Mirage (4 page)

And he swore it would be a cold day in hell before he’d let a woman mess up his life again.

After lunch, Bish had arranged to take everyone to explore Palmyra’s famous Valley of the Tombs. Julie had already visited the mile-long necropolis the year before, with Ahmed, but the tombs were some of the most interesting structures she’d ever seen, and she wanted to see them again. The tower tombs were especially fascinating, she thought. Unusual and rare, they were one of Palmyra’s best archeological features.

When she stepped out of the hotel into the afternoon sun she was shocked at the high temperature. Desert heat always surprised her in its intensity even though she always prepared as best she could. Off-white linen clothes covered her from wrist to ankle, and she wore a wide-brimmed straw hat. Her shoes were made of a breathable fabric with a rubber sole, hardly attractive but practical for the desert.

Again, the group climbed into the psychedelic bus, and again their local driver joked and laughed with his charges as the bus lurched and rattled all the way to the first tower tomb.

On the bus, Julie noticed that Marc was sitting beside her mother. Already he seemed to claim Hannah for himself. Julie watched her mother’s face light up each time he leaned toward her to speak, and she worried. Hannah had been divorced for two and a half years, and so far hadn’t met anyone she wanted to see more than casually. Marc seemed like an intelligent man. Reasonably good-looking. Relatively sane, as far as Julie could determine. If her mother liked him, well…that wouldn’t be such a terrible thing.

But why does she have to meet someone now? While we’re at work? Not very professional to fool around with the clients, mom. You won’t catch me doing that with Bish.

She squirmed a little when she realized she was being a hypocrite. Her carrying on with Richard was certainly no different. Maybe, she thought, she was just worried about her mother getting hurt again.

When they reached the first tower, everyone followed Bish through the narrow opening and up the stairs to a large, tall room stacked high with burial compartments. A pale dusty light shone through the bars in the lone unglazed window. It was very hot, and the air smelled centuries old.

“These structures were designed so that the bodies were entombed on their sides. Then a carved bust would be placed at the end of the compartment to identify the deceased,” Bish explained.

Julie looked up at the tall stone shelves, built high enough to hold six bodies, one on top of the other. They were empty now, the busts gone, all broken off at the neck.

“The Danes arrived in the nineteenth century, and are responsible for carrying off most of the treasures that were once buried here. They were the ones who broke off the busts and took them back to decorate rich men’s homes. Some ended up in museums. I understand there’s a good collection at the Glyptotech in Copenhagen. We think we should demand their return. What do you think?” Bish looked at the curious faces around him, a self-righteous expression on his handsome face.

“I think that’s bullshit.”

Everyone’s head turned at once to see the owner of that statement. Julie froze in mid-turn as she recognized Tor’s Scandinavian accent before she saw the man himself. Her mouth fell open. Obviously he’d come in behind them, quietly.

“Excuse me?” Bish’s voice turned imperious. “Who are you?”

“Who are
you
to be spreading such propaganda? The Danes were not the only foreigners excavating in your desert. If you went to Russia, you’d find some of these pieces in the Hermitage. And then there’s the Germans. And the Norwegians. Don’t forget the Japanese, Austrians, and Poles.”

Bish seemed momentarily stunned. Then he straightened his back and glared at Tor. “Perhaps you have a point, but the Danes took the lion’s share. And we want it back.” His dark face had turned a mottled red

“Perhaps your national treasures would have been better protected if…”

“What do
you
know about what my people have had to—”

“Gentlemen,” interrupted Marc. “I think we understand the issues.” He stepped forward, placing a hand on Bish’s shoulder. “And we have several more tombs to explore. So shall we move on?”

Bish continued to glare at the interloper, who throughout the exchange maintained a steely-eyed stance. Julie stared at Tor, admiring the lines of his face, illuminated by the shafts of yellow light pouring through the windows. He was one handsome dude. She began to fiddle with the collar of her shirt.

Then he looked at her. As soon as she felt those eyes on her, she was overcome by a flush of pure desire. It started deep in the core of her body, passed along her arms and legs, right down to the tips of her fingers and toes. When it reached the top of her head, she managed to smile at him. When he didn’t smile back, she looked down at the hat in her hands, still smiling.

Holy shit, he’s sexy.

Everyone filed past him as he stood squarely at the head of a row of tombs as if he were protecting them. Julie left last, right behind Bish, who muttered something in Arabic under his breath as he passed the Dane.

“Asshole,” Tor replied softly, and then he looked at Julie. That was when he smiled.

Her knees almost gave out. She couldn’t move.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Goddamn!
“Uh. Yes. Fine. It’s just a little hot in here.”

She’d wanted another crack at beguiling him with her feminine charms, but now that she had it she was paralyzed.

“And you don’t like the heat. You said yesterday.”

“That’s right. And I don’t like arguments, either. I find them threatening.”

“Nothing to worry about. Just two guys having a pissing contest. I guess I won.”

“I guess you did.” She smiled weakly and put on her hat. For some odd reason she was feeling threatened by his attentions. Her attraction to him was much stronger than any she’d ever experienced. “I’d better go.” She moved toward the doorway.

“Where are you staying?”

The question seemed to come out of the blue. Julie was shocked. Confused, for a moment. This wasn’t what she’d expected at all. She hadn’t so much as batted an eyelash and he was already interested. She turned and looked up at him. “Um, at the Palm Guesthouse. You?”

“With my cousin. He’s renting a house.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Will I see you around town tonight?”

“Maybe. I’d better go. They’re waiting for me.”

“See you later then, Julie.”

He remembered my name! I didn’t even think he’d heard it.

She found her way down the ancient stone staircase without falling head over heels, and ran up to the psychedelic bus, idling in the heat, spewing clouds of burning oil into the desert.

That night the group walked a few blocks to a hotel restaurant for dinner. Bish had reserved a table large enough to seat them all, and Julie was pained to see how quickly he slid into the seat next to her. But it was all she could do to pay attention to what he was saying. Her mind was racing with probabilities.

Will I see him again? How will he find me? Where’s he eating? Why didn’t he ask me to meet him somewhere specific?

She’d taken extra care with her hair and make-up, and was wearing her most feminine clothes. Her white cotton blouse was delicately gathered at the neckline and showed her pretty collarbones. In this conservative Muslim country, she dared not show anything else. Her skirt was mid-calf in length, gracefully falling over her hips in silky folds of pale fabric. She thought she looked good.

And so, apparently, did Bish. He talked at her full throttle speed as she picked at her food. She had no appetite for the grilled vegetables on her plate, even though they smelled appetizing. Instead, she sipped a beer slowly, savoring its cool wet bitterness and tried to ignore Bish’s attentions. It was at moments like this that she was grateful she was staying in a tourist part of Syria, free to drink alcohol in public.

Being Muslim, Bish didn’t imbibe. But that didn’t stop him from growing increasingly aggressive toward her as the evening progressed. She moved her chair as far from him as she could, and turned to talk to Peggy.

But Bish couldn’t take a hint. Finally, after a second beer, Julie leaned over and said in a low voice, “Look, Bish, I’m really not what you want. I’m engaged to be married, and not about to fool around. Why don’t you go over and talk to Tina and Tanya? They like you.”

His head swiveled around to look at the opposite end of the table. The pale blonde twins sat together, their faces as smooth and pink as a couple of soft plastic dolls. In unison, they smiled at Bish, and instantly he got up to join them.

There! Problem solved. A little white lie never hurt anyone.

Now Julie could work on her plan. She had to get out there, somewhere outside, without looking conspicuous. And she couldn’t wander the streets alone. It wasn’t safe. When she overheard Marc offering to escort Hannah on a walk along the Great Colonnade, she interrupted him to invite herself along.

She noted the look of disappointment on Marc’s face when her mother said, “Of course, sweetheart. It’s a beautiful night for walking.”

Julie and Hannah went up to their room to change their shoes and pick up shawls. It might be close to a hundred degrees during the day, but evenings were chilly. Then they met Marc outside.

The sun had long since disappeared behind the hills, but the black sky was lit with the light of a million stars. As they approached the ruined colonnade of the once-magnificent city, Julie saw the floodlights begin to glow brighter. The entire scene was
extraordinarily beautiful. The majestic Corinthian columns each reached up into the dark, the lights illuminating every carved detail. Julie loved stonework. Loved its beauty and permanence.

As she walked lazily, filling her lungs with the cool, clear desert air, she realized she was happy for the first time in many months. She hadn’t thought about Richard all afternoon, and was, at least for the moment, free of her fear of having it end.

Yes, it was a good idea to leave town.

Vaguely, she heard her mother telling Marc about the ruined city’s history, and the queen who once ruled it.

“Queen Zenobia ruled the Palmyrene Empire, but the Romans put an end to that. What I’ve always found fascinating is that the Palmyrans were able to live side-by-side with the Romans but managed to retain their cultural independence.”

Marc seemed to be staring at Hannah as she spoke. Hannah kept her eyes ahead of her.

Julie felt a twinge of jealousy. He’s obviously smitten. I wish someone would look at me like that.

The sound of a small motor broke her reverie. It came closer, from behind, slowing just before it reached them. Julie couldn’t stop herself from turning around, her heart in her throat, and hoping…

It was just a local vendor, traveling around on his decrepit little bike, dozens of bead necklaces and bracelets swathed over his body. He smiled a brown-toothed grin and held out an arm ringed with his wares.

Hannah shook her head. Julie and Marc did as well. “No,
shukran
.”

The man nodded somberly, turned his bike around and drove off. Julie felt a stab of pity—he was just trying to feed his family. Tourism was down, political turmoil was the norm, and people were having a hard time of it.

Marc must have been feeling the same way. “Poor bugger. I feel like I should just buy the whole lot of them and chuck them over the fence. Then someone could find them and resell them.”

“Yes,” said Hannah, looking up at him. “I feel the same way.”

Julie looked at her mother’s suitor, too.

Maybe I don’t have to worry about Mom. God knows she’s done worse.

Just then the sound of another motor approached from behind. This was a bigger engine, Julie knew. She dared to hope again as she turned around.

Yes!

Tor wasn’t wearing his helmet and his hair was loose in the night air. Long, thick like a lion’s mane. The same color as a lion’s mane.

The three of them stopped to watch as he parked. He slipped off effortlessly and walked toward them, hand outstretched to Marc, then Hannah. After he introduced himself, Julie introduced Marc and her mother.

“I hope I didn’t cause any discomfort to you today back at the tomb,” he said to Hannah with a smile. “I was just defending my fellow Danes.”

“No. No. Not at all,” said Hannah, returning his smile prettily. “I found it instructive. I’ve often wondered how the locals accept so many foreign historians, anthropologists and archaeologists. And outright thieves, too, of course. It must be difficult for them.”

“Yes. I’m sure you know many countries have arranged mutually beneficial exchange of information, artifacts and cash,” Tor said. “But of course there are still those who want nothing to do with any foreign involvement.”

“Are you with the Danish Archaeological Institute?” Marc asked.

“No. I mean, yes. I’m here because of them. My cousin works there. I’m just here visiting him.”

“You’re not an archaeologist, then,” Julie said.

She must have sounded disappointed because Tor apologized. “No. I’m not. Sorry, but I’m a property developer. In Copenhagen.” His smile was intoxicating.

Julie felt herself getting flustered. She couldn’t stop fondling the tassels on her blouse. He was so damned sexy she wouldn’t have cared if he was a street sweeper.

“Torval is a such a wonderful name,” Hannah said. “There’s a great-grandfather Torval Hendrickson on my father’s side of the family.”

“You’re Danish?” Tor asked, raising his bushy eyebrows.

“My grandparents. They emigrated to America in the 1950s.”

“And your daughter?” he said, shooting an appraising look at Julie.

“Only half,” Julie answered for her mother. “Dad’s a Brit.”

“Like me,” interrupted Marc. He took Hannah’s arm. “I think we should keep walking if we want to see everything tonight.”

“Of course. You’re welcome to join us,” said Hannah to Tor.

“Thank you, no.”

Julie felt her heart contract. Then Tor turned his steel gaze to her. “I’d like you to come with me,” he said. “There’s something I want to show you.”