“Why?” he interrupted. “Why me?”
“You’re a person of interest to the British Government.”
“And that’s why?”
“No.” She cleared her throat. “Two months ago the U.S. National Security Agency picked up intelligence that led to the U.S. interception of a yellowcake uranium shipment from Libya to Korea. It was a rare kind of uranium, David. The kind that made headlines two years ago, the kind being used in cutting-edge nuclear technology.”
His chest tightened. He knew exactly what kind of uranium she was talking about. It came from only a few mines in the world. He owned two of them.
“It came from your mines, David. It was being shipped to Korea by the Falal in return for sophisticated centrifuges and other nuclear-weapons hardware and technology. What the U.S. discovered is only a small portion of what is coming from your mines. The rest is going straight to the Falal and the Falal is enriching your uranium and using the Korean hardware to manufacture nuclear weapons for Libya. Falal, David, is a covert arm of the Libyan Government.”
David’s heart kicked against his rib cage. He said nothing. He felt sick. This couldn’t be true.
“The U.S. also learned that illegal oil shipments from Rashid mines were making their way onto the black market and that the funds generated from them were going to finance the Falal. Because it’s your company and because you are a British citizen, U.S. intelligence alerted MI-6. The agencies are cooperating. On the surface Libya had abandoned its nuclear-weapons program. But now we have proof the Falal has simply taken it underground. It still exists, and your mines are fueling it.”
David felt the blood drain from his head. “It cannot be true.”
“It is true.”
“It can’t be. I’d know about it. Or…or Tariq would. It couldn’t be done without at least one of us being aware.”
“Yes,” she said, watching him intently.
He reeled at the implication. “You’re trying to tell me my own brother knows about this!”
“Yes.”
“No!” He slammed his fist onto the desk. “It’s a lie!”
“David, Tariq was seen at the Falal base in southern Libya two days ago.” She hesitated. “The U.S. has an undercover operative at that base. He has evidence that Tariq belongs to the Falal. He also has proof that the Falal is funding the rebels in Azar…the rebels you have been fighting.”
His vision narrowed and his world spun. “You’re telling me that my brother is a traitor not only to his family, but a traitor to his whole country. And that I’m not fighting a small group of Azarian dissidents but I am fighting Libya itself?” He paced the room angrily, raked his hands through his hair, halted, glared at her. “Why should I believe you? You are a liar!”
“Because I care about what happens to you and Kamilah.”
“Bull!”
“David, you have to trust me.”
He felt himself beginning to shake with bottled rage. “You faked an accident to get into my home, you faked amnesia, you insinuated yourself into my daughter’s life to get to me. You…you slept with me. You are the worst kind of liar…and now you accuse my brother and you want my trust?”
She took a step toward him, her eyes burning with desperate urgency. “The accident, David, the amnesia, that was all real.”
He stormed over to the door, unlocked it, swung it open. “Get out! Get out of my life! Get off my island!”
Jayde had pushed him too far. But she stood her ground. She had to see this through. She had to ensure the information she’d divulged stayed with him and him alone. “I can help you, David.”
His eyes literally sparked with rage. Fury came off him in hot waves. He seemed to swell in size with the power of his anger. He was an awesome and frightening sight, and there was no doubt in her mind David Rashid was a man who could be driven to kill with his bare hands.
“Leave!” He pointed to the door, his voice quavering with rage.
Jayde made her way slowly toward the door, her mind racing for a way out. But as she reached the archway, a terrible scream echoed through the palace corridors. Then another. And another. Coming toward them. Both she and David froze at the awful sound.
They could hear footsteps. Someone running, stumbling. Gasping for breath.
Fayha’ lurched around the corner and collapsed against the wall. She was pale as a ghost, her eyes as big as black saucers. Her scarf had been yanked back, leaving her hair uncovered. Her dress was torn and stained with dirt. She opened her mouth. But the only sound that came out was a coarse rasp. Her knees buckled under her and she began to slip down the wall.
David lunged forward, caught her. “Fayha’, what is it?”
“Allah forgive me…forgive me.”
The first thing David did was pull the scarf back up over his housekeeper’s hair. The gesture moved Jayde deeply. David knew how important it was to a Muslim woman to keep her hair covered. The gesture also showed a respect for his housekeeper, respect he no longer had for her and would never have again.
He spoke gently. “Take it easy, Fayha’. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Sh…she…she’s gone.”
“Who, Fayha’? Who has gone?”
“Kamilah.”
David’s body went rock still. “What?”
“He…he took her.”
“Who?” he barked.
“Mr. Tariq…he…he took her in the helicopter.”
David didn’t move. Time stretched thick. Then his head turned, very slowly, and his eyes lifted to meet Jayde’s. In them Jayde could see the harsh truth of his brother’s betrayal beginning to sink in. His whole face began to change as she watched. She saw darkness bleed into the sharp blue of his eyes. His brows lowered, his mouth flattened, his features sharpened. The muscle in his jaw pumped wildly. And she was held prisoner by the intensity of the transformation.
Fayha’ thrust a crumpled wad of paper at David. “He…he gave me a note.”
David jerked his attention back to Fayha’, grabbed the paper, stood up, read it.
And his face went white.
Chapter 12
David read the note a second time. The words had no less impact. It was written in Arabic, in Tariq’s unmistakable scrawl. His daughter had been kidnapped.
By his own brother.
He couldn’t get his brain around the fact. It didn’t make sense. He read the note a third time.
“If you want to get Kamilah back alive you will do everything I say. Expect my call by midnight. Follow orders to the last detail.”
This was not possible! How could his brother do this to Kamilah? Even if what Jayde Ashton had said about Tariq was true, surely he would not harm Kamilah, his own niece, Aisha’s child? Tariq knew just how vulnerable Kamilah was, how she’d suffered since the death of her mother. This would utterly destroy her. How could he use her like this? Why? What could he possibly want?
David tried to swallow the orb of anguish ballooning in his throat. His fists balled, his jaw clenched, his vision blurred. He hadn’t been there for her. He’d been distracted by a woman.
Once again he had failed his daughter.
Rage began to boil deep inside him, surging violently up through his body, his blood. He could feel himself begin to vibrate against the sheer steaming power of it. And he knew he was veering dangerously close to the outer limits of his control.
But he couldn’t afford to lose it. He brutally clubbed his emotions back into submission. He sucked in a deep breath, willed the fire of his fury to flatten out into a deadly cold and laser-sharp focus. He had to think fast. Clearly. He needed to be both restrained and ruthless. And he had to move with lightning swiftness.
First he had to contact his insurance company in London. He had kidnap and ransom cover with Sudderby’s. They would immediately dispatch Gio Moriati, a trained negotiator, the world’s best. And he had to summon Jacques Sauvage to his island immediately. Sauvage would put together a tactical team and the tracing eq
uipment needed to track Tariq’s call. If he moved fast enough, they could all be in place and ready for that call by midnight. If the negotiating failed, Sauvage’s team would be ready to go in and retrieve his daughter. And David would go with them.
He sucked in another slow, deep breath, filling his chest to capacity, filling his body with control. He exhaled slowly. He ignored the MI-6 agent watching him. He took Fayha”s arm, led her to a chair in his office and sat her down. “Tell me exactly what happened, step by step.”
Fayha’ was still shaking violently. “Mr. Ta-Tariq was on the phone in the great room. I…I came in to see what dusting needed to be done and I…I saw him there.”
“Did you hear him talk on the phone?”
Fayha’ shook her head. “No. He was just listening. Then he put the receiver down and…and then…he saw me. His eyes were strange. He asked where Kamilah was. I…I told him she was in the kitchen helping with the dinner.” Fayha’ began to choke on her own sobs. “She likes to do that, you know…she’s such a good child. I…I told him where to find her. I…”
David took her hand. “Fayha’, it’s not your fault. I need you to think clearly now, we all need to. What happened next?”
She sniffed, smudged the tears from her face. “I followed him. I wasn’t sure why he wanted to see Kamilah.” Another sob shuddered through her body. “He…he took her to the helicopter. I…I couldn’t stop him in time. I tried. He…he was too strong. He threw me to the ground. I…I didn’t have time to get help.”
“Thank you, Fayha’. You did what you could. Go clean up,” he said. “I’ll have Dr. Watson brought in. He’ll give you something to help calm you down when he arrives.”
David turned to the woman at his side, the stranger he thought he’d known so intimately. Her eyes were wide and her skin was white with shock at the news of Kamilah’s kidnapping.
But her feelings didn’t touch him. They would never touch him again. He never wanted to see her again. But right at this instant he needed her on his side. He needed every ally he could possibly think of. Working with the woman who betrayed him might help save his baby. He wasn’t going to miss a single possible play. He’d do anything in this world to bring his Kamilah home safe.
He glared at her. “Tariq must have heard you on the phone.”
She swallowed. “I know. I have to call in. If Tariq heard me it means the American agent in Libya has been compromised.” Her voice was small. “He will be killed if they find him.”
He stared at her beautiful face, at the raw pain and regret in her eyes. And his heart sent a ripple through him. He quashed it instantly. This woman had done more than betray him. Because of her actions, the most precious jewel in his life had been taken from him. He could never forgive her that. He had to hold on to anger, channel the energy of his emotion into hate, revulsion. It was the only way he would be able to keep functioning.
“I want all the information your people have gathered on Tariq,” he told her, his voice cold. “And I want whatever intelligence you have on the Libyan Falal, their southern base, the black market exchanges, details of the Falal connection with the Azar rebels. You will deliver this to the Force du Sable tactical team in the great dining hall as soon as you have assembled it. We need the information by midnight. Use my phone.”
She said nothing. She’d lost her fight. She was no longer challenging him. It was as if a part of her had died. It made something sink inside David. Again he shoved it brutally away. He watched her move woodenly over to his desk and pick up the phone.
Guilt weighed heavily on Jayde’s shoulders. In allowing herself to open emotionally to David, in falling for him, she had allowed him to become her one weakness, the chink in her armor. And in trying to help David, in being honest with him, in being true to herself in the only way she possibly could, she’d ended up putting his daughter in jeopardy, and now possibly a colleague.
She’d done what she had for all the right reasons. She could not have behaved otherwise. And everything had gone wrong. There was no reward for being true. There was no justice in this world. This was life. Not a fairy tale. And life was cruel.
She swallowed against the dryness in her throat. She loved that child. She understood her. And now she knew why. It was because she had been there. She knew what it was like to lose someone you loved to the sea, what it could do to your soul, how it could kill a part of who you were, and how it could destroy a family. She’d promised Kamilah a happy ending. A fairy-tale ending…
Jayde gritted her teeth suddenly. By God she was going to do it! She was going to do whatever it took to deliver that happy ending to little Kamilah, or she would die trying. She grabbed the phone and punched in Lancaster’s number for the second time that day.
She knew that when she’d finished telling Lancaster what she’d done, she would be without a job.
She’d lost everything. First her memory, then her heart, then the man who’d stolen her heart. Now she’d lost his child and it would cost her career.
But she was not going down without a fight. She would not let Kamilah and her father down again. This was her fault. And she was prepared to do whatever it took to make it right.
By the time Jayde made her way to the dining hall it was eleven o’clock and dark, with a waning crescent moon low in the sky. She’d gathered her wits and was now sharply focused on the task that lay ahead.
Lancaster had seen the need to keep her on the job—for now. He made no bones about the fact he would deal with her later. He and O’Reilly had delivered the bag of gear and information she’d requested from them earlier in the afternoon. They’d flown it in by chopper and they were now on standby in Khartoum in case she needed additional manpower. Lancaster had also told her the American undercover agent was safe in Azar. He’d left Libya with a group of dissidents under the guise of picking up another uranium shipment. His cover was still tight. But most of all, he was still alive.
But it did little to ease Jayde’s conscience. She would rest only when Kamilah was safe and back in the arms of her father.
She strode down the palace corridor dressed in light cargo pants, an olive-green T-shirt and army boots. Her hair was tied in a neat braid that hung down the center of her back. She’d pulled herself together and she meant business. She knew this was her last mission with MI-6, the organization that had been family to her for most of her adult life. And she was going to make it count.
She pushed open the double doors, entered the dining hall and did a double take. The grand hall had been turned into a war room in the space of hours. There were maps tacked onto the wall and spread over the table. Electronic equipment, computer monitors and wires covered another table. The telephone was connected to a microphone, to speakers, and linked into the computer equipment. Lights blazed brightly over the whole affair.
It was a far cry from the candlelit atmosphere she’d shared only hours ago with Tariq and David at this very table. She had to hand it to David, when he went into warrior mode, he sure as hell moved fast.
David was in deep conversation with three men gathered around the far end of the long table. One of them was the most powerful-looking black man she’d ever laid eyes on: bald head, gleaming ebony skin and bone structure worthy of an ancient gladiator. The other two were Caucasian, and equally potent in build. Both were deeply tanned. One had dark hair, another was sandy blond.
They looked up in unison as she approached. Each wore an expression of business. David’s mouth flattened at the sight of her. He didn’t bother to introduce her.
She nodded at the men, dumped her pack on the table. “I’m agent Jayde Ashton,” she said. “MI-6.”
The dark-haired man at the head of the table stood to a towering height. His icy silver eyes appraised her with cool and calculated concentration.
Jayde knew his face instantly. It was unmistakable. All hard angles with a scar that sliced from the corner of his left eye to the base of his sharp jaw. It was a ruthless and rugged face, one th
at had graced many a paramilitary magazine. It was the face of a man who had piqued the attention of the world’s governments with the way he’d single-handedly challenged the international community’s perception of mercenaries and armies for hire. He was the legendary Jacques Sauvage, the formidable head of the notorious Force du Sable. The founder of the first private military operation to lobby for United Nations sanction. The man giving soldiers of fortune respectability.
In spite of herself she felt a prickle of awe run over her skin.
“Jacques Sauvage,” he said, holding out a large, roughened hand. She held out her own. His grip was as powerful as he looked.
“And this is December.” He motioned to the large black man at his side. December tipped his head and lowered his eyes in sullen greeting.
“And this is Gio Moriati, K&R point man for Sudderby’s of London.”
Jayde nodded to each. She knew K&R stood for kidnap and ransom and that Moriati would thus be handling the negotiations with Tariq. But she suspected he would have little success. Tariq was not after money. He was after his brother’s soul. And a country.
She sensed David’s eyes on her. She turned to look at him and she felt color rise to her cheeks under his intense scrutiny. She held his gaze, but his features remained implacable, his eyes cold and hard. Like the men he’d assembled around him, David Rashid was in combat mode. These were the men he’d chosen to guide him into battle. These were the men he was relying on to help save his daughter from his own brother. They made a formidable team. And she was going to show them she was every bit as good as each one of them.
Jayde pulled out a chair and joined the men. She had less than an hour to table everything she had on Tariq, Falal, the Azar dissidents and the black market trades.
She methodically laid out her case, her eyes continually trying to read David’s as she did. But he’d make one hell of a poker player. Nothing she said about his brother seemed to touch him. She felt as if she’d never known him, never even glimpsed the man she knew lived under that shell.
The Sheik Who Loved Me Page 17