Kalid was dressed like a British businessman in a three piece suit, his kaffe skin, vaguely European features and Victorian beard enhancing the Western tourist effect. He spotted Malik Bey immediately at the back of the room. The younger man was disguised as a bedouin, with flowing robes and a headscarf obscuring his hair and the lower part of his face.
The disguise was a precaution. Malik had never been turned in for the substantial reward offered for his capture, but a desperate peasant in a moment of weakness might just recognize him and alter his fate forever.
The two men moved toward one another without haste, meeting next to a scarred table in the middle of the room. Kalid gestured for Malik to sit and then ordered two cups of boza, the fermented barley drink popular with the country’s working class majority. He spoke in Turkish to the barmaid and then switched to English when he addressed Malik, to reduce the chance of their conversation being overheard and understood.
“I am here to redeem the American girl,” Kalid said. “What do you want for her?”
“Five thousand kurush,” Malik replied.
“That’s quite a bit.”
“Not for a relative of your beloved pashana’s,” Malik replied dryly.
“The relation is not close, Sarah doesn’t even know her. The girl is the niece of Sarah’s cousin’s wife. Were you aware of this when you took her?”
Malik shook his head. “I saw that she was young and beautiful and knew she would bring a fine price on the slave market.”
“Then why haven’t you sold her?” Kalid demanded, watching the younger man’s face.
Malik looked away. “I tried. I couldn’t do it.”
The barmaid brought their drinks and Kalid handed her a coin.
When she left he leaned forward and said, “I’ll give you ten thousand if you’ll keep Amelia safe for three weeks and then turn her over to me at the end of that time.”
Malik stared at him, unable to speak.
“I mean it,” Kalid said. “I have the money with me.”
“Why?” Malik finally said.
“If you hold her that long the Sultan will be convinced that I was reluctant to pay the ransom and had to think about it, finally relenting in response to pressure from my wife.” He smiled. “It is well known that I indulge her, and sexual persuasion is a concept the Sultan will understand.”
Malik nodded, his mind racing.
“I want to avoid any appearance of collusion in the kidnapping,” Kalid said, “and there is another reason.” He took a sip of the boza. “The Sultan has convened a meeting of all the district pashas for the twentieth. I hope to win some concessions for Bursa at that time, and if Hammid thinks I’m still holding out on your extortion demands he’ll be in a more favorable mood.”
“Everyone says that you play him like an instrument,” Malik said admiringly.
“I have to, agha,” Kalid said, addressing Malik by the title that his men used for him. “He still has the janissaries, and they could lay waste to Bursa in a few days. The people rely on me to protect them. When I decide to fight it will be when I’ve eliminated Hammid’s personal army and am poised to win.”
“Anybody else in your position would be long gone, living in luxury in a townhouse in London,” Malik said.
“I’m not anybody else,” Kalid replied shortly.
“Where is the money?”
“Here.” Kalid lifted a leather bag onto the distressed wooden table. “I’m giving it to you now as a contribution to your cause because I think you may have need of it soon.”
“Why? What do you know?”
“I received a tip yesterday from one of my paid informants. The Sultan is planning a raid on the Armenian section in Constantinople. He suspects the Armenians of working with you.”
“When?”
“At dawn on Thursday. If you want to keep your allies there alive to fight another day, send reinforcements in the night before and have them ready and waiting for the attack.”
Malik took the bag of money and stood. “When we move against the Sultan I’ll make sure you’re warned in enough time to get your family out safely,” he said.
“When you move against the Sultan I’ll be with you,” Kalid replied.
Malik extended his hand and Kalid clasped it. Their eyes met and held.
“I’ll wager Amelia’s a handful, isn’t she?” Kalid said, his expression mischievous.
Malik nodded, smiling slightly.
“So was my wife, but well worth the trouble, I assure you. Take care of Amy.”
Malik nodded. He understood.
“Good luck on Thursday. I’ll send word to the camp with Moamar when and where you can meet me to release the girl.” Kalid rose and walked out of the shop.
Malik watched Shah’s wide shoulders disappear through the narrow doorway. Malik’s pulse was pounding, his fingers knotted around the purse in his hands.
He had heard many amazing stories about the young pasha of Bursa.
Now he knew they were true.
* * *
When Malik returned to the camp that evening he sent Matka out of his tent and ordered the guards away from the area. Amy watched, puzzled, as he knelt on the ground before her and pulled his knife from the sheath at his waist.
She drew in her breath, her eyes widening.
He slashed through her bonds with two strokes and said, “Stand up.”
Amy rose unsteadily, her cramped legs almost giving way beneath her. Malik extended his arm and she took it, leaning on it heavily.
“We’re going for a walk,” he said.
Amy felt the eyes of the camp women on her as she and her companion walked past the cooking fires and the stand where the horses were tied, past the main guard post and into the trees. They went a short distance to a clearing where fallen tree trunks and the remains of rotted stumps provided a natural seating gallery. Malik indicated for her to sit on a flat stump and then stood facing her, his arms folded.
“Why the dispensation?” Amy asked, holding up her naked wrists.
“What’s that?” he asked. Apparently his English vocabulary was not equal to this challenge.
“Why no ropes?” she translated.
He looked down at the ground, then up at her again. “I have met with your kinsman, Kalid Shah, the Pasha of Bursa.”
Amy stared back at him triumphantly. “Oh, really? How interesting. I told you I wasn’t lying about that.”
“You never mentioned his name.”
“I couldn’t recall it immediately...”
“I thought you were just trying another ploy to get...”
“You wouldn’t even listen to me!” Amy interrupted him indignantly.
He held up his hand for silence. “It doesn’t matter now. The pasha will be taking you back to your family in three weeks.”
Amy stared at him, unable to comprehend it.
“You aren’t tied up any more because there’s no further reason for you to attempt an escape. I have no plans to sell you to a dealer or harm you in any way. Kalid Shah has already given me what I want. You will be safe and well cared for here until he comes for you.”
“He paid you?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Why do you want to know?”
Amy picked up a wood chip and turned it over in her fingers. “Just curious. It would be a shame for you to go to so much trouble over me and not get what you were hoping for.”
“I am well satisfied with the price,” he said.
Amy said nothing.
“Well?” he prodded. “I would have thought you’d be happier at this news.”
“I’m not sure I believe you,” she said.
He eyed her warily. “Why not?”
“Why not? You’re surprised? A trustworthy fellow like yourself?” she said dryly.
“What makes you doubt me?”
“Oh, let me see. What could there possibly be? Your past history, your present occupation, your sterlin
g reputation, your honest face?”
“Answer me seriously.”
“You could take Kalid’s money and then sell me anyway. By the time he showed up here to collect me I would be long gone and you’d have been paid double for one hostage.”
“Obviously, he trusts me.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
“I am a man of my word...”
She snorted. “What’s that? Honor among thieves? Or is it kidnappers? Oh excuse me, what do you call yourselves, agha, heroes of the people?”
“We call ourselves men who want to be free.”
“Please!” Amy said, standing up and clenching her fists. “Just tell me the truth for once! Why did Kalid give you the money now instead of when he gets me back? Isn’t that the standard procedure? And why is he waiting three weeks to come for me? Something else is going on here, Malik, and I want to know what it is.”
Malik said nothing. It was the first time she had called him by name, and hearing her say it with the native pronunciation his friends used clutched suddenly at his gut.
“Or are you lying to me about everything?” she went on, almost raving. “Have you just made all this up to confuse me?” She balled her fists at her temples, her knuckles white. “I don’t know what to believe!”
“Believe what I’m telling you.”
“Why should I? You might be lying to me about anything. Maybe the next slave trader you have lined up to inspect me can’t get here for three weeks. You could be telling me this story so I’ll be a good little girl and not give you any trouble until he arrives to make the deal.”
“You think too much,” Malik said, picking up a stick and snapping it in half disgustedly.
“I’ve had plenty of time to think, tied up all day,” she shot back.
“I’ve said that you won’t be tied up any more,” he replied heatedly.
“Oh, thank you, my lord and master,” Amy said sarcastically. “I’m so grateful for your kindness. And did I remember to thank you for dragging me off on horseback at gunpoint and installing me in this Queen’s Appointment hotel? Not to mention parading me like livestock before that insect with the nose ring and the turban. Why didn’t you sell me to Halmad anyway? Wasn’t the price high enough?”
Malik charged forward and grabbed her arms. “The price was fine. I just couldn’t let him strip you as bare as a strumpet to inspect the goods!” he said furiously.
“Why not? Did you want to do it yourself?” Amy countered, staring up at him.
A throbbing silence fell as they heard what they had said. Neither knew what to do; too much of what they’d been feeling had been exposed by the exchange.
Amy was the first to recover.
“You’re hurting me,” she whispered, twisting uselessly in his grasp.
He didn’t move.
“I said, you’re hurting me. Let me go!”
His fingers relaxed slowly and Amy snatched herself away from him, rubbing her wrists.
“Go back to the camp and stay in my tent,” he said abruptly, looking away from her.
“Aren’t you going to put a rope around my neck and lead me there?” she said in the old taunting tone, but her heart wasn’t in it. She was visibly shaken, her face pale.
“The sun is going down right now. If you want to take off and spend another night with the wolves, be my guest. I won’t come after you this time.”
“Why? Because you already have your money?” she said nastily.
“Because you are a nuisance and a burden and I wish I had never set eyes on you.”
There was a long pause. Then she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, which was trembling.
“I hate you,” she hissed, her eyes filling with tears.
“That’s your problem,” he replied.
One tear crept down her cheek, and she dashed it away in annoyance. Then she stalked past him, and he turned to watch her go. When she had disappeared through the trees he took her place on the polished stump and put his head in his hands.
He should not be involved in this; he did not have the time. To say that he had more important things to do was a ludicrous understatement: the fate of his country was hanging in the balance and he was having spats with a spoiled American teenager who had already caused him more trouble than all the previous women in his life combined.
In short, he was risking his mission, not to mention making an ass of himself.
It didn’t seem to matter. He was ensnared and he knew it. In three weeks she would leave and he would never see her again, but while she was with him he could not stay away from her.
He stood and began to pace, thrusting his fingers through his hair distractedly. He must stay away from her. He must. His agreement with Kalid Shah had left several things unspoken, and one of them was that Amelia leave the rebel camp as she had entered it.
The tension between them was causing them to fight, but he couldn’t take her, even if she was willing to be taken, and even if he was dying of the need to sink into her so deep he would be lost forever. It was no longer a matter of keeping her virginal for the slave trade; it was now a matter of honor. His honor.
He would not break faith with the Pasha of Bursa, who was risking his life and that of his family to help the revolutionaries’ cause.
Malik closed his eyes. Why was it so difficult to resist her? It wasn’t just that she was ready and wanted him, even if her inexperience was confusing her and she didn’t yet realize it herself. Her anger and her indignation, very real at first, were now becoming a defense; he could see through them to her true emotions. But he would have to let the moment pass, even though he knew it could never come again.
She would soon go back to her old life and forget him.
The thought was unbearable. He realized that he was clenching his fists in frustration and opened them immediately.
Malik stopped walking suddenly and looked up at the setting sun. Anwar would be searching for him, wanting to review the plan for their infiltration of the Armenian quarter.
When the Sultan’s men arrived at dawn, the rebels would be waiting.
Chapter 6
The silence woke her. Amy sat up and looked around the empty tent. Malik’s pallet was still rolled up, unused, and she realized with a start that he had not come back after their argument.
She stood and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders, walking through the tent flap and stepping outside. It was the hour before dawn, when the birds began to stir and the women started the cooking fires. Amy looked around curiously and quickly realized what had disturbed her.
All the men and the horses were gone. The noise they made was absent, and the resulting quiet was unnerving.
The women moved about her like shadows, performing their routine tasks. They ignored her as if she were part of the morning mist drifting through the trees.
Amy watched them, wondering why they were alone. There was no one she could ask. To her knowledge, Malik was the only member of the rebel group who spoke English, and her Turkish was restricted to a few necessary words and phrases.
Whatever was happening, all the others seemed aware of it. There was no alarm in their expression or demeanor, and their placid acceptance of the changed situation made her almost envy them their serenity.
She knew she could never be so detached. She always wanted to know everything about every situation, and sometimes it got her into trouble.
It was the longest day of Amy’s life. She had no idea what was going on and there was no one to tell her. At dusk, when she could stand it no longer, she found Matka doing needlework and said to her in English: “Where are the men?”
Matka looked at her and shrugged.
“Malik Bey,” Amy said, enunciating carefully, certain that Matka would understand that much. Then Amy gestured expansively, sweeping her arm to indicate empty space, and pantomimed looking around corners and into the distance. “Where is he?” she asked.
Matka’s expression indicated that she un
derstood, but she still said nothing. She went back to her sewing. Frustrated, Amy moved away, looking around for someone else. Risa, the young girl who had helped Matka to bathe Amy when she first arrived at the camp, walked past with a pail of water. Amy grabbed her arm and went through the same routine.
“Mahalle Armenia ,” Risa replied.
Even Amy knew what that meant, she had heard Malik use the term often enough: the Armenian quarter of Constantinople.
“Why?” Amy asked, lifting her shoulders and arching her brows inquiringly.
“Tanzimat,” Risa replied. The revolution.
The revolution? Amy thought, watching Risa walk away. What did that mean? They were always occupied with the revolution, they lived for nothing else.
Then realization dawned, and Amy felt a cold finger on the back of her neck. Risa meant that the men were fighting, she meant that they were fighting right now. Malik and his band were risking their lives at that very moment, and the sudden knowledge made her feel naive and foolish.
War was Malik’s occupation, his interlude with her just a means to that end. Why was she surprised that he had disappeared from the camp to go off and fight the Sultan? He had done it countless times, and he didn’t need her permission to continue on his chosen path.
Amy shivered, wondering if she would ever see him again. She wished that their last encounter had not been so ugly, so filled with bitterness and anger.
As soon as she realized where Malik was she knew she didn’t want anything to happen to him.
When darkness fell she went back to Malik’s tent to sleep. No one was paying any attention to her, and she could have walked right out of the camp; Malik must have known she would not go. After all, he was risking nothing by leaving her unguarded. He already had his money and Amy’s best way out of this nightmare was to wait for Kalid Shah. But there was more to it for her now. She wanted to stay and see that Malik returned safely. She knew the desire was childish, in just a few weeks he would be nothing but a memory, but the need to see him again remained.
She fell into a fitful doze, waking frequently throughout the night, but it was light before she heard the sound of horses hooves’ and knew that the men were back.
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