Heather Graham (12 page)

She suddenly felt D’Alesio’s hand on her elbow. “It is beautiful,” he said quietly, as if she had spoken aloud. And for a moment she felt as if they had hit upon a strange chord of complete harmony. In this vista where the tents seemed to stretch in grandeur for miles and miles against a magenta sky, where the air was silent except for the occasional bleat of a goat or bray of a camel, they had found something to share—an appreciation for a way of life that defied time itself.

Alex nodded, surprised to find that her throat was dry and she was unable to answer. He slipped his hand into hers and began walking. Then, as if the moment had brought them too close, he teased, “You should be three paces behind me, but I’ll grant you a concession this once.”

“Kind of you, D’Alesio,” Alex murmured caustically.

“I thought so.”

She bit back a reply because she saw they had passed before a tent about a hundred yards east of hers. Dan lifted the flap and ushered her inside.

A
LI SUR SHERIFF WAS
waiting.

He was real, and he was handsome, and he was civil—and restrained; a far cry from a crazy Bedouin racing across the desert to abduct hapless blondes.

He was smiling, and Alex thought she had never seen such a beautiful smile. The Arab was dressed like Dan, in black desert robes, but he was a small man—or perhaps only when compared with D’Alesio. His skin was a dark bronze; his eyes were chocolate. He had a small mustache and an elegantly clipped goatee. With his smile, sparkling eyes and quiet, unassuming manner, he was a striking man. His voice, when he spoke, was also quiet and cultured.

“Dr. Randall. I am pleased to welcome you to my home.”

His clipped English was perfect—so perfect, he should have been speaking in a British parliament. Alex shot Dan D’Alesio a hostile glance as she wondered whether she should bow, stand still or what. The problem was solved for her as Ali Sur Sheriff approached her with both hands extended, catching hers, and leading her on into the center of his tent, where a large rug again lay prominently across the sand floor. Boiling coffee and an array of pastries were set nearby.

The elegance of her tent was nothing in comparison to his. It seemed to Alex that the sheikh’s tent was as large as a football field. It also had rugs and throw pillows and divans, but practical concessions had been added for the busy sheikh. There were large wood wardrobes in the far left section, a conference table and secretary to the right. Oil lamps sat upon various chests, and a graceful chandelier sat upon the conference table, a dozen candles burning brightly from its elegant holders.

Alex took all this in as Sheriff seated her. Then her eyes were only for the sheikh. It struck her as odd that he seemed to be such a gentle man, that his eyes could be touched by such kindness when he was a man of such unlimited power. But in those same kind eyes she found her answer—Ali Sur Sheriff was a man at peace within himself.

D’Alesio took a seat beside her, facing Ali Sheriff. Alex was both irritated and perversely pleased. She was coming to know the man, and at the moment he was a bit like a lifeline. He didn’t touch her, but she could feel the pulse, the current of his presence; she could inhale the pleasant scent of sandalwood and musk that was so male, so solid, so subtle and yet stirring.

The sheikh poured the coffee, and when he handed out fine porcelain cups to Dan and Alex, he lit a water pipe. Alex had seen the pipes many times in Cairo; they were as social as coffee. He offered her the pipe and she hesitated, wondering if she should risk a hacking cough for the next hour to avoid insulting the sheikh, or simply to explain that she didn’t smoke.

Dan settled the problem for her—smoothly, she had to admit. He reached past her for the pipe. “Alex doesn’t smoke, Ali. All American women don’t have bad habits!”

Sheriff smiled. “Alex … I understand from my friend that you are Jim’s daughter.”

“Yes,” Alex murmured, feeling comfortable in the sheikh’s presence, and yet a little lost. “I—my father wrote me a letter that I received just before I left the States. In that letter he told me that I must find you if something went wrong. Since then, as you know, my father has disappeared. I have come here, praying that you would be able to help me.”

Sheriff inhaled on his water pipe and exhaled slowly. “I know this now, of course. But I did not know Jim had disappeared until Dan arrived here last night. I am very worried. Now, please, tell me everything that has happened, everything that you have done.”

Alex did so, repeating all that she had told Dan, forcing herself to speak slowly and patiently. It was easier to talk to Ali—she didn’t continually feel the urge to kill him—and so she was able to be thorough and systematic.

But when she finished speaking, Ali was shaking his head unhappily. “I am very worried,” he repeated softly.

Alex caught and held her breath. This was it. She had come to Sheriff praying for her miracle, and he knew nothing. What had she been expecting—a magician who could pull her father out of a hat?

She exhaled, trying not to cry. But before she could begin to speak, Sheriff did. “I do not know why your father told you to come to me, Alex. But we will work on that puzzle. I know that he felt there would be competition if his plans were known too soon. And I think he suspected someone—or some group—in particular. Your father’s work can be dangerous, Alex. There are people who—well, people willing to kill for the riches produced by such an expedition. People, too, who are interested not so much in money but in glory.”

“Alex,” Dan interjected. “I believe Jim sent you to Ali, through me, because he believed we would have the power to find him. You cannot do so. If something has happened to your father …”

Dan’s voice trailed away, and Ali picked up softly. “You must accept the fact that your father may be dead.”

“No!” She hadn’t meant to shriek at the man with the gentle eyes. She had simply done so because she couldn’t accept the fact that her father might be dead. Sheriff, however, took no offense.

“Please, Alex, do not upset yourself. I say this only because you must be prepared for all possibilities—and because I agree with Dan. You must go home. If your father was abducted or—hurt, you could also be in danger. And this is no place for a woman such as yourself.”

“Sheikh Sheriff,” Alex said as calmly and firmly as she could, “I must find my father. I have spent a great deal of time in Egypt—in Cairo, Thebes and Luxor. Granted, I know little of your country, but then we might discover that my father’s trail leads back to Egypt, and I am very familiar with Egypt!”

Alex noted with annoyance that Sheriff and D’Alesio exchanged quick glances. A silent communication passed between them that left her baffled, but she didn’t have much time to wonder because Sheriff spoke again, asking her to tell him anything she could think of that might be relevant. As Dan and he listened, Alex repeated the pertinent paragraph of the letter, then told both men about the strange phone call that had been so abruptly cut off. When she finished speaking, Sheriff stroked his goatee for several seconds, musing over her words.

“Your father was with me for several days, you know,” he said, inhaling upon his pipe and slowly exhaling a flume of pleasantly scented smoke. “You are sure he called from Abu Dhabi?”

“I’m positive,” Alex said, “because I tried to trace the call when we were cut off. I didn’t worry about it at the time because I know the telephone systems here are—” She paused, not wanting to insult the sheikh, but Ali laughed.

“Our phone systems are terrible! Ah, well, progress takes time!”

“All right,” Dan interrupted softly. “We know that Jim was in Abu Dhabi on the fifth. What we don’t know is what happened from there. We have to find out if—if he left the country.”

Sheriff nodded and clapped his hands. A man immediately appeared in the tent. Sheriff spoke quickly; the man nodded and disappeared as quickly as he had come.

“A rider will go out tonight,” Sheriff explained. He glanced at Dan. “Jim was to see Haman before he left. Tomorrow you and I will ride out to see my old rival and find out what happened there.”

“Haman?” Alex spoke up quickly. “My father mentioned Haman in his letter. He said that Haman had become very interested in him because you were financing his expedition. But if you were financing the expedition, why would my father go to Haman?”

Sheriff tapped his chin for a moment before answering. “Your father is interested in more than ancient treasures, Alex. He is interested in people. Egypt holds the vast riches of history, but her people suffer in poverty more vast. Here in the United Arab Emirates many of us have become almost obscenely wealthy. Now, to understand what I will say next, you must understand those of us who are of Islam. We are beholden to care for those who are less fortunate than ourselves. Allah entrusts us with the care of our brethren. I had promised your father more than the financing for the expedition; I promised him a large endowment for several new schools in Luxor and West Thebes. As a Muslim and as an Arab, I must take it unto my heart to provide for those Arabs less fortunate than I. Do you understand this, Dr. Randall?”

Alex nodded, touched again by the marvelous gentility of this powerful man.

“Your father told Haman about this, and Haman said that he would like to speak with him further. So your father planned to see Haman. He thought—rightfully—that a generous contribution by Haman, given perhaps merely to spite me, would still benefit the children of Egypt.”

“Oh,” Alex said softly. “But I don’t believe my father trusted him!”

“Haman,” Dan D’Alesio offered dryly, “is a slippery old fox. No halfway intelligent man would trust him!”

Sheriff grimaced. “That is true. But we will check with him tomorrow.” He sighed. “Haman can be like a child. He very much wants to be in on your father’s discovery. Perhaps he believed if he dogged Jim long enough, Jim would give in to him and allow him to be there for the dig—so that he might be announced to the world as a great man. I do not know how far Haman would go to achieve these ends, and although I do not think him capable of murder, I don’t think kidnapping would be beneath him. I also think that my friend Haman is a very persistent man—”

“You think he may be holding my father?”

“No.” Ali shook his head. “But I do not exclude the possibility. I think Haman might have something to say to help us; that is all that I feel for certain.”

D’Alesio turned to stare directly at Alex. “I want you to think about those ‘puzzle pieces’ a bit. Are you sure you don’t know anything more than you’ve told us?”

Alex shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Alex,” Dan said quietly. “I think your father was trying to protect you. Neither Ali nor I knew that Jim had a daughter until today. He kept silent and vague about his ‘assistant.’ We all know that there exists a tremendous black market for Egyptian antiquities. There are private collectors throughout the world who will pay ungodly sums for authentic pieces. Alex, at that level, Jim’s life—your life—could be in danger. I think Jim was trying to protect you to the last minute—but I think he was also telling you that you can find the tomb.”

“I—I suppose that could be so,” Alex murmured. “Except that I don’t think I can!”

“Probably not,” D’Alesio said, unaware that his offhand comment made her instantly bristle. “But the point that frightens me is that someone else may think you can. All the more reason we have to get you out of here as quickly as possible.”

“I’m not going anywhere—”

“Doctor—Alex—” Sheriff had the most fascinating way of saying her name, with the accent softly on the “x.” Alex dragged her tumultuous eyes from Dan’s to meet the sheikh’s.

“I want you out of here as quickly as possible. You are in danger right here—and it has nothing to do with what might happen in Egypt at all! Among us you are an extraordinary woman. You must understand that here women may be bartered and sold. I fear that you may enrapture one of my own men! You are unattached, and therefore you are—how shall I say it?—free for the taking! Now, I can, of course, control my own tribe. But it is possible that rumors of your arrival are already spreading. You will be a temptation others may not be able to resist. I do not wish to go to war with my fellow countrymen when such a thing may be avoided.”

“But—but—” Alex protested, feeling guilty and yet determined. “I cannot believe that someone would actually—I mean, I understand that your women are also valued and highly protected! And I’ve always understood that abducting a man’s woman was a crime for which one man might kill another. Surely no man would chance that with you—”

“Dr. Randall, all know that Ali Sur Sheriff already has four wives and that he doesn’t keep slaves or a harem.” His dark eyes sparkled mischievously with a light that was still kind but also that of a healthy and lusty male. “If I could make you a fifth wife, Alex, I would gladly do so, but the Koran allows us only four. Therefore, you are not safe. Not here, and—if Haman does have anything to do with this—you will not be safe in Egypt. Even as your protector, I cannot always be with you.”

Alex silently digested his words. She bit her lip and made a last effort. “Sheikh Ali Sur Sheriff, I must be here! Don’t you see? I cannot go home without my father! I must know—” She cut herself off. She had been about to say, “whether he is alive or dead,” but she couldn’t voice the words. Instead she started over. “There might still be something in my mind that I haven’t realized—another clue! Please, please, at least think this over!”

Again, one of those communicative glances passed between Sheriff and D’Alesio. “I will think on it,” the sheikh said.

Alex was sinkingly sure that the words had been said to humor her. She felt as if she would explode with the unfairness of the situation. She could understand Ali—this was his world; he had been raised to see women as chattel, and in his experience with American women, it was apparent he had found little pleasure.

D’Alesio was another story. He was simply in a situation in which he could flaunt his chauvinism, and he was enjoying doing so. She would really love to see him …