Jensen didn’t have a very good view of the alley from the front of the car, so she moved around behind the guard and spotted Michael just as he entered the jail.
She quickly went back to the hood, leaned over the engine to give the guard a better view, and smiled at him.
He signaled her to try to start the car.
Jensen climbed inside, pushed in the clutch and turned the key in the ignition. The Hummer sounded as though it wanted to start. It really seemed to make a hopeful effort, but whined to a stop.
The guard fiddled with the wiring a little more, then made the starting motion again.
She complied.
The car made the same noise.
Jensen got out of the car and leaned over the engine again. Poor guy. If only he knew she was more tissue than flesh in the area that interested him the most.
She tried to be helpful, pointing first at one part of the engine. and then another—making sure he didn’t give up too quickly.
She indicated the radiator coolant.
He shook his head.
Then she pointed at the battery.
He shook his head again.
Straightening, she walked around behind him again and glanced down the alley. Michael was there with Henry in tow and they were nearly halfway to the car.
Jensen was so happy to see her brother alive and well that she wanted to run to him, but confined herself to a secret smile and went back to the engine to watch the guard while he fiddled.
She was growing a little afraid that he might break the car for real because he was doing some serious poking around.
Finally she spotted Ali walking toward them. He spoke to the guard and the two men both leaned under the hood. Ali pointed to the wire he’d loosened earlier. The guard nodded and reattached it, then signaled Jensen to try the engine again.
This time, of course, the car started perfectly and the guard felt like a hero. Surely no one was more surprised than he at his good luck in finding just the right wire.
The guard beamed at her, proud of being her rescuer, and she smiled warmly back.
As Ali went on his way down the street, Jensen tried to drive off, but the guard didn’t want her to leave. She couldn’t understand the language, but it was clear enough that she was being invited back to the jail for some tea.
Jensen smilingly tapped the face of her watch as if to say that she had no time.
He looked at her pleadingly.
Jensen shrugged her shoulders sympathetically and pointed at her watch again, managing to appear regretful, then put the car into gear and headed down the street.
The guard watched her for a few moments then, heaving a great sigh, headed back toward the jail.
Jensen turned the corner and saw Ali waiting for her. As she stopped the car, Ali signaled to her to get out so he could drive.
“Chauvinist,” she said, only half joking as she walked around the car.
A man shouted.
Both Jensen and Ali looked up, suddenly alert.
For a single, horrified moment, Jensen thought it was the guard chasing them down. But then she saw four men walking toward her. She recognized the one in the lead instantly as the man in the desert who had tried to buy her from Michael.
And he was looking straight at her.
“Ali,” she said uncertainly. “What do we do?”
He looked in the direction she was looking, but by that time it was too late. The men were upon them. Before Ali could react, he was hit from behind by one of the men who had circled around behind him and went down, unconscious.
Jensen ran to help him, but the man from the desert grabbed her around the waist and tossed her over his shoulder as though she were nothing more than a rag doll.
Jensen wasn’t about to go easily. She slammed her foot hard into his groin, but he just kept walking.
She grabbed his headdress and pulled it off, then grabbed a handful of his greasy hair and yanked on it as hard as she could.
The man suddenly stopped walking, set her on the ground and slugged her.
Jensen felt a blinding pain in her head, absolute disbelief that she’d been hit—and then nothing.
Michael was nervously pacing, repeatedly checking for Ali’s car. “They should have been back by now,” he said.
Henry, who looked like a male version of his sister with his blond hair and green eyes, agreed. “Maybe we should go back and look for them.”
“Not you. You stay here.”
Henry was firm. “No. This is my baby sister we’re talking about. If Jen’s in trouble because of me, then I need to get her out.”
Michael put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Let me go on my own just to see what’s going on. You can’t go showing your face in town. If you get caught, you won’t be able to help anybody, much less Jensen. If I find out that she needs us, I’ll come back for you.”
Michael climbed into the car and was backing out of the driveway when Ali pulled up beside him with a squeal of brakes.
The first thing Michael noticed was that Jensen wasn’t in the car. He physically felt his heart sink. “What happened?” he all but yelled as he jumped out of the car.
Ali, his head bloodied, walked over to him. “She was taken by the nomad.”
“How did it happen?”
“He and some of his men came down the street at the same time your Jensen was picking me up. They caught us both by surprise, knocked me out and grabbed her.”
“Did you see anything? Do you even know what direction they went in?” asked Michael as he dragged his fingers through his hair.
“No.”
“She could be anywhere,” he said hoarsely.
Henry came flying out of the house. “What’s going on?”
“She’s gone,” said Michael.
“Gone?”
“Kidnapped.”
“By whom? Why?”
“A nomad. His name is Habib. We came across him in the desert only a couple of days ago. He tried to buy Jensen from me.”
“Oh, my God. What do we do?”
Michael pulled himself together. He had to. “Okay. He probably stayed in town. If he were to head for the desert, we’d stand a good chance of finding him and he knows that. In town, our chances are a lot slimmer.”
“What do you suppose he wants with her?”
Michael looked at Henry, but didn’t say anything.
Henry’s jaw tightened. “If he so much as lays a finger on her, so help me, I’ll kill the jerk.”
“We have to be realistic. Habib has taken Jensen because he wants her, and he may well—he may harm her. And when he’s finished, he’ll probably try to sell her. She’ll bring him a very good price on the open market.”
“But the slave auction is going on today. Surely he won’t want to give her up so quickly?”
“Of course not. But there are private buyers who wait a lifetime for a prize like your sister. All he has to do is shop her around, and he can do that at his leisure.”
Henry was at a loss. He’d been following the slave market story long enough to know what happened to the women who got caught in the net. “What are we going to do, Michael? This can’t happen to my sister. She’ll never survive it.”
Michael felt physically ill, but he still managed to put a comforting hand on Henry’s shoulder. “The first thing I’m going to do is send out search planes. This guy travels on horseback. As I said, I don’t think he went into the desert, but if he did, he won’t get far.”
“And if he’s in town?”
“This requires a little more delicacy. I can’t do anything that will be perceived by Sheik Ahmed as aggression against him or his rule. He has a quick temper and loves to fight. And, frankly, he’s wanted to get his hands on my country ever since he took over his father’s throne. He must have no excuse to retaliate against anything I do.”
“Which leaves us where?” asked Henry.
“I’m going to bring in plainclothesmen to mingle with t
he general population to ask questions and quietly search for Jensen.”
“You could be wrong about Habib’s intention of keeping her for himself for a while. What if he’s selling her even as we’re standing here?” Henry asked.
“I really don’t think he will. He wants Jensen for himself.”
“But how can you know that with any certainty?”
Michael met Henry’s eyes. “I saw the way he looked at her when we were in the desert.”
Henry’s eyes grew steely. “So what do we do first?”
Michael turned to Ali. “Are you all right, my friend? Your head looks as though it needs to be tended.”
“I’m fine. There’s no time to waste on me. We must find your Jensen.”
“Yes,” agreed Michael. “And quickly. The first thing I need you to do is get Henry a robe and headdress so he’s less conspicuous.”
“It will be done,” said Ali. Then he turned to Henry. “I swear to you on my life that I will find your sister and return her safely to you. She was entrusted to my care and I let her down. The nomad Habib will regret this day’s work.”
Ali had a look in his eye that made Henry grateful they were on the same side. “Thank you.”
Michael nodded. “All right. I’m going to leave now and begin checking the slave auction. You wait here for your clothes and then stay with Ali.”
“But I thought you said she wouldn’t be there,” said Henry.
“We have to start somewhere. If there’s even a small chance she’s at the auction, we can’t afford to overlook it.”
It was the jostling that caused Jensen to regain consciousness. That, and the pain in her jaw.
She slowly opened her eyes and saw steps.
Steps?
She had been tossed over someone’s shoulder, her hands and feet bound and a blanket thrown over her. Jensen wriggled, trying to set herself free.
A hand crashed down on her rear end, painfully hard. Jensen cried out.
She heard a door being kicked open. She was carried into a room and thrown carelessly onto a bed.
The man who had slugged Jensen now stood before her, arms akimbo as he looked down at her. He snapped his fingers at someone, but never took his eyes from her.
A moment later a man handed him a bottle. He grabbed her by the hair.
Jensen screamed. As soon as she opened her mouth, he poured in the liquid from the bottle. Jensen choked on it, swallowing some, spitting out what she could back into the man’s face.
He set the bottle down and, still grasping her hair, crashed his hand into her face again. It didn’t knock her out this time, but it hurt. The nomad pushed her back on the bed and leered down at her. He said something in Arabic that made another man in the room laugh. Then he leaned over Jensen and pinched her nose until she had to open her mouth for air, then poured more of the liquid into her.
When he’d finished, he stuffed a rag into her mouth, then just stood there watching as the drug slowly and completely drained the fight from her helpless body.
Jensen fought to stay awake. She was terrified of losing what little control she had.
And she wanted to know exactly what was happening to her at all times. But the drug was too strong for her. Warm, furious tears ran from the corners of her eyes into her hair. Tears of rage and frustration and helplessness.
Her eyelids fluttered shut.
Michael, she screamed silently. Where are you?
Then everything went black.
Chapter Eleven
Michael went straight to the seedy restaurant he’d stopped at the night before and used the phone in the back to call his minister of defense. He had a satellite phone, but didn’t want the call to be picked up or monitored in any way.
“We have a problem.”
“Your Highness?”
“I’m calling from Adjani. An American woman who was with me was kidnapped this morning. I want airplanes dispatched to search the desert near here.”
“To look for?”
“Any nomadic activity in the areas of Adjani within a one-hundred-miles radius.”
“That means flying in air space that doesn’t belong to us. We need the permission of the sheik of Adjani.”
“Then get it. Just don’t tell him the reason. This is strictly a need to know operation.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I also want land vehicles sent to blanket the area with nonuniformed soldiers and a dozen men sent to Adjani to coordinate a complete search of the city.”
“We’re getting into extremely dangerous and touchy territory, Your Highness. Perhaps, since the woman is an American, we should let the Americans handle it on their own and not put ourselves in the way of so much overt risk.”
“No. Jensen O’Hara was and remains my responsibility. I, whether it’s personally or by the efforts of my country, will be the one who finds her. Do you understand?”
“Yes, of course. But I must reemphasize that this should be done through proper channels with authorities in Adjani. Otherwise our movements could be considered a declaration of war.”
“Ahmed knows me better than that.”
“But his ministers don’t. You’re new to this job. They don’t have your measure yet.”
“I don’t want police or any other local law enforcement here informed. I’m very firm on that point.”
“Including the sheik?”
“No. He should be made aware that she’s missing, but not of our search.”
“You’re aware that he will speak only with you. I, as your minster of defense, would not be considered important enough to pass information to him directly.”
“Protocol.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If he’s in the city, set up a meeting for me with him as soon as possible.”
“Of course.”
“I just hate the waste of time. We need to find Jensen and we need to find her now.”
“Are you certain she’s still in the vicinity?”
“She was taken less than an hour ago. The only airfield around here belongs to the sheik. She’s either in the city or just outside it with the nomad Habib. So yes, I’m sure she’s in the vicinity. I just need to precisely pinpoint where.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I don’t want anyone who isn’t handpicked by you or me to know about the fact that Jensen is missing or the steps we’re taking to find her. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And I want men sent into the city to search for her now, not after my meeting with Ahmed. Surely even Ahmed wouldn’t consider looking for a kidnapped woman an act of aggression. Have them helicoptered to our country’s border and then driven the rest of the way to avoid an obvious entry into the city.”
“It will be done just as you ask.”
“I’ll call you back regarding my meeting with Ahmed as soon as it’s occurred. Never mind making an appointment. I’m here. I’ll just show up on his doorstep. He won’t turn me away.”
“Your Highness, there’s one other matter. The young man named Yusef who first made us aware of Miss O’Hara’s plight a few days ago returned today claiming he had uncovered more information regarding her brother’s disappearance.”
“That’s old news. Send the boy home. We’ve already recovered Henry.”
“He seems to believe that the imprisonment of your friend was not what it appeared to be on the surface.”
“Then what was it?”
“He refuses to speak with anyone but you. He says you’re the only one he trusts. And that it’s a matter of life and death.”
Michael hesitated. He didn’t like dragging a boy into this, but he needed all the help he could get. “Find him and have him brought here to me.”
“It will be done.”
“Thank you.”
When he’d hung up the phone, Michael just stood there completely still. He was sick at the thought of what might be happening to Jensen at that moment.
And furious at h
is helplessness to stop it.
“I’ll find you, Jensen O’Hara,” he whispered. “Wherever you are—however long it takes—I’ll find you. And I’ll make whoever did this to you pay.”
The marketplace was on the outskirts of the town, in the opposite direction of the house he’d rented. The Hummer barely made it through the narrow maze of streets. But suddenly everything opened up to a large plaza teeming with men in robes and expensive suits, their headdresses a bobbing sea of color.
Michael found a spot to park, put on sunglasses to cover his blue eyes and joined the crowd of robed and suited buyers. It took some maneuvering, but he worked his way through the mass of men to the stage where a man was shouting about the fine physical qualities to be found in the young woman standing passively beside him, her arms bound behind her back, her face half-hidden by a shock of red hair.
He watched as the bidding began, feeing ill, but helpless to stop what was happening. He’d known about this since childhood, but it had never really affected him. It was accepted and rarely discussed.
There was some lively bidding for the woman. In the end, she went to an older man for a moderate price and was led off the stage to be paid for and picked up by her new owner.
While another woman—this one clearly drugged—was being brought up, Michael got closer to the stage and signaled to the auctioneer that he wanted to talk to him.
The man leaned down.
“I’m looking for someone very specific,” Michael said. “About so high—” he motioned with his hand “—long blond hair, green eyes, very beautiful. Have you seen anyone like that today?”
“A couple.”
“Have they already been sold?”
“No. We save those for last. They keep our bidders around. We sell more.”
“I want to see them.”
“No, no. We never allow potential bidders any previews of the merchandise.”
Michael looked around and discreetly handed him the equivalent of a hundred dollars.
The auctioneer looked over Michael’s head to see if anyone was watching. “Double it, my friend, and you can tell the guards at the gate I said to let you in.”
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