“About our discovery. The ring, I guess.”
She shook her head vehemently. “Absolutely not! You can’t meet with those people. They’re barbarians!”
He frowned. “Now, now, we shouldn’t say things like that.”
“But it’s true! You know what they did to that poor man in Turkey. He went inside their embassy and he never came out.” She held up a finger. “Correction. He did come out. In pieces!”
He sighed. She was right. These were not people who could be trusted. But he was an academic, not an activist journalist. A Swedish citizen, born and raised, not a Saudi citizen. This was Sweden, not Turkey. He had never criticized the Saudi regime. There was no reason for them to do anything to him. “I’m sure I have nothing to worry about.”
“Are you willing to take that risk?”
He frowned, another more likely outcome occurring to him. “I’m not sure it’s wise to upset these people.”
“Why? Because they could hurt you? Kill you?”
He smiled slightly. “No, nothing so harsh. But they do control a lot of money, and wield a lot of power. Upsetting them by not showing up, might get me blackballed somehow. Do you realize how many foreign students we have at the university? How much they pay for their tuition? It helps fund so many of our programs, it might be the University President that I have to fear.” He shook his head. “No, I have to go. And besides, there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll go, see what they have to say, then meet Jim and Laura at the airport.” He smiled. “I’ll use them as my excuse to leave.”
His wife stared at him as if he had grown a second head. “I still think you’re a fool.”
“But you love me anyway.”
She grunted. “I suppose.” She jabbed a finger at the air between them. “Just don’t go getting yourself killed on me. I’m bored enough as it is!”
8 |
Al Lixbuna, Islamic Iberia Caliphate of Córdoba 989 AD
Rafiq Halabi laughed at another story from his future brother-in-law, a story he had little doubt was a complete fabrication. Yet it was his duty to be the good host, his duty as the eldest son to support his father in any decision he made.
Even if it meant losing his sister to this decrepit, disgusting man.
He was a boor, yet the difference he could make in all their lives was tremendous, and undeniable. His wealth far exceeded theirs, and if everything went according to plan, Rafiq stood to gain the most, for as the eldest, he would inherit everything when his father finally passed. It wasn’t that he wanted to hasten that occurrence. Not at all. He loved his father, and was content to be second to him in all things. And with this masterful arrangement, their family was about to become much more important than they currently were. Though respected business people, they had little status.
But all that was about to change, thanks to his father’s cunning ability to recognize an opportunity, and his sister’s breathtaking beauty—beauty enough to tempt an old sheik into taking on another wife after one of his had died.
His eyes scanned the room for Fatima, narrowing at not spotting her. Samira skipped into the room, a smile on her face. He beckoned her over. “Where’s your sister?”
“She went to get fresh air.”
She skipped away, circling the room as only one so young could be forgiven for. He rose, excusing himself, then headed for the courtyard. Fatima was nowhere to be found, and his concern grew, though he wasn’t sure why. He strode over to the front gate, two guards snapping to attention.
“Did you see my sister?”
One of the men pointed down the street to their left. “She went that way just a few minutes ago.”
Rafiq’s eyes narrowed as he peered down the street, not spotting her. It was not only out of character for her to go off, it was forbidden. If she wanted to leave the house, she needed to be escorted by a male relation. That was usually him, as their father was too busy, or one of several “cousins” hired to make life more accommodating.
“She left unescorted?”
The guard hesitated. “Yes.”
Rafiq drew an angry breath. “And you let her?”
The man shook his head, taking a step back. “No, she said her cousin was meeting her. She pointed at him.”
“And you saw him?”
The man trembled, his eyes darting about, focusing anywhere but on his interrogator. “I, umm, saw a man, but…”
“But what?”
“She, umm, walked past him and met another man.”
Rage surged through his body at the very notion of his sister meeting a man who wasn’t a relation. “Who?”
The guard shrugged. “I don’t know, but he had blond hair. He must be one of those Vikings.”
Rafiq was taken aback. Why would a Viking meet with his sister? And more importantly, why would his sister meet with a Viking. None of it made any sense. His father had been conducting business with the Vikings for years, and for almost a month with Prince Magnus. Magnus had even been to their home on multiple occasions as a guest, and though he had addressed his sister directly several times, Rafiq had dismissed the impropriety as a cultural difference, and not worthy of threatening a lucrative business relationship.
But none of that explained why Fatima would meet with one of Magnus’ people, or Magnus himself.
Little girls can be foolish.
He trusted Fatima, yet she had seemed fascinated with the novel Viking. Could he be taking advantage of the trust his family had placed in him? Could he be taking advantage of his naïve sister?
“That can’t be permitted!” he hissed, sprinting in the direction his sister had headed, the possibility of losing everything they were working toward in the house behind him terrifying.
All because of some silly, naïve little girl.
9 |
Stockholm Bromma Airport Stockholm, Sweden Present Day
Acton frowned as he stepped down from their private jet and onto the tarmac. He had expected Karlsson to meet them when they arrived, though he was an old man and it was a chilly day. He turned to Laura.
“He must be inside where it’s warm.”
She shivered. “Then he sounds far smarter than us.”
He chuckled as they scurried toward the terminal reserved for private charters, groaning with pleasure at the warmth that greeted them inside.
And still, there was no sign of Karlsson.
Acton checked his phone for messages, finding none from Karlsson or any of his people, Laura doing the same. A quick check at the counter found no messages left for them.
“Could he have got confused and thought we were meeting at the hotel?”
Acton shrugged. “I can’t see how there could be any misunderstanding, but perhaps. He was always very academic, if you know what I mean. How about we go there then try to find him. It’ll be a lot more comfortable than waiting around here.”
Laura agreed, and a rental vehicle was quickly arranged, their arrival at the hotel swift and efficient, the Nobis Hotel the finest of establishments. And again, they found no Karlsson, and no messages.
“I’m getting a little concerned.” Acton brought up the website for Stockholm University, and after a few transfers, was speaking with one of Karlsson’s grad students at the dig site, Elsa Andersson.
“I’m sorry, Professor Acton, we haven’t seen him all morning. Wasn’t he supposed to meet you?”
“He was, but he didn’t.”
“That’s odd. I’ll try texting him, though I’m sure you already have.”
“We have, many times. Do you have his home number? I’d like to call his wife.”
“Yes, absolutely.” She provided the number and he jotted it down on a piece of hotel stationery. “I’ll let you know if I hear from him.”
“Thank you.” Acton immediately dialed Karlsson’s wife. “Hello, Mira. This is Jim Acton. How are you?”
“Oh, hi Jim, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you. Viggo said we’d be doing dinner tonight. Did that old fool me
ss up our plans again?”
Acton chuckled, feeling slightly better at the revelation that his old friend might simply be confused instead of missing. “Well, he must have gotten really mixed up, because he forgot to meet us at the airport, and we can’t reach him.”
There was a pause. “Oh…”
He sensed something in her tone that had him concerned. “What is it?”
“Viggo received a phone call last night.”
Acton’s eyes narrowed. “From whom?”
“From the Saudi Embassy.”
His eyebrows shot up. “What did they want?”
“The Ambassador wanted to meet him. This morning at nine o’clock.” He heard a quick intake of breath. “You don’t think…”
Acton was terrified to voice what he was thinking. “I’m sure I don’t. He probably got sidetracked with something and lost track of time. Don’t worry. We’ll try to track him down, and if you hear from him, tell him to call.”
“I will, Jim. I’m so sorry about this.”
“No need to apologize. I’m sure it’s completely innocent. I’ll talk to you soon.”
He ended the call and briefly recapped the conversation for Laura.
“What do we do?”
Acton sighed, shaking his head. “Given the Saudis’ recent history, I think we have to assume the worst.”
“Surely they wouldn’t repeat such a stupid thing?”
Acton grunted. “Were there really any consequences?”
She frowned. “I suppose not. So, what do we do? Report it?”
Acton tapped his chin, slowly shaking his head. “No, that could take hours. Law enforcement probably would just hang up, telling us to wait forty-eight hours.” He pursed his lips then smiled slightly as an idea occurred to him. Then he frowned at the idiocy of it.
“I know that look. What are you thinking?”
He blasted his frustration through his lips. “Well, I was thinking there’s still a chance to save him, if he’s still alive.”
“How?”
“By letting them know we know they have him.”
Laura’s eyes widened. “And just how are we going to do that?”
“I’m going to go inside.”
10 |
Al Lixbuna, Islamic Iberia Caliphate of Córdoba 989 AD
Fatima kept her face down and turned her head strategically to avoid the eyes of those who might challenge her being in the streets with the Viking, though none who took notice appeared willing to confront the muscled man with brilliant beard. Yet despite this, with each step away from her certain past and toward an uncertain future, her heart hammered harder.
And she grew faint.
What are you doing?
It wasn’t too late. She could turn around and run home. Nobody knew she was gone except the guards, and if she returned before no one else noticed, they would say nothing, for they should never have let her go alone.
Their punishment would be worse than hers.
Magnus’ messenger kept urging her forward with a beckoning hand, but rarely looked back at her, perhaps uncomfortable being with an unrelated woman.
But that’s not his culture.
It was one of the reasons she had been so intrigued by these Vikings. The fact they treated her far better than her own relations, suggested to her, perhaps incorrectly, that women were partners rather than property where they came from. She prayed it was so, but in all honesty, wasn’t concerned with such things, as long as she could be with Magnus.
She spotted him near the edge of the cliff overlooking the roaring ocean below and her heart leaped, energy surging through her, spurring her reluctant legs forward and past the messenger. As she neared him, though, she slowed. His face was stern, his eyes glaring at her, none of the love she had come to expect in view. He stepped behind a large stone and out of sight. She slowed to a walk then cautiously rounded the rock, uncertain as to what had changed, only knowing that her stomach was now in knots, and self-doubt ruled her.
“Magnus?”
He turned to face her, his smile broad, his eyes bright, and she sighed with relief as he held out his arms for her. She rushed into them and they embraced if only for a moment. He pushed her away, holding her shoulders.
“We have little time. Do you still trust me?”
“Of course, my love.”
He bent over and picked up something lying unnoticed on the ground. “Then listen carefully.”
Rafiq came to a halt at the edge of town, the ocean ahead, the waves crashing against the cliff face a constant reminder of its strength. He loved the water, and swam in it whenever he had an opportunity, and never turned down an invitation to go to sea if his duties permitted it.
Yet those opportunities were rare, and would be even more so if he didn’t find his sister.
A sister nowhere to be seen.
He scanned the entire area, not for her, but for the striking blond hair of her Viking companion, yet saw no one. He turned his attention to the dozens walking in the area, some moving with purpose, some strolling with no obvious cares.
Then he heard shouting.
“We can never be together!”
He turned toward the argument, the accented Arabic recognized at once as that of Prince Magnus. He stormed out from behind a large rock, then spun on his heel, stabbing a finger at someone.
“That was never my intention, you silly girl! We can never be! It would dishonor not only your family, but mine as well, and I would never risk my people’s business for a woman.”
“But Magnus, please, don’t go!”
His stomach writhed with anger and horror at his sister’s voice, the foolish girl hidden by the rock. He wanted to go to her, to grab her by the scruff of the neck and haul her home for the shame she was bringing to her family, but he resisted. Nobody could see her. Nobody knew who she was. If he were lucky, this entire incident might play out with no one the wiser, and his family honor might yet be preserved.
“I’m done with you, silly girl. Make no attempt to contact me again!” Magnus stormed off toward the port to the north where his trading fleet was moored, and Rafiq took several tentative steps toward his sister’s hiding place, each passing moment suggesting her dishonorable actions might yet go undiscovered, those witness to the altercation already resuming their business.
“If you will not have me, then no one will!”
He gasped as his sister stepped into view, everyone turning toward her once again, this time the source of the other half of the conversation in full view. Rage flared in his chest at her stupidity, at her betrayal, at her naïve selfishness.
Then she stepped off the cliff, her scream bloodcurdling as it quickly faded.
“Fatima!” He stood frozen in place, unable to move, exchanging shocked glances with those around him. He finally tore loose from whatever held his feet in place and stumbled toward the edge of the cliff. As he neared its treacherous edge, he slowed, his fear of heights threatening to overwhelm him. He came to an abrupt halt a good half-dozen paces from the edge, then willed himself closer as others approached, their concerned utterances going unnoticed. He dropped to his knees, crawling to the drop-off, his heart hammering, sweat beading on his forehead as he finally screwed up the courage to peer over at the churning waters below.
But there was nothing to see beyond water and rock and a post jutting from the edge with a ring at the end, its purpose unknown, its rusted surface suggesting many years since its installation.
There could be no doubt.
She was gone.
He rolled onto his back, tears streaking his face as he stared up at the heavens. “Fatima, what have you done!”
“Look!”
Someone nearby was pointing out to sea, and he rolled back on his stomach, hope surging anew at the prospect of his sister being alive in the waters below, though it quickly faded at the sight of what had attracted the onlooker’s attention.
A lone Viking ship, heading away from the cliff, its s
ail raised and filled with the wind.
For a moment, he thought of calling to them, to beckon them back to search for his sister below, but it would be a useless effort. They would never hear him, and they could never get close enough to the cliff face to rescue her regardless.
She was dead, her lifeless body likely hammering against the rock below, unseen, her soul already condemned to eternal damnation for throwing away Allah’s most precious gift.
Life.
Why did you do it, Fatima, why?
Yet he knew why. She couldn’t face life with Sheik Al-Musawi, away from her family, relegated to the position of fourth wife. Before hearing the argument of moments ago, he never would have considered the concept of love in the equation. What did love have to do with marriage? At least at the beginning. Even his own parents came from an arranged marriage. They loved each other now, of that, he had no doubt, but he was certain there was no love there when they first met. How could there be?
And his sister had met few men in her brief life to even entertain the concept of marriage, let alone marriage based on love. She always knew her destiny, though he was certain she did have her own misguided fantasies of what her future husband might be like, and those imaginings certainly never would have included the pig of a man Al-Musawi was.
He did feel bad for her.
Genuinely.
Though none of that was an excuse to commit suicide, and publicly humiliate the family in the process.
He pushed to his feet and slowly edged away from the cliff, the Viking ship silhouetted in the distance, then headed for home, wondering what he could possibly do to save his family from the fury his news would undoubtedly bring from her future husband.
A man so powerful, he could crush their family with a casual word.
11 |
Embassy of Saudi Arabia Stockholm, Sweden Present Day
Acton stepped through the doors directly facing the street of the Saudi Arabian Embassy, his phone gripped in his hand for all to see, a call connected to Laura who was nearby in their rental, the doors locked, the engine idling. With her driving skills, he had little doubt she could reach the police station that wasn’t far from her location before anyone could stop her.
The Viking Deception Page 4