Desert Rogue (6 page)

“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?

T
he 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.”

* * *

She had come this far without giving in to tears, Victoria reminded herself as Zobeir's men hurried her through the seemingly endless maze of corridors after preparations had been made to transfer her to the pens. No matter how desperate she felt, how hopeless it seemed, she would not surrender to emotion. Hadn't she outmaneuvered Zobeir, the wealthiest slave merchant in Khartoum? The memory of his anger-mottled face cheered her immediately.

Indeed, since he had sent five guards to serve as her escort after making her wait hours alone in a closetlike cell, he no longer considered her helpless. Forcing him to take such precautions had to be a victory of sorts, Victoria assured her flagging spirits.

His men surrounded her, the one at her side grasping her elbow so firmly it was a wonder she had not lost circulation in her arm. The situation was intolerable for a British citizen.

“You are holding me too tightly,” Victoria announced curtly, stopping suddenly. While the men were still startled, she twisted her upper body forcefully to the left. Wrenching her arm free from its human vise, she glared at the one responsible for her discomfort, her blue eyes challenging his implacable black ones.

“Your manners are sadly lacking,” she chided. “I realize you answer to Zobeir, but aren't you man enough to defend a helpless female from abuse rather than perpetrate such behavior?”

Fury flashed across the face of the guard and the feisty blonde found herself on her knees, her long hair wrapped tightly around the man's hand as the pain of his tugging it caused unbidden tears. Even as she squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed to ease the agony, Victoria knew she was defeated.

“A man is
always
master, though he may in turn answer to another,” replied her tormentor while the others chuckled. An abrupt jerk of the hand forced Victoria to look up into his cruel smile. “Have I convinced you to walk or shall I drag you? It is the same to me.”

“Zobeir will—” she began to threaten weakly until his fingers twitched, viciously tightening his hold on her blond tresses.

“He won't object since your skin won't show any ill effects. Indeed, I shall make it a point to inform your buyer of this particular form of discipline,” promised Zobeir's man. Then, using her hair, he yanked her roughly to her feet. “Now will you walk?”

“Yes.” There was no need to say more, nor any ability to do so. Stung now by the painful reality of her situation, Victoria regretted her pointless defiance. There would come a time when he was less vigilant, she promised herself, refusing to despair.

With a satisfied grunt, the Sudanese released her curls, took her elbow and addressed his cohorts, his words causing loud guffaws. Then they were moving once more through the still-deserted halls of Zobeir's grand home.

With each step across the lush carpets, Victoria questioned her presence in this world of masculine brutality and power. It was more than a week since she had been kidnapped, nine days if she calculated correctly. Why hadn't Hayden or her father found her? Cameron Shaw had always said, “Money buys power—or at least the semblance of it.” Surely if her father contacted the khedive, the political leader would interfere on her behalf.

Could it be possible that no one knew she was in Khartoum? For a long moment this thought stunned her, almost as badly as the harsh sunlight that blinded her as they left the sheltered rooms.

Outside, the guards moved closer, herding her at a quick pace through the dusty streets. A few heavily veiled women averted their eyes as they passed, while a large group of men leered openly and began to follow her, shouting in Arabic. Two particularly persistent fellows tried to push past Zobeir's men to reach her, but they were easily repelled by her human shield. The slave trader had not exaggerated when he said many men would want her. But would Hayden continue to desire her, if he ever found her?

All too quickly, they stopped before a guarded enclosure, its eight-foot-high walls topped with spikes embedded in the sandstone. Heavy wooden gates provided the only interruption in the rough-textured expanse, at the top of which stood a sentry's post.

“Zobeir wants her in the pens until tomorrow's auction,” announced the man beside her. “We will take her through.”

“There is no need—”

“Zobeir knows you have sampled his wares in the past and he wants her untouched,” refuted the slave trader's deputy.

Not understanding the sharply spoken exchange, Victoria dared hope for a moment that she was being turned away. Instead, the high gate opened and they were motioned inside.

As she moved, the young Englishwoman looked about and was startled to see men on every side of her: short, tall, dark-toned, light-skinned, bearded, clean-shaven, clothed in every possible garb. Some were asleep, but more were standing about, carefully watching her progress across the compound.

“Zobeir said the women's pen,” she reminded her keeper. She was nervous because of the hungry leers on dozens of faces, most of them destined for slavery themselves.

“They are sheltered behind the men's quarters to offer extra security from anyone who would interfere,” the man explained gruffly. “The guards and these slaves are between the women and the street in case of trouble.”

“Has anyone ever tried to free Zobeir's women?” Victoria asked, a tiny glimmer of hope sparking to life.

“To be certain, no one has succeeded, though once in a while there's been a halfhearted attempt by the Europeans to interrupt an auction. But all that happened was a temporary postponement or relocation of the sale.”