by Laura Taylor
DESPITE THE relentless air-raid sirens, the wailing women and weeping children seeking shelter from exploding bombs, and the men armed with portable rocket launchers who seemed to be stationed on every street corner of the darkened city, Emma and David managed to blend in.
He kept a tight grip on her hand as they dodged roving bands of guerilla fighters. He feared that a grenade or a rocket explosion might kill them both, but he knew they had no choice but to take the risk of seeking refuge at the Canadian Embassy. His only worry was that they might be turned away until the dawn broke and embassy office hours began, and he doubted that either one of them would survive if that happened. Shifting political fortunes and poverty could easily prompt a local to report their presence.
They periodically hid in abandoned buildings, holding onto each other in the darkness as they waited for lulls in the street fighting. Well after midnight Emma and David arrived at the gates of the Canadian Embassy.
Greeted with understandable suspicion by the guards at the compound, David identified himself as an American military officer, and he refused their repeated attempts to turn them away. Emma’s tension escalated when her claim that she was a friend of an embassy employee was ignored.
David finally persuaded the uniformed men to summon the duty security officer, who turned out to be a balding, middle-aged fellow with a British accent. The man blinked in surprise when he spotted them. He quickly authorized their entry into the compound and hustled them into the interior of the embassy’s main building.
“Even though you’re both down a few pounds, I recognize you from the photos your State Department people forwarded to us,” Mr. Winston remarked with a casualness that implied missing Americans routinely showed up on his doorstep.
“Missing, but not forgotten,” David said with some satisfaction. He kept Emma in the circle of his arm as they crossed the deserted foyer of the sprawling first floor of the embassy, the street fighting beyond the embassy compound now a muted reminder of the two hours it had taken them to travel less than a mile in the war-torn city.
Winston nodded to David, his expression sober. “We’ve had heavy message traffic on you both, Major,” he explained as he led the way to an upstairs suite. Throwing open the double doors, he stepped aside and waved them inside. “Make yourselves comfortable while I inform the ambassador of your arrival. He won’t believe you’re alive until he sees you for himself.”
He turned to Emma, smiling kindly as he gave her an appraising once-over. “You’ll both find clean clothing in the bedroom closets and toiletries in the bathrooms. Help yourselves to anything you need. And if you require medical attention, we have a physician on staff.”
Shedding his disguise on a nearby chair, David felt nothing but relief to have Emma inside the relative safety of the embassy. The relationship between the United States and Canada, he knew, remained a strong one. Numerous Americans trapped in the Middle East during times of conflict had survived thanks solely to Canadian generosity and cleverness.
David kept a close watch on Emma, his worry over her state of mind momentarily displacing his concerns about how they would actually exit the country without detection by the secret police and various other government entities.
Drained by the latest leg of their journey to freedom, Emma jerked off her abaya and burqa, adding the garments to the pile David had started. She sidestepped him when he reached for her, barely registering the distress that flared in his eyes at being rebuffed.
Wandering aimlessly around the spacious sitting room, she paused briefly to slide her fingertips across the surface of an oak library table. She sighed audibly before moving on to examine a bouquet of fresh flowers on a coffee table that separated two gray linen-covered couches.
To David she appeared dangerously pale, almost fragile. Her silence distressed him, and her expression, as well as her trembling, hinted that she was remembering the violence they’d witnessed in the streets and experienced in the prison.
He doubted that either one of them would ever forget what they’d seen or endured, but he reminded himself that, as time passed, the memories would fade. He prayed he was right, especially where Emma was concerned.
As he studied her, he absently noted that the weight she’d lost in recent weeks only served to emphasize her slim-limbed frame, the delicacy of her bone structure, and the smudged shadows of fatigue and lingering fear beneath her eyes. He allowed himself the luxury of visually skimming the flaring width of her hips, her miniscule waist, and the generous shape of her breasts.
He knew this woman intimately, and yet he experienced a sudden yearning within his heart to know her with even greater intimacy. He wanted the knowledge of her first thoughts each morning and her final thoughts each night before she drifted off to sleep in his arms. He also wanted time to learn all of the facets of her personality — what made her cry, what she considered tedious, and what made her happy. He wanted to see once again the sensual smile he’d glimpsed when they’d made love. He also craved the healing passion of her embrace and the mind-shattering pleasure of sinking into the hot, wet depths of her body. Most of all, he wanted the love she’d voiced to last ten lifetimes.
David felt his body’s reaction to his fantasies, and he consciously put the brakes on his rising need. Approaching Emma, he stopped her restless pacing by stepping into her path and forcing her to acknowledge his presence. “Relax, babe. We’re halfway home.”
She stared up at him, face pale, blue eyes looking dazed. She dug her fingers into his biceps, and her voice quivered as she spoke. “Will they really be able to get us out of here? We can’t go back to that prison. They’ll execute us if we’re taken back there.”
David quickly gathered her against his body. “If the Canadians can’t get us out, we’ll find another way. I promise.”
She turned her face into the curve that joined his broad shoulder and strong neck, her arms snaking around his waist. “I feel like I’m on the verge of screaming my lungs out, and I can’t stop shaking.”
“You’ve held in your fear too long. It was bound to come out eventually. You’re just reacting to what we’ve been through tonight. We’ll survive this together, so scream or cry or kick something. Do whatever you need to do, because when you’re finished, I’ll still be here with you. I’m not going anywhere without you.”
Tears filled her eyes and fell like hot summer rain, wetting his neck and shoulder as he held and comforted her with all of the tenderness and love he felt for her.
David heard footsteps, but he didn’t release Emma. Glancing up, he spotted the senior embassy security officer. The man paused in the open doorway, his expression compassionate as he took in the scene before him.
“You’re in luck,” he said quietly. “Our weekly supply plane arrives tomorrow morning. My people are working out a way to get you two on it without anyone being the wiser. Ambassador Highgate will be down shortly to greet you.” He closed the door once David nodded in response to his news.
Alone again, David guided Emma to one of the couches. He tugged her down beside him and held her against the hard wall of his chest.
“I will never get used to the violence people are capable of inflicting on each other,” she admitted as she swiped at her tears. “Did you see all those poor children and the terror etched into their little faces?” She broke off, unable to continue.
Her pain-riddled voice increased the ache in his heart. He rested his chin atop her head, gently running his hands up and down her arms in an effort to soothe her. Sensing she had more to say, he waited.
“I’m shocked we’ve made it this far.”
He eased her onto his lap and encircled her with his arms. His own anxiety had nearly eaten him alive during the previous twenty-four hours. Like Emma, he was amazed that their luck hadn’t run out yet.
As for the violence they’d witnessed and the cruelty they’d endured, the warrior in him couldn’t muster any surprise. Good and evil existed, and episodes of inexplicable inhumanity occurred a
cross the globe on a daily basis.
“David?”
He glanced down at her upturned face. Wide-eyed, lashes still damp from her tears, and dangerously pale, she stared at him. He ignored the faint warning of his conscience, lowered his head, and settled his mouth over hers. His emotions burst out of him like a runaway freight train, and he claimed her mouth, plunging his tongue into its depths.
Emma arched into him, too hungry for him not to respond with equally fervent passion. With a throaty moan she abandoned herself to his seductive assault even as she derived comfort within his fierce embrace. A rough brand of sensuality tinged their appetites for each other, making them breathless, reducing them to quivering nerve endings and the most basic instincts.
Several minutes passed before they heard a firm knock on the door of the suite. Protected from view by David’s large frame, Emma shuddered and sagged against him. He held her, allowing them both time to pull themselves together before they faced their unexpected audience.
They reluctantly eased apart. Emma gave David a faintly wry smile. Despite the desire still flaring in his body, he was beyond being embarrassed. At the moment he cared little about what anyone thought of him. His sole concern – securing safe passage out of the Middle East for Emma.
He reluctantly stood, crossed the room, and pulled open the door. A pleasant-looking man in his mid-sixties stood there. David stepped aside to allow him entry.
“Major Winslow, Miss Hamilton, welcome to Canadian soil, despite the limited borders of this particular piece of real estate. I’m Ambassador Highgate,” the man said, shaking hands with David once he entered the suite’s parlor. “First, let me assure you both that you’ll be safe here. I must say, it’s a relief to see that you’re alive and in fairly good health. We only recently learned that you were being held in the same prison cellblock.”
“You have excellent informants, Mr. Ambassador.” David sat back down beside a subdued Emma. Reclaiming her hand, he was relieved to discover that she’d stopped shaking. “We appreciate your hospitality, sir.” He waited for the ambassador, a gray-haired, pipe-smoking gentleman clad in silk pajamas, smoking jacket, and leather slippers, to settle comfortably on the opposite couch before he prompted, “Your security officer mentioned message traffic.”
The ambassador nodded. “All very secure, I assure you. Once we confirmed that you and Miss Hamilton were still alive, we immediately notified your State Department. We’ve been in constant touch with them for the last few weeks.”
The older man leaned forward and tapped the contents of his pipe into a crystal ashtray. “We knew, of course, about your last mission, Major. The American, Canadian, and European media people haven’t let the story die, especially since reconnaissance missions were, and still are, legitimate features of the U.N.’s cease-fire agreement, but it wasn’t until Miss Hamilton was placed in your cellblock that one of our more reliable information sources identified your precise location and reported back to us.”
“We weren’t certain that anyone even knew where we were,” Emma remarked. A thought occurred to her, so she voiced it. “An elderly man working in the prison kitchen gave me two oranges several days ago.”
He smiled benignly at her. “Certain diplomatic sources, which will have to remain unnamed to ensure their safety, assured us that Major Winslow was still alive, although we were routinely denied an opportunity to see him on behalf of our American colleagues. We conveyed what little we knew to the appropriate officials in Washington on a regular basis, but our inability to verify your physical well-being, Major, left us very concerned and at a distinct disadvantage.”
“They could have executed me right away,” David said bluntly. “Fortunately they considered me an interesting diversion and kept me around for their amusement.”
The ambassador clearly understood his meaning, but he was tactful enough to refrain from further comment. Instead, he turned his attention to Emma. “And you, Miss Hamilton. You were missed almost immediately. First by our Miss Winthrop, who said you failed to attend a dinner engagement, and then by the Child Feed authorities in Europe and in America, your family, the U.S. State Department, and representatives of the United Nations, who’ve all been lobbying for access to you by the Red Cross since you went missing. It took us a few days and several bribes, but we finally established that you’d been detained by the secret police because of your lack of proper travel documents. We concluded that you’d probably been robbed and were attempting to make your way to safety. Unfortunately, we were also denied an opportunity for a face-to-face visit with you.”
Emma nodded. “That’s pretty much what happened. You obviously tried to help us, Ambassador Highgate, so please don’t apologize. It’s a relief to know that someone was trying to ascertain our situations, especially since we don’t have an embassy here.”
“Well, you’re out of that miserable place now.” He pushed up to his feet, cradling his pipe in the palm of his hand. “You must be exhausted, my dear.”
“We both are,” she admitted. “Would it be possible for me to speak with Mary?”
“I’m afraid that Miss Winthrop is absent from the embassy at present. She took home leave to be with her father, but she was very concerned about you and asked me to keep an eye out for you.”
Emma straightened in alarm. “He didn’t have another heart attack, did he?”
The ambassador didn’t try to conceal his surprise. “You do know our Mary and her family quite well, don’t you?”
Emma nodded. “We’ve been friends since college.”
“Mary’s father is getting a pacemaker. Tomorrow, I believe. It seems he’s finally strong enough to undergo the surgery.”
Emma sagged with obvious relief. “David and I hid in her house today. I left her a note. She’ll know where to look for it when she returns.”
The ambassador walked around the long, low coffee table that separated him from David and Emma. They stood, too.
“Since the secret police rarely release their prisoners except, of course, in a casket, I’m left to assume that you engineered your own escape. Care to tell me how you managed it, or would you prefer to wait for a debriefing by your own people?”
David smiled the satisfied smile of a man who’d survived in spite of staggering odds. “It was nothing more than an accident of fate, sir. Someone blew out the wall in our cellblock during a rocket attack about twenty-four hours ago. We took off, and we’ve been on the run ever since.”
Ambassador Highgate shook his head in wonder. David concluded by his expression that, had they been caught, they would have faced a firing squad or a public beheading televised by Al-Jazeera.
“Amazing! As I indicated, we repeatedly attempted to gain access to you both via diplomatic channels. Storming the prison wasn’t an option, I’m afraid, although there was some indication — rather an oblique indication, I might add — that one of your covert military teams was preparing to try to extract you, Major.”
David nodded. He’d prayed that such an attempt would be made on his behalf. Despite the fact that the mission hadn’t occurred, he still appreciated the fact that he hadn’t been abandoned or forgotten.
“What about our families?” Emma asked. “Can we let them know we’re all right?”
“Not a good idea, my dear, at least not right now. There’s always the risk that information about you could leak, no matter how secure our communications system might be. If that were to happen, then you’d compromise my staff and you could easily find yourselves permanent residents of the embassy. Until cooler heads prevail in the government and the current dictator is ousted, a siege mentality prevails in this country. It wouldn’t do for you to be trapped here indefinitely.”
David squeezed Emma’s hand and glanced down at her. “Patience, babe.”
She smiled for the first time that night, aware that her eagerness to be free had momentarily eclipsed the reality of their situation.
“Your State Department and military wil
l handle notification of your families,” the ambassador continued. “My people will focus on getting you two out of the country at the earliest possible moment, which will probably be tomorrow morning, if Mr. Winston, our security officer, has his way. He was once with British Intelligence, so you can probably imagine some of the clandestine tricks he’s got up his sleeve for occasions such as this one.”
Emma smothered a yawn as she leaned against David. The ambassador appeared sympathetic to her obvious fatigue.
“Why don’t you get some rest, Miss Hamilton? One of my aides will arrive shortly with refreshments for you, as I’m certain your meals haven’t been of a sumptuous nature in recent weeks.” Gesturing with a free hand, he explained, “This is the parlor for a two-bedroom suite. Each bedroom has a private bath. If you need medical attention, we have a physician and a nurse on staff, and your laundry can be seen to while you rest.”
“Thank you, Ambassador Highgate, for everything.” Emma stepped forward. “All I really need is a long soak in a hot tub and some sleep. I’m afraid the stress of dodging bullets has worn me out.”
“Certainly, my dear.” He took her extended hand, his manner reflecting the courtliness of a by-gone era as he gently patted it. “You’ve obviously been very courageous throughout your ordeal. If you were my daughter, I know I’d be enormously proud of you.”
She flushed, thinking that any courage she possessed had come from David. She glanced at the man who dominated both her heart and her thoughts.
The ambassador turned to David. “Major, I’ll need to speak with you privately before you retire. Your State Department will require certain verification information, as I’m certain you already realize. After that, your time is your own until Mr. Winston is ready for you tomorrow morning.”
“Certainly, sir.” David hugged Emma and promised quietly, “I’ll be back soon.”
She nodded, flashed a parting smile at the ambassador, and made her way to the bedroom. She closed the door behind her and sank back against it. Looking around the finely-appointed room, she couldn’t help comparing it to the filthy cell she’d recently occupied. Emma shivered, cast aside the memory, and headed for the bathroom.