Hostage of the Hawk (3 page)

The logical thing to do was to tell her that she and her father had wasted their time, that he was not Hassan but Prince Khalil, that he was not interested in whatever game it was they were playing.

But if he did that, he would not learn what game it was. And that, surely, was vital.

‘I still fail to see why your father sent you to this meeting, Miss Bennett,' he said sharply, ‘unless he thought you could succeed where others had failed simply through the element of surprise.'

‘If it makes you feel any better,' Joanna blurted, ‘I'm as surprised as you are. I thought you'd be—I thought...'

‘Yes?' His eyes narrowed. ‘What did you think?'

Joanna stared at him. That you'd be a million years old, she thought, that you'd be a wizened old man... His voice. His voice had sounded old on the telephone. Hadn't it? Maybe not. She could remember little of their conversation except how desperate she'd been to make him commit to this meeting—this meeting that she was on the verge of ruining, unless she used her head.

‘I thought,' she said carefully, ‘we'd be able to sit down and discuss our differences face to face.'

He smiled tightly. ‘But not man to man.'

‘The bottom line,' Joanna said, ignoring the taunt, ‘is that we—that is, Prince Khalil and Bennettco—
do
have differences.'

‘Yes. We do, indeed.' His voice hardened. ‘Bennettco thinks it can ignore Khalil and deal only with Abu—'

‘Abu Al Zouad is the King of Jandara,' Joanna said with an icy smile, ‘or has your Prince forgotten that little item?'

‘He is not the King, he is the Sultan,' Khalil said sharply, ‘and surely not Khalil's.'

‘Abu is the recognised leader of your country, and he has guaranteed Bennettco the right to mine in the northern mountains.'

Khalil's smile was wily. ‘If that is the case, why has your father sent you to meet with me?'

‘To talk about what is best for Khalil's people.'

He laughed, this time with such disdain that it made Joanna's spine stiffen.

‘You spout nonsense, Miss Bennett. That is hardly the issue we're here to discuss.'

At least the man was blunt, Joanna thought grimly. ‘Very well, then,' she said. ‘My father's sent me to talk about what will most benefit Bennettco—and what will most benefit your Prince, which is why your unwillingness to listen to what I have to say surprises me, Mr Hassan. This meeting is in Khalil's best interests, but—'

‘Sir?' They both spun towards the curtained doorway. The head waiter was standing just inside it, smiling nervously. ‘The bill, sir.'

Khalil looked at the silver tray in the man's hand, then at Joanna. She was right. It would be foolish of him not to find out what tricks her father had up his sleeve, even if it meant enduring her company.

‘Very well,' he said. ‘I will give you an hour, and not a moment more.'

Joanna nodded. She was afraid to breathe or even to answer for fear this impossible man would change his mind again and walk out.

Khalil nodded, too, as if they had made a pact, then looked towards the waiter.

‘Bring us the meal I ordered,' he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

‘Certainly, sir.'

‘Be seated, Miss Bennett.'

Be seated, Joanna thought as she slid into the padded banquette, just like that. No ‘please', no attempt at courtesy at all. It was ludicrous. He'd already ordered dinner, even though she'd reserved the table. The man was impossible, arrogant and imperious and—

‘So.' She looked up. He had slid into the booth opposite her and he was watching her intently, his eyes unreadable as they met hers. He sat back, his broad shoulders straining just a bit at the jacket of his suit, and a faint smile touched his mouth. ‘Why don't you start our meeting by telling me about the Bennettco project?'

She did, even though she was certain he knew all the details. It would only help her make her case at the end, when it became time to ask him for assurance that he'd not try and hinder the project. She talked through the lemon soup, through the couscous, through the chicken baked with saffron, and finally he held up his hand.

‘Very interesting—but you still haven't told me why I should permit—why my Prince should permit Bennettco to mine in the mountains?'

‘Well, first of all, the operation will bring money into Jandara. It will—it will...' Joanna frowned. ‘Permit, Mr Hassan? I don't think that's quite the correct word, do you?'

‘English is not my first language, Miss Bennett, but I learned it at quite an early age. “Permit” was the word I intended.'

‘But the decision's not Khalil's. It's Abu's.'

‘Is it?' He smiled lazily. ‘If that were completely true, you wouldn't be here.' He smiled lazily. ‘You're concerned that Khalil will interfere with the project, isn't that right?'

What was the sense in denying it? Joanna shrugged her shoulders.

‘We think he might try, yes.'

‘And have you stopped to consider why he might do that?'

‘Perhaps he hasn't given enough thought to how much this project will benefit his people.'

The arrogance of the woman! Khalil forced his smile not to waver.

‘He is selfish, you mean?'

Joanna looked up, caught by the man's tone. He was still smiling, but there was something in that smile that made her wary.

‘Well, perhaps he doesn't see it that way,' she said cautiously, ‘but—'

‘But you do, and that's what matters.'

‘You're twisting my words, Mr Hassan.'

‘On the contrary. I'm doing my best to get to the heart of your concerns. What else am I to tell him, apart from a warning about his selfishness?'

Joanna stared at him. Was he asking her to be more direct about the bribe money? It galled her to make such an offer but reason seemed to be failing. Sam had warned her that this was the way things were done in this part of the world, but—

‘Don't lose courage now,' he said coldly. ‘Be blunt, Miss Bennett. It's why you came here, remember?'

‘Tell him—tell him we won't tolerate any harassment of our workers.'

‘I see. You worry he might have them beaten. Or shot.'

There was a lack of emotion in his words, as if having men hurt were an everyday occurrence.

‘We are not “worried” about anything, Mr Hassan,' she lied, her tone as flat as his. ‘This project will go ahead, no matter what your Prince does. We simply want to encourage Khalil's co-operation.'

His nostrils dilated. He yearned to take the woman's slender shoulders in his hands and shake some sense into her.

‘Really?' he said, and if Joanna had not been so caught up in her own determination to succeed, if she had not already decided that the only thing that would close the deal was the enormous bribe Sam had suggested, she'd have heard the note of warning in that single word. ‘And how are you going to do that, Miss Bennett?'

Joanna gave him a look laced with contempt, then unclasped her evening bag and took out the envelope her father had given her.

‘With this,' she said bluntly, and slid the envelope across the table towards him.

He bent his head and looked at it. His anger made the words on the paper a meaningless blur but then, what this female Judas was offering didn't matter. She had accused him of being obstinate, selfish and despotic, and now she had sought to buy him off as if he were a common thief.

‘Well?' Her voice was impatient. ‘Is it enough?'

Khalil silently counted to ten, first in Arabic, then in English, and then he took the envelope and stuffed it into his pocket.

‘Oh, yes,' he said, the words almost a purr, ‘it is enough. It is more than enough.'

She'd done it! She'd won the co-operation of the infamous Prince Khalil—well, Bennettco's bribe had won it, which stole away most of the pleasure. Concentrate on the victory, she told herself, on what this will mean to your future...

He rose to his feet. ‘Come, Miss Bennett,' he said softly.

Joanna looked up. He was holding out his hand and smiling. Or was he? His lips were drawn upwards, but would you really call what she saw on his handsome face a smile?

‘Come?' she said, smiling back hesitantly. ‘Come where?'

‘We must celebrate our agreement with champagne. But not here. This place is for tourists. I will take you somewhere much more authentic, Joanna.'

Joanna? Joanna's heart thudded. Don't go with him, she thought suddenly, don't go.

‘Joanna?'

That was ridiculous. She had done it, she had closed the deal her father thought couldn't be closed. What on earth could there possibly be to fear?

Smiling, she got to her feet and gave him her hand.

He led her through the restaurant, pausing only long enough to say something to their waiter, who bowed respectfully all the way to the front door. Outside, the night seemed to have grown darker. He was holding her elbow now, his grip firm, as he led her towards a low-slung sports car at the kerb.

Suddenly, Joanna thought of something.

‘Did you say we were going to have champagne?'

He nodded as he handed her into the car, came around to the driver's side, then slipped in beside her.

‘Of course. It's a celebration. Why do you sound surprised?'

Joanna frowned slightly. ‘Well, I'm just—I guess I
am
surprised. I didn't think your people drank wine.'

He smiled. ‘Believe me, Joanna,' he said, ‘you are in for a number of surprises before the evening ends.'

He stepped hard on the accelerator and the car shot into the night.

E
VERYONE
Joanna knew had had the same reaction to the news that she was going to Casablanca.

‘Oh,' they'd sighed, ‘how incredibly romantic!'

Joanna, remembering the wonderful old Humphrey Bogart-Ingrid Bergman movie, had thought so too. But after a week she'd decided that things must have changed a lot since the days of Rick and Ilse. Casablanca was ancient and filled with history, it was beautiful and mysterious, but it was also the economic heart of Morocco which meant that in some ways it was not only prosaic, it was downright dull.

The man beside her, though, was quite another story. She gave him a surreptitious glance from beneath her lashes. There was nothing dull about him. She'd never met a man like him before, which was saying a great deal. The circles in which she travelled had more than their fair share of handsome, interesting men but even in those circles, this man would stand out.

Joanna's gaze flew over him, taking in the stern profile, the broad sweep of his shoulders, the well-groomed hands resting lightly on the steering wheel. He seemed so urbane, this Mr Hassan, so at home in his well-tailored suit, his pricey car, and yet she could easily imagine him in a very different setting.

Her lashes drooped a little. Yes, she thought, she could see him in her mind's eye, dressed in long, flowing robes, mounted on a prancing black stallion, racing the wind across the desert under a full moon.

‘You're so quiet, Miss Bennett.'

Joanna's eyes flew open. They had stopped at a light and he was looking at her, a little smile on his lips. For some reason, the thought that he'd been watching her without her knowing made her uncomfortable. She sat up straighter, smoothed her hair back from her face, and gave him a polite smile in return.

‘I was just enjoying our drive,' she said.

She glanced out of the window as the car started forward. They were passing the Place des Nations Unies, deserted at this hour except for a solitary pair of strollers, a man and woman dressed in traditional garb, she walking barely noticeable inches behind. Like a respectful servant, Joanna thought with a grimace, or a well-trained dog...

‘She is not being obedient, Miss Bennett,' the man beside her said, ‘she's simply gawking at the sights.'

Joanna swung towards him. He was looking straight ahead, intent on the road.

‘I beg your pardon?'

‘That couple.' He glanced at her, an insolent smile curled across his mouth. ‘You were thinking the wife was following her husband out of custom, but I assure you, she wasn't.'

He was right, but what did that matter? Joanna gave him a frigid look.

‘Do you make a habit of reading people's thoughts, Mr Hassan?'

‘It isn't difficult to read yours. You seem convinced we classify our women as property in this part of the world.'

She smiled tightly. ‘Your definition, not mine.'

He laughed. ‘A diplomatic response, Joanna—but then, your father would not have sent you on such a delicate mission if he hadn't been certain of your ability to handle yourself well.'

Some of the tension flowed from Joanna's posture. He was right. This
had
been a delicate mission, and she'd carried it off successfully. Let the Hassans and Khalils of this world have their
baksheesh
and bribes. What did it matter to her? She'd set out to snatch success from the jaws of defeat and she'd done it, despite the arrogant high-handedness of the man next to her.

‘You're quite right,' she said pleasantly, folding her hands neatly in her lap and watching as the dimly lit streets spun by, ‘he wouldn't have.'

‘He has no sons?'

‘No.' Her smile grew saccharine sweet. ‘I know you must think that makes him quite unfortunate, but—'

‘I suspect it simply makes him all the fonder of you.' He glanced at her, then looked back to the road. ‘You must be very important to Sam Bennett, not only as vice-president of Bennettco but as the jewel of his heart.'

Joanna looked at him. She was neither, she thought with a little pang, not the vice-president of Bennettco nor even the jewel of her father's heart. It was Bennettco itself that was his love, it always had been, but now that she'd pulled this off...

‘Am I right, Joanna?'

She swallowed. ‘Yes,' she said quickly, ‘I'm as important to him as you are to Prince Khalil.'

His head swung towards her. ‘As I...?'

‘I mean, you must be very important to Khalil, for him to entrust you with negotiating such important matters.'

‘Ah.' He smiled. ‘Of course. You are wondering if my word is Khalil's bond.'

‘No. I wasn't. It never occurred to me to doubt—'

‘I promise you, he will abide by my judgement.' He looked towards her, and suddenly his smile fled. ‘I will not repudiate anything I do this night.'

Joanna's brows rose a bit. ‘I'm sure you won't,' she said politely.

The man wasn't just arrogant, he was contemptuous as well. ‘
I will not repudiate anything I do this night
‘! It was almost laughable. How could he say that when he was only the Prince's minister?

Khalil would be even worse, Joanna thought with a sigh, rigid and imperious and completely egotistical. It was probably a good thing he hadn't agreed to meet with her. As it was, she'd had difficulty holding her temper with Hassan. Heaven only knew how she'd have been able to deal with someone even ruder.

But she didn't have to worry about that any more, she thought, permitting herself a little smile. She'd done the impossible, pulled the coup that would set her firmly on a path she'd always wanted, and if she'd have been happier managing it without pushing a bribe under Hassan's nose, well, so what? If that was how things were done here, who was she to ask questions? She had succeeded, and now she and Hassan were going to drink a toast to their agreement.

Joanna settled back in her seat. Where was he taking her, anyway? Somewhere far from the streets she knew, that was obvious. In fact, they'd left the streets behind completely. The car was racing along a straight, narrow road that disappeared into the night.

Perhaps he was taking her to some place less Western than the restaurant where they'd dined. Perhaps, for all his seeming urbanity, he'd been uncomfortable in its sophisticated setting.

‘You've become quiet again, Joanna.' Hassan stepped down harder on the accelerator and the car seemed to leap forward. ‘Have you nothing to say, now that you've got what you wanted from me?'

His tone was nonchalant but Joanna sensed the underlying derision in his words. She shifted into the corner of her seat and smiled politely.

‘I think we've each gotten something from the other,' she said.

‘Of course. You have my promise of co-operation and I—' He looked at her, his teeth showing in a swift smile. ‘I have the bribe you offered me for it.'

It was what she had just been thinking but hearing it from the man on the receiving end made it different. Surely people who demanded you buy them off didn't go around admitting it, did they? And, just as surely, they didn't make it sound as if
you
were the one who'd done something vile—yet that was what his tone had clearly suggested.

Joanna caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Was he still smarting over the clumsy way she'd handled the bribe offer? She knew she hadn't done it with any subtlety, that she'd come within a breath of insulting him, something that was not done anywhere but especially not in this part of the world.

‘Everyone benefits,' he said softly. ‘Khalil is bought off, Bennettco turns a handsome profit—and Abu Al Zouad grows fatter.' He looked at her, his eyes unreadable in the darkness. ‘All in all, a fine arrangement, yes?'

Joanna shifted uneasily. ‘Look,' she said, ‘I don't know what it is between your Prince and the Sultan, but—'

‘Everyone benefits,' he said again, his tone hardening. ‘Everyone—except my people.'

As if he or his mighty Prince really gave a damn, she thought angrily. But she bit back the words and offered ones that were only slightly more diplomatic instead.

‘It's too late to have second thoughts, Mr Hassan. You gave me your word—'

‘If you intend to speak to me of honour,' he said coldly, ‘you are wasting your time.'

Their eyes met and held. All at once, Joanna wished she were anywhere but here, in this fast car tearing through the darkness to some unknown destination.

‘I was only going to point out that we agreed on—'

‘What would you have done if I'd turned down your bribe money?'

‘Listen, Mr Hassan, if you've a problem with Prince Khalil's accepting money...' Joanna clamped her lips together. What was needed here was a touch of diplomacy, not anger. ‘I wasn't suggesting that you were—that you should...' She shook her head. ‘It's not my place to make judgements, but—'

‘Of course it is. You and your estimable father both make judgements. You judged Abu Al Zouad worthy of Bennettco's largesse, you judged Prince Khalil a man to be easily bought off—'

‘Easily?' His supercilious tone made Joanna bristle and she spoke sharply, before she could stop herself. ‘Who are you kidding? I know how much is waiting for him in that Swiss bank account, remember?' Her eyes narrowed. ‘Wait a minute. Is that what this is all about? Are you going to try and hold us up for more?'

‘And what if I did? You'd pay it. You'd pay whatever you must to get what you want.' He shot her a look so deadly she pressed back in her seat. ‘That's how people like you do things. Don't waste your breath denying it!'

Joanna stared at him. What was happening here? A little while ago, he'd been all silken cordiality, and now he was treating her with an abrasive scorn that bordered on insult. He was scaring her, too, although she'd be damned if she'd ever let him know it. Well, not scaring her, exactly, that was too strong a word, but it was hard not to wish they were still seated in the civilised environs of the Oasis Restaurant.

Was that why he'd dragged her to the middle of nowhere—so he could insult her? That was certainly how it seemed. Even if he hadn't, even if he'd been deadly serious about taking her somewhere for a glass of champagne, she had absolutely no interest in it now. All she wanted was for him to turn the car around and take her back to the city, to lights and traffic and people.

‘I've changed my mind about having champagne,' she said, swinging towards him. She waited for him to answer but he didn't. After a moment, she cleared her throat. ‘Mr Hassan?'

‘I heard you. You've changed your mind about drinking with me.'

‘No, I mean, it's not that. I just—I—um—I misjudged the time earlier.' Damn! Why was she offering an explanation? ‘Please turn the car around.'

‘I can't do that.'

Can't?
Can't
? Joanna stared at him. ‘Why not?'

‘We are expected,' he said.

‘You mean, you made a reservation? Well, I can't help—'

He swung to face her suddenly, and even in the shadowy interior of the car, she could see the sharp anger etched into his face.

‘The sound of your voice annoys me,' he said coldly. ‘Sit back, and be silent!'

Her mouth dropped open. ‘What?' she said. ‘
What
?' She stared at him, waiting for him to say something, to apologise or offer some sort of explanation, but he didn't. ‘That's it,' she snapped. ‘Dammit, Mr Hassan, that's the final straw!'

‘I don't like women to use vulgarities.'

‘And I don't like men to behave like bullies! I'm telling you for the last time, turn this car around and take me back to Casablanca!'

He laughed in a way that made her heart leap into her throat.

‘Is that a threat, Miss Bennett?'

‘My father will be expecting me. If I'm not at the hotel soon—'

‘How charming. Does he always wait up for your return at night?'

Her eyes flew to his face. What was that she heard in his voice? Disdain? Or was it something more?

‘He'll be waiting to hear how our evening went,' she said quickly. ‘And unless you want me to tell him that you—'

‘Why would he do that?' He gave her a quick, terrible smile. ‘Was there ever any doubt of your success?'

‘Of course. There's always a chance of a slip-up when—'

‘How could there have been a slip-up, once he put you in charge of dealing with the bandit Khalil?' The awful smile came again, clicking on, then off, like a light bulb. ‘Surely he expected you'd get the agreement for him, one way or another.'

Joanna clasped her hands together in her lap. Something was happening here, something that was beyond her understanding. All she knew was that she didn't like it.

‘If you're suggesting my father doesn't have every confidence in me,' she began, but the man beside her cut her short.

‘Confidence?' The sound of his laughter was sharp. ‘In what? You're no more a vice-president at Bennettco than that woman we passed in the street a while ago.'

‘Of course I am!'

‘What you are,' he snapped, ‘is an empty-headed creature who knows nothing more important than the latest gossip!'

Colour rushed into Joanna's cheeks. ‘How dare you?'

‘What is the name of your secretary at Bennettco?'

‘I don't have to answer your questions!'

‘Do you even
have
an office there?' he demanded.

She swallowed. ‘Not yet,' she said finally, ‘but—'

‘You are nothing,' he snarled, ‘nothing! Your father insults me by sending you to me.'

‘You've got this all wrong,' Joanna said quickly. ‘I
am
his confidante. And his vice-president—well, I will be, when—'