Cradle and All

by Rebecca York

  "And where are you taking us?"

  "To where you were going in the first place, Mr. Claiborne.

  You are Steve Claiborne, are you not?

  Steve's nerves tightened, but his eyes never wavered from those of the

  man looking down on him.

  "Yes."

  "Then let us proceed to the Lion's den."

  "Fine. That's what we came for."

  Steve helped Abby to her feet, feeling her tension under his fingers.

  She'd been grateful they were being rescued.

  Then she'd under-stood the new danger.

  He kept a steadying hand on her shoulder as their captors bustled them

  out of the plane.

  Abby watched her husband for cues on how to handle the situation.

  His expression was carefully neutral, but she knew he was working to

  create an impression-for their captors and her.

  Outside, the night air felt cool, and moonlight spilled over barren

  terrain like liquid silver.

  But the stark beauty only made her shiver.

  Steve helped her struggle up a mountain of sand.

  it was tough going.

  Her shoes filled with the fine grains.

  And near the crest of the shifting hill, her calf muscles-already stiff

  and sore-started to cramp.

  As she stumbled, Steve's arm tightened around her waist and steadied

  her before she could fall.

  "Hurry!"

  one of the men urged.

  "She's been through a plane crash! She needs to rest," he grated.

  "No. The Lion has already been kept waiting too long by you."

  "It's all right," Abby murmured.

  She started moving again, feeling her legs protest with every step she

  took.

  Teeth gritted, she made it over the dune and down the other side.

  Their escort forced them to keep moving.

  A few hundred yards away, where the sand was hard-packed, stood a

  waiting helicopter.

  The men had given up any pretense of friendliness.

  Rough hands pushed Abby into a bench seat along one wall.

  Steve came so fast behind her that she knew he must have been shoved

  hard.

  "Tie them up," the leader ordered gruffly.

  Abby threw Steve a panicked glance.

  "It'll be okay. They just want us off balance," he whispered, but his

  jaw was tight and his fists were clenched.

  She flinched away from the man with the rope.

  He pulled her hands forward and secured her wrists and then her ankles

  with coarse jute.

  When the binding bit into her flesh, she winced.

  Steve was also tied up.

  Sliding over, she pressed her shoulder against his.

  They sat that way as the helicopter lifted off.

  The motion tightened the rope, and she tried to stay as still as

  possible, fighting her fear as well as the discomfort.

  They had planned a daring raid on Amarjit Singh.

  Now his men were bringing them in like confiscated livestock.

  A HALF HOUR LATM the chopper landed on the outskirts of Singh's

  stronghold.

  One of the men untied Abby, and she tried to shake some feeling into

  her hands and feet.

  When she didn't start to move fast enough to suit him, he prodded her

  with his gun.

  "Come. The Lion is waiting."

  In the gray dawn, she stumbled toward the camp.

  Steve was in front of her.

  One guard led the way and two were behind them.

  Did they think their prisoners were going to bolt?

  They passed several Jeeps parked alongside half a dozen camels.

  Then came dozens of tents, mostly of the army-surplus variety,

  scattered over an area the size of a football field.

  How many men were here?

  How many women and children?

  Abby wondered.

  She suspected that the inhabitants had been told to stay inside for

  their arrival, because she saw almost no one.

  A satellite dish and outdoor latrines were at opposite edges of the

  enclave.

  Abby tried to keep track of their route, but the dwellings were too

  similar and laid out in too much of a random pattern for her to be sure

  of where they were going.

  Finally they came to a halt in front of one of the larger tents.

  "Jathedbr, we have the man and the woman," the leader of the trio

  announced.

  The two subordinates kept Abby and Steve outside for several moments.

  Get it over with, Abby wanted to shout.

  Instead she stood quietly, trying to catch the exchange of information

  beyond the heavy canvas.

  But the words were in a language she couldn't understand.

  The head man reappeared and ushered them inside onto a muted Indian

  rug.

  The interior of the command post was lit with a single oil lamp that

  cast their shadows as grotesque figures on the slanted canvas walls.

  A large man with piercing black eyes, a turban and a beard stood in the

  center of the sparsely furnished area.

  "You are Mr. and Mrs. Claiborne, I presume?"

  "Yes. And you are the Lion," Steve responded.

  "Amarjit Singh," the commander introduced himself.

  "Why did you try to creep into camp without my knowledge?"

  Abby swallowed.

  Nothing like getting off to a bad start.

  "We had no way to contact you," Steve answered.

  "I sent a message to your house directing you to Rampur, where you

  would have received further instructions You should have stayed home to

  receive word from me."

  Steve acted as if he hadn't heard the dangerous inflection in the other

  man's voice.

  "I guess we ought to thank you for rescuing us."

  "Despite your best efforts, I have the upper hand."

  The cat-and-mouse game made Abby want to scream.

  "We came for our baby. Do you have her, or don't you?" she

  demanded.

  "The discussion is between me and your husband," Singh told her

  sharply.

  Abby felt her face heat and looked away.

  Making Singh angry would get her nowhere.

  "Yes," Steve agreed.

  "But if we're going to exchange merchandise, you'll have to show me you

  have something we want."

  The Lion waited several beats.

  Then he gave another order, and a dark-skinned woman entered carrying a

  small bundle wrapped in a pink and green receiving blanket.

  Abby's heart lurched.

  Shannon.

  Oh, God, it was Shannon.

  Tears welled in her eyes as she ran to the womarf s side and snatched

  up her daughter.

  First she hugged her to her breast, feeling an incredible warmth and

  joy spread through her soul.

  Then she gently folded back the blanket and ran shaky fingers over her

  child's tiny body, from her soft hair and little fingers to her curling

  toes.

  "You're just fine," she crooned.

  Shannon blinked.

  Steve had come up close beside Abby.

  She glanced at him and swallowed convulsively.

  He moved his hand to touch the baby, but stopped, his eyes flicking to

  Singh.

  The rebel leader was watching them intently, and the satisfied look on

  his face made the blood in Abby's veins turn to ice.

  Ignoring the scrutiny, she tipped her head toward Steve.


  "Look, she's grown. She's healthy."

  Steve's fingers squeezed her arm, but he didn't speak, and Abby knew he

  was struggling not to give his emotions away.

  Singh cleared his throat.

  "Mrs. Claiborne, you and the baby will leave now so that your husband

  and I can decide what will happen to you."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Amarjit Singh took a last swallow from his glass of mint tea.

  "Now we must well and truly get down to business."

  He spoke with the precision of a man who'd attended private schools.

  Which meant that either he'd been trying to convey a certain impression

  with the original ransom note or he hadn't personally written it, Steve

  surmised.

  "All right," he returned in the same easy tone his host had used.

  "I'm waiting to hear what you have to say."

  Across the tent, he carefully considered the rebel leader.

  Singh sat cross-legged on one of the plush Oriental rugs that carpeted

  the tent.

  His wiry, dark beard hid the bottom part of his face and his bright

  saffron turban covered his hair.

  He was dressed in a pair of khaki shorts, a loose-fitting, sleeveless

  shirt that displayed his muscular arms, and a pair of Nike running

  shoes.

  The outfit was accented by a short sword in a scabbard slung diagonally

  across his chest.

  Guerilla chic.

  After sending Abby and Shannon to the women's compound, he'd left Steve

  cooling his heels for forty-five minutes.

  Then he'd invited him into his living quarters.

  But so far he'd only served tea and sweet cakes, and talked about his

  hopes of an independent state for the Sikh people and why he'd given up

  a Position of prestige and a comfortable home in the most fertile

  region of India to live like a camel driver in the desert.

  Yet the rebel hospitality and the thought-provoking conversation hadn't

  lulled Steve into dropping his guard.

  He knew he was facing a ruthless and unpredictable man.

  " I-et's go back to a previous point we didn't settle, the Lion said.

  " I carefully worked out a plan to bring you to this camp-without your

  knowing its exact location.

  You didn't pick up the flying instructions to the rendezvous point, yet

  you were on your way here when your plane went down.

  "I didn't get your directions, because I was busy tracking down the

  arms dealer who was the original supplier of your merchandise. He knew

  your location."

  "You're lying. Who is this arms dealer?"

  Steve kept his gaze steady.

  "Tang Wu. He has,: a highly developed information network."

  He could see the name had registered.

  "So you claim. Yet Wu didn't locate Oliver Gibbs.

  Or did he?

  Perhaps you should fill me in on exactly what happened to the shipment

  Gibbs was supposed to deliver.

  "I'm not going to fill you in on anything until my wife and daughter

  are out of this camp."

  "You're hardly in a position to make demands."

  "Oh, I think I am. Unless I know my family is safe, you won't get your

  weapons."

  "I could have you all killed."

  "I'm aware of that. But I'm the only one who knows where Gibbs stashed

  the shipment. I didn't tell Wu, so you're going to have to deal with

  me."

  "I can deal with you by making you watch your wife and baby staked out

  in the hot sun."

  Steady, Steve told himself.

  Steady.

  He knew Singh was appraising him, just as he was appraising the

  rebel.

  Looking for the weak spots.

  "K-ill them and there will be no way in hell you'll get what you

  want."

  "Maybe I can pry it out of your wife. Do you think she'd like to watch

  me cut off your... fingers?"

  "That would be a waste of your time," Steve answered evenly.

  "She doesn't have the information you want. I made very sure of

  that."

  "Talk is cheap."

  "Perhaps. But consider this bit of intelligence.

  You're not the only one trying to find out what happened to Oliver

  Gibbs.

  The CIA spent a lot of time and effort asking me questions.

  They didn't get a damn thing, but I've left a sealed envelope to be

  delivered to them if anything happens to me or my family.

  Singh snorted.

  "The CIA may be keeping tabs on me, but they won't interfere. Just the

  way they didn't interfere when thousands of my people were killed at

  the Golden Temple or in their homes."

  "I understand your anguish over those murders."

  "How could you? You think because you spent a few years piloting

  cargoes around India that you understand what's going on in this

  country?"

  "If you've had me investigated, you know what happened to my sister.

  You know how far I was prepared to go to punish the men who killed

  her.

  One of them turned out to be very close to me. That didn't stop me

  from shooting him," Steve said evenly.

  Sin h held Steve's piercing gaze for several seconds longer.

  "Meeting an individual is always different from reading about him."

  "Yes."

  Steve's face gave no indication that he was about to play the most

  risky card in his meager deck.

  The only way he was going to save Abby and Shannon was to convince

  Amarjit Singh that Steve Claiborne was as hard and ruthless as the

  rebel leader.

  "I understand the use of torture-perhaps not as well as you do, but

  well enough. How do you think I pried your location out of Tang Wu?"

  Singh snorted.

  "You couldn't get to him unless you were a guest in his home. He's

  guarded by a small army."

  "Except when he goes to a certain bordello to indulge his peculiar

  sexual tastes. Oh, I got to him, all right, and worked him over pretty

  thoroughly. That's how I know why the CIA is so interested you."

  "You're bluffing!"

  Singh snapped.

  "Bluffing? I don't think so. Make some discreet inquiries. You'll

  find Wu is out of circulation for a while.

  I got information out of him he hasn't dared to tell anyone else.

  I may know more about Omega than you do.

  Steve went on, carefully spinning a tale woven of fact and half-truth

  and speculation about'the chemical weapon, knowing that Singh would

  already have some of the information.

  But he wouldn't be able to check the rest.

  He also knew he had the man's undivided attention.

  "All the information about Omega and your connection to it is in the

  letter I addressed to the CIA.

  It will be sent to them if my family and I disappear into the Indian

  desert.

  When he stopped speaking, there was absolute silence inside the tent.

  Outside, the wind was picking up sand.

  Was another storm coming?

  Would that make it impossible to get Abby and Shannon out of here

  tonight?

  He wanted them away from the camp as soon as possible, before Singh had

  a chance for second thoughts.

  "Suppose I deal on your terms. What do you want?"

  "I want my wife and child back home in Baltimore before I ta
ke you to

  Gibbs's stash."

  Singh laughed harshly.

  "Impossible. I need a closer hold on something you value. I'm willing