Dark Oil (29 page)

Lara felt a surge of annoyance mixed with disgust. Jack had put his own life on the line to save them. He had gone back to pick up Martin when he was trapped behind the delivery van, and this was how Martin repaid him.

“Don't you get it?” she heard herself ask, in an unusually dry manner. It sounded like the voice was not hers. “Jack may not have the perfect plan, but it's a plan and anyway he
saved your life
!”

Martin's eyes narrowed to a slit. “Well, maybe, but only after he destroyed it. I don't need to be grateful to Jack. Ever. He owes me.”

Jack spoke through his teeth. “You didn't need me to destroy your life! You did that all by yourself.”

Martin threw his hands into the air. “Is that so? So why did I find you with my wife? Ange was my wife, damn it!”

Lara gasped. That's why Martin hated Jack so much. It all made sense now. But how could he? How could Jack, a man so noble and courageous, a man so kind and understanding, take another man's wife? His colleague's wife at that?

Perhaps it was what he always did. Perhaps that was what he liked. He was a man who didn't want to commit to anyone, so what better way to enjoy himself than to court married women? She looked down at the ring on her finger, Tim's ring. She was still wearing it, even though she couldn't wait to take it off. It was the first thing she'd do when she got back home.

She glanced at Jack. Yes, he still thought she was happily married. Maybe he was noble in everything except matters of the heart. She knew there were men like that, men who thought that anything was fair when it came to love. Or rather, when it came to sex.

She had felt Jack getting closer to her, closer and closer over the past few months. She'd had to focus, to muster all her strength not to think of him in that way, at least not too often. Had he been manipulating her, gently, imperceptibly nudging her in the right direction? Was that the kind of man he was? Were all men really like that? Behind the soft voices, the apparently sincere smiles, well hidden from wives and official girlfriends, lay the need to bed as many women as possible, to spread their seed—a legacy of the caveman, they'd argue. She rubbed her chin. Jack drew another long breath. “Let's not do this, Martin. Not now. We need to leave the country and get to safety. There aren't any flights to Europe today, but we'll manage something. We can talk all you want after that.”

Martin, who had been leaning forward, flung himself back into his seat and the three of them remained silent for the rest of the ride.

They pulled up in the car park of the airport and got out of the car. Jack rummaged around for something to bandage up his bleeding leg. He found an old towel in the back boot, tore it and wrapped it around his calf under his pants.

Lara offered Jack her arm, but this time not because of what she felt for him, not because it was Jack. She would have done the same for anyone who had taken a bullet. He thanked her with a smile, but she thought his face seemed harder now, his green eyes cooler and more cunning.

Her perception of him had altered since Martin's outburst and she felt even more certain she had to stay away from men—especially Jack. Here was a man whose company she had come to enjoy more than anyone else's, yet it was patently obvious she couldn't trust him.

He'd probably had ulterior motives for nearly everything he had done. All the smiles, the polite gestures, the jokes, they'd all been orchestrated to prepare her mentally, soften her up, so he'd get into her pants. That's the kind of man he was. He took wives. He had stolen Ange from Martin, and Lara was next in line. Well, did she have news for him!

“What's going on in there?” Jack pointed to her forehead.

“Nothing.” How could she tell him what she was thinking? But then, how could she not? She really wanted to hear his side of the story. He deserved a chance to tell it, too. Innocent until proven guilty. She'd always believed in that, even if she fully expected a confession of adultery. “Did you?” she whispered, so that Martin, who was now walking ahead of them, wouldn't hear.

“Did I what?”

She swallowed hard. Asking these questions, these very personal questions, was admitting to herself that she felt something for Jack. That admission was hard to face. “With Ange?”

When Jack's gaze, piercing, steady and full of emotion, met hers, she shivered. “Why does it matter to you?” he asked, his voice a deep caress.

It mattered to her for so many reasons. It mattered because she wanted to know that there were men who were honourable and never took advantage of a woman. It mattered because she had had such a high opinion of Jack, even if that had now changed. It mattered because. . .

The words that came to her mind shocked her. She couldn't believe she had formulated them. Where had they come from? She felt wrong and ridiculous straight away.

It mattered because she was falling in love with him
. How could she have thought that? It simply wasn't possible. She couldn't be falling in love. It was a stupid trick of the
mind. She must be in shock. Post traumatic stress—that was the only explanation. Could it do that to you?

She nodded. “You're right. It doesn't matter to me. It's none of my business.” She looked away, unable to face him as she said it.

They reached the Customs office after what seemed an endless walk arm-in-arm. Jack let go of Lara and limped through the door unaided. Martin, who had walked ahead without waiting for them, was already there, standing at the counter. Ismael, behind the counter, reached into a drawer and pulled out the passports as soon as he saw Jack.

“Bless you Ismael.” Jack took the documents.

“And you, Mr Jack.” Ismael smiled at Lara. “Mr Jack is a good man. A very good man.”

Jack wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “We have to get out of here. Are there any flights today, to anywhere, do you know?”

“I'm sorry. I'm sure you have seen there is some trouble in the city. The planes are all grounded. President's orders.”

Lara felt the knot in her stomach tighten. They were stuck in Zakra, no longer just a place of disease, sand and corruption, but now also a country of exploding palaces and resonating gunshots. Jack was losing blood and before long she and Martin, at least, would be losing their courage.

There had to be a way. “Emergencies?” Lara asked. “What if an important person is injured and requires urgent hospitalisation?” There was no hospital in Zakra, only a few doctors that performed minor day surgery if required.

“We have some helicopters,” said Ismael.

“Then a helicopter it is. Mr Jack has been shot. He is second in charge to Global Oil's CEO, so a very important person.”

Ismael's eyes widened as Jack showed him his bleeding calf. “You are hurt! Yes, wait here. I will get it organised.”

Martin frowned. “Second in charge?”

Lara stomped on his foot. “A direct report to the CEO.” That was true, and Ismael probably didn't know the difference. She glared at Martin, as did Jack.

Martin, who at first seemed troubled, quickly regained his composure. “Yes, that's right. He is.”

“I will call you when the helicopter is ready. Wait here.” Ismael rushed out the front door and onto the tarmac.

Jack dragged himself behind the counter and found a phone. “We need to tell Dave what's happened. Just in case he doesn't know yet. I'm sure he has instructions to follow if there's instability.”

Dave Maine wasn't there and when no one else answered Jack left a message. “I hope they're all right.”

Lara nodded. “They've probably already evacuated to a safe place.”

A few minutes later Ismael returned and ushered them out. “Go to the helicopter one after the other. As usual, keep your heads down after that yellow line on the ground or the blades will hit you. The helicopter can take you as far as Rabat. Good luck.”

The noise of the chopper was astounding. Lara had seen plenty of them in movies, and had noticed people screaming to communicate, but had never realised just how loud they really were. She sat in the back next to Jack, and put on ear muffs for protection.

The helicopter hovered a little, then lifted them straight up into the sky. They were heading to the Moroccan capital, where they would find good medical assistance and frequent flights to Europe.

They were going to be safe. Lara should have felt nothing but overwhelming relief. But her head was pounding and an incredible fatigue overtook her. In fact, she couldn't think at all anymore.

She leaned against the window. She took in the flat-roofed concrete dwellings and the sand dunes that sparkled in the blinding sun, wondering whether she would ever come back to Negala.

She closed her eyes. Despite the screaming engine noise that reminded her of a giant lawnmower and the regular whooshing of the blades cutting through the air, she sensed a drop in consciousness, like falling down an interminable black well, as she slipped into a deep sleep. It was the kind of slumber she'd never had before, so completely irresistible. It was like disappearing into quicksand.

She wondered if she'd ever wake up.

Jack felt dizzy and it wasn't from the blood loss. He was literally worried sick. He had always hated hospitals, but this was the first time in his life he'd had any physical signs of anxiety. The weight in his stomach, his sore, tense neck, and a very annoying left eyelid that kept twitching were too many reminders of his humanity.

He had been waiting for close to an hour for the doctor to come and talk to him, an hour that had seemed like three. He wanted to barge into the room and grab the physician by the collar, and was listing all the reasons why he shouldn't, when a slender man in a white coat came up to him.

“I'm Dr Bakhar,” he said, his thick North African accent turning the simplest of phrases into a rhythmic tune. “How are you feeling?”

Jack pursed his lips. “Never mind about me. How is she?”

The doctor smiled. “She will be fine. She has relatively mild concussion. The scans were all clear. There is no bleeding to the brain. She will be sleepy but that's nothing to worry about since there is no damage to the brain.”

Jack felt his whole body relax and he put his hand on the doctor's arm. “Thank you. You have no idea how relieved I am. I'm sorry if I sounded a bit abrupt before.”

The doctor nodded. “It is perfectly normal to be worried for your wife.”

Jack didn't correct the good doctor. Lara wasn't his wife, but he certainly liked the sound of it. Besides, he wanted to be able to sit by her side and hold her hand until she woke. He didn't mind pretending they were married. Didn't mind at all.

Jack was still worried, though. “Is she well enough to travel? It's quite a long flight.”

“That should be all right. If she develops any of these symptoms you will need to take her to a hospital as soon as you arrive.” He handed Jack a list. “She might be confused for a while. There could be things she doesn't remember. And she will probably need to sleep a lot, too. Otherwise, she should be fine.” The doctor patted Jack's arm. “Go and see her now.”

Jack jumped to his feet and leapt towards the room where Lara lay. A sharp pain jolted up his leg, radiating into his back, and stopped him in his tracks. He had forgotten all about his injured calf, too busy worrying about Lara to think about himself.

He stood still for an instant, looking down at his bandage as he caught his breath. He started off again, this time slowly limping across the corridor, and knocked on the door.

There was no answer, so he opened it a little and slid through. The room was dark, the blinds shut. There was just enough light to tell Lara's eyes were closed. To see her there in a hospital bed, her tousled hair swept across the pillow, without makeup or fancy clothes, only made him want to protect her more.

He felt like taking her in his arms, making sure she was warm, and whispering in her ear that everything was going to be just fine. He wanted to kiss her over and over and feel her heart beating against his.

He couldn't do any of that.

But he could be near her and he would savour every moment. He pulled up a chair and sat by her side. His gaze followed the outline of her face, every fold, every little imperfection, and he saw beauty in all of it.

Lara stirred in her sleep. As she turned on her side her arm fell out of the covers, dangling to the left of the mattress. Jack took her hand and gently put it back on the bed, and once it was there he didn't want to let go.

He held it, as if he really were Lara's husband. Deep down, he knew that was what he wanted. He wanted Lara, not just for fun, not for a night, a week, a month. He wanted her in his life, day after day, until the end of time. She was married to someone else, someone who didn't seem to deserve her. It wasn't fair. Why had she been brought into his life, this woman who was absolutely perfect for him, if he couldn't have her?

Just as that thought sent a shiver of disappointment down his spine, Lara opened her blue eyes without warning and stared at him. It took him by surprise, so much so her hand was still in his when she sat up in bed.

He let go of her, blurting out an explanation. “Your arm had fallen to the side of the bed. I was putting it back.”

“Oh.” She seemed embarrassed, as she brushed her hair off her face and tried to tidy it with her bare hands. Jack wondered whether it was more about her appearance or the fact he'd held her hand.

He crossed his arms. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, I guess. Did they find anything with the scans?”

He shook his head. “It's all OK. You have relatively mild concussion. No bleeding of the brain, so that's excellent news. The doctor said you'll be fine. You might forget a few things. You might be sleepy, too. Other than that, you're in perfect shape.”