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And if it didn’t? If they’d replaced her?
She sighed and knew she wouldn’t send a note to the prince. If the job was gone, she’d need a little extra to tide her over until she found something else …
Damn it all! Why was money such a difficulty?
Gloomily Alex followed Hafa back to her room. It wasn’t only for the money she had to return home. Simply put, there was no reason for her to stay. But the thought of leaving the place Samarah had spoken of with such vivid words and so obvious a love without ever seeing more of it than a highway and the high-walled building in which she was staying caused disappointment so strong in Alex that it shocked her.
Not that she could go home! Not right now anyway. The prince—Azzam—had said it would be arranged, but he’d hardly be organising her flight home while attending the all-day ceremonial duties of his brother’s funeral, and the state visits that Maya suggested would come after it.
Needing to escape to consider these contrary reactions—wanting to stay yet knowing she couldn’t—Alex retired to her room. But once there, she was uncertain what to do. She didn’t want to sleep again. All the rules of air travel suggested fitting into the local time patterns as quickly as possible, so she’d go to bed at the regular time—Al Janeen time—tonight.
Now the women and maybe the men as well were back at the palace. If she went outside again—to walk around the beautiful courtyard—she might unwittingly offend. So exploration within the walls of her suite was all that remained to her. She opened cupboard doors, discovering a small writing desk, and behind another door a television set. Wondering if the funeral procedures might be televised, she turned it on, not understanding any of the words but guessing from the serious expression of the news-reader that he could be talking of the ceremony.
Huge photos of a man so like Azzam he had to be Bahir appeared to have been erected all along the street, and shots of them were flashing across the screen, interspersed with images of a crowd, no doubt lingering from the funeral. White-garbed men and women, a sea of white, filled the screen, and their cries of grief echoed from the television set, filling the room with their pain.
With the voice droning on in the background, Alex sat at the desk, taking up a pen and finding paper, determined to jot down her meagre impressions of this country she had yet to see.
And probably never would!
She’d barely begun to write when a change in the tone of the talking head’s voice had her turning back towards the screen. Once again she couldn’t understand the words, but now a map was showing on the screen, apparently a map of Al Janeen. The capital—given the airport and the lights, Alex assumed they were somewhere near it—was shown in the bottom right of the picture, and arrows pointed to an area to the north.
‘Great! They’re probably being invaded!’ she muttered to herself. ‘Don’t coups usually happen when the monarchy is unstable—when there’s a change of ruler? Just my luck to be caught in a war in a foreign country! What else can happen?’
Wanting to know more—the timbre of the man’s voice suggested shock and panic—but still worried that if she wandered beyond the building she might end up where she shouldn’t be, Alex left her room, wondering where Hafa disappeared to when she didn’t need her.
Hafa was sitting outside the door, legs crossed, head bent over some intricate embroidery.
She smiled as she stood up and tucked the piece of material into her pocket.
‘I wonder if you could explain something else to me,’ Alex asked. ‘I turned on the television in my room and the announcer sounded very excited about something happening in the north of your country. Is it a war?’
‘A war?’ the young woman repeated, looking more puzzled than anxious by the question. ‘I do not think war. We are a peaceful country and we like and respect our neighbours.’
‘Come and see,’ Alex invited and led her back to her room where the television still showed a map of what Alex assumed was Al Janeen, with arrows pointing to a place in the north.
Hafa listened for a while, a frown gathering, marring her fine, clear skin.
‘It is not war but an earthquake,’ she said, still frowning. ‘This is not good. The town is a not big one, more a village really, but it is a very old place of history in the north, between the mountains, and the reports are saying the quake was very severe.’
‘That must have been the tremor we felt here,’ Alex remembered. ‘I was in the garden.’
The young woman nodded but she was obviously too engrossed in what she was hearing from the television to be taking much notice of Alex.
‘Many people have been injured,’ Hafa explained. ‘There is a school that has collapsed with children inside. The town is in the mountains and landslides have closed the roads in and out, so it will be hard to get help and supplies to it.’
She paused as a new figure appeared on the screen, a familiar figure.
‘It is His Highness, His new Highness,’ she pointed out, her relief so evident Alex had to wonder at the man’s power. ‘He has left his brother’s funeral. He says he will go there now. If the helicopter cannot land, he has been lowered from one before. He will assess the situation and arrange to bring in whatever is needed. He can also give immediate medical help.’
‘Where will he go from?’ Alex asked, as new excitement stirred inside her. This was what she’d been trained for, but it was some time since she’d done this kind of work, the need to earn as much as possible to repay Rob’s debts taking precedence over all else.
‘He will fly from here—his own helicopter is here at the palace. It is used for rescues as well as his private business so it has medical equipment on board. Sometimes it takes people to hospital if there is an emergency. It brought the other Highness, Prince Bahir, to the hospital after the accident.’
Alex had heard enough. What she had to do was find Azzam and offer her services—explain her training and expertise, not to mention her experience.
But finding Azzam might not be the best way to attack this situation. Better by far to find the helicopter and get aboard. Samarah was in good hands with Maya. The hospital would already be on full alert. Arrangements would be under way for other medical staff to get to the stricken area, but she knew from experience that such arrangements took time, while the sooner trained people were in place, the more chance there was of saving the injured.
She wrapped a scarf around her head—downdraughts from helicopters caused havoc with even braided long hair. The helicopter, if it was used for rescues, would have emergency equipment on board, but she grabbed a small plastic pack out of her hand luggage. In it she had waterless hand cleaner, a small toothbrush and toothpaste, a spare pair of undies and a tiny manicure set—experience in emergencies had taught her to be prepared. The pack fitted easily into the wide pockets of her loose trousers. Then she ran out the door, calling to Hafa to show her the way.
CHAPTER THREE
‘YOU are doing what?’
Azzam stared in disbelief when he saw Alex already strapped into the back of the helicopter, adjusting a helmet over her pale hair.
‘Coming with you to the earthquake region,’ she answered calmly, adding, too quickly for him to argue, ‘and before you get uptight about it, it’s what I’m trained to do. As well as clinic work, I’m an ER doctor, mostly doing night shifts these days, but I’m a specialist major emergency doctor with experience of triage in cyclones, fire and floods. I also know how long it takes to get hospital personnel mobilised, and right now, for the people in that village, two doctors are better than one, so let’s go.’
Was she for real?
Surely she wouldn’t be lying about experience like that, and if she wasn’t lying, she’d certainly be useful.
‘Maya is with your mother, so she is in good hands.’
She sounded genuine, and he knew from his mother that she appeared to genuinely care, but he must have still looked doubtful for she hurried on.
‘I’ve been lowered from helicopters. I’ve done rescues off ships. I am trained.’
‘Cutting my legs out from under me—isn’t that the expression?’ he responded.
She smiled and he realised it was only the second time he’d seen a proper smile from her, but this one, in daylight rather than the dim light of the rose garden, was something special. Her generous lips curved in what seemed like genuine delight, while silver flashes danced in her eyes.
Disturbed in ways he didn’t want to think about, he turned away from her, gave a curt order to his pilot, nodded to the navigator, who would act as winchman if necessary, and climbed into the front seat. He hoped there’d be a patch of flat land where the helicopter could land, but if there wasn’t they’d have to be lowered on a cable.
‘You say you’ve been winched down on a cable?’ he asked, speaking through the microphone in his helmet as the engines were roaring with the power needed for liftoff.
‘Onto the deck of a ship pitching in sixty-knot winds,’ she told him, and he felt an urge to grind his teeth.
‘Wonder-woman, in fact?’ he growled instead.
She glanced his way and shrugged.
‘No, but I believe if you’re going to do something you should do it well.’
He believed the same thing himself, so it couldn’t be that causing his aggravation. Was it nothing more than the presence of the woman in the helicopter?
Impossible question to answer, so he turned to practical matters, taking care to keep any hint of sarcasm out of his voice as he said, ‘Well, you’ve probably had experience of this before, but unless the chopper lands a fair distance away, dust from the rotors can cause more problems for people who have been injured, or buried beneath the rubble. Dropping in a short distance away is usually safer and if we can establish a drop zone, medical supplies and water can be lowered into the same place as well.’
Azzam realised he’d mostly done training runs and learnt from books and lectures the latest ways to handle mass disasters. He’d even written the hospital’s policy papers for the management of such things. But he’d never really expected it to happen—not in his own country.
Driven by his need to see for himself, and his fear for the people of the northern village, he’d left the funeral feast and rushed straight back to his rooms, issuing orders through the phone to the hospital as he went, speaking to the police department and army officers as he changed into tough outdoor wear, making sure the emergency response teams he had set up, but never yet used, were all springing into action.
‘I don’t know how long the flight will take, but you should try to snatch some sleep.’ Her voice broke into his thoughts as he went over the arrangements he’d already put in place.
‘Sleep?’
He heard the word echo back in his helmet and realised he’d spoken a bit abruptly.
‘I’ve found these emergency situations are a bit like being back in our intern years, and the rule is the same—snatch what sleep you can when you can.’
He realised she was right. There was nothing else to do until they were on the ground, where, together, they would assess the situation and call in whatever help was needed.
He wanted to tell her she was right and that he was grateful to her for being there, grateful that he’d have someone with whom to discuss the situation and work out best options, but it had been a long time since he’d shared any feelings with a stranger—and a female stranger at that.
Yet—
‘I will sleep.’
At least he’d acknowledged her presence, Alex thought as she looked around the interior of the helicopter. She sat in one of two seats fitted against the fuselage, a door beside her and another one opposite it. In the seat behind the pilot, directly opposite her, was another man, who apparently didn’t speak English for he hadn’t been involved in the conversation Alex had had with the pilot when she’d persuaded him to allow her to join the flight.
Alex assumed this second man would play multiple roles—second pilot, navigator, and winchman.
She hoped he was good at his job!
Secured to the walls were familiar-looking equipment backpacks. Some would hold emergency medical supplies, one a special defibrillator and vital-signs monitor. Next to them were two collapsible stretchers, also in backpacks, and she could see where these, once opened out, could be secured to the floor of the aircraft.
‘I understood this was your personal chopper, so why the emergency equipment?’ she said, forgetting she’d told her companion to sleep.
‘It is the prince’s aircraft, he flies it himself at times,’ the pilot replied, ‘but he believes it should have more use than a convenience to get him to and from work in the city, so he had it specially fitted out.’
Knowing how much money was needed to keep the emergency helicopter services afloat at home, Alex could only marvel that one person could have a private aircraft like this at his disposal. Her wages would be chicken feed to him, although even thinking about her request for wages made her stomach squirm.
Forget it! she told herself, and she did, turning instead to peer out the window, seeing for the first time what a desert looked like.
It was like flying over the sea at sunset, something she’d been lucky enough to do, seeing the ocean turned to red-gold, the row upon row of waves like the dunes beneath them now. But shadows were already touching the eastward sides of the dunes and the blackness of those shadows made the colours more vivid.
Up ahead she could see mountains rising from the sands—red mountains with deeper shadows below them, what appeared to be a road or track of some kind disappearing between two ranges.
Used to flying over coastal scenes and greenery and water, the endless red conjured up the magic-carpet image yet again, the patterns of the windswept sand and shadows like the patterns in the carpets back at the palace or whatever it was to which she’d been taken.
‘Ayee!’
The cry came from the man behind the pilot and Alex peered forward, shocked by what had caused his cry. From the air it looked as if large white blocks had been tumbled down a hill but, as they drew closer, Alex realised they were houses.
‘It is a narrow ravine,’ Azzam explained, his bleary voice suggesting he had slept at least for a short time. ‘It was a guard point on an ancient trade route—the frankincense trade, in fact. It was settled because of the oasis there at the bottom, the houses built on the sides of the hills because the wadi—the river bed—floods after rain.’
His voice faded from her earphones but not before Alex had heard shock and deep sadness in it.
Now Alex could see where the mountain looked as if it had sheared in two—as if some giant with a mighty sword had sliced through it. She was trying to make sense of it when the helicopter lifted in the air, turning away from the shattered remains of the town and heading back along the narrow valley.
‘We could cause more disruption with the noise so we will winch down further along the valley,’ Azzam said to her. He had climbed into the back cabin and looked directly into Alex’s face.
‘There is no need for you to do this,’ he said, the dark eyes so intent on hers she felt a shiver of apprehension down her spine.
‘I didn’t come along for the ride,’ she told him, unbuckling her seat belt and standing as steadily as she could. ‘Which backpack do you want me to take?’
His eyes studied her again, assessing her.
‘The medical supplies and stretchers can drop safely, but I would appreciate it if you would take the defibrillator. I don’t anticipate needing it but the monitor could be handy. The pilot will drop us in, lower what gear he can, then return to the capital to bring back more personnel and supplies. He will find a safe place to land further down the valley and the rescuers can walk in. For now I—we—need to assess the damage and get word out about the amount of damage done and the kind of help we will need.’
Alex took the small backpack he passed her.
‘Strap it on your front,’ Azzam told her. ‘We will be winched down together.’
Alex stared at him.
‘I’ve been winched down before, I know the routine!’
‘Together,’ the infuriating man repeated, while Alex added ‘bossy and obstinate’ to the meanings of his name.
It was an exercise drop, nothing more, she told herself as Azzam’s strong arms closed around her. And she was only annoyed because he didn’t trust her to do it on her own!
More annoyed because she felt uncomfortable about the way he was holding her, as if dangling on a line above an earthquake-wrecked valley was some kind of romantic foreplay!
Yet annoyance couldn’t mask the responses of her body, which, through clothes and backpack straps and webbing, still felt the hardness of the man who held her clamped against him.
Still reacted to it, warming so inappropriately she wondered if she was blushing.
Would she have felt this reaction with David holding her? Or was it because she’d known him so well she’d never felt these tingling, tightening sensations along her nerves, or a strange heaviness in her muscles, when he’d held her in his arms.
David had only ever kissed her, nothing more. Anything extra was what he’d kept for the string of other women who, unbeknownst to Alex at the time, had drifted in and out of her fiancé’s life.
‘Ready to roll if we need to?’ Azzam asked, his chin brushing her ear, the words so close she felt as well as heard them. She drew up her knees, unconsciously pressing closer to him so they’d roll together as they hit the ground. But the roll wasn’t needed, the helicopter pilot holding the craft steady and the winchman easing them onto the ground so they stepped from the loop in the cable without even the slightest jar.
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