Desert Rogue

At the others’ reluctant nods, he relaxed his hold on the fearsome knife at his waist and motioned toward Victoria.

“Lift her carefully and bring her ashore to relieve herself. Farouk, fill the water jugs. Hurry so we can sail again.”

A short while later, when her gag was removed and Victoria was seated beside the apparent organizer of the group, she had prepared her arguments. Ignoring the goat cheese and dry bread he placed before her, Victoria chose to speak for freedom.

“See here, you said you were taking me to the slave marts at Khartoum. My family will pay you handsomely to take me home instead. You saw their lands. You must know they are wealthy,” she pressed. “A thousand pounds...two thousand. How much can a slave trader offer you?”

“Much more for a woman with blue eyes like yours, especially if she keeps her mouth shut,” he snarled, spitting out the pit of an olive. “Eat now or you will go hungry.”

“If you insist on selling me, you should know that you will never live to spend your fee,” said the blonde, refusing to consider the possibility of such an occurrence taking place. Hayden would come to rescue her long before they ever reached Khartoum. “Whoever your master is, he cannot possibly escape Queen Victoria’s forces.”

“The good Queen means nothing in Khartoum. It is outside her province,” chuckled the native, briefly tempted to take the woman’s money. Still, he would die more painfully and much more slowly if he disobeyed Zobeir, the slave trader. No, the female would be delivered as ordered. Rising to his feet, he looked down at the girl. “Money is the only power in that city, and you cannot pay what Zobeir will receive for your lovely white skin. Eat now. We leave in five minutes.”

Biting back her disappointment, Victoria took a sip of the wine he had provided. The fool had rejected the salvation she had offered, so there was nothing to do but wait for the British army to overtake them or at worst to invade Khartoum. It was regrettable an international incident could not be avoided, but she could do no more. There was absolutely no doubt Hayden would rescue her.

* * *

On the fourth day of their forced excursion out of Cairo, Ali could see no reason to celebrate. Instead of holding his head up proudly, running his shop and bringing honor to his family, he had been ignominiously linked to this rowdy foreigner until the ransom for the English girl was paid, an issue that never should have involved Ali Sharouk.

Where the American viewed this journey as merely another exciting chapter in his quixotic existence, Ali sorely missed his own bed, his loving wife, and even the tiresome chores associated with his livelihood. His only consolation was that since they had begun their pilgrimage, Kincaid had become a man whose only vice was dedication to his mission. Yet the foreigner’s very intensity made him as fearsome sober as he had been drunk.

Still, they had made excellent time on the Nile considering the current, one sleeping while the other maneuvered the craft. Now, however, the overland trek was about to begin.

“Enough sleep, American,” he announced abruptly, using his foot to nudge the dozing figure, successfully resisting the urge to kick more forcefully. “It is time we must go.”

“The only thing you must do is to quit telling me what to do,” snarled Jed, thoroughly aggravated by his unwanted companion. He wasn’t a native to the Egyptian desert, but Jed had spent enough time in it to learn the tricks of survival. Besides, being bred in the city of Cairo, Ali probably knew less than he did. “I’ve told you a dozen times already, go home and let me see to my business my way.”

“Our business, Kincaid, much to my misfortune.”

“But it was my idea to deliver the ransom. Hell, without me, you’d be rotting in jail—”

“Without you, I would have no reason to be in jail. You started this whole sorry mess by landing on my coffee set whose design took weeks to hammer—”

“We’ve already been through this—”

“And then you tried to escape responsibility—”

“All right. I’ve heard it all at least a hundred times—”

“And struck a police officer—”

“I’m going to beat the tar out of you if you don’t shut your mouth,” yelled Jed, jumping to his feet. To his amusement, the other man stood his ground. Giving the Egyptian a look of pure malice, Jed laughed and began gathering his gear. “Let’s get one thing straight, Sharouk. I am no happier to be stuck with you than you are with me. In fact, I’m a damned sight unhappier—”

“Impossible,” muttered Ali.

“I told you to go home and wait for my message, but you wouldn’t hear of it.”

“That is not the honorable thing to do.”

“But it’s a hell of a lot more practical! Without you, I could have been halfway to the oasis already, but you insisted on wasting extra hours packing supplies—”

“It is only prudent to be prepared. It makes a long journey safer,” retorted Ali, folding the canvas shelter he had erected against the sun.

“It makes a long journey longer,” snorted the dark-haired American, running a hand across his ever-increasing beard. Ali was a novice at this, Jed reflected, mounting the larger of the horses Ali had hired near where they had traded the falucca.

“Enough talk. Let’s ride,” Jed ordered, determined to reach the oasis as quickly as possible now. The thought of surrendering five thousand pounds to unknown villains with no guarantee of the girl’s safety still irked him, but perhaps another option would evolve. It would depend on the situation south of the wadi. If the girl was there, well... No man would say Jed Kincaid couldn’t accomplish what he set out to do, regardless of the wishes of the authorities or puppets like Hayden Reed.

* * *

Miles spent on horseback over almost imperceptible routes through the desert didn’t mellow the Egyptian’s stubborn resistance to Jed’s leadership. After a hard day of riding, they’d reached the oasis and Ali wanted nothing more than to turn over the ransom and head back. Jed, however, had other notions.

“By the life of the Prophet, American, you are magnun, crazy! Risking our lives for a woman we did not know was insane, but we had no choice once you opened your mouth to Reed. This new scheme of yours, however, makes no sense. No matter how you threaten me, I will not agree. Your foolishness will not cost me my life,” muttered Ali as they lay in the sand, watching the small camp in the oasis for signs of movement.

Well removed from the most frequented trails across the desert, this small haven of shade and water had seen no arrivals since they’d begun their vigil in late afternoon. Clearly the kidnappers had known what they were doing when they chose it. Indeed, from what Jed could discern, they hadn’t even set a guard, though that didn’t mean a trap wasn’t laid within the oasis.

“Reed said we were to work together,” complained Ali. It was not that he wanted to venture into the camp himself, but he could not justify Jed’s acting alone, nor could he trust the dangerous gleam lighting his companion’s eyes.

“Reed is an unqualified jackass,” answered Jed, hard put to respect even those of legitimate authority. While there was the smallest chance of success, he could not let it pass. “Look at it this way, Sharouk, if it is a trap and we go in together, who will be left to report what happened to Hayden Reed?”

“But if they think you are alone—”

“They may be careless and give me the chance to save the girl and the money—”

“No! You swore you were not going to try that,” protested Ali, jumping up and pulling his knife. “I will cut you myself before the others have a chance if you are so foolhardy as to risk our lives so you can be a hero—”

“All right, all right. No heroics, but I am going in alone to deliver the money.”

“Why you? I am perfectly capable of doing as Reed ordered, handing over the English pounds while you sit here with the flies buzzing in your ear and the fleas biting at your—”

“I give the orders, damn it! Don’t you know the only reason Reed sent you was to prevent me from taking off with the cash? Regardless of your fine opinion of yourself, you’re nothing but a glorified watchdog.”

“And you would trust such a lowly dog to guard your back? How do you know I won’t put a knife in it instead?” challenged the Egyptian. Had he known what his brass coffee set would cost him, he would have long ago forgone its price.

“You’re too blasted concerned with your good name and your shop to do anything so disreputable, which is what got you into this fix in the first place. Besides, if you ever thought to cross me, I would sense it and you’d never live long enough to make your plans a reality. Stop your complaining and listen,” ordered the American. “If you hear trouble, come in fast, ready to toss that knife.”

“If I don’t hear trouble, you mean. Death in the desert is swift and silent,” warned Ali grudgingly.

Nodding at the advice, Jed slung the money pouch over his shoulder and moved stealthily through the darkness, determined to see what he could before he himself was seen.

A thousand yards from where Ali waited, a single man sat by a small campfire, smoking and drinking from a jug. The low tent behind him had a lantern shining within, so doubtless there was at least one more kidnapper around. The only question remaining was whether or not Victoria Shaw was at the oasis, as well. In all likelihood, they were holding her elsewhere, but Jed couldn’t afford to risk the young woman’s life on a miscalculation. In truth, he was surprised at the concern he felt for this female he’d never set eyes on, but given her attachment to Hayden Reed, she surely deserved his sympathy, if not his condolences.

He had to admit that as Ali suspected, he would like nothing better than to return the money and Reed’s fiancée unharmed, just for the satisfaction of making the Englishman apologize.

Hesitating in the inky shadows, Jed weighed his options. If he did rush the camp, he might take them by surprise, but that would count for nothing should he be greatly outnumbered. Then, too, he had promised Sharouk not to give in to heroics, no matter how tempting it might be. Instead, he would learn what he could before he surrendered the ransom. But, if he stood here much longer, nothing would ever happen. The American secreted the money bag beneath his shirt and stood up.

“Salam habib. Greetings, friend, could you spare a smoke?” he called, strolling casually into the light of the campfire. “I find myself fresh out of my brand.”

The Arab was on his feet at once, calling for help even as Jed raised his hands in the air and gave a short chuckle.