- -
- 100%
- +
“Let’s do this,” she said as if there was some chance that he wouldn’t. “I’m fine,” she added at the look of concern he gave her.
“You’re more than fine,” he said, turning his attention to the bank of dunes.
They eased over the dunes with little trouble, reaching the other side and finding the sand hard, buffeted by desert winds.
“Easier than we thought,” he said.
She nodded and let go of the grab bar. It was easy driving now compared to where they had just come from. She still couldn’t believe that finding Tara might be as easy as an ancient atlas and the words spoken by a dying man.
“I can see it,” she said. “El Dewar.”
He gripped the wheel as they recognized the first sign of something other than the endless sea of sand. A bit of green. An oasis. The place his parents had visited with Tara and Faisal on the last trip any of them had taken as a family before tragedy had intervened and changed the course of all their lives.
His lips tightened and she bet he was thinking of all that had transpired and of the urgency that felt almost crushing.
“The summer vacation we think she was referencing in that video,” Kate said.
He gave a brief nod as the Jeep bounced through a sand-packed gulley that seemed to run diagonally for a few minutes before they climbed to the top and the terrain became level again.
They drove in silence now, as they could see the oasis. It was small, as was the village it supported, and because of its isolation, she imagined that it likely saw few strangers. The usual sandstone-colored, square buildings huddled close together as if trying to escape the inhospitable desert.
Within minutes they were there.
As they got out of the Jeep, Kate was almost blinded by the sun as it reached its peak in the midday sky. But, still, it was cooler than usual for the time of year. She folded her arms across her chest as a cool breeze buffeted her, the palm trees rustling ahead of them. The fronds, moving back and forth in the center of the village, seemed, in an odd way, to almost welcome them.
A man in a fawn-colored aselham, the long robe skimming the tops of his feet as his sandals whispered quietly on the path that was hard-packed sand, walked past, continuing to stare as he moved. Farther away a man was filling a metal trough with water as two camels waited, reins dangling on the ground. A woman with a basket full of vegetables and a toddler clinging to her robe made her way into the center of the village, glancing back at them once and then continuing on her way. A group of women watched them and an old man smoking a cigarette was avidly following their progress. Everyone they’d seen was dressed in the traditional Berber aselham.
“Emir Al-Nassar,” Emir said, holding out his hand as a man in fawn-colored robes approached.
“Aqil,” the man returned with a slight nod of his head.
Emir didn’t introduce Kate and, unlike the last village, she didn’t volunteer. They needed information and shaking up the local culture in regard to their views on women wasn’t going to do it.
Still, she knew Emir could feel her eyes on him. She was letting him take the lead and honoring the customs of the community.
“I heard about your sister only this morning,” Aqil said in careful English. “Our internet is spotty. But, as you know, your family is well known.” He shrugged as the wind tugged at his clothes. He ran a hand through his gray-speckled beard. “We were lucky to have heard when we did. The wind is picking up. I doubt if we’ll get a connection again today or even in the next few days. That’s how it works.”
“I know you usually have your ear to the ground out here,” Emir said.
Aqil’s attention went to Kate and he frowned.
“We can talk alone,” Emir said as he followed Aqil’s gaze. “Stay here,” he said almost gruffly to Kate.
The command rankled her but it was Berber land and their rules. But there was one other thing she knew. It wasn’t just the men who were privy to things in this isolated village; the women had a key role in society in a different way than they were used to in the West or even in the city. Knowing that, hopefully between them they would learn something.
Emir looked at her like he wanted to smile at her but didn’t. Instead he let the amused smile on her face and her silence sit unacknowledged between them. But Aqil’s attention had turned to a man who had just approached and Emir took the opportunity to address her.
“You’ll be all right?” he asked in an undertone.
“I’ll be all right,” she said, although for the first time she felt slightly overwhelmed. No matter how much she’d studied, no matter her experience in Morocco, on this small tract of land they were thrown back in time and place and to the reality that she was a blond-haired American woman in Western clothing. She didn’t fit in.
“Speak to the elders first,” he advised and motioned to an elderly woman squatting beside an open fire. “If they accept you, the others may, too.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Kate?”
She nodded. “I’m fine.” But despite her words she still felt unsure and out of her element.
She took a step away as the man who had first greeted Emir came up to him.
“Come,” Aqil said as he began to lead Emir. His pace fast despite his short stature. He glanced behind as he talked, as if to ensure that Emir was indeed following him.
* * *
EMIR FOLLOWED WITH one last glance and a nod to Kate as his host led him along a beaten sand path that served as a road.
A group of small boys tossed a ball back and forth and a group of women were carrying on what seemed to be a lighthearted conversation as two of them laughed. But as the men approached, they quieted and stared.
Aqil stopped in front of a one-story, square, sandstone-colored building no different than any of the others. Inside, as in the previous home they had visited, furnishings were sparse. What was different this time was that what was there was of high quality. There was an ebony, pearl-inlaid hutch and gold-stamped figurines on various shelves throughout the room, indicating this village was doing well.
Emir removed his shoes and walked barefoot over a rug so thick he seemed to sink as he walked across it. This one was ruby red and in the middle sat an intricately carved ironwood table. A trio of men sat around the table, each with a long, thin, metal smoking stick. The smell of tobacco wove through the air and was strangely pleasant, unlike the acrid scent of cigarettes at home. Here it was a different smell, warmer, in a pleasant, rather earthy kind of way that blended with the smell of cinnamon and jasmine sifting through the air from a number of incense pots set in various corners.
He turned his attention to the man in the traditional long robe in front of them who had just joined Aqil. Unlike his first host, this man clearly wasn’t interested in introductions.
“I wish we had met under better circumstances,” the man said, his dark brows furrowed.
“The men you seek.” He looked at Emir with a scowl that deepened, as if challenging him to contradict him. “Their group was seen not forty-eight hours ago heading west.” He took a drag from his pipe, blew out a thin stream of smoke and continued. “They didn’t stop for water nor did they enter our village.”
Emir knew that piece of information was critical. Water was vital. No one would not stop for water in the desert when it was available, no matter if they carried a supply or not. Two scenarios played in his mind—they were heading to a place they knew had water that was relatively close, and had enough water to get there—an oasis with enough water to keep their small group going or...someone here had met them with a supply.
“No one here helped them, or had any contact,” the man said, as if he’d read Emir’s mind. “And there’s nothing nearby.”
“Was there...?”
“There’s nothing more,” the man said and turned away from Emir. He whispered a few words to Aqil, making it clear from his actions and poise that he was a leader within the village.
Emir straightened. He knew he’d been dismissed, that there was nothing further to be learned in this room.
Chapter Fourteen
Left alone, Kate felt conspicuous and even more out of place. She tried to feign disinterest while furtively watching everything and everyone around her. It was impossible. She was a stranger, a foreigner in their midst, and she was center stage.
The children watched her curiously. One small boy came up to her and poked the back of her hand before giggling and taking a step back. He looked up at her. His dark, curly hair glistened in the sun as his curious brown eyes locked to hers. He opened his hand and held out a blue rubber ball.
“Are you going to play catch?” she said in Berber, but the boy only closed his hand, giggled and ran away. She was alone again, a curiosity in their midst. She saw a woman looking at her from her place by a pot over a cooking fire. Kate hesitated only a second before going over to her for she was the woman Emir had suggested she approach first.
“May I?” she asked, motioning to the stool. While she wasn’t completely fluent in the language, she had a familiarity she’d gained through her time in the Middle East as a child with her parents when her father had worked for the American Embassy in Morocco, and again through her studies and her brief time as an exchange student.
The woman looked at her oddly. Her skin was a beautiful coffee color that glowed despite her wrinkles and advanced age. A black scarf with white embroidery partially covered her hair. Then she smiled and revealed missing teeth. She motioned for Kate to sit beside her. Her knotted fingers were quick and limber as she pinched spices from numerous tins beside her and stirred them into the pot. Kate had no idea what she was making but her stomach rumbled at the heady scent of the combined spices.
She glanced around. To her left, a group of women sat quietly watching her as they had since she’d arrived. The children played ball. The man had left with his two camels. Everything else remained the same. But something had changed. What?
Kate had never felt so out of place in her life. Despite everything she had studied, her familiarity with language and all her visits to Morocco, here she was the foreigner, the oddity with no commonality. Worse, this was the one language where she was not fluent, she could understand most of it, speak roughly but that was it. She looked back, searching for Emir, but there was no sign of him.
“Come.” A woman in a mauve-and-gold aselham, the hood over her head so that her forehead was covered, approached and beckoned, motioning with one hand. What Kate could see of her face and dark hair revealed a woman in her early forties with a smooth, sun-bronzed face and eyes that seemed dark, unfathomable, as if they were full of secrets.
Intrigued, she followed the woman as she skirted behind the houses to a smaller building made of the same sandstone. A brown curtain served as a door.
Kate had to bend to follow the woman through the doorway. Inside was another woman. This one was younger and dressed similarly, except her aselham was worn with a matching veil that was gray with gold trim. A gold tassel dangled from either side of her veil. An older woman in a cream-colored aselham that showed the tops of a pair of black, high-heeled boots, her long gray hair uncovered, brought her a cup of tea. Kate knew the veil was not a cultural necessity among the Berbers but more than likely worn for protection from the unseasonable weather.
She took the tea. The cup and saucer was bone china like any you’d get at home and unlike the customary Berber cup that had no handles. She sank onto the rug that covered the floor, watched the others and emulated what they did. She held the cup with both hands, not the usual way to hold what seemed a traditional teacup. Despite her studies and everything she knew about Morocco and the Middle East, she’d never seen a tribe such as this that seemed to dance between traditional customs and ones that, she guessed, weren’t acquired from popular culture but distinctly their own.
“They won’t tell him the truth,” the younger woman said in a soft voice. “He was paid too well.”
The oldest of them clicked her tongue, an oddly loud sound in the ensuing silence. She held up her hand. “Enough of such talk.”
“It’s true,” the younger woman persisted. “They will not say anything.”
Kate put her cup down and met the older woman’s eyes. She took a chance that these women knew why they were here and they might very well know where Tara was. “Sheikka Tahriha Al-Nassar may die if we don’t find her soon.”
Silence hung within the room for what seemed like minutes and might have only been seconds.
Finally the woman who had led her there said, “I will say what I know but you are to tell no one what has been said within these walls until you leave this village.” Her gaze was intense, serious. “This is between us. The women here and no more.”
“I promise,” Kate said sincerely.
“I tell you this. I will breach the will of our men only because one of our sisters is in danger,” she said. The words were spoken in careful and precise English and because of that they seemed even more ominous.
Kate held back a shiver.
The woman squatted beside Kate and pulled her veil back, revealing fresh, clear skin that was much more youthful than Kate had imagined without the veil casting shadows along the sides of her face.
As she listened, Kate could feel the tension tightening in her gut and the implications of it all made her want to cry for Emir, for his family. But, first, she knew that the man who was intent on destroying the house of Al-Nassar must be stopped.
“Do you know where they were going?” Kate asked.
“No.” She hung her head but when she looked up and her lips were set as if she’d made a decision. “That is all.”
Kate nodded and stood.
“Thank you,” she said. She wanted to shake the woman’s hand but she knew that wouldn’t be acceptable.
She was surprised when the woman offered her own hand. They shook and, with a nod, the woman led her outside before she disappeared down a narrow break between dwellings.
Where the woman had gone there was now only a goat, who lifted his head from a pail from which he was placidly eating and then turned back to his food as if whatever was going on was of little interest to him. Two children chased past her, their childish laughter no different from children anywhere, as dust rose up under their bare feet and the sun beat down on her as if nothing was wrong. Just behind them a shadow drifted between the buildings and she saw a young man, bearded, dressed in a brown robe. Their eyes met as if he were analyzing her. Then, as if she wasn’t supposed to see him, he too disappeared.
She turned as a shudder ran through her, a combination of dread and determination. They’d find Sheikka Tahriha if it was the last thing she did. Despite everything, and maybe because of everything she’d learned, she had the feeling she was no longer welcome. She felt like there were eyes watching her. She needed to find Emir so they could get out of here—now.
Chapter Fifteen
“Emir!” Kate’s voice called from behind him.
He turned from his conversation with one of the older men to see her hurrying toward him, her face pale, her hair escaping the ponytail, as usual.
A couple of small girls shadowed her footsteps, imitating her walk and her voice as they giggled. She looked back at them and then at Emir with a pained expression. He’d never seen her look so uncomfortable, so out of place.
She took his arm, her eyes pleading. “Let’s go,” she whispered.
He nodded at her. They were done here.
But there was something in her voice that said there was more.
“What’s going on Kate?” he asked as they approached the Jeep parked just outside the oasis. He looked around. They were alone.
“Kate?”
She turned and, just like that, he felt like he was drowning in the rich blue of her eyes. They glistened with excitement, tears—he wasn’t sure what. He held himself back from doing what he ached to do—take her in his arms. They might be alone but there still could be eyes that watched them and he wanted to get moving, they both did, even though it was clear something was troubling her.
He had the Jeep in gear and the village was far behind them before he asked, “What is it?”
“You may know one of the men who took Tara,” she said.
The husky tone in her voice would have been alluring at another time. Again, the thought leaped at him out of nowhere, broadsiding him, enraging him with its lack of control.
“At least, that’s what the woman I spoke to implied. But more than that, he knew your parents,” she went on before he could say anything. “Maybe he worked for you. I don’t know.”
Shock ran through Emir and left him momentarily speechless.
“That’s impossible,” he growled. It implied betrayal of the worst kind. His head pounded and dread settled through him as if deep in his core he realized that, despite all their precautions, just like Tara’s abduction, what she said was very possible.
“Is it?”
“That’s crazy. We screened all our employees. They’re all loyal, trustworthy, even friends.” He couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t. In that moment he only wanted to fight the implication with everything in him.
“I know you ran a check through all the past and current employees. But, Emir, it’s possible. What I find interesting is that it hasn’t happened sooner. People envy wealth like yours—even those who call themselves friend.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“While you were with the men, a woman took me aside. She told me about a man who had visited the village six years ago. He’d stopped for water and her husband had offered him a smoke and food. Her husband knew the man’s family—they had once been from that tribe. She could only say that he was middle-aged, Arabic, and attractive in a tired kind of way. He said at the time, that the House of Al-Nassar was cursed. She wasn’t privy to everything he said but she saw money change hands for their silence. What she remembers most is how he spoke with an almost rabid hatred of the House of Al-Nassar and kept repeating how someday he would bring it down. She remembers the name Raja.”
“My mother’s name!” The Jeep lurched and swerved.
She looked at him with concern in her eyes before continuing. “At the time she forgot about it, as much of what she’d heard made no sense. She’d thought it the crazy ranting of a nut. She’d left it up to the men to handle and, since her husband passed, she’d long forgotten about it until today. Your surname reminded her. In fact—”
The satellite phone rang, interrupting her and startling them both.
“Yeah?” Emir answered. He gripped the phone like he might never let it go. “What do you have, Zaf?” he asked as he stopped the Jeep.
“I’ve gone through all the past employees back five years,” Zafir said.
“Not you, too.” But Emir knew it was necessary. He’d known this situation had always been possible. But even the possibility had never stopped him from caring for the people he hired. Many of them had worked for his family for years. His employees were friends and sometimes even family. He couldn’t imagine now—or more aptly didn’t want to consider—that anyone he cared about would threaten him or anyone he loved.
“No matches,” Zafir went on, unaware of his thoughts. “Not that we expected there would be.”
Emir’s knuckles were white.
Kate’s hand settled on his wrist as if, again, that would somehow calm him. Oddly, it did, but the feel of her skin on his did other things, too, things that had no place there or with the shock of what she’d implied, still so fresh. He shook her hand off, concentrating on his phone call. But a glance at her face made him wish he hadn’t done so, so thoughtlessly.
“I don’t know, Zaf. And, as far as our current employees? There’s no one working for us with a grudge. No one in need of money—at least, not to that extent. They’re loyal to a fault. I don’t know where else to take this.”
Emir could feel Kate’s eyes still on him.
“Just a moment.”
“Nothing turned up. He went back five years,” he said to Kate. Unfortunately, with the satellite phone there was no ability to put it on speaker, so he had to juggle two conversations and relay between Zafir and Kate.
“Can he take it back another five? We need to talk...can you call him back?” she asked.
“You know there’s no guarantee of a signal,” he reminded her.
She nodded. “All right.” Her lips thinned as if it pained her to say the next words. “When was your parents’ accident?”
Emir frowned. It was a subject that was too painful to talk about and, after the police report had been filed, the incident had been filed in his own mind, as well. “Over six years ago.” His gut clenched. He didn’t like where this was going, didn’t know if he wanted to hear it, but he had no choice. Tara’s life depended on him.
“But when, exactly, and who was with them?”
“Why, Kate?”
“It wasn’t the only time that man was there, at the village. He was there the year of the accident and he was there recently. And this time she heard his first name.”
“Damn it, Kate, who was he?”
“Ed.”
The barren reaches of desert stretched in front of them and it was only that that kept his outrage contained. He didn’t look in the rearview mirror, either, for behind them was the place that had moved them to a truth he feared might change everything he thought he knew. He took a breath and then glanced at her.
“What’s going on?” he heard Zafir ask. “K.J. was asking about the accident?”
“Hang on, Zaf,” he said into the phone.
“Get Zafir to check who was on staff the year of your parents’ accident and also if there was anyone with them, or who they had contact with that day.” She frowned. “I know some of that will be impossible to recollect, but if there was someone with them...”
“Ed,” Emir said with no hesitation. “Their bodyguard. Simohamed Khain. We called him Ed,” he said. “And the driver, of course. Ed was the only survivor,” he said gravely.
Kate could see that his mind was there, in that moment on that fateful day when he’d learned his parents’ fate and when everything had changed for him and his siblings.
“Run a check on Ed,” she said.
He nodded grimly, his jaw tense and his dark eyes narrowed. “Zaf, did you hear?” Emir asked his brother.
“I’m missing most of this and I think it’s a waste of time, Em.”
“Yeah, well, she’s right. We can’t afford to toss anything out at this point. Call as soon as you know something,” Emir said before he clicked off.
He swung around to face Kate. “What are you suggesting?”
“It’s not what I was suggesting,” she said. “It was what I was told.”
“You think the accident that killed my parents was not accidental at all—is that what you’re implying?”
“I don’t know,” she replied.
His jaw tightened. “It’s one thing to have Zaf do a search, but to think a man who was like a brother to my father...on the basis of a name similarity.”
“Wait. There’s more.” She turned away, likely gathering her thoughts before facing him, pain obvious in her eyes.
He didn’t want her sympathy and he didn’t want to hear what she had to say, either, for he knew that whatever it was might be a betrayal from which his family would never recover. He prayed he was wrong.
“So you think—”
“Wait.” She held up her hand. “The woman in El Dewar said that the last time he visited, a few months ago, there was something new, a burn down the entire left side of his face.” She looked at him with eyes full of compassion that almost did him in. “That’s not all. She was wearing a bracelet that looked very much like the one you said Tara had inherited from your mother.”
It was like he’d been sucker punched.