet sky sprinkled with stars—failed to penetrate or lift Zain Al Seif’s black mood. The most he could claim was the relaxing of a little of the tension in his muscles as he drank in the view, the illuminated ancient walls of the palace with its towers and spires making it visible for miles around. Tonight, however, there were more lights than usual, lights that spread into the old town, built within the shadow of the citadel walls and extended beyond into a geometric pattern created by the brightly illuminated tree-lined boulevards of the modern city with its tall, glass-fronted buildings.
There were a lot more lights tonight because today the city...the whole country, in fact...was celebrating. There had been a wedding. A royal wedding.
And the world loved a royal wedding, Zain reflected, his sensually sculpted lips twitching into a cynical curve. On this occasion, the world minus one.
He couldn’t escape it even here.
The horse responded to Zain’s tight-lipped curse with a snort that was loud in the stillness. His mount, picking up on his own mood, began to paw the ground and dance around in circles that would have sent a less experienced rider catapulting over his head.
‘Sorry, boy...’ Zain soothed, patting the spooked animal’s neck, an action that sent out a puff of the red dust that clung to everything in this desert. He waited for his horse to calm down before dismounting, an action he performed in one supple, well-practised action, his boots making no sound as he landed lightly on the uneven stone surface.
Releasing the reins, he took two steps forward and stood on the edge, not noticing the dizzying drop into blackness as his deep-set electric-blue eyes were drawn to the city’s lights. As he stared the faint smile that had curved his lips disappeared, those same lips flattening into a grim line. His dark, angled brows drew together in a parallel line above his hawkish, narrow nose as he embraced a fresh surge of self-contempt.
He deserved to feel like a fool, because he had been a fool. A complacent bloody fool.
Yes, he’d had a lucky escape but that was the problem—he’d needed luck. He prided himself on being such
