Desert Rogue (37 page)

Once she stepped from the room, Victoria kept to the shadows of the garden's high walls and searched for the gate that would lead to the street beyond. Stealthily, she placed one foot in front of the other, terrified she would be discovered prior to reaching Hayden and laying her proposition before him.

She wouldn't be afforded another chance to barter herself to Hayden for Jed's safety, she thought. She had to make the diplomat accept her proposal and assure her that the charges against Jed would be dropped, the search for him suspended. Then her all-but-disintegrated engagement to Hayden would be reaffirmed. The bargain would be sealed when she surrendered her body to him as a sign that she meant to keep her word.

Victoria was honest enough to admit that Hayden's contemptible denouncement of Jed had not been the desperate result of any love he bore her. She recognized that it had been motivated by the need to remove an obstacle impeding the golden future Hayden had ambitiously envisioned for himself. For that reason, Victoria would never be able to forget or excuse what Hayden Reed had attempted to do to Jed. Though it would make living with the consular agent all the more difficult, Victoria didn't care. She would gladly suffer that and more to save the life of her beloved American.

Finally locating a gate on the far side of the garden, Victoria emitted a breath of relief. Awkwardly, she lifted the wooden bar and pushed the barrier outward, then she slipped into the alley and shut the towering gate behind her.

Pressing close to the high walls fronting the street, she set out swiftly for the residence she would soon be sharing with a man she loathed. The European sector was quiet late at night, and Victoria anticipated no danger as she made her way along the straight, direct boulevards. Her steps almost as rapid as her heartbeat, the plucky blonde only prayed that Jed was still at large and that she was not already too late.

Soon Victoria stood on Hayden's doorstep, silently marshaling her arguments. She could not allow herself to fail in what she was about to do, and she wanted to be prepared with further incentives if Hayden thought to refuse her.

Hugging her waist in an attempt to stop her shivering, a resigned Victoria settled on exactly what she would say. She would explain to Hayden he had no choice but to accept her proposal. If the charges against Jed were not dropped immediately, or if any harm had already befallen him, she would inform her cowardly fiancé that she would never marry him. Then, Cameron Shaw's influence would be lost to him, and that was what Reed wanted, anyway, not her. It was a persuasion Victoria sensed Hayden couldn't fail to heed.

Raising her hand to knock, Victoria hesitated for one more instant while in her mind she bid Jed Kincaid a sorrowful farewell. It was, in effect, a final adieu to the love they had shared, though she knew its specter would haunt her forever. But goodbyes had to be said even if Jed wasn't there to hear them. Once she passed through this door and accomplished what she had set out to do, Victoria would never be able to face Jed Kincaid again.

Courageously, if sadly, Victoria straightened her slender shoulders and allowed her clenched fist to rap sharply on the door.

Though Victoria could have sworn she heard stirring within the house, the man she sought did not come to the door, nor did his servant, a large, burly Egyptian who frightened her most thoroughly.

Impatiently, Victoria knocked again and waited. But still there was no response. In fact, the house seemed unnaturally quiet, even the insects suddenly falling silent.

Resolved that she would not be thwarted in her attempt to help Jed, Victoria assaulted the door a third time, her banging growing in intensity and duration.

* * *

When the insistent knocking began for the fourth time, Hayden looked up from what he was doing. Whoever wanted his attention was not likely to go away, and though he certainly didn't want visitors now, neither did he need the neighbors becoming privy to activity taking place in his house so late at night. He'd have to take care of the matter.

With a nonchalant shrug meant to belie his concern, he straightened up from the crate of contraband rifles he'd been inspecting. “I'll have to see to whoever that is,” he said with a nod toward the front of the house.

“Get rid of him, or I will do so—permanently,” the massive Egyptian directed.

“Just stay here out of sight and I'll do what I can,” Hayden growled, not liking his companion's attempt to usurp his authority.

On bare feet, Hayden padded into the next room and then into the vestibule.

“What is it?” he demanded in an irritated voice designed to intimidate any intruder and send the bounder on his way.

“It's me, Hayden, Victoria,” came the reply.

Victoria! What did that bitch want at this time of night, unless it was something to do with that bloody American? Whatever her reason for coming here, Hayden couldn't deal with it at present. The rifles had to be loaded and out of here long before sunrise. Reports had reached him of Zobeir's death, and the British official had no desire to disappoint those who employed him, the very same people who had employed the slave trader, as well.

“Go back to your parents, Victoria,” he ordered impatiently through the closed door. “You shouldn't be here by yourself, much less at this late hour. It's most unseemly.”

“No more so than you sending me away to travel by myself through the streets of Cairo at such an hour,” she retorted.

“It's no worse than you deserve for being so brazen as to show up here unchaperoned. If anyone sees you, your reputation will be completely beyond repair. Now,
go away!
”

“I'll pound on this bloody door and scream at the top of my lungs if I have to. If you want to avoid a scene, let me in,” Victoria insisted.

Suddenly the wooden barrier was thrown open and Hayden's hand shot out to pull her inside before she could wake the entire neighborhood.

“Suppose you tell me what this is all about?” Hayden said harshly, glancing quickly over his shoulder into the dim recesses of the house.

“I know it was you who falsely implicated Jed Kincaid in the smuggling and the murder. And I'm aware of other things, as well.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, his voice dripping with condescension. “And what else is it you think you know?”

“Why you did it,” Victoria answered fiercely.

Hayden's heart skidded to a halt, but he maintained an outward show of composure. “And what do you suppose my motive was?”

“You were afraid I was going to break our engagement and marry Jed. But that isn't the case. Inform the police a mistake has been made and allow Jed to leave Cairo. If you do that, I'll wed you.”

“Why should I believe that?”

“To show I mean what I say, I'm prepared to give you whatever you want right now...regardless of what that might be,” Victoria stated with sincerity. “But refuse to help Jed and I'll never be your wife, no matter what happens.”

Hayden wanted to laugh out loud. This was nothing to worry about. The girl had been intelligent enough to see the link between his heading the investigation and the accusations made against the American. But that was as far as her insight went. She had no inkling of his own role in the rifle running, or the murder.

Still, he had no time to attend to a strumpet willing to throw herself away in order to save the life of another man, and a crude American at that. His distaste for Victoria Shaw began to grow. She was far from being the lady he had originally thought her to be. But that in itself could be an interesting diversion, he mused salaciously. Once he got her in bed, he could treat her like the whore she was, and she would have no cause for complaint. The prospect caused his groin to tighten and his eyes to gleam. Still, that would have to wait. He had no option other than returning to his men and finishing with the rifles.

“Victoria, this conversation is absurd. I want you to go back to your parents and think about how very foolish you are,” he instructed in a domineering tone.

“I know what I'm doing,” Victoria said coldly, “and I'm not leaving here until the matter is settled to my satisfaction.”

“Much as I might like to play your lewd little game, I refuse to take what you have to offer. I have no intention of vindicating Kincaid. As for you, you'll return to Lady Trenton's if I have to take you there myself,” Hayden declared. His building anger became hot fury when he had to block Victoria's path to keep her from walking past him and into the house proper.

“Not until you have exonerated Jed,” Victoria maintained stubbornly. She had come too far to be foiled now. “Do as I say, Hayden, or I'll still be here when my parents come looking for me. And when they arrive, I'll charge you with all sorts of things, accusations that will put an end to your career once and for all.”

Hayden looked down on Victoria with barely concealed rage. How dare this little bitch talk to him that way! Though she couldn't guess at it, her partial insights into his activities meant his career was already over as far as he was concerned. He couldn't chance staying here, hoping he remained above suspicion and was left in peace by the Mahdi's men. The only things remaining that were important to him were the money he had made and his life, something he would forfeit if he failed to deliver the rifles the dervishes wanted from him, rifles that had to leave Cairo tonight.

With purposeful steps, Hayden came toward Victoria to physically remove her from the house. Once that was done, he'd drag her, if need be, through the streets to Lady Trenton's residence.

Reading his thoughts, Victoria deftly sidestepped him and went running into the rear of the house, which was shrouded in darkness.

“You're not getting rid of me,” she called to him just before she stumbled over a large, unexpected obstacle in the middle of a back room. Picking herself up, Victoria's eyes began to adjust to the dimness of her moonlit surroundings.

“Unfortunately, it would appear I am,” Hayden said, roughly grabbing her arms and pulling her to him, crushing her so tightly that she could not draw enough air into her lungs to scream. “Because of your rash and shameless actions, I'll be forced to dispose of you. What a pity.”

Looking at the obstruction that had caused her fall, Victoria was stunned to see an open crate of rifles, and in the murky corners of the room were men dressed in
gallabiyas
rising and coming toward her.

“Let me go,” Victoria gasped weakly. “You'll never get away with this.”

“Since you were too headstrong to depart this house of your own accord, you'll have to leave as a corpse,” Hayden replied indifferently. “As for maintaining my innocence, once your body is found, your death, too, will be blamed on Kincaid. It seems he became infuriated when you rejected him for me. All of Cairo society knows he was trying to woo you. Who wouldn't believe me?”

“My parents would know that isn't so,” Victoria managed to whisper, expending some of the little air left to her.

“You might be right. I'll try a different tactic. Let me see, Kincaid, furious with me for brilliantly uncovering his crimes, sought revenge by killing the woman I love. Yes, that sounds much better, doesn't it? I think it will do quite nicely,” Hayden said smoothly.

He released his hold on Victoria slightly, and she deeply gulped for air until his hand covered her mouth. Horrified, the girl's eyes fell on the curved blade gleaming dully in the moonlight, held out to Hayden by his large, Egyptian confederate.

“I'll do the deed later,” Hayden said with a shake of his head, “after I decide how and where it is to be done. No sense rushing these things, you know, and putting us in senseless jeopardy. For now, I'll gag the whore and tie her up until the guns are out of here. They are, after all, more important.”

Victoria was dragged into a small, adjoining room. There, despite her frantic efforts to escape, Reed carried out his threat. A cloth was stuffed into her mouth and she was quickly bound to a simple wooden chair, the ropes biting savagely into her tender flesh. Then Hayden bestowed a mocking kiss upon Victoria's brow.

“Don't fret, dearest. I'll be back soon,” he said with a sneer. “And then, before I close your eyes for good, you'll get exactly what you came looking for.”

T
hat was peculiar, thought Jed as he explored the alley behind Reed's home a short while later. The wooden gates were at the rear of the property, opening onto a garden, but even so, there was no reason they should be ajar at two o'clock in the morning.

Motioning Ali forward, Jed pointed out the unsecured entryway, but before he could tell the Egyptian of his plan to explore the grounds, they heard muffled voices within Reed's garden. As one, they pressed themselves against the gates, but after a few minutes Jed couldn't resist inching further onto the grounds, stopping when he caught sight of a wagon.

“Infidel dog! Just how many men does he think would risk this kind of cargo, even at night? Always wants extra service, but never an extra coin for it, is there?” grumbled an indistinct figure.

“He's an Englishman, what do you expect?” replied his companion. “At least this is the last load we'll be moving for him. Here, I swiped a bottle of his whiskey when he wasn't looking. Have a nip.”

Then, in spite of the darkness, Jed saw the speakers. They were driving a heavily laden donkey cart, its wheels wrapped in fabric to mute the clatter. A third man rode behind, apparently to keep the precariously stowed cargo steady.

“Give me some of that,” called the rear guard, coming forward as the wagon halted briefly.

Three men. He had faced worse odds a hundred times and won, considered Jed thoughtfully. If these fellows were transporting illegal guns, and he intercepted them, he would have all the evidence of Reed's guilt anyone could want. But just as Jed made up his mind to challenge the drivers, Ali caught him by the sleeve and yanked him back into the nearby shrubbery.

“Do not let haste rule your actions, Jed. If you're spoiling for a brawl, take it out on Reed, by all means. But if you want proof of your innocence, let me follow these men and see exactly what it is they are transporting and where they go,” urged the Egyptian. “That way, when Reed denies everything and claims we are the insurgents, it will be possible to discredit him.”

It made sense, the American acknowledged, but shouldn't he be the one to take the chances?

“Why should you risk getting involved? I could just as easily—”

“With a price on your head, you are less a free man than many a prisoner in Cairo's jails,” reminded Ali. “While I—I am but another Cairene on the street after hours.”

“All right, but be careful. When you've learned where they are storing the weapons, lead the police to the guns and back here. That way we can confront Hayden in front of witnesses,” advised Jed, giving Ali's shoulder a quick squeeze for luck.

At once Ali slipped away, following the cart. Then that, too, was gone and Jed was alone in the garden. He meant to wait for Ali to return before doing anything, but there was no reason to wait this far from the house.

The ground underfoot was soft and spongy as though someone had been digging, he noticed, barely avoiding an uncovered pit, apparently intended for a tree leaning nearby. There was even a large excavation as if the diplomat were readying a reflecting pond. Clever bastard, Jed mused, getting the neighbors used to workmen and irregular deliveries probably dissuaded them from suspecting anything unusual.

Escaping the leafy shrubs, Jed caught his first glimpse of the house. Crouching down, he gauged its layout.

Four steps led up to a central veranda running between two short wings. When the concealing louvered shutters were open they probably revealed the main room. The bedrooms would be in one wing while the library, dining room and drawing rooms were in the other. Undoubtedly, the kitchen and servants' quarters would be situated closest to the street to keep the sounds of everyday life from the family.

Unfortunately, it was impossible to discern any flicker of light through the shutters at this distance, though it was highly unlikely that Reed would have retired so quickly. Too bad he hadn't arrived an hour earlier, Jed thought with a grimace. If his search of Hayden's office had yielded its fruit a bit sooner, he might have been able to catch the Englishman red-handed with not only the guns in his possession, but the money, too.

The money! Why hadn't he thought of that before? It was unlikely a man like Vicky's fiancé would extend credit to the buyers, so he would have been paid on the final transfer of the goods tonight. There was no possible way that Reed would have had the time to take the damning evidence out of the house...and no government employee, no matter how conscientious, could claim to have saved the amount of money the dervishes were rumored to be paying for weapons. All Jed had to do now was to locate the cash before the bastard hid it away.

His mind made up, the dark-haired American, newly invigorated by his insight, moved purposefully forward to examine each shuttered casement. In the far corner window, a slat of the shutter was loose near the bottom, and a few cautious tugs made it looser still, until Jed could see into the empty room.

A dim light glowed in what was apparently Reed's study. The small office seemed a strange mix of the Spartan and the luxurious. The floor was covered in an ordinary grass carpet, but an old, heavily carved mahogany desk dominated the area near the window, its grand size and intricately ornamented trim attesting to its prominence in Reed's life. What fascinated Jed, however, were the neat piles of bills in the middle of the creamy desk blotter. Five nicely ordered mounds of currency were carefully arranged in the light falling from the oil lamp.

It was all he needed to see. Not caring if Vicky's fiancé heard him or not, wanting only to get his hands on this blatant evidence of Reed's criminal activities, Jed wrenched hard on the lower edge of the shutter, his strong fingers grasping the frame and easily separating it from its hinged closure. Seconds later, he vaulted over the windowsill, landing lightly on his feet, just as Reed hurried into the room, a pistol in his hand.

“Kincaid, I hoped you would have been locked away by now, but things don't seem to be going as planned,” the Englishman said with an exasperated sigh. “Still, I am the one with the gun, so this will be over for you very shortly.”

“Tell me why,” demanded Jed. “You're engaged to a beautiful, loving woman—”

“And you'd know exactly
how
loving she is, too, wouldn't you?” growled Hayden, angry at being reminded of Victoria's infidelity.

“Reed, whatever you're thinking, Vicky told me she loves
you,
” lied the American, his voice firm as he inched around the desk. “I admit I asked her to reconsider, but she swore it's you she wants.”

“The woman wants me so much that she offered me her body to secure the release of yours,” mocked Reed. “In fact, she promised she would never so much as mention your name again if I called off the search for you. Is that what you consider love, Kincaid? If so, I'd say you were its recipient, not me.”

“Vicky did that?” Jed was touched that she would have gone to such lengths for him.

“I was conducting other business at the time and couldn't immediately oblige her,” Reed continued dryly. “However, what she offered will be mine soon enough.”

“Like hell it will, you lousy maggot!” goaded Jed. He was still too far from the consular agent to jump him, but a few sharp-edged barbs should take his victim's mind off his approach. “You're no more than a low-ranking civil servant who couldn't be bothered to lift a finger to help Vicky when she was abducted. Or did you engineer that deal for the money, too?”

“Say what you will, Kincaid. I have enough never to work again, over fifty thousand pounds,” bragged Reed. His eyes flickered briefly toward the money on his desk and then he stepped closer as if to protect it from Jed. “This is only one installment, but what I find most rewarding is that everyone will blame you for what I've done.”

“Just how do you figure that?” asked Jed. Unobtrusively he extracted a knife from his
gallabiya,
keeping it ready.

“Lady Trenton's guests were more than willing to believe you murdered the watchman, especially after your killing sprees in the desert—six or seven men, wasn't it?” asked Hayden, unaware of the tension controlling Jed's features. “It made for fascinating conversation, watching poor Victoria trying to explain the matter away and failing. It won't be any harder for them to understand that when you came here tonight to kill me, the tables were turned and you died instead when I defended myself.”

“Defend yourself against this.” As the words escaped Jed's mouth, he threw his knife.

Though the diplomat darted sideways to avoid the oncoming blade, it glanced off his shoulder as he fired, making his aim unsteady. The bullet went harmlessly into the garden, and before he could shoot again, Jed was on him, knocking him forcefully against the desk.

“I'm warning you, Kincaid. My men will be back any moment—”

“Let them come. I'll be ready, you bastard.”

With practiced dexterity, Jed clutched the hand in which Reed held the pistol and began to hammer it against the desk while the Englishman groaned at each blow. Finally, his fingers opened and the gun fell to the floor where Jed kicked it out of reach.

Unable to hold it back any longer, Jed let his fury free. He wanted vengeance, for Vicky's sake and his own, and he would have it, but first he would make Reed squirm.

“Feeling a little nervous yet? Maybe this will help.”

Jed smashed a fist into Reed's face and then punched the diplomat in the stomach, a grim smile crossing his features as the Englishman slid to the floor.

“Come on, Reed. I'll give you a fair fight. Stand up and fight back, you slimy bastard. If you manage to beat me, I'll let you leave town before the police arrive, without the money, of course,” he offered. “If you lose, you'll be here to confess.”

“A fair fight? With your experience? The odds are hardly ones I'd accept,” said Hayden, struggling to speak through his pain. Nonetheless, he dragged himself upright against the desk. His arm was bloodied as was his lip, and his face bright red from the effort to stand erect, but his voice was more assured than Jed had ever heard it, incredibly condescending.

“It doesn't seem that you have much choice.”

“But you see, Kincaid, I've a card up my sleeve,” announced Reed, a curious smile lighting his face, “one that will let me leave here a rich man you won't lift a finger to detain.”

“Another pistol?” guessed Jed as Reed fumbled behind his back for something on the disarranged desktop. “I took one away from you. I'll take another.”

“No, not a weapon, your precious love,
Vicky,
” gloated Reed. He grabbed the oil lamp and tossed it firmly against the drapes behind the desk. “I told you she bargained for your release earlier—but I don't believe I mentioned that she was still in the house, tied up, I fear, but here all the same. Of course, by the time you find her, it may be too late.”

In the quickening glow of the flames licking at the curtains and the fabric wallcovering, Hayden's face had taken on a demonic cast, one that made Jed fear for the man's sanity and Vicky's life.

“Tell me where she is,” he demanded, unable to stomp out the sparks jumping across the carpet to ignite smaller fires. “You loved her once, Reed, maybe on some level you still do.”

“Oh, her father was useful when I planned to stay in government service,” shrugged Reed. “Now I think I've a better future in trade. Of course, it will have to be far away from here, but I've grown weary of the climate. Besides, once the Mahdi comes to power, it won't be safe to be British.”

The man was either truly mad or impervious to the danger he had created, Jed reflected in amazement. Between the Englishman and the window, the fire had spread along the floor toward the hall and the other rooms, happily devouring the carpet and consuming the wooden ornamentation along the window casings and the walls. Already, despite the open shutter, the room was filled with smoke, but still Reed stood, straightening each pile of currency before packing it away in a small travel case.

“Where is she?” Jed yelled over the crackle of the burning wood. When he got no reply, he lurched forward to clutch at Reed's shirtfront. In an instant, the American had grabbed the diplomat, holding him suspended above the flames nibbling at the desk. “Tell me where she is or I swear I'll make this your funeral pyre.”

“Oh, she's around here somewhere. I can't remember exactly. You know how it is when you're under pressure,” taunted Reed, delighted at Jed's dilemma. The longer the American spent with him, the less likelihood he'd find the girl in time to rescue her. “Really, Kincaid, if you waste any more time, you won't save your whore—”

Jed could take no more. Releasing Reed's collar, he let fly all his muscle, every ounce of fury and disgust he had ever felt for the Englishman, straight into his face.

Jed's fist jettisoned the man through the flames and out the window. Satisfied to hear the dull crack as Reed hit the marble veranda, Jed dispensed with him as an immediate concern. Dead or alive, he'd not be going anywhere for a while. Now, where the hell would Vicky be?

The heat and the smoke were interfering with his sight, the wavy images in the overly hot air blurring his concentration and making breathing difficult.

“Vicky!” he bellowed, raising his voice to carry over the snapping inferno surrounding him. Without concern for himself, he dashed through the flames toward the rest of the house.

“Vicky! Help me find you, damn it! Vicky, answer me!”

Opening a door, Jed found no one, succeeding only in creating new drafts that encouraged the spread of the ravenous fire.

“Vicky! Signal me if you can't speak! Make some noise before it's too late,” he urged. Rapidly he crossed the smoke-filled main room and headed toward the servants' quarters.