Dark Oil

by Nora James

  Jack glanced around, too, and through the rising dust and increasing chaos he saw Martin had moved and was now crouched behind the food delivery van, not too far away. “Stay down and hold on.”

  The car’s tyres screeched as Jack controlled swerving that would have caused most drivers to roll the car, but this one stayed firmly planted on the ground. They stopped so close to the van they nearly hit it. Without a word, Martin clambered into the back, his face white, his eyes bulging with fear.

  Jack pressed the accelerator to the floor and, swinging the car around ninety degrees, headed straight for the gates. He heard the sound of an explosion and in the rear view mirror saw orange flames tinged with blue engulf one side of the palace.

  A few men ran behind them, aiming their rifles at the car. “Stay down. They’re coming after us.”

  The speedometer went from zero to eighty in just a few seconds. Ahead was freedom and they were near, so near now, to salvation. Then Jack caught his breath, and it wasn’t because of the burning sensation in his leg.

  The iron gates had begun to move. Someone was operating them. Would they make it through? He wasn’t sure. The words that crossed his mind at that moment, the words he couldn’t utter, shocked him as they resonated in his mind. “I love you, Lara. I love you.”

  He closed his eyes, his foot stiffening on the accelerator, and prayed they would fly through, out onto the road and to safety, before the creaking gates shut on them.

  XXIII

  Lara heard a bang followed by the cold grinding of metal against metal. She knew the car had been hit although she had no idea where, as she kept her head down to avoid the flying bullets of the assailants of the presidential palace. The noise seemed to be coming from everywhere.

  Jack had told her to stay down, but she couldn’t help herself. She had to see what was happening. Her heart beating faster than she ever thought possible, she sat up for an instant, just long enough to take in the cause of the metallic sound. When she understood what was happening, she cried out in fear. The gates to the palace were crushing the car as they closed.

  They were trapped. She didn’t want to die here, in this God forsaken land, flattened by a gate. Or a bullet in her head. She couldn’t bear to think of her family. How would her poor, sick mother cope? And Aunt Beth? Besides, Lara certainly wasn’t ready for heaven, or hell, or nothingness, if that was what really happened to you.

  “Sit in the middle. Both of you.” Jack was firm but incredibly calm given the situation and Lara wondered how he did it. He must have had quite some training in the army to be able to handle this kind of danger. It was lucky he had joined them at the last minute. No, it was a miracle, in fact, that his deputy Justin Meyer hadn’t replaced him, otherwise Lara, Justin and Martin would already be dead, all three of them, or taken prisoners, brutalised, haggled over. . .she couldn’t bear to think of it.

  With Jack she felt they stood a chance. She scrambled over to his side. As she glanced up at him she saw a bead of sweat forming on his temple, the first sign of the feelings he must have been keeping a lid on. “Hold on!” he screamed above the screeching noise.

  Lara felt the car reverse, then heard the revving and roaring of the engine. She looked up again and saw they were heading straight for the gates, which were now half closed, at full speed. She put her arms around her head and prepared for the crash.

  A deafening clunk surprised her. She peeked through the windscreen and saw one of the gates had lifted off its hinges and was flying through the air. It came crashing down onto the car, denting the roof, then striking the side. The shock, combined with the movement of the car as Jack manoeuvred it as best he could, threw Lara about and she knocked her head on the dashboard.

  Jack put his arm in front of her, gently pushing her back. “Are you all right?”

  She wasn’t. She was shocked by everything she had just seen. She was terrified they wouldn’t make it out of there. Her head hurt, too, but not enough to worry her. There were still bullets flying behind them. “I’ll be OK. Just get us out of here.”

  Jack did as he was told, burning rubber as he sped through the opening left by the now unhinged gate. Within minutes they were down the street, the peaceful, green, tree-lined street. Laughter bubbled out of Jack uncontrollably, freely, without restraint. Lara could tell it was the laughter of an unexpected victory and it was contagious.

  Lara felt the joy force its way up from her belly and she laughed, too. She checked the rear view mirror and saw no one. It looked like their attackers, now themselves pursued by those of the President’s men who had remained faithful to him, had bigger fish to fry. “We did it!” she exclaimed, hardly able to believe it herself.

  She put her hand on Jack’s arm, squeezing it gently as a gesture of thanks. What she really wanted was to kiss him, feel his lips on hers and hold him against her body. It was nothing more than a moment of folly, a trick of the mind as relief washed through her. Besides, Martin was in the back—just as well. She settled for a compliment. “You did it. You saved us. You’re amazing, Jack Norton.”

  He looked into her eyes and for a second it would have been easy, so easy, to forget about Martin and what Tim had done to her, to forget about reason. It would have been easy to forget about everything but the man next to her who, somehow, whenever she least wanted it, made her tremble with the anticipation of pleasure.

  She wasn’t going to fall for his magnetism, though, wasn’t going to find herself in a trap again, with another womaniser. She quickly took away her hand, bringing it to her stomach, not just to avoid lingering on Jack’s arm and escape that burning gaze, but to try to calm the sensation of nausea that suddenly overwhelmed her. It had been a while since they’d eaten. That must have been why she felt so sick. She hadn’t even realised how hungry she was until now.

  Jack took his eyes off the road once again and turned to her. Although it was only for an instant there was something deeper about his gaze, something more meaningful in the way he smiled now. It made her want to take him in her arms and hold onto him.

  She wouldn’t, of course, she wouldn’t—ever. She’d made up her mind about that. It was annoying that her body kept reacting to this man’s charm. Granted, he’d just saved her life, but that didn’t mean she had to repay him with sexual favours. This wasn’t some Hollywood movie. More than that, she wouldn’t give him, or anyone else, her heart.

  Jack glanced towards the back seat. “Are you all right, Martin?”

  “I’m alive.”

  “Bengali’s the traitor.” Jack was very matter-of-fact about it, as if he’d discovered hundreds of traitors before.

  He was probably right, too. It made perfect sense. Bengali was the one who had brought them the news of their appointment with the President. Bengali must have been the one who had let government officials into the house to install cameras and phone taps.

  Now that he was again in relative safety, Martin’s voice and colour returned. “Wait ‘til I get my hands on him. I’m going to make sure he’s arrested today.”

  Jack shook his head. “No you won’t. The way things are going there might not be any police to arrest him. In any case I’m not driving you back to the house.” Martin frowned. “What? Where are we going?”

  “To the airport.”

  Lara thought the airport sounded perfect, except it was Monday. “There aren’t any flights out today.”

  Martin’s face grew red, the colour intensifying by the second. “Not only that, we need to discuss things first with Alan. I’m not sure he would approve.”

  Jack looked at Martin in the mirror. “Discuss things with Alan? This country is falling apart. The danger in staying here is pretty obvious to me. Of course, Alan would approve. He wouldn’t want us to stay if there’s such a great risk to our safety, and anyway there comes a stage when it really doesn’t matter if he disapproves.”

  Jack’s face had become pale and his speech was punctuated by deep breaths. Every now and then he bit his lower
lip. “Are you all right?” Lara asked. She could tell he was in pain, probably more than he was letting on.

  “I might need to drink a litre of vodka.” His smile was lop-sided. “Either that or get to hospital.”

  Once again Lara had an irresistible urge to take him in her arms, to care for this man who had shown no hesitation in putting her life first. He had shielded her with his body from bullets, had taken a shot while he told her to stay down. If only he wasn’t trouble, but Martin had warned her enough. Besides, you couldn’t trust any man, could you? Tim had proved that point to her. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  Still, Jack had put her first, before himself, in a life and death situation. The least she could do was help now. “Let me drive. Please.”

  He shook his head.

  “Please.”

  “I’m OK. We’re nearly there anyway. And just in case someone starts shooting at us again, I’d rather be behind the wheel. No offence to your driving skills.” He smiled at her and she could see that it took quite some effort for him. “You OK? You look a bit white.”

  Lara shrugged. “It’s nothing. I’m hungry, I think. Beyond hungry, actually. I can get a bit—–”

  Martin, as snappy as ever, cut her off. “We don’t even have our passports. What makes you think they’ll give them to us? And how do you think we’re going to get out? We’re not going to be safer at the airport.”

  Jack ignored Martin’s acerbic tone and answered as calmly as if the conversation had been about preparing a picnic or going to the movies. “I made arrangements after Oman told us there might be a coup.”

  Martin showed no sign of relenting. “So we sit at the airport for two days until the next plane? Come on!”

  Lara felt a surge of annoyance mixed with disgust. Jack had put his own life on the line to save them. He had gone back to pick up Martin when he was trapped behind the delivery van, and this was how Martin repaid him.

  “Don’t you get it?” she heard herself ask, in an unusually dry manner. It sounded like the voice was not hers. “Jack may not have the perfect plan, but it’s a plan and anyway he saved your life!”

  Martin’s eyes narrowed to a slit. “Well, maybe, but only after he destroyed it. I don’t need to be grateful to Jack. Ever. He owes me.”

  Jack spoke through his teeth. “You didn’t need me to destroy your life! You did that all by yourself.”

  Martin threw his hands into the air. “Is that so? So why did I find you with my wife? Ange was my wife, damn it!”

  Lara gasped. That’s why Martin hated Jack so much. It all made sense now. But how could he? How could Jack, a man so noble and courageous, a man so kind and understanding, take another man’s wife? His colleague’s wife at that?

  Perhaps it was what he always did. Perhaps that was what he liked. He was a man who didn’t want to commit to anyone, so what better way to enjoy himself than to court married women? She looked down at the ring on her finger, Tim’s ring. She was still wearing it, even though she couldn’t wait to take it off. It was the first thing she’d do when she got back home.

  She glanced at Jack. Yes, he still thought she was happily married. Maybe he was noble in everything except matters of the heart. She knew there were men like that, men who thought that anything was fair when it came to love. Or rather, when it came to sex.

  She had felt Jack getting closer to her, closer and closer over the past few months. She’d had to focus, to muster all her strength not to think of him in that way, at least not too often. Had he been manipulating her, gently, imperceptibly nudging her in the right direction? Was that the kind of man he was? Were all men really like that? Behind the soft voices, the apparently sincere smiles, well hidden from wives and official girlfriends, lay the need to bed as many women as possible, to spread their seed—a legacy of the caveman, they’d argue. She rubbed her chin. Jack drew another long breath. “Let’s not do this, Martin. Not now. We need to leave the country and get to safety. There aren’t any flights to Europe today, but we’ll manage something. We can talk all you want after that.”

  Martin, who had been leaning forward, flung himself back into his seat and the three of them remained silent for the rest of the ride.

  They pulled up in the car park of the airport and got out of the car. Jack rummaged around for something to bandage up his bleeding leg. He found an old towel in the back boot, tore it and wrapped it around his calf under his pants.

  Lara offered Jack her arm, but this time not because of what she felt for him, not because it was Jack. She would have done the same for anyone who had taken a bullet. He thanked her with a smile, but she thought his face seemed harder now, his green eyes cooler and more cunning.

  Her perception of him had altered since Martin’s outburst and she felt even more certain she had to stay away from men—especially Jack. Here was a man whose company she had come to enjoy more than anyone else’s, yet it was patently obvious she couldn’t trust him.

  He’d probably had ulterior motives for nearly everything he had done. All the smiles, the polite gestures, the jokes, they’d all been orchestrated to prepare her mentally, soften her up, so he’d get into her pants. That’s the kind of man he was. He took wives. He had stolen Ange from Martin, and Lara was next in line. Well, did she have news for him!

  “What’s going on in there?” Jack pointed to her forehead.

  “Nothing.” How could she tell him what she was thinking? But then, how could she not? She really wanted to hear his side of the story. He deserved a chance to tell it, too. Innocent until proven guilty. She’d always believed in that, even if she fully expected a confession of adultery. “Did you?” she whispered, so that Martin, who was now walking ahead of them, wouldn’t hear.

  “Did I what?”

  She swallowed hard. Asking these questions, these very personal questions, was admitting to herself that she felt something for Jack. That admission was hard to face. “With Ange?”

  When Jack’s gaze, piercing, steady and full of emotion, met hers, she shivered. “Why does it matter to you?” he asked, his voice a deep caress.

  It mattered to her for so many reasons. It mattered because she wanted to know that there were men who were honourable and never took advantage of a woman. It mattered because she had had such a high opinion of Jack, even if that had now changed. It mattered because. . .

  The words that came to her mind shocked her. She couldn’t believe she had formulated them. Where had they come from? She felt wrong and ridiculous straight away.

  It mattered because she was falling in love with him. How could she have thought that? It simply wasn’t possible. She couldn’t be falling in love. It was a stupid trick of the mind. She must be in shock. Post traumatic stress—that was the only explanation. Could it do that to you?

  She nodded. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter to me. It’s none of my business.” She looked away, unable to face him as she said it.

  They reached the Customs office after what seemed an endless walk arm-in-arm. Jack let go of Lara and limped through the door unaided. Martin, who had walked ahead without waiting for them, was already there, standing at the counter. Ismael, behind the counter, reached into a drawer and pulled out the passports as soon as he saw Jack.

  “Bless you Ismael.” Jack took the documents.

  “And you, Mr Jack.” Ismael smiled at Lara. “Mr Jack is a good man. A very good man.”

  Jack wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “We have to get out of here. Are there any flights today, to anywhere, do you know?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m sure you have seen there is some trouble in the city. The planes are all grounded. President’s orders.”

  Lara felt the knot in her stomach tighten. They were stuck in Zakra, no longer just a place of disease, sand and corruption, but now also a country of exploding palaces and resonating gunshots. Jack was losing blood and before long she and Martin, at least, would be losing their courage.

  There had to be a way.
“Emergencies?” Lara asked. “What if an important person is injured and requires urgent hospitalisation?” There was no hospital in Zakra, only a few doctors that performed minor day surgery if required.

  “We have some helicopters,” said Ismael.

  “Then a helicopter it is. Mr Jack has been shot. He is second in charge to Global Oil’s CEO, so a very important person.”

  Ismael’s eyes widened as Jack showed him his bleeding calf. “You are hurt! Yes, wait here. I will get it organised.”

  Martin frowned. “Second in charge?”

  Lara stomped on his foot. “A direct report to the CEO.” That was true, and Ismael probably didn’t know the difference. She glared at Martin, as did Jack.

  Martin, who at first seemed troubled, quickly regained his composure. “Yes, that’s right. He is.”

  “I will call you when the helicopter is ready. Wait here.” Ismael rushed out the front door and onto the tarmac.

  Jack dragged himself behind the counter and found a phone. “We need to tell Dave what’s happened. Just in case he doesn’t know yet. I’m sure he has instructions to follow if there’s instability.”

  Dave Maine wasn’t there and when no one else answered Jack left a message. “I hope they’re all right.”

  Lara nodded. “They’ve probably already evacuated to a safe place.”

  A few minutes later Ismael returned and ushered them out. “Go to the helicopter one after the other. As usual, keep your heads down after that yellow line on the ground or the blades will hit you. The helicopter can take you as far as Rabat. Good luck.”

  The noise of the chopper was astounding. Lara had seen plenty of them in movies, and had noticed people screaming to communicate, but had never realised just how loud they really were. She sat in the back next to Jack, and put on ear muffs for protection.

  The helicopter hovered a little, then lifted them straight up into the sky. They were heading to the Moroccan capital, where they would find good medical assistance and frequent flights to Europe.