just the same, their heritage. No one knew what the future might bring.
At least the thieves hadn’t taken everything. The cave, continuing for hundreds of meters underground, had many crevices, the treasure carefully concealed. Only a small cache had been broken into, close to the entrance. Not a significant loss, a million dollars’ worth or so.
But once it was spent, they would be back hoping for more. And that he couldn’t allow. He couldn’t let them find the passageway leading underground. He either had to figure out a way to guard the treasure or move it.
A sudden squall threw sand into his face, and he leaned forward in the saddle as Hawk flew across the distance. He had to come up with a plan, or his enemies would bury him faster than a windstorm. He watched the desert for any sign of danger as he rode. And then he saw it.
A man lying ahead to the right in ambush.
Saeed ducked in the saddle and turned Hawk, urged him faster, but no shots rang out. He rode on until he knew he was out of sight then circled back, sick of the game and ready to bring it to an end.
The previous assassins had been killed by his angry tribesmen before he’d had the chance to question them. He needed one alive. He had a fair idea of who had paid the men, but he needed proof—a confession he could take to the Council of Ministers.
He left Hawk out of sight and bade him to stay, came in on foot, then on his belly over the last dune. The man wasn’t moving. At all. Nobody who knew anything about the desert would have lain down in the sand like that, exposed to the elements, to sleep. And stranger yet, no sign of how he had gotten there, no camel or horse or car.
Saeed crept closer, his gun ready as he made his way over to the prone figure with caution, all the while watching out for more of them, for any sign of ambush. When he came within twenty feet or so, he stood and shouted a greeting. The man, lying face down in the sand, didn’t move. Dead, he thought and went closer yet. The stranger’s back rose and sank, the slight movement barely noticeable.
“Get up.”
The man didn’t move a muscle, made no attempt to even look at him.
With rifle in hand, ready for any surprise, Saeed flipped him over with the tip of his foot. The stranger made no sound, nor did he open his eyes. He was unarmed, save a knife he kept in a holster on his thigh, of which Saeed relieved him at once. He wore a camouflage uniform with no military markings, his face wrapped against the sun. A lone bandit, probably a mercenary. His proximity to the cave was more than suspicious.
Was he one of the thieves who had stolen the gold? Or was he another would-be assassin? He reached down to pull off the frayed headdress, but the knot in the back was too tight. Time enough for that later. Saeed whistled for Hawk, and when the stallion trotted over, he lifted the listless stranger in front of the saddle then mounted the horse. He had to make sure the man lived long enough to answer his questions.
The stallion rode as if sensing the urgency, paying no heed to the extra weight—not that the man was heavy, rather the opposite. Must have been out in the desert without food and water for some time. He was lucky. Weather had been mild and temperate this January so far. Had it been summer, he would have been already dead.
THEY REACHED THE OASIS in two hours or so, a couple of stars already visible in the sky. The place wasn’t much more than a seasonal watering hole with a handful of scraggly date palms and a smattering of grasses.
Saeed slid out of the saddle, caught the stranger when the man nearly fell after him, and lowered the limp body to the sand. He used the man’s knife to slice through the knot of the headdress in the back, wanting to free his mouth to get some water into him.
He turned him with his left hand, the knife in his right. Then stopped in midmotion.
His left palm, having tried to brace the stranger’s chest, was filled with a mound of flesh, soft and round. He was old enough to recognize a female breast, especially one that filled his palm to perfection as this one did.
Allah be merciful…
She was beautiful in the moonlight, despite the grime that had found its way under the fabric. Her hair, the color of rich, spiced coffee, had half escaped from the braid that had once contained it. For a moment the face of another woman appeared before him, her black curls streaming to the ground as she lay dying in his arms.
He blinked away the memory and focused on the foreigner. Her feminine, delicate features stood in puzzling contrast to the uniform she wore.
A female soldier? Israel had women in its army; so did the U.S.A. But what would one be doing here? Judging from her exotic features, she was a westerner. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of her shirt and reached inside.
The back of his hand brushed against velvet skin. He hesitated for a moment before continuing.
No dog tags.
His first assessment had been correct. She did not belong to the military. But then who was she? He had a hard time believing her proximity to the cave was a coincidence. She had to be there either for him or for the gold.
He walked over to the well, shook the bucket clean and lowered it, relieved when he heard the unmistakable sound of it hitting water instead of mud. The water was full of sand as expected, but better than nothing at all. He used the woman’s makeshift headdress to strain water into his flask, then went to settle onto the sand by her side.
He dribbled water onto her parched lips, and when she moaned, he sloshed some into her mouth, massaging her graceful neck, helping her to swallow. “Drink.”
His eyes settled on the small triangle of skin between her collarbones revealed by the top two open buttons. Her pale skin shone in the moonlight. If she was a mercenary, a hired assassin, they had picked well this time.
This one could have gotten to him.
He helped her drink some more, folded the wet cloth and placed it on her forehead, then went back to the well to draw water for Hawk and considered whether to unsaddle him while they rested.
“Sorry, friend.” He patted the stallion’s neck, deciding he could not afford to give the animal that comfort. “We might have to leave in a hurry.”
He strained the water for the horse as carefully as he had for the woman, but still when Hawk tasted it, he shook his head a couple of times.
“You’ll get a cleaner drink when we get to camp.”
Hawk bent to the bucket as if understanding, but looked up after a few moments, his ears turning. He picked up his head and neighed.
Saeed listened to the night. Nothing. Then he could hear it too, a low rumbling sound. He stood and searched the desert until he spotted the source: a black SUV coming at them from behind, flying over the sand. Moonlight glinted off the rifle barrels that hung out each window.
Here we go again. By Allah, he was tired of this game. And he had no choice but to play it out to the end.
He pulled the woman under the cover of two palms that grew side by side, their twin trunks offering sufficient protection.
He glanced at Hawk, out in the open, and let out a sharp whistle that sent the stallion galloping off into the desert to safety just as the first series of shots rang out.
He
