Chosen (17 page)

Alexana sighed and sat back down on the bed, examining her image in the mirror the girl handed her. With her blond hair hidden, she looked like a traditional Bedouin woman, although a little pale. If anyone were to come near, and if Alexana averted her gaze, they would not recognize her as a Westerner.

“He leads the men who want to kill me, but then comes to my rescue,” she muttered in English. “So what am I supposed to do now, Khalil?” She shuddered at the thought of what Ridge and Sam must be going through wondering whether she was all right. Did they think she was dead? She had to get back to the city. But how?

S
pare me the flak, Steve,” Ridge snapped. “Just find someone else to do it. Someone at headquarters can certainly report that she’s missing.”

“Yeah, but the audience would eat it up. Your girl, kidnapped. Why not let them in on it? The world would go nuts, just like when you saved my tail in Lebanon. Come on, Ridge.”

“No. I’m not going to exploit my relationship with her to gain some ratings points.”

“Even if it helps you gain political backing? She’s out there, Ridge. She’s alive. You need U.S. pressure to help you locate her and bring her home. Then you need more American pressure to make sure she stays alive when that stubborn girlfriend of yours goes ahead with the Solomon’s Stables dig.”

“Who’s to say she’s still alive?” Ridge growled, his face revealing his fury. “How can you push me on this?”

Steve was unfazed. “Shehab hasn’t come back to you since he told you of his mission three days ago, right?”

“Yeah. So?”

“Wouldn’t the greedy jerk be back to spill the details and get more money, rather than simply fade into the woodwork? Besides, it’s not Hamas style to let something like this pass unnoticed. They’d
want to exploit their control over the preeminent Dr. Roarke by showing video footage.” He lowered his voice. “Think like they would think,” he instructed. “Wouldn’t they at least show her body if she were dead, to tell the world that they have the upper hand? As a warning to others? As a further declaration of war?”

Ridge sank into a chair, realizing that he was becoming more exhausted by the hour. He looked at Steve with hope. “You really think she’s alive?”

“Oh yeah, she’s alive.”

“Let’s shoot that report.”

Ridge’s phone rang off the hook for four hours after the footage aired that evening. People called from all over the world—experts on terrorism, government officials, resourceful viewers who called to extend their good wishes. Much later, Ridge gave in to a fitful, dream-laden sleep.

He awoke in the early dark hours of morning to a sound in his room. Sitting upright, he listened carefully, the blood pulsating in his ears. Another creak to his right. Close. He whirled his head but stopped as he felt the cold edge of a knife blade at his throat.

“You warned her,” Shehab growled.

Ridge swallowed hard. “I did not.”

The knife pressed harder. “You would have warned her if you could.”

“I told you as much,” Ridge said through gritted teeth. “I love the woman.”

“Fool!” Shehab growled, pressing harder. Finally, he eased the knife away and stalked over to the desk at the window. He turned and watched Ridge warily.

Ridge briefly closed his eyes, then rose from the bed and turned on his bedside light.

Shehab whirled, revealing a black eye and a broken nose. He rushed over to the bed and pulled the plug from the outlet.

Ridge waited, dead still.

“No lights,” Shehab growled. “I am not to be seen.”

“You are not to be seen? Or you don’t want to be seen with that shiner? Where’d you get it?”

“No questions!” Shehab cried. “I have come here to find the woman. Where have you hidden her?”

“I told you, I would have warned her, but she was taken before I reached her.”

“You saw this?”

“I.… Wait a minute.” Ridge could hardly believe what he was hearing. “Are you saying somebody else nabbed her? It wasn’t Hamas?”

Shehab paced silently.

“Then who has her?”

Shehab sighed. “It is of little consequence to me. Perhaps the Kahane jackals have hidden her away. As long as she is far away from the Haram, I am satisfied.”

“She is not involved with the Kahane,” Ridge insisted.

Shehab snorted. “Impossible. You think they would ignore such an opportunity? Even if she is not overtly involved, one of her team is.” He strode to the door, a dark shadow in the dawn light. “If you have lied to me, I will be back. And the knife will not remain clean.”

Alexana drank the strong brew, thankful for the caffeine jolt and hoping that the coffee would help clear her senses. Four days after having
been drugged, she still suffered from the effects. As the women left with her lunch dishes, she moved to the living room window. Outside was a huge Bedouin tent, traditionally used by the wealthy for entertaining, despite the modern amenities available indoors.

She sighed heavily. She could be at any one of hundreds of encampments located across several deserts. If only she could get outside, she might be able to recognize some landmarks.

“Looking for an escape route?” a deep voice asked her.

She whirled. “Khalil! I have so—”

He walked toward her. “You are beautiful in the dress of my Bedouin friends. Very enticing.”

“Khalil.” Alexana pulled away her veil in an effort to make him focus. “I appreciate that you’ve tried to protect me, but I must get home.”

“Impossible. If you are seen by a member of Hamas, you will be killed.”

Alexana kept her gaze level, testing him. “Rescind your order.”

A pained expression crossed Khalil’s face. “I did not order your death warrant. I have told you. I can no longer control the various factions within our group in this matter. There is too much being accomplished for me to risk my station. Simply trying would make many of my men question my wisdom and authority.”

“Yet four of them agreed to come and collect me,” Alexana accused.

“There are some devout believers who trust me beyond the scope of others,” he admitted. “They have no idea what I plan to do with you now.”

“If you can convince them that you have your reasons, then you can convince others,” she tried.

“No, Alexana,” Khalil said, regretful. “I cannot. If I had seen any other way in the first place …”

“Khalil, please. I can’t stay here forever!”

“No. Just a few months.”

“A few months! You must be joking! I have an excavation to lead!”

Khalil grabbed her arms, digging his strong fingers into her tender flesh. “You must give it up! Do you not see? It is your only chance!”

Alexana struggled under his grip. “It is my only chance to prove, once and for all, that I am not a pawn to either side. I must show that I am a professional archaeologist who simply wants to excavate a site. I will make it stronger, Khalil.
I will.
The Haram will be safer when I’m done.”

Khalil released her and walked away, shaking his head. “I might be able to believe you. But there are too many who are ready to fight at a moment’s notice. Hysteria and mob mentality already run rampant in Palestine. You do not think this will be a spark to dry weeds?”

Alexana rubbed her arms, realizing that he had not meant to hurt her but feeling angry anyway. She swallowed hard. “Perhaps if I delay the dig awhile …”

“You must cancel the dig and stay out of sight. In a few months, tensions will ease. You may be able to live in Jerusalem again. But not now. You must stay hidden. If you refuse to do this for yourself,
I
will keep you safe.”

“You have no right!” Alexana protested. “I am a grown woman! This is kidnapping!”

He reached out to touch her cheek. “It is an effort to keep you alive.”

She slapped his hand away. “No. No more, Khalil. I must make
my own choices,” she said. “I appreciate what you’ve done. You probably even saved my life. But I need to take care of myself now. There are others who need to know that I am okay.”

“Like Ridge McIntyre?”

Her eyes flew to his face, and Khalil closed his own in silent defeat. He turned away. “You are in love.”

“Yes,” Alexana admitted softly. “Have you spoken to him?”

Khalil nodded. “He called this morning. He obviously knew that Hamas had not abducted you. He wondered if I knew who had.”

“And you said?”

“I told him that it was not Hamas. How could I know who had done such a thing?”

“You couldn’t have hinted that I was alive?”

“It is imperative that no one—especially a CNN journalist—know that I am hiding you, nor that I know that you are alive.”

Alexana turned to the window, tired of arguing. “I cannot, I will not stay here, Khalil.”

“You are a hundred miles from civilization, Alexana,” he broke the news quietly. “To run would be to sign your own death certificate.” He left the room without another word.

Following Steve’s directions, Sam found Ridge in a corner of the Church of All Nations, staring at the ceiling. The reporter looked wrung out, exhausted, echoing the image Sam had seen in his own mirror that morning.

Sam slid to the floor beside Ridge. “We’re doing all we can,” he assured him.

Ridge turned to him. His eyes were sad. “Shouldn’t I be comforting you?”

Sam shrugged. “I guess I’ve known Alexana longer than you. She’s strong, Ridge. Stronger than most women I know. And she’s alive. I’d know it somehow if she were dead.”

Ridge looked unconvinced. “I’ve seen people disappear in Guatemala, Peru, Liberia, Pakistan, Lebanon. People who never come back. I’ve seen their families try to grieve and get over it, but they never really do because they don’t have a body to bury and say good-bye to.”

“Ridge. You can’t let yourself think that way. I can’t let myself think that way.”

“I’m sorry,” he said helplessly. “I shouldn’t be saying such things to you. You’re her brother, and you have your own issues to deal with.”

“Not as many as the man who has fallen in love with her.”

Ridge looked at him sharply. He hadn’t been in love since his freshman year at college. There had been too many places to go, too many women to date, too much of the world to see for him to settle down.

Letting himself finally explore the concept of love again had been a monumental risk. He’d attributed to God his ability to try. But had God led him down this path just to crush his heart?

He looked back up to the ceiling, studying the contours of each dome. “I guess I am in love. All I can see is her face. All I want to hear is her voice. All I want to do is hold her—” His voice broke, and tears sprang to his eyes. He felt humiliated by his unaccustomed lack of control. “I’m sorry …”

Sam placed his arm around Ridge’s shoulders in a brotherly fashion, feeling the journalist’s body shudder as he gave way to silent weeping. “Don’t be. I know how you feel.” They sat for several
minutes, sharing the silence and the memory of standing together with Alexana in that same sanctuary just weeks before.

“I can see her, almost feel her here,” Ridge said.

“That’s because God is present, and he’s with her, too,” Sam said confidently. “He’ll keep her safe.”

W
ithin a week of her arrival, Alexana had persuaded her Bedouin hosts to let her get out, stretch her legs, and help shepherd the large flock of sheep and goats down from the hills each night. She reveled in the opportunity to get out and worked on perfecting her plan to escape. Khalil’s friends meant her no harm. They sincerely believed her life was in danger and that they were helping to keep her alive. But she had to get back to Jerusalem, to check on the status of the dig—now hopelessly behind schedule—her team, and Ridge. If she was in danger, Alexana feared that the rest might be in peril too.

She climbed higher, reaching up to pull herself onto a large boulder in spite of her troublesome long skirts. There. Beyond the hill was a highway that led north, most likely toward Tel Aviv or Jerusalem. Alexana turned and hurried down the slope toward the shepherd boy.

In a few days,
she decided,
I’ll gather some supplies and begin my journey home.

Sam watched his father pace the floor in front of his living room couch.

“I tell you, boy, I’ve gone to every man I have ever spoken to, and
none of them could tell me a thing! Imagine living in a country where no one of political influence can tell you what his men have been up to. Somebody took my girl, and I’m bloody well going to find out who did it.”

“But, Pop,” Sam reminded him, “you just said you’ve gone to everyone you know.”

“I’ll go to them all again! And a few I don’t know! I’ll bother them so much, they’ll beat the bushes and find out the truth just to get me out of their hair.”

“Pop,” Sam protested weakly, “sit down before you work yourself into a heart attack. Tell me who you’ve gone to so we can compare notes and make a concerted effort on this next round.”

Still muttering to himself, Samuel took a seat beside his son and then an agitated sip of coffee.

Speaking in a quiet, soothing voice, Sam compared notes with his exhausted father.

Lydia came out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of fresh coffee. She sat beside the professor and patted his back as he shook his head at his son’s words. “No, Sam. I don’t think you should go to Khalil.”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense. Ridge called him, but Khalil may share with an old school chum what he might never tell a journalist.”

“Your school days are far gone, son. Khalil is a powerful and dangerous man. I’ve been told that certain members of Hamas were out to kill Alexana. He probably issued the order himself,” he said bitterly.

Sam looked doubtful. “I can’t believe that. Khalil might kidnap her, but he could never have issued an order for her death. We were like family!”

But Sam remembered his own words to his sister, uttered on the beach at Caesarea Maritima. He’d issued his own warnings about Khalil, shared his own fears regarding her denial of what the man had become: a general in an abhorred, unidentified army. Leader of Hamas.