Desert Rogue

“I swear before Allah that if you but wear the things I have given you, I will not touch the slave again...at least not in anger,” the man said with a wicked laugh.

“Leave, then,” Victoria directed, reverting to her usual position of authority despite her circumstances. But even as she held out her hands to receive the diaphanous garments, she vowed that this would not be the first step toward surrender.

If only Hayden would arrive, she thought, her eyes boring into Zobeir’s retreating back. Surely her fiancé’s failure to materialize was the result of inordinate caution, caution prompted by his great love for her and his reluctance to act too precipitously. But didn’t he realize that if he didn’t rescue her soon, she might experience injury, anyway?

True, she was English and would do her best not to let down the side, she mused, the skin of her thigh cringing at the cool caress of the indecent pantaloons as she stepped into them. Still, how much could any British subject be expected to endure? Victoria wondered, garbing herself in the scant jeweled jacket that barely covered her breasts.

The sound of Zobeir’s return echoed in the hall a few brief moments later. Present danger was what she had to concentrate upon now, the young socialite reminded herself as she stood awaiting the slave peddler’s entrance.

“Disobedient slave!” came his outraged cry when he beheld her. “Do you still think to defy me?”

“I have kept my part of the bargain,” Victoria said smugly.

“You are a liar, like all your race,” Zobeir bellowed, hard put not to throttle this troublemaker. It was only his vision of the profit she could bring that stopped him.

“English honor is revered the world round,” Victoria replied coolly. “I am as honorable as any of my countrymen.” With that she lifted the hem of her skirt to reveal the harem garb beneath her own clothing. “You told me to put these things on. I have done as you asked, and I expect you to keep your promise.”

“Do you think to outwit me?” Zobeir asked in rage. He should have had his men kill the girl as he had been ordered to do. “Time in the slave pen will do you good. And if you are not truly humbled by tomorrow, I will come up with something that will amuse me more than you have angered me at this moment. Perhaps you are not the virgin I suppose you to be. A physician’s certificate attesting to your purity might be in order.”

“If you or anyone else comes near me, I will kill him and then myself,” Victoria stated with deadly coldness.

“Take the woman out,” Zobeir ordered in exasperation. “Place her in the pens!”

Though Victoria held her head high as she walked away, her heart cried out, Oh, Hayden! Where are you?

Chapter Four

The great walls of Khartoum loomed ahead. Their dusty surface, awash with the light of morning, projected a foreboding aura that unsettled Ali Sharouk’s stomach and his throbbing head.

Last night he had thought to ease his plight by partaking of some more zabeeb at El Naharal, a village situated between Khartoum and the quarries to the north, where Jed Kincaid had freely spent a great deal of the ransom money for supplies in pursuit of his wild and improbable rescue scheme.

Though alcohol and Ali had not been acquainted before his encounter with the American, the shopkeeper had embraced it quite willingly yesterday evening, attempting to blot out the presence of the irritating foreigner to whom fate had bound him. Surely Allah would not withhold his forgiveness for such a small transgression, Ali had told himself, especially when the Almighty considered the reason for his humble servant’s uncharacteristic fall from grace. But this morning found Ali less than sharp, and that was a thing that worried him greatly.

“This is not going to work,” he muttered in exasperation. Nevertheless, he plodded along beside Jed as he had for the past few hours, ever since the horses and provisions the American had purchased had been left concealed within a narrow niche in the cliffs to the north.

“Quit your complaining,” Jed replied absently, his sharp green eyes already assessing Khartoum’s walls and the faluccas bobbing in the Blue Nile’s currents before the city’s main gate.

Looking at his fellow traveler, Ali could almost see Jed Kincaid’s silent calculations taking place, his rejection or acceptance of the various options he discerned. The cold, perilous gleam in Kincaid’s eyes made Ali shudder. Surely only a madman could be capable of such intense, single-minded concentration.

To conceal his uneasiness, the tall Egyptian shifted the saddlebag containing explosives that Kincaid had procured from a Frenchman running the quarry below Kerrari. The wisdom of transporting such materials was something else Ali had questioned, but the American was obviously comfortable with danger.

Yet for all Jed Kincaid’s preparations, Ali considered the plan so insane that he wondered how anyone with an ounce of intelligence could think it might succeed. It was the product of either a fool’s thinking or that of a man so bold and arrogant, he could not conceive of failing. Looking at Jed Kincaid, his stubborn jaw set in determination as he continued to scan the city walls, Ali knew into which category his companion fell.

“You know what to do once we pass into the city, don’t you, Ali?” the American drawled, his attention drawn to the swift currents of the Blue Nile as it flowed westward to join the White and form the Great Nile River.

“You’ve only explained it half a dozen times. I do comprehend your language, barbaric a tongue as it may be.”

“No need to get testy,” Jed rejoined, his mouth curved carelessly into a dangerous smile. “At least you’ll be entering Khartoum as a free man. You’re not the one posing as a captive and going into the slave pens.”

“This whole thing is preposterous. You’re simple guessing that’s where the woman is being held. I ought to really sell you for dragging me into this madness and be done with you,” Ali threatened.

Jed stopped abruptly and whirled around to face the merchant, roughly grabbing the neckline of Ali’s gallabiya and pulling the Egyptian so close to him that their faces were only inches apart. “Don’t even think about it, you desert-hatched son of a bitch. Should anything go wrong in there, I’ll track you down and leave your dismembered body for the jackals. Is that understood? Do you think your Fatima would enjoy being a widow?”

“You can’t hold me responsible when this business ends in disaster,” Ali replied, calmly removing Jed’s hands. “If it wasn’t for your damned impulsiveness, the money would have been delivered and we would be on our way back to Cairo.”

“Tell me you’d pay for a delivery of brass at that miserable little shop of yours without getting the goods. Go ahead, convince me of that. It’s no different with Victoria Shaw.”

“By Allah, look at you!” Ali exclaimed. “You’re enjoying every moment of this! If the Shaw woman had not been abducted, you’d be in the middle of something else right now, just as hazardous as this is.”

“Be quiet, Ali,” Jed growled in warning.

“It’s true! You are as drunk on impending danger as I was on last night’s liquor. It’s in your blood, something you crave. You’re so obsessed by it, Kincaid, you don’t even understand the audacity of what you’re doing—or what you’ve already done.”

“What I don’t understand is why a big fellow like you is hesitant about changing things and making them the way he wants them to be,” Jed stated, his voice as sincere as it was critical.

“Of course you don’t. There’s not a shred of civilization about you,” Ali replied with a snort. “Unlike me, you are a man with nothing to lose.”

“I’ve had just about enough of your jabbering,” Jed snapped, turning back to face Khartoum, the city now showing signs of the day’s business getting underway. “I swear, when we get back, I’m going to kill Reed for tying me to you.”

“If we get back. As for being tied, that was your idea, not mine.”

“And that’s why I’m certain this plan will work,” Jed answered with a grim smile as he glanced down at the rope imprisoning his wrists.

“You’ll need more than confidence to escape once you’re placed in the slave pens,” Ali fumed, an anxious frown furrowing his forehead as he wondered how he could ever return home without the woman, Kincaid or the ransom money.

“That’s where I have to rely on you, God help me,” Jed said with a sorry shake of his dark head. “But it can’t be avoided. Once we see the lay of the land, I’ll decide where to place the explosives, and if you can keep me in the shadows for a few moments, it will be easy for me to get that job done. From what we’ve heard, Khartoum is building up an arsenal and constructing a powder magazine outside the city on Tuti Island rather than in the city proper. But I’m sure there’ll be something else we can send to smithereens and cause a ruckus. When I give the signal, you set off the fireworks. By the time we’re through, it will look like the Fourth of July in there.”

“July? Your month of July is a few weeks away, isn’t it?” Ali asked, drawing his eyebrows together and regarding Jed curiously.

“Never mind,” Jed intoned, his deep voice rife with disgust. “All you have to know is that you light the fuses when you hear the signal.” With that, the rugged American whistled a few jaunty bars of “Yankee Doodle.” “Think you can remember that tune?”

“Who could forget such a disharmonious melody,” Ali responded dryly. “Still, it’s not too late to return to Cairo.”

“What do you reckon Reed will do if we show up without the woman and with a big chunk of the money gone? You have no choice, Ali. Now, come along,” ordered Jed as he began to lead the way.

“No,” said the merchant, his voice adamant.

“No?” repeated Jed in his most menacing fashion.

“No,” Ali reiterated. “If we are to have even a prayer of this insanity succeeding, I will do the leading and you will follow like a respectful slave. I shall hold the rifle, and, like a beast of burden, you will carry the sack containing the explosives. Should you enter Khartoum with your usual swagger and foul temper, you’ll be cast in irons the moment you enter the pens. And in all likelihood, I’ll be chained to the wall right beside you. You must appear to be submissive, resigned to your fate, perhaps even a bit timid or fearful. And above all, you must remember I will be the one giving the orders. Is that clear?”

“All right,” Jed yielded, irked that the Egyptian’s demeaning suggestions had merit. “But I’m warning you, don’t overplay your role.”

“I think this might be the only part of this ill-advised adventure that I enjoy,” Ali said. He grabbed the halter around Jed’s neck and gave it a tug. “Come, slave.”

“Watch it, you bastard,” Jed growled. Nonetheless, he affected a hopeless shuffle and followed in Ali’s wake. “Just remember, you’re going to have to live with me on the journey back to Cairo.”

* * *