April lay quietly staring at the ceiling for twenty minutes before the phone rang.
The U.N.C.L.E. agent let it ring three times before sitting up and swinging her feet to the floor. When she said, "Hello," into the mouthpiece, April made her voice husky, as though it were still heavy with sleep.
"It's five o'clock, Miss Dancer," the desk clerk said.
"Oh, thank you."
Cradling the phone, she yawned audibly. Then April crossed to her suitcase, took out sheer fresh lingerie and carried it into the gleaming bathroom.
She made a second trip to choose an apple green evening dress and green satin shoes with square rhinestone buckles from her wardrobe trunk. April carried these into the bathroom also.
She was starting to close the bathroom door when a thought occurred to her. Returning to the bed-room once more, April carried her purse into the bathroom and closed the door.
She fitted the flesh-colored earplug into her ear. There was no humming sound. Satisfied that the bathroom wasn't bugged, April removed it and dropped it back into her purse.
On the verge of undressing to take a shower, a pixie thought struck her.
Reopening the bathroom door, she crossed over to the dressing table, picked up the tissue box and pulled out a tissue. After rubbing at an imaginary spot on her dress, she dropped the tissue into a waste basket and tossed the box back on the dressing table. It landed some inches to the right of the visual bug, so that the entire room was again in view of the tiny lens.
Humming to herself, April sat on the edge of the bed, her profile to the bug, and stripped off her stockings. She did it slowly, letting the nylon caress her long, well shaped legs as each stocking came off. Then she rose, reached for the zipper at the back of her dress and slowly pulled it down.
April crossed her slender arms to grip the dress on either side, as though preparing to pull it off over her head, then casually walked into the bathroom just as the hem began to rise.
Closing the door, she smiled. She hoped that the dirty old man who was on the receiving end of the visual bug had high blood pressure.
Anticipation should have raised it considerably, and perhaps the sudden letdown had given him a stroke.
After her shower, April emerged from the bathroom fully dressed.
Ranjit Sighn arrived promptly at six. Tonight his turban was centered by a diamond. He wore black formal trousers, black patent-leather pumps and a white jacket.
He was a handsome devil, April had to admit, when she opened the door to his knock. That she had to regard him as an enemy made April feel some regret.
He seemed equally impressed by her appearance. He said slowly, "I didn't think it possible, but you increase in beauty every time I see you, April."
"It must have been my nap," she said lightly. "You're quite handsome yourself this evening."
"Thank you," the sheik said with a bow, and offered his arm to escort her to the elevator.
In London Ranjit Sighn had been so charming and gentlemanly that April had found it difficult to remember he was a tool of THRUSH. Although he had made no secret of the immense attraction he felt for her, he had never attempted any more familiarity than a good night kiss. This, coupled with his air of almost overpowering virility, had intrigued April more than she was willing to admit.
It wasn't until tonight that she got a glimpse of a side of his nature he had never revealed before, and finally realized why he had aligned himself with an organization she regarded as the embodiment of treachery and evil.
It was late in the evening, after a fine dinner and a tour of Cairo's better night spots. They had finally come to a small, quiet native cafe where a stringed quartet softly strummed the discordant notes so pleasing to the eastern ear, but so difficult to appreciate by westerners.
April sipped a glass of dry wine.
Ranjit, who didn't drink alcohol because of his Moslem religion, dawdled over a cup of tea. He dropped a hand on top of one of hers.
"I called you sultana when we first met," he said. "You would make a lovely sultana-mine, dear April."
"Is that a proposal?" she asked lightly.
"Yes."
The simple statement sobered her. After gazing at him for a moment, she squeezed his hand and said, "I'm an American girl, Ranjit. I'm flattered by the offer, but our backgrounds are too far apart I'm afraid I wouldn't be very happy in a tent---no matter how modern---in your desert so far from Rome."
"You would rule beside me over far more than just a desert, April."
"You mean your Riviera chateau and your Swiss chalet? You told me yourself your favorite home was the oasis. Besides, I couldn't leave Christianity and embrace your religion."
"Religion won't be a factor in the world much longer," he said. "That's no problem."
She examined him quizzically.
"What do you mean by that?"
He shrugged. "Religion is a mean of controlling the masses. I go through the forms of my inherited faith because it's one of the things I use to keep my subjects in order. But soon there will be so many more effective means, religion will no longer be necessary as a social control mechanism."
"Soon? And why?"
"Vast revolutionary changes are on the verge of taking place in the world, April. The old orders are going to crumble and new rulers will emerge. I don't plan to remain merely the ruler of an obscure and almost unknown sheikdom forever. I'm going to be one of the powers in the new regime."
"I'm afraid you're over my head," April told him innocently. "Are you talking about the movement to consolidate the Arab states?"
Releasing her hand, he made an impatient gesture. "I'm not talking about anything you've read in the news. This is something the world is going to discover quite suddenly and drastically." His eyes began to burn with a fanaticism April had never before seen in them---a fire so bright and soul-consuming that, she instinctively recoiled. It frightened her.
The sheik was too engrossed by his obsession to notice April's reaction. Fixing her with his burning gaze, Ranjit said, "How would you like to become empress of the entire East?"
So that was what had impelled Ranjit Sighn to barter his soul to THRUSH, she thought. Power. He was selling out his sheikdom, selling out the whole Arab world, even selling out his religion on the promise of being made one of the rulers of the new era.
She would have felt sorry for him if his barter hadn't been so ruthless. If THRUSH succeeded in its monstrous plan, Ranjit Sighn would never rule, she knew. He would be cast aside as a no-longer-necessary tool---probably he would even be assassinated---and some member of the already established hierarchy of THRUSH would move into the promised spot.
Quietly probing for more information while the sheik was still wound up enough in his dream to be indiscreet, April said, "You can't possibly mean that little Mossagbah intends to conquer the entire East. Even if you had the military strength, the U.N. wouldn't permit it. You would find yourself at war with the whole world."
"Mossagbah won't even be involved in the matter," Ranjit said confidently. "At least not militarily. I can't go into details, but the revolution I speak of will be world-wide and sudden. All I can tell you is that I'll be in one of the key spots when it's over. You will have to accept that on faith, April. Do you think I'm merely a paranoiac with delusions of grandeur?"
April pretended to study him.
Then she smiled. "No, Ranjit. I'm sure you're quite sane. And I'm convinced you actually believe what you're talking about. But it sounds so incredible. What kind of revolution is going to take place?"
"I can't tell you that," he said soberly. "But believe me, it is inevitable and it isn't far off. When it comes, I want you with me on the winning side. I'm offering you a choice between sharing in the rule of an important part of the world and the loss of everything you now have. In the new order the idle rich will certainly be stripped of all their possessions. I don't want that to happen to you."
"You frighten me," April said. ''I'm really be
ginning to believe you. I don't know why, because it sounds so fantastic, but all at once you've convinced me that this revolution is actually going to take place."
"It's as inevitable as tomorrow's rising of the sun," the sheik said. "Do you want to be my empress?"
She reached across to squeeze his hand. "Can't we wait until this new order becomes a fact before I decide? And I haven't seen Mossagbah yet, you know, Ranjit."
The obsessive light in his eyes faded, to be replaced by a mask.
"The cautious Americans," he said dryly. "I've seen the same characteristic in your businessmen in oil deals in countries where the governments weren't quite stable. They always wait to see which faction is going to end up in control before offering backing."
She had momentarily lost him, April felt. Quickly she brought the situation back under control.
"I'm not simply being selfish," she said in an offended tone. "I would want time to consider, no matter what you were or what your prospects are. Even if it meant my financial ruin, I couldn't say yes until I was sure I loved you."
"I'm sorry," Ranjit said with instant contrition. "Of course you may have time. I wouldn't want you unless you loved me."
It bemused April that he made no mention of loving her. She couldn't imagine being proposed to by an American man without first hearing a declaration of love. The Moslem relationship between men and women was so different; perhaps love was something the men didn't understand.
Despite his constant air of gallantry and the respect with which he treated her, April suspected that if she ever did marry Ranjit Sighn, even if she held the title of empress, she would be regarded as his slave.
Later that night when she was alone, April had no trouble remembering that he was a tool of THRUSH. The sheik had given her too close a look at the true nature beneath his charming veneer. Ranjit Sighn was as ruthlessly unconcerned about anything but his own power as any THRUSH agent.
CHAPTER TEN
HOT---OR COLD
They left the airport in the sheik's private jet the following morning. The Arab chauffeur, whom the sheik told April was also a professional pilot, handled the controls with ease.
They had been flying over desert which stretched endlessly to the horizon for some time, when Ranjit suddenly pointed through a cabin window below.
"The Mossagbahan border," he said with pride.
April peered downward. There was no sign of change in the for-bidding terrain. All she could see was a small concrete structure which she recognized as a pillbox. Then she spotted another pillbox perhaps a mile beyond the first, and still more arranged in a curving line off into the distance.
Why did Mossagbah need a fortified border, she wondered dismally? Who would want it?
April's question was answered a few minutes later, when they began flying over one oil tower after another. The barrenness of the land was no disadvantage when oil flowed beneath it. Any oil-hungry nation would be glad to step in and take it over if the opportunity arose.
Shortly afterward the sheik pointed out a small dark spot on the burning sand some distance away.
"My oasis," he said, smiling.
As the spot increased in size and its color began to turn to a rich green, April saw that it was ringed by towering palms.
"It is beautiful from the air," she said. "What is it called?"
"Its original name in Arabic means 'The Garden of Life,' but it is never called that. The natives simply refer to it the oasis of Ranjit Sighn."
The plane came in to a smooth landing and taxied over near the edge of the oasis between it and a line of five adjoining buildings which had been built on the sand near the oasis.
The pilot cut the engine, touched a control on the panel, the cabin door automatically opened, and a set of metal steps descended to the ground.
Ranjit Sighn backed out first and assisted April to the ground. Glancing around, April saw numerous Arabs and a smattering of men in western dress lolling in the shade of the buildings or under palm trees of the oasis. She decided if these men were connected with the project, it must be the noon lunch break.
A partially completed framework of steel girders towered above the buildings some distance beyond them in the desert.
"Why are you drilling so close to the oasis?" April asked the sheik. "It seems a shame to spoil the view of the desert with an oil tower."
"You have to drill where the oil is," he said with a smile. "Here comes Maxim to greet us."
April glanced in the direction Ranjit was looking and saw that the squat, broad-shouldered engineer had just emerged from the central and smallest of the five buildings. Before he reached them, two Arabs arrived from the direction of the oasis.
They seemed to have come to unload the luggage, because when the sheik spoke to them in Arabic, they bowed, climbed the ladder and began hauling out baggage.
Maxim Karsh approached with a sour expression on his face. He was thinking, she realized, that the sheik must have brought her here over Karsh's strong objections.
Nevertheless April threw him a dazzling smile and said, "Hello, Mr. Karsh."
"How are you, Miss Dancer?" he said politely enough, but without any real welcome in his voice.
"Hello, Maxim," the sheik said casually, then ignored him and offered his arm to April to escort her to the tent centering the oasis.
Maxim Karsh trailed along behind them.
A robed Arab guard armed with a rifle came to attention as they passed into the tent. Another immediately inside momentarily came to attention also, then relaxed quickly at a negligent wave of the sheik's hand.
April gazed around with interest at the oriental luxury so incongruously mixed with western furniture.
Ranjit touched a small gong. A moment later the curtains over a door at the rear of the main room parted and a lovely young Arab girl appeared.
"This is Konya, April," the sheik said. "Miss Dancer, Konya."
The girl inclined her head in a small bow.
April smiled at her and said, "How do you do, Konya."
"Konya will show you your quarters," Ranjit said. "Get Miss Dancer anything she desires, Konya."
"Yes, your highness," the girl said in fair English. "Follow me, please, Miss Dancer."
Maxim Karsh had determinedly followed them into the tent. He stood quietly until April and Konya had disappeared, then looked at Ranjit with barely suppressed anger.
"You've really managed to put us into hot water," he said. "I have received word that Lin Yang is coming here."
"Lin Yang, eh?" the sheik said with more interest than concern. "What's he want?"
"To inspect our progress on the project, obviously. He'll be furious when he learns you've brought an outsider here. I'm going to tell him you did it over my strong objection."
"Don't worry about April," the sheik said. "She thinks you're drilling for oil. I made sure she knows nothing about oil before I invited her. She thinks that launching pad tower is an oil derrick."
"Well, you can explain her to Lin Yang."
"Lin Yang doesn't worry me. He may be big in THRUSH, but he won't be so big when this is over. And until then, no one is bigger than me in Mossagbah."
"Why do you have to be so difficult?" Karsh complained, "I'm supposed to be in charge of this project. Lin Yang isn't going to take the excuse that I can't control you just because you happen to rule this god-forsaken country. "
"This godforsaken country happens to be my homeland and I consider it beautiful," Ranjit said coldly. Then he relented and smiled. "I'll concede it's probably uncomfortably hot working out there on the tower and that there isn't much social life to be had. You need to relax. Would you like to dine with me and Miss Dancer tonight?"
Karsh looked somewhat mollified by the invitation.
"All right," he agreed. "What time?"
"About seven."
"I'll be here," Karsh said. Meantime Konya had led April along a short corridor to the rear of the tent. They passed an opening through w
hich April saw a modern electric stove, a refrigerator and other kitchen equipment. Other openings seemed to give on to sleeping quarters.
At the end of the corridor was a rear exit from the tent. Konya turned through a doorway just before it.
The room was about twenty by fifteen feet, with elaborate jeweled tapestries covering the walls and a rich oriental carpet on the floor.
Like the outer main room, it was furnished in a combination of oriental and western style. There was a wide, comfortable looking sleeping mat and the usual cushions. But there were also a couple of easy chairs and a modern dressing table. In one corner was an ornately carved round bathtub.
The two Arabs brought in April's luggage, placed it where Konya directed, and departed.
Konya said, "Would you like a bath before lunch, Miss Dancer? There is time. Agri will not even start to cook until she has conferred with his highness."
"Agri?"
"The cook."
"Oh." April eyed the tub. "Sounds interesting, but I don't see any faucets."
"I will bring the water," Konya said. "You like hot or cold?"
"In this weather about lukewarm would be fine," April said.
"I shall return shortly," Konya told her, and departed.
April seated herself at the dressing table, dipped her hand into her purse and brought out a rattail steel comb. At the same time she palmed the flesh-colored earplug. In case she was under visual observation, she didn't want just to push the plug into her ear without camouflaging the act.
With the comb in her, right hand and the earplug palmed in her left, she pushed back the hair on the left side of her head preparatory to running the comb through it. The plug slipped into her ear. She ran the comb through her hair several times before stopping, then removed the plug and let it drop with the comb into her purse.
April was slightly surprised that there had been no humming sound in her ear. Maxim Karsh must have finally decided she was harmless after receiving the report that nothing suspicious had been heard or seen by means of the visual bug in her Cairo hotel room.
From her purse she took a fountain pen similar to the one that Mark Slate had dropped into the gunny sack of loot.
The Sheik of Araby Affair Page 6