The Sheik and I

by Linda Winstead Jones

  Anything, Kadir almost shouted into the phone. Anything at all. Instead he answered calmly. “What do you want in exchange for their lives?”

  “Yours,” Hakim answered without emotion.

  Hakim had been Kadir’s personal secretary for years. Had he always been aligned with Zahid? Had he been blackmailed into assisting Bin-Asfour in his quest? “Why?” Kadir asked calmly. “If Zahid has threatened you or your family, if he’s forcing you to do things you don’t want to do, I can help. Sharif and I can help you, Hakim, if you’ll allow us to do so.”

  “It’s not that simple, Excellency. Bin-Asfour has offered me a lot of money to deliver proof of your death. I won’t have to work, not ever again, once this chore is done. I’ll have a villa of my own, and workers to serve me and my days of answering to your call, to anyone’s call, will be over.”

  Kadir placed a tired hand on his forehead. All this for money. Dozens dead, Sharif and Cassandra threatened, all for wealth. “If you believe Bin-Asfour will part with that kind of money, you’re mistaken. He’ll kill you without a second thought before he’ll part with even a fraction of his fortune.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Hakim said gently. “Zahid wants you dead so badly he’ll gladly pay anything.”

  “When did he make you this offer?” After all, there had been many times in the past when Hakim could’ve put a bullet in his employer’s brain. Not without being caught, however.

  “A few months ago. Planning an execution that didn’t leave me in the hands of your security detail was trickier than I thought it would be.”

  “So you came up with a plan to kill them all.”

  “Yes,” Hakim said, without so much as a touch of remorse. “Now, quit stalling and let’s get to tonight’s business. You know where I am. If you’re not here in fifteen minutes, the first shot will be fired. If you don’t come alone and unarmed, two shots will be fired. One into Al-Asad’s brain, the other into Ms. Klein’s.”

  Kadir didn’t bother to say another word. He hung up the phone. Before heading for the garage, he yanked up the receiver once again and dialed Cassandra’s apartment. Maybe Hakim had been bluffing, and Cassandra and Sharif were fine. He could be ambushed making his way to Cassandra’s rescue, when she wasn’t in any danger. But Cassandra’s phone rang twice, and then Hakim’s voice answered with a proper “Klein residence,” which would not alarm an unsuspecting caller.

  Kadir didn’t answer, and very soon Hakim laughed again. “You now have thirteen minutes, Excellency.”

  Hakim’s last words had painted a frightening picture in his brain, and Kadir could barely think. He did, however, think to grab the six-shooter before he ran from the room.

  Sharif wasn’t dead, but he’d been badly wounded.

  Her next-door neighbor, Mrs. Thatcher, knocked loudly on the door shortly after Cassandra’s short scream, and with Hakim’s gun at her head, Cassandra explained through the closed door that she’d seen a mouse and been alarmed. The woman was satisfied, and she headed to her flat to call the building manager to make a complaint. She was not going through that ordeal again, she vowed.

  Cassandra assisted Hakim with Sharif’s body. The man with the gun allowed her to bind the wound with a strip of a sheet she’d just laundered, and she worked quickly, since Hakim did not seem to be blessed with patience. That done, they eased the wounded man into a kitchen chair, and Cassandra tried to make sure Sharif was comfortable before Hakim began to duct tape him to the straight back and the legs of the chair.

  And then Hakim did the same thing to her, at gunpoint, of course. While he strapped her ankles to the chair, Cassandra pushed her panic down and asked, “You work for Zahid Bin-Asfour, don’t you?”

  “Don’t be nosy, Ms. Klein. No good can come of it.”

  “Did you murder Prince Reginald?”

  His head snapped up. The question took him very much by surprise. “No. Why do you ask?”

  “It’s suspected that followers of Bin-Asfour murdered the prince. I just wondered…” She shrugged her shoulders, as best she could.

  When she was taped to the chair to his satisfaction, Hakim placed his face close to hers. “Why would Bin-Asfour have Prince Reginald killed when the prince had just agreed to align himself with the organization after he took the throne? It would be quite a blow to the Kahani government for Bin-Asfour to be officially recognized and embraced by the throne of Silvershire. Zahid was quite upset when he heard of the prince’s death.”

  “So, do you think someone from the Kahani government murdered the prince?”

  The formerly humble secretary shook his head. Of course, she imagined his humility had always been an act. “What difference does it make? You should be worried about your own life, not that of a prince who’s already dead.”

  “I just want to know, that’s all. When I get out of here, I might get a promotion if I can shed some light on the murder.” In truth, she was merely stalling for time, but if she did get out of here alive, and if she could give new information to those who were investigating the prince’s murder…maybe she’d be forgiven for not telling a few secrets along the way.

  Hakim left Cassandra and Sharif alone in the kitchen, not that they were in any position to do anything. He was wounded, unarmed and constrained. She was not in much better shape.

  “No one from the Kahani government had any part to play in Prince Reginald’s death, I swear it,” Sharif said in a lowered, less-than-steady voice.

  “As if you’d tell me if you knew any differently,” Cassandra responded.

  Sharif locked his eyes to hers. “There’s no reason for me to lie to you about anything. Hakim’s going to kill us, you know,” he said calmly.

  Cassandra’s heart leapt. “Maybe not…”

  “Even if Kadir comes to save us, which is no doubt the plan, Hakim will still kill us. I just hope Kadir is smart enough to stay away, but I suspect he is not.” There was a decided edge to Sharif’s voice.

  “He’ll know it’s a trap…” she began.

  “And he won’t care.” Sharif sighed in evident disgust. “Do you wonder why I’m here with you when I should be with Kadir? Do you wonder why I have been guarding you when I should be watching my old friend’s back? Do you wonder why I did not attempt to shoot Hakim while he held you?”

  “Yes,” Cassandra whispered.

  Again Sharif looked her squarely in the eye. “Since we’re going to die, I might as well tell you. Maybe you should know, since it’s come to this. Kadir told me, back in Leonia, that he cared for you the way I once cared for Amala, and that if anything happened to you, he would never forgive me. I care little for his forgiveness, but Amala loved her little brother, and if he loves you then I have no choice but to do as he asks, for her sake as well as his.”

  “But he…” He doesn’t love me, Cassandra started to say. The words froze in her mouth. No, Kadir did love her; he just hid that love for his own reasons. “Thank you for telling me,” she said.

  “You should know, before you die.” Sharif sounded like a man who accepted death easily. Maybe he didn’t have anything to lose. Maybe he was ready for death. He’d lost his love a long time ago. He shook his head dismally. “I should have taken the shot when I had the chance, but I was afraid Hakim would move and I’d hit you. Kadir would never forgive me if that happened.”

  Sharif began to work against the bonds at his back, but minutes passed and he didn’t seem to be making progress.

  Hakim reentered the kitchen, saw Sharif struggling to free himself and raised his gun. He fired one shot, and Sharif went still.

  Cassandra gasped, and then she screamed. Hakim turned the weapon on her. His hands were oddly steady, his eyes decidedly cold.

  “Be quiet, or you’re next. His Excellency is on the way, and it looks as if I no longer need either one of you.”

  Chapter 15

  Kadir parked a short way down the street from Cassandra’s apartment building, pulling the black sports car he’d driven to
Barton, what seemed like a lifetime ago, to the curb. The security personnel who had been assigned to watch him had tried to follow as he’d sped from the estate, but the sports car was too fast for them and he’d managed to lose them quickly.

  He had a few minutes left before Hakim’s deadline was over. Now was not the time to panic and rush forward. Now was the time to stop and think. Was Hakim working alone? That was likely, since money was involved and Hakim would probably not want to share, but Kadir could not be sure. He left the car and walked toward Cassandra’s building. If he went to her front door he’d be dead within seconds—and so would Cassandra and Sharif, if indeed they still lived.

  Kadir stepped into the shadows of an alleyway and dialed Cassandra’s number on his cell phone. After two rings Hakim answered, once again using his most professional voice to say, “Klein residence.”

  “I’m outside the building,” Kadir said in a voice that held no emotion. “Give Ms. Klein or Sharif the telephone. When you walk outside and I can see you while I still hear your hostages’ voices and know they are well, then you’ll get what you want.”

  Hakim scoffed. “No. You come to me, or there’s no deal.”

  “Then there’s no deal.” Kadir sincerely hoped Hakim could not hear the panic in his voice. “If I walk in that front door, we’re all dead, and I know that well. You’re not going to leave witnesses to the assassination if you have an opportunity to avoid it.”

  “You’ve just condemned your friends to death,” Hakim said solemnly.

  “Have I?” Anger crept into Kadir’s voice. “Zahid isn’t paying you a dime to kill Ms. Klein and Al-Asad. I know you’re willing to murder others in order to get to me. Sayyid and Fahd and Haroun and all the other men you knew and worked with, you killed them all to get to me. But if you waste your time murdering Ms. Klein and Al-Asad while I walk away, how does it benefit you? It doesn’t. I’m on the north corner, as you exit the building.”

  “Say hello,” Hakim instructed, his mouth far from the receiver.

  Cassandra answered. “Don’t come up here, Kadir!” she said in a loud voice. “Sharif is…”

  The connection ended abruptly—by Hakim’s hand, no doubt. Sharif was what? Dead? Hurt? A part of the plan, as Cassandra had once suspected?

  Kadir dialed the number once again, but the phone rang until the answering machine message came on the line. He headed with a quick step toward the entrance to Cassandra’s building. No matter what he’d said in trying to draw Hakim away from his hostages, he would not, could not, leave Cassandra and Sharif in the hands of an armed man who meant them harm.

  Before Kadir reached the entrance, Hakim walked out of the building. He was not alone. Cassandra was held before the traitor, and though Kadir could not see the gun, he knew it was there, between Hakim and Cassandra.

  It was late at night, and the street was deserted and dark. A lone streetlamp shone down on the three of them, providing the only bit of significant light. Kadir and Hakim each stepped closer to one another, cautiously, slowly. Kadir kept the six-shooter down, slightly behind him and in shadow.

  “I’m here,” he said tersely. “Let her go.”

  “No,” Hakim responded.

  Kadir stuck the six-shooter into the waistband of his pants, there at his spine, and lifted his hands high. “I only want to see the others go free. You can have me. I’m tired of fighting at every turn, I’m tired of watching Zahid win all the time. What do I have to live for, anyway? Zahid took my life from me a long time ago, when he compelled me to sacrifice everything in the name of what he’d done. At this point death will be a relief.”

  Hakim smiled. “Good.”

  With a shift of his hand, Hakim allowed Kadir to see the weapon with which he threatened Cassandra.

  “Let her go,” Kadir said once more.

  “No.” Hakim’s focus was now almost entirely on Kadir, who still had his arms raised. The gun was pointed at him, and Hakim’s grip on Cassandra was not as earnest as it had once been. Kadir looked Cassandra in the eye and nodded once, and somehow she knew what he silently asked of her. She yanked once and stumbled away from Hakim. Kadir dropped to the ground as Hakim fired the first shot. He rolled away and drew the six-shooter he’d concealed at his spine.

  Hakim was surprised; he’d expected no resistance at this point. From the ground Kadir fired twice. Hakim fired again, but again his bullet went wide.

  Kadir fired again and Hakim fell. The gun he’d held went skittering across the sidewalk.

  Kadir ran to Cassandra, who floundered as she regained her footing.

  “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, and he steadied her with one hand.

  “Sharif?”

  “He’s hurt badly. Hakim shot him.” Cassandra lifted her head and looked Kadir in the eye. Maybe now she realized why he couldn’t afford to love her. By knowing him, by being important to him, she had become Hakim’s target. She could’ve been killed.

  The security guards Kadir had managed to lose temporarily pulled their car to the curb and jumped out simultaneously, their trained eyes taking in the situation. At the same time, residents of the apartment building stepped outside to see what was going on.

  Kadir turned his attentions to the security guards. “This is the man who planted a bomb on my yacht. I’m quite sure he also hired someone to take a shot at me as I left the Maitland Museum, no doubt to impel me to make the trip to Leonia sooner than I’d planned. A member of the Kahani Ministry of Defense is in Ms. Klein’s apartment, and he’s been wounded. I would appreciate it you could call for assistance.”

  The two men jumped to do all that needed to be done, and Kadir led Cassandra back into the apartment building, weaving past curious neighbors and avoiding all questions. He wanted to take Cassandra’s arm, he wanted to steady her. But he didn’t. They could not appear to be close, not even now.

  Sharif was bound to a sturdy wooden chair in Cassandra’s kitchen. He’d been shot twice, once in the thigh, once in the shoulder. The injury to his thigh had been bound, but the shoulder wound was raw and continued to bleed. His head hung forward, limply.

  Kadir began to cut the tape that held Sharif to the chair. “The wound in his shoulder doesn’t appear to be too bad.”

  A growl rose from the man seated in the chair. “That’s because it’s not in your shoulder.”

  Kadir smiled. Sharif was going to be fine. Grouchy, until his shoulder and leg healed, but, still, alive and well.

  When Sharif was free, Kadir steadied the wounded man and turned his attention to Cassandra. “I’m sorry you were pulled into this,” he said. “This is not your war, and if Zahid’s soldiers had any nobility at all…” He tamped down the anger. “But they do not. I’m sorry,” he said again.

  Sharif lifted his head and looked at Cassandra. Kadir could not help but notice the glance that passed between them, but he could not even begin to decipher it.

  “We survived,” Sharif said. “For a while there, I was certain we would not.”

  “I know what you mean,” Cassandra said, her voice shaking slightly. “For now, let’s worry about getting you to a doctor. Help is on the way.”

  Sharif grunted. “I hate doctors.”

  Kadir wished he could feel a moment’s ease, knowing the man who’d tried to kill him, a man who had murdered many innocents on board the yacht, was dead. But unfortunately Zahid Bin-Asfour never lacked for soldiers, and he knew another would soon arrive to replace Hakim. Someone else could be paid, blackmailed or seduced into doing all that Zahid desired.

  Kadir supported Sharif to the best of his ability, trying to be strong and yet easy with the wounded man. He was afraid to so much as move Sharif to the sofa in the other room, even though he would surely be more comfortable there. It would be wise to leave even the smallest of movements to the medical personnel that were on the way.

  Sharif had signed on to this risk long ago. He knew the possible cost of fighting Zahid Bin-Asfour and his followers, and he
’d gladly accepted that risk. But Cassandra was innocent in this. She should not be in Zahid’s sights, not tonight, not ever.

  It was possible that only Hakim knew how Kadir felt about Cassandra. It was possible that Zahid was blessedly ignorant of the fact that Kadir had been foolish enough to think, for even a few days, that he could have a personal life.

  Kadir continued to kneel beside Sharif, but he lifted his head and stared at Cassandra. “Perhaps you should wait in the other room,” he said briskly.

  “What?” She sounded confused, and scared and…surprised.

  “Go to your bedroom, lock your door and when people start to ask questions don’t tell anyone that you ever knew me as anything more than a representative of my country. You were caught in the middle, you were at the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s all.”

  “But…”

  “When I get Sharif to the hospital, I’ll make a few calls of my own. As far as anyone is concerned, you barely know me. You didn’t realize that I’d survived the explosion until you read it in the newspaper, and it will suit you well if you never see me again.”

  “Kadir…”

  “Go, Ms. Klein.”

  She stiffened, took a step back and then spun on her heel and walked away. He watched her until she was out of sight. She slammed her bedroom door heartily.

  From the bloody seat where Sharif awaited assistance drifted an uncertain, whispered, “I really did think we were going to die….”

  Cassandra did exactly as Ms. Dunn asked. She threw herself into preparations for the gala and made sure everyone was aware of the special needs of those dignitaries visiting from other countries. Food, religion, personal eccentricities. There was a detailed file for each and every foreign guest of note.

  Her despondency over losing Kadir had been lifted, on that night when she’d been kidnapped and Sharif had been shot. Odd that such terrible events could make her feel better.

  Kadir did care about her. He did love her. And even if she never saw him again, knowing that made it all worthwhile. The tears she still shed, the pain she still felt, the deep emptiness she didn’t know how to discard…it was all worthwhile. She knew love.