Moving slowly, they covered the courtyard, finding other bugs located on several of the benches. Again she was struck with the paranoia the devices suggested. It wasn’t until they reached the far end of the courtyard that looked out over a short wall to the busy street beyond that Walker deemed it safe to speak freely.
“Distrustful bastard, isn’t he?” His voice was very nearly soundless as he appeared to study the people on the street.
“Are you certain we are out of range?”
“Planting so many of them in such a limited area suggests that each has a limited capability. Chances are they’ve been here for years.” He looked down at the notebook he carried, as if to consult notes jotted down there. “At one time I’ll bet every bench was bugged so our host could keep tabs on his guests’ private conversations.”
“Charming,” she murmured, letting her gaze roam the area. “My room is similarly equipped.”
“Mine, too. We have to figure the whole place is loaded with them.”
She wished she’d remembered to retrieve the sunglasses from her purse. The afternoon sun was brutal. “We will have to be sure and not disappoint the prime minister. It would be a shame if all his eavesdropping were for nothing.”
Walker didn’t smile but his face lightened a fraction. “When the time comes, I’ll follow your lead.”
Her lips curved slightly. “That will be a welcome change, and another first for you.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she wished them back.
The mirrored lenses of his glasses made it impossible to tell what he was thinking, until his voice came, low and intimate. “Maybe you’ve forgotten a time when I was all too happy to let you set the pace.” Memories washed over her like a warm caress, evoked by his sensual tone. “I put myself into your very capable hands then and found you to be slow, but…thorough.”
Because her hands suddenly had a tendency to tremble, she clutched them together. The mental images his words elicited were vivid, graphic. There was nothing quite so sexy as a man who would lie back and let a woman explore his body, and Walker had made no secret of the pleasure he’d found when she’d done so. Venice may have been three years ago, but the memories weren’t buried nearly deeply enough.
To hide their effect on her, she turned away, pretended an interest in the bustle in the street in front of them. She’d be ill-advised to let Walker think he could disconcert her with one well-placed reference to the past. “Ancient history does not interest me. I am more focused on our present assignment.” It gave her a chance to change the subject, so she asked the question that had been bothering her earlier. “Do you think El-Dabir and the Brothers know anything about the young sheik’s disappearance?”
Sending her a sharp look, Walker asked, “What makes you ask?”
Jasmine shrugged. “It seems odd that he would vanish around the same time the Brothers are trying to heighten the strife between the two countries.”
“I thought of that, too. If the Brothers did snatch him, maybe we’ll discover some trace of their actions when we get inside the compound.” He sent a glance back toward the prime minister’s quarters. “Actually getting us inside the Brothers’ headquarters is going to be up to you. Any ideas yet about how you’ll accomplish it?”
“That will depend in a large part on the events tonight, and how the talks progress with the prime minister.” She paused, smiling as a pair of young children darted by, chasing a dog bigger than both of them. “El-Dabir wasn’t what I expected.”
“He’s little more than a hired thug.” Walker propped his elbows on the low wall, their shoulders brushing. “In a country as uncivilized as this one, a man doesn’t hold office as long as he has without having some very interesting acquaintances.”
“Acquaintances affiliated with the Brothers of Darkness.”
He nodded. “I’d be surprised if some of its members weren’t among the guests at the dinner tonight. If our information is correct, then leaders of the group run the country, and El-Dabir. No agreement would be made with Tamir without their involvement.” As her lowly assistant, it was understood that he would excuse himself shortly after dinner, leaving the invited guests to mingle. “If you do more listening than talking this evening, you’ll get a better…”
He must have seen the expression on her face, because he cut his words short. “But I don’t want to tell you how to do your job.”
“Yes, you do. And quite frequently.” But she was finding that habit of his far less provocative than his frequent reminders of the time they’d spent together. “I will be more than willing to listen to your advice if I am allowed to tell you what you should do while the party is going on.”
“Point taken,” he responded dryly. “You tend to your business tonight and I’ll tend to mine. We can compare notes tomorrow, unless it’s urgent. Do you know where my room is?”
She nodded and looked away, feigning an interest in a nearby street vendor displaying his wares to some Malounian women. A situation would have to be urgent indeed to convince her to go to Walker’s bedroom in the middle of the night. Jasmine had a strong commitment to duty, but her sense of self-preservation was equally powerful. She could imagine few scenarios so critical that she could be convinced to approach the man while he was in bed.
The color she felt rising to her cheeks could be blamed on the afternoon heat. It would be more comfortable to believe that she was indifferent to him. Until a day ago she’d almost convinced herself that she was. But an innate sense of honesty forced her to admit, at least to herself, that indifference was the last thing she felt for him.
And therein lay the real danger of this assignment.
Chapter 3
The dinner party was to be formal. Although Walker was most comfortable in the basic black worn for breaking and entering, he had packed a dark suit jacket and tie. He wore it now, as he lingered in a corner of the gathering room, observing the steady trickle of guests entering the prime minister’s home. Most of the them wore traditional Maloun garb—flowing white robes for the men and brightly colored caftans for the women.
The presence of the females at the dinner gave the appearance that this was purely a social event, but Walker knew differently. Where politicians were involved, socializing was business. Some of his most lucrative tips had been picked up at parties much like this one.
But it would be Jasmine’s job to elicit whatever interesting information was to be had tonight. After dinner, he had other matters requiring his attention.
Of its own volition, his gaze sought her out now, standing in the center of a small crowd, smiling brilliantly at a swarthy man who was bending over her hand.
The kick in the stomach he experienced at the sight was most easily blamed on the bitter tea he was drinking. In her brilliant blue caftan she resembled an exquisitely crafted Madonna he’d once stolen from the Boston home of a wealthy shipping magnate. The memory filled him with something close to nostalgia. The piece was one of the few fruits of his earlier career that he still owned. He knew he’d never look at it again without thinking of Jasmine.
She’d done something to her eyes before this trip to disguise their shape. The makeup made the upper lids look heavier,
