The Sheik and the Slave (26 page)

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Authors: Nicola Italia

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No.
I did not,

Jean
Baptiste said; he almost laughed as the advisor

s
face turned white.


What
do you mean? Where is she? I have paid you well and you have betrayed me,

he hissed. Abdullah

s face was flushed red
with anger. He curled his meaty fist in his lap to stop himself from punching
the half-breed.


Have
you chosen to keep the temptress for yourself?

Abdullah asked.

 Jean Baptiste settled himself onto the small bed and
answered absently.


No,
she isn

t here.

Abdullah was tired of the barbarian

s insolence. He had paid him well to perform
a job and he had done nothing. Worse yet, he was calm about his betrayal.


Where
is she? You have told me nothing and you have been paid,

Abdullah said. He looked at the dark-haired
barbarian and met his cold brown eyes.

 

There
was a problem,

Jean
Baptiste said.

Oh Allah! Abdullah knew it. He knew it! This is what
happened when he trusted the future of the sheik and himself to a savage. An
idiot savage.

Abdullah looked over the filthy room, with its dirty floor
and table, and knew that he had chosen poorly. He should have taken care of the
girl himself; had he done that, this would all be over.


What
has happened? Tell me everything,

Abdullah said, and then he waited silently.

Jean Baptiste watched the large man sitting across from him
and knew he looked down upon him, though he wasn

t
too proud to pay him gold to get rid of his problems. He didn

t want to dirty his own
hands.


I
brought her to stay the night in an abandoned shack in the woods. I was going
to leave the next day for the docks. The bitch attacked me,

Jean Baptiste explained.

Abdullah resisted the urge to roll his eyes.


She
attacked you?

he
asked.


Yes.
She went wild and attacked me. There was a struggle,

he continued.


A
struggle?

He eyed
the man

s solid form
and thought of the slim girl.


Yes.
She was trying to escape, and I slapped her. It was unfortunate.

Abdullah narrowed his beady eyes. Half-breed brute!


What
happened next?

Abdullah asked.


She
was bleeding profusely, and I didn

t
want her on my hands anymore. I took her to an Abbey on the outskirts of
London,

Jean
Baptiste explained. He studied the cleric as he spoke.


Which
Abbey?

Abdullah
asked softly.

Jean Baptiste gave him the name.


I
see,

Abdullah said.
Liar, he thought. Liar!


The
Mother Superior is known for her good works. I knew she would take care of the
girl,

Jean Baptiste
explained.


However,
having the girl still here in London doesn

t
solve the problem that you were paid handsomely to deal with,

Abdullah said through
clenched teeth.


So
how should it be handled?

Jean Baptiste asked.

Abdullah admired his hand, first the back of it and then the
front. His fingers were meaty and brown.


Well,
what do you think should be done? After all, this is your mess. I paid you to
deal with her,

Abdullah said.

Jean Baptiste nodded and then shrugged.


True.
But as she is in the Abbey and will most likely stay there, what harm can be
done? As far as the sheik is concerned, she is back in Arabia. Only you and I
know the truth.

Abdullah stood slowly and nodded.


Yes.
Only you and I know the truth,

he repeated.

Jean Baptiste moved toward the door as the cleric advanced
behind him. Withdrawing the knife from his robe

s
large pocket, he drew the slim blade across the mercenary

s throat, watching the
blood spurt from the large wound. Jean Baptiste clasped his throat and gurgled,
falling to the floor. Jean Baptiste knew too late that the advisor had sealed his
doom.

Abdullah watched the man fall, with blood spurting out of
him, causing the floor to turn ruby red. His eyes were cold and calculating as
Jean Baptiste held the wound with his hand and gurgled.


Now
only I know, my friend,

Abdullah said to the dying man.

***

A day later, Liam and his friend Connor discovered the
whereabouts of the man who had attacked Sally. They made their way to The Mucky
Duck while they decided what to do with the man.

When they opened the door to the room, the mercenary was dead,
lying in a pool of his own blood.

***

Abdullah left the mercenary

s
room and went back to his own lodging. He would have to find Mohammed in the
morning and decide upon his story. The fact that the girl was in a London Abbey
was disconcerting. Her proximity to them and the chance that Mohammed would
find her was good.

Her father, Lord Fairfax, had hired the Bow Street Runners,
who were known who their quick effectiveness. They would find her soon enough.

Abdullah bowed in prayer, his head touching the mat. He had
left the inn quickly after the encounter with Jean Baptiste. He washed the
blood from his knife, body and clothes in his private room.

He had thought long and hard about what he had learned from
the dead man. The white witch was nearby, and it was only a matter of time
before they discovered her. He must form another plan to remove Mohammed from
the situation.

He prayed to Allah that night. In the morning, a plan sprung
to mind. Allahu Akbar! God was indeed great.

***

The next morning, Abdullah met Mohammed at the coffeehouse
they frequented while in London. Abdullah

s
dark foreign robes contrasted with Mohammed

s
dark beige and green frock coat and breeches. They made an odd couple, sitting
in the back with their penny-a-cup coffees.

Abdullah sipped his brew, while Mohammed barely tolerated
his. Nothing could compare to the superior Arabian beans he himself grew and
the coffee it produced.


Is
there any news from Lord Fairfax?

Abdullah asked, looking concerned.


No,
my friend. Though we both remain hopeful,

Mohammed said as he looked deeply into the brown brew.

Abdullah knew he was at a crossroads. He could tell him
exactly where the white woman was, and they would be reunited within the hour.
Or, he could continue on with his new plan and tear them apart. He chose the
latter.


I
have excellent news, my Lord. News that you will be very excited to hear,

Abdullah said, baiting
the hook.


Yes?
Speak, man!

he
exclaimed. Mohammed

s
head jerked up and his eyes were alert.


I
have tracked down Jean Baptiste as you commanded. He revealed all to me,

Abdullah continued.

Mohammed clasped him arm across the table.

And?

he asked.


He
sold the woman to another man with the ship bound for Arabia. She is at this
very time bound home for Arabia,

he said.


Bound
for Arabia?

Mohammed asked. He was both elated and disturbed.


Yes,
my Lord. We must follow her without a moment

s
hesitation. Perhaps with a swifter ship we may even arrive before her.

Mohammed

s
thoughts raced. They would book passage immediately and race back to his land.
Soon she would be safe and in his arms.


Let
us go talk to this Jean Baptiste. Lead the way,

Mohammed said.

Abdullah had not expected this, and had to make up an excuse
not to do as Mohammed asked.


Sire,
he is a mercenary and very violent. We should not make contact with him again,

Abdullah explained.


What
are you talking about? I must speak with him before we go. I must find out
exactly what he knows,

Mohammed said.

Reluctantly, Abdullah took Mohammed from the coffeehouse to
the inn where Jean Baptiste

s
room had been. When they reached The Mucky Duck, a crowd had gathered outside
the inn. Inside, groups of people were talking in hushed voices.

Mohammed heard the words

murder

and

foreigner

and discovered that Jean
Baptiste was dead.

Mohammed shook his head and pulled Abdullah aside.


This
is unfortunate. We must book our passage, as you suggested, quickly. Go now. I
will visit Lord Fairfax and tell him of this new development,

Mohammed said.

Abdullah breathed a sigh of relief. Everything was falling
into place. Soon they would be home, and this would all be a distant memory.

***

Mohammed visited Lord Fairfax in his London townhouse and
was warmly welcomed. Edward ushered him into his large sitting room, which
featured a large sofa, chairs, books lining one wall, and a fireplace.


Tell
me, what news have you heard of my daughter?

Edward asked.


Lord
Fairfax, I am more than pleased to tell you that Abdullah, my advisor, tracked
down the savage who kidnapped Katharine. She has been placed on a ship to
Arabia, so we are in pursuit of her even now. Unfortunately, the mercenary was
killed before I could personally question him, but I swear to you that I will
bring Katharine home.


God
bless you, my son. This is the best of news.

He smiled and poured them both a brandy.


I
know your faith does not allow alcohol. But perhaps a toast to my daughter?


You
are most generous,

Mohammed replied.


I
will see if the Bow Street Runners have discovered anything else while you are
gone. God give you safe journey to your land and that you return to England
soon with my daughter,

Edward said. He handed the younger man a glass, while cradling his own in his
hand.


To
Katharine

s return,

Edward said.

Chapter
18

The journey to Arabia was as it had been before: long and
exhausting, with high seas, bad food, and almost intolerable drink. Several of
the sailors had fallen ill, but Mohammed remained healthy. Abdullah was sick
halfway into the journey, but regained his strength. Once the two men arrived
in their native land, Mohammed set about looking for Katharine. All the ships
that arrived were questioned and his high rank in the land allowed him even
more access to their records, but she was not discovered on any of the ships.

The ships logs were kept for each ship, but he did not
discover her name as being among the passengers. He began to grow discouraged
and wondered if the captain of the ship which transported her and been paid to
keep her identity hidden.

Daleel accompanied him as they searched several of the ports
for her whereabouts. No one had transported her to Arabia.

***

Meanwhile, Abdullah began to put his plan into effect. He
knew that as a man in his prime, Mohammed would not be long without a woman; he
would want the comfort they afforded him. Abdullah plotted his next move
carefully.

Safiya was the 16-year-old beauty and the daughter of a
neighboring sheik who very much wanted to make a great match for his youngest
daughter. Safiya was beautiful, yet simple. Her older sisters had spoken to her
of Mohammed

s wealth
and intelligence, and Safiya had become entranced with him. She had wanted
Mohammed for herself and told her father that should he want a match, she would
readily accept to be a second wife. Later, when it became known that Yasmeen
had been sent back to her family in disgrace, the entire region buzzed with the
gossip.

Mohammed was an attractive, wealthy man and would not be
alone for long. Though his harem was filled with beautiful women, even his
Egyptian mother Tuya approached him and urged him to remarry. She had never
interfered with his life in this regard, but wanted him happy and settled.

Abdullah rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He had
already spoken to Safiya

s
father, and she would be brought to the palace as his personal guest, along
with her uncle.

Abdullah knew for certain that the young beauty would
replace the white witch in Mohammed

s
bed. He would make certain of it. With Yasmeen gone, Abdullah reasoned, Safiya
must conceive quickly to avoid any further departures back to England. If the
young girl gave birth to a son, Mohammed would never stray and, Allah be
praised, all would be as it should.

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