Trusting A Sheikh (Playgrounds of Power 1)

by Rosie Pike

  "And what if I did?" Tariq asked, noticeably less sure of himself.

  "How much do you know about the man?" Rashid demanded, growing ever more confident in his role as a defender of truth, honesty and reason.

  "I don't see what business that is of yours," Tariq retorted.

  "Then I don't see," Rashid began, again threatening to rise, "why I should stay in this chair if you're not willing to listen to reason."

  Tariq raised his hands in a gesture of submission. "Fine, fine. Yes – Khalid travelled with me to London. What of it?"

  "He has his own orders," Rashid said simply. "He's not your man."

  "What do you mean?"

  "It's simple. Do you trust him? Because I have it on good authority that he is in London to do two deals: he has been ordered to buy surveillance equipment for monitoring phone calls, and he's been told to conclude a deal for torture equipment."

  "Torture equipment? How would you know?" Tariq asked, not sounding convinced.

  "I'm not willing to reveal my sources – not after what happened to me in your prisons. Even if you do," he looked sharply at the ambassador, "claim that Saudi Arabia doesn't torture – I didn't believe it."

  Neither did Chloe.

  "But I know for a fact that it's true. Have you ever seen what electricity does to a man's skin?" he asked Tariq morbidly. "Because I have. And that's what Khalid is here to buy – vicious machines that do horrible things."

  Tariq looked shocked, as though the wind had been entirely taken out of his sails. "Mr. Al Mansouri," he began, "I give you my word that I will investigate these allegations sincerely. I won't rest until I find the truth – one way or another. Can I suggest that we meet in three days’ time?"

  Rashid studied Tariq's face closely, and didn't reply for a few seconds, seemingly making up his mind. "Okay, let's do it your way," he slowly conceded.

  "Will you stay away from the media until we speak next? It'll give me the space that I need to investigate without being pressured from back home."

  Rashid looked at the Prince sharply, questioning his motives. Tariq raised his hands in a gesture of submission. "I promise – I won't sign any deals in the meantime. If I do, go to the press and tell them how I broke my word. It'll be a good story. Deal?"

  "Three days," Rashid said simply, turning on his heel and leaving without another word.

  16

  The little sea grey Ford Fiesta coughed into life outside, and ever so slowly motored its way out of the embassy gates. Tariq caught his breath as the car ever so slightly paused as Rashid edged into the road, surrounded on all sides by the intrusive cameras of the thronging media, visibly relaxing only when the car pulled off without stopping to give the media another punishing interview.

  Chloe stood up, excusing herself, and left the room to give Tariq and his uncle a bit of privacy – she had no real desire to be between them, especially given what she'd seen of the ambassador's hot temper.

  Once again, she found herself in the little alcove behind the bronze bust of the King's head, and started playing on her phone. It was a nice little spot, a little refuge from the huge, grandiose embassy, and Chloe liked it. She quickly lost herself in the game she was playing, fully absorbed in a colorful world of small, cartoonish, jumping action figures, and for a long time didn't notice that she'd been joined on the other side of the lobby by two men who weren't aware of her presence.

  "He must know," she heard a familiar, accented voice say. "It's him or us."

  "What can we do? Surely we can't do anything, not now?"

  "It's a risk either way," the familiar voice mused. "I say we do it quickly, make it look like an accident."

  "Who's going to believe that? He's been all over the news."

  "Okay," the first voice conceded. "Here's what we'll do…" The voices trailed off as the two men left Chloe’s earshot, much as she strained to keep listening. She knew that voice, she knew she did – but who was it?

  And what were they talking about? Whatever it was – it wasn't good.

  Now shaken, Chloe couldn't concentrate on the game, and rested her back against the cool marble wall of the lobby, trying her hardest to remember where she'd heard that voice before. It wasn't long before the realization hit her like a thunderbolt – and she clapped her hand against her head, berating herself for not realizing it sooner. Of course – it was Khalid.

  So what had she overheard? Was he planning on taking out a hit on Rashid? Because it certainly sounded like it. And if he was – what should she do about it?

  Chloe crept back into the ambassador’s drawing room, her face white. Neither man left inside had noticed her, and she saw that Tariq was locked in an intense discussion with his uncle.

  "You're walking a fine line, Tariq. I hope you know what you're doing."

  "What else can I do?"

  "Be careful – there are people back home who won't hesitate to intervene if they sense their interests are being threatened; and don't think they wouldn't target you."

  "I'm well aware of the danger." Tariq grimaced. "But it's risky either way."

  "So it is," the ambassador agreed quietly before suddenly noticing Chloe had returned. "Ah, Miss Rouhani. You okay?" he asked, a sudden hint of concern entering his voice. "You've gone all white…"

  Chloe came closer. "I'm fine," she forced out. "Perhaps just a little hungry, that's all."

  "Can I get something for you from the kitchen?" the ambassador asked.

  "No, don't worry. I'm visiting my parents for dinner tonight, so I'll just get a chocolate bar at the train station to keep me going."

  "If you're sure?"

  "I am, but thanks very much," Chloe replied.

  "Are you off now?" Tariq asked, receiving an assenting nod in response. "Let me walk you out."

  Chloe was completely flustered – she didn't know what the hell was going on, or who she could trust, and a thousand thoughts ran through her mind like a stampeding herd of cattle as she followed Tariq wordlessly out of the drawing room. She knew that Khalid was evil, and planning on doing bad things – that much was obvious. The question was, who had he been talking to? And the larger question – the one she could barely bring herself to ask – did she trust Tariq?

  "Outside." She didn't so much ask Tariq to step out with her as order it – all too aware now of how the acoustics in the lobby allowed people to listen into private conversations. They stepped out the front door, standing underneath the colonnades in the cool November afternoon, Tariq wearing a concerned look on his face.

  "What's up?" he asked as soon as the door had swung shut. "What's going on?"

  Chloe paced up and down, making sure that she was out the ambassador's eyesight – who knew whether she could trust him or not?

  "I'm going to tell you something," she said in a frantic tone of voice. "And I need you to do something about it."

  "Okay," Tariq said with a concerned grin on his face. Trying to lighten the mood, he said, "I'm sure it can't be that bad…"

  Chloe barely heard him. "But first I need to ask you a question – and you need to answer me truthfully, okay?"

  Again, Tariq replied affirmatively. "Go on…"

  "Why did you ask Rashid for three days? What are you going to do with the time?"

  "Why do you ask?" Tariq replied, surprised – as though that was the last question he'd expected her to ask.

  "It doesn't matter," Chloe fired back quickly. "I just need you to answer it." Chloe had quickly realized that if Tariq was somehow in on the plot with Khalid, then what she was about to say could have extremely negative consequences for her own safety. She looked at Tariq's face carefully, searching for any evidence that he was lying.

  "I need time for my people back home to look into the truth of these allegations about Khalid," Tariq finally said, a baffled look on his face. "If they are true, I'm going to need evidence – I can't just act on my own. And even if I find the evidence I’m looking for, it's no secret that my country's human rights re
cord isn't exactly squeaky clean. Even if I get it, who knows if it'll help?"

  "How can you do it?" Chloe blurted out. "Represent a government that you know has the potential to be evil?"

  "Why are you asking all these questions?" Tariq asked, more than a little angered by what Chloe had just said. "I think I have a right to know."

  It was, oddly enough, exactly that anger that convinced Chloe of Tariq's innocence – or at least, his innocence as far as Khalid's plot was concerned. Looking at his face, the way the worry lines were contorted with righteous anger as he defended himself from her own attacks, she knew that either he had nothing to do with Khalid's plan, or he was a far more dangerous liar then she believed was possible. Having spent the night with the man, getting to know him in the most intimate, sensitive way – she knew more about Tariq than she had at first realized.

  "Okay, okay," she relented. "I trust you…"

  "Thanks, I guess?" Tariq replied.

  Chloe leaned against one of the clean, white colonnades, feeling the chill of the November weather immediately transmitting itself through her clothing. "I overheard something… Something terrible."

  The anger on Tariq's face was immediately replaced by the concern she'd noticed was so quick to respond where she was concerned. "What is it?" he asked tenderly. "You can tell me, whatever it is."

  "I think Khalid is planning on killing Rashid," Chloe said bluntly, knowing better than to hide the meaning of her words. She just left them hanging in the air, watching the shock of what she had just said reverberate through Tariq, his reaction writ large across his face.

  "What?" Tariq spluttered. "How do you know? Why? What?" The questions fell out of him like a waterfall, and it took a long few moments before he was able to reassert control over his mind in his normal fashion. Chloe let the shock subside before replying.

  "I just heard him speaking to someone. I didn't get all the details – but I've got no doubt that's what they were talking about."

  "How can you be sure?" Tariq asked, the hard look that Chloe was beginning to learn signaled his resolve returning to his face.

  "They were talking about the man on the television," Chloe said dryly, finding some dark humor in the situation. "And talking about how they'd make it look like an accident… I'm pretty sure they weren't talking about a cooking program."

  "Shit," was all Tariq could say. "Shit, shit, shit."

  "You said it," Chloe replied with a grin. It wasn't just false bravado – she was truly happy that Tariq was having this reaction, because awful as it was, it at least proved his honesty and character.

  "We have to get him to safety," Tariq said, lost in thought. "Yes, that's the first step."

  "You think he's going to trust you?" Chloe replied with a raised eyebrow. "Because I don't. It seemed pretty obvious to me in that room that he'd been tortured at some point, and I doubt he's just going to hand himself in willingly to anyone you send."

  "You're right. What do you think I should do?" Tariq asked. Somehow, Chloe felt a sense of pride that he was asking her at all. It was a silly thing, but she related it to her own father, himself born in Saudi Arabia and steeped in the culture of the region. Much as she loved him, he wasn't always willing to compromise or listen to her opinions as often as he should. He had certainly improved with age, and through marrying a Western woman, but still – old habits died hard. And more than that, Tariq had proved himself to be a leader – and a good one. That he was willing to take her counsel meant more to her than he knew.

  "It's a tough one, that's for sure," Chloe mused thoughtfully. "I don't think he'll react too well to an approach from you or anyone from the embassy. And frankly, given that we know that at least one of your guys is compromised – Khalid – and that someone from the Embassy is involved, I wouldn't trust that approach either. What do you reckon to me doing it?"

  "You?" Tariq asked with a worried look on his face. "I can't put you in any danger – it wouldn't be right."

  Chloe looked balefully at Tariq. "You aren't putting me in any danger. I'm doing it myself, thank you very much."

  "You know what I mean," Tariq replied, slightly shamefacedly. "If you get hurt, or worse, then I'll have that on my conscience the rest of my life."

  "And if Rashid gets hurt, then I'll have his life on my conscience," Chloe retorted.

  "That's not the same thing," Tariq protested.

  "Why not?" Chloe replied hotly. "Just because you haven't slept with him?"

  "That's not fair, Chloe," Tariq said, with a hurt look on his face. "It's perfectly reasonable that I'm more concerned about your safety than his. I know I've only known you for what, a few days, but I've begun to care for you."

  The thought hit Chloe hard – just the idea that someone other than her family might care for her was a revelation. "What do you mean?" she asked.

  "What do you think I mean?" Tariq asked with a smile. "I don't just have anyone in my bed, you know?"

  "Don't you?" Chloe replied with a wicked smile. "You seem like the type who could charm the pants off anyone…"

  "Well, maybe… But I don't feel about them like I do about you," Tariq replied, bowing his head slightly almost as though he were embarrassed to state that fact. "Anyway, that's beside the point. I can't let you contact Rashid – if Khalid is planning an attempt on his life, then it's far too dangerous. I know enough about Khalid to know that your life would be in unbelievable danger. He is a very violent, dangerous man."

  "It's not your choice," Chloe said flatly. "I wasn't brought up to ignore people's suffering, and I won't turn a blind eye and see Rashid die. He's a good man, and I can do something to save his life."

  Tariq looked defeated, as though he knew there was nothing he could do to change Chloe's mind. "Are you sure?"

  "I am," Chloe said with a sense of finality. "I'm not sure how I'm going to do it, but whatever happens, it needs to be quickly."

  "Okay. When you get to him, whatever you do, don't use your own phone. Here, take my number." He pulled an expensive looking Mont Blanc pen out from the inside of his suit jacket along with a tiny leather notebook, and scribbled something down on the paper before tearing it off and handing it to her. "Take the battery on your phone, okay? When you have to get in touch with me, go to a shop and buy a cheap burner phone. Got it?"

  Chloe just stood there for a couple of seconds, marveling at the way that Tariq had changed in an instant from being concerned for her safety and trying to prevent her from going forward with her plan to a mindset that was deadly practical, calm and intelligent. Nepotism or not, she could see that the fact that it was he, not some other Saudi functionary, that had been sent to London on his trade mission was no accident of birth. No, Tariq was an extremely intelligent and competent man.

  "What are you staring at?" Tariq asked, and Chloe snapped back to reality, realizing that she had been daydreaming.

  "Nothing." She blushed. "It's just, I like seeing you like this…"

  "What do you mean? Like what?" Tariq asked.

  "I don't know," Chloe replied slowly. "The way you've just taken charge, it's kind of – sexy."

  It was Tariq's turn to blush, though it was far less noticeable on his more tanned skin. "Um, thanks – I guess?"

  It was the first time that Chloe had seen the Prince looking quite so awkward, and she couldn't help but giggle. "I should go," she finally said, leaning in to Tariq and surreptitiously kissing him on the lips, hoping no one around them had seen. She didn't want to accidentally risk his career through something as small as a kiss.

  Apparently, Tariq didn't share the same idea.

  "What was that?" he demanded, almost coldly – Chloe couldn't put a finger on exactly what emotion he was displaying.

  "What do you mean?" Chloe asked quickly, afraid she'd somehow screwed up.

  "That wasn't a kiss," Tariq joked, breaking a smile. "Come here." He didn't give Chloe choice, not that she would have chosen differently if he had, he just grabbed her hands and pulled h
er into him. She stood on her tiptoes, leaning into the kiss, and felt his powerful arms briefly snake around her waist as he pressed his body into her, tongue probing her lips. She didn't want to let go, knowing just how dangerous the next day would be. But she knew she had to.

  She broke off. "I've got to go," she groaned.

  "I know," Tariq replied sadly, pulling her into him one last time and breathing into her hair. "Be safe."

  17

  "How much?" she asked the teenage cashier, flashing the Nokia box in front of his disinterested eyes.

  "Ah, you don't want that one," the teenager whined. "It's a dumb phone. You ain't gonna get no apps on that."

  "I don't need any," Chloe replied, perhaps more sharply than she normally would have, but she was in a rush. "How much?" she reiterated.

  "You sure? Who doesn't use apps? Man, you can't even get the Internet on that…" the kid replied, looking shocked that anyone would buy a phone without the Internet. Chloe doubted, looking at him, that he even remembered a world without the Internet. Sometimes even she had difficulty remembering it, so she had no doubt that this kid had grown up with his thumbs glued to his touchscreen.

  "I'm sure," she replied firmly. "How much is it?" she said, trying to get a message across.

  "It'll set you back £30. Do you want some credit for it?" the kid asked, his tone dripping with disdain, as though he couldn't imagine that anyone these days would actually use a top up phone. "I suppose I should," Chloe replied, kicking herself for not thinking of something so basic. "How much do you reckon I'll need?"

  "How much are you going to be using it?" the kid asked, looking at her like she was stupid. Chloe realized how dumb she must've sounded, and – not wanting to run out, she shamefacedly said, "Just put £40 on it."

  "You're the boss," the kid replied, going through the motions of running it through the cash register. Chloe threw in a woolen fishermen's hat that she saw on the side of the counter almost as an afterthought. The thought had struck her on the way over that if Tariq was worried enough about Khalid and his cronies tracking her cellphone usage, then they might also have access to other surveillance techniques, so she'd ditched her expensive suit in her car and replaced it with a warm old Adidas tracksuit that she usually wore to the gym. It wasn't exactly power dressing, but combined with the hat, she decided that she would look almost unrecognizable.