Trusting A Sheikh (Playgrounds of Power 1) (22 page)

Two of the men had slung their rifles over their shoulders and were attending to the injured Khalid – one binding his wrists with a plastic zip tie, the other pressing a bandage dressing to his shoulder, which Chloe could see had borne the brunt of Tariq’s well aimed gunshot.

Another of the men stepped forward and saluted crisply. "Sorry for the intrusion, sir – we'd have called ahead, but we heard you were in a spot of bother. We're here on behalf of the Kingsland Group. Looks like you've handled yourself quite capably, though – we'd love to have more clients like you." He said in a crisp British accent. "What would you like us to do with the prisoner, sir?"

"I'm not sure yet. Is he going to bleed out here, or can we avoid taking him to a hospital?" Tariq replied, mulling over his options. "I want to try and avoid ruffling too many feathers if at all possible…"

"Jason." The group's leader called to one of the men attending to Khalid. "How's our guest doing? He's not going to die on us, is he?"

"No sir." The man replied, still hunched over Khalid's shoulder and wrapping it with bandages. "It was a through and through – the bullet's somewhere in the wall. He'll need antibiotics, but there's nothing trapped in the wound."

"Good." The leader called over his shoulder. "It looks like he's going to be all right for now, Prince Tariq." He said, falling to a parade rest stance with his hands behind his back. "My boss should be up shortly to see how we can smooth things over for you. Please do accept my apologies for the interruption in your stay."

Tariq waved his hand as if to say it was nothing.

"Is the room secure?" He asked curtly. "Someone I care about is in the panic room – I want one of your men guarding the entrance to the suite. What's your name?" He asked the leader standing in front of him.

"Me sir?" The man asked. "Tommy, sir."

"Okay Tommy – I want you to shoot anyone who tries to get in here without my permission, got it?"

The man grinned. "My pleasure, sir."

"Good man." Tariq smiled back, clapping Tommy on his shoulder. "That's exactly what I want to hear. Now, let's get the lady out of her prison, shall we?"

"Fred, you heard the man – I want you by the front door, weapons hot, got it?"

"Sure thing boss." The sandy haired young mercenary agreed, jogging off towards the entrance to the suite with his rifle at the ready.

"So Tommy, tell me – how do I open this thing?" Tariq asked, staring at the bullet dented heavy metal door of the panic room.

"There's an override code. Hold on, sir, I've got it here somewhere." Tommy started rifling through the many pockets of his black military-style uniform looking for the code, and at that precise moment his radio crackled.

"Elevator arriving." A terse voice rang out.

"That's Fred by the door." Tommy said, forgetting about the code. "What's the situation?" He said, leaning down and depressing the transmission switch on the radio attached to his utility vest.

"It's not here yet, sir. Give me a second…"

The seconds ticked by and both Tariq and Tommy noticeably tightened their grip on their respective weapons.

"Sir." Tommy began to suggest. "You might want to take cover, just in case…"

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." Tariq replied quickly, though Chloe – listening in – wanted nothing more than for him to take the man's advice.

"Stand down, sir – it's the boss. Shall I let her in?"

"Who is it?" Tariq enquired.

"It's my boss, sir – Rachel from the Kingsland Group. You can trust her."

"I know I can. We've met. Send her up."

In under a minute, Rachel was standing in front of the Prince. "Tariq!" She began upon entering the bullet strewn bedroom. "Thank God you're safe. You are, aren't you? You didn't get hit?" She said, a worried look on her face.

"Indeed, Rachel." Tariq smiled, hugging her slightly awkwardly, given that he was still carrying a handgun. "I'm fine."

"I'm so sorry this happened – if I'd known the threat was so serious I'd have had men stationed outside the door, instead of downstairs."

"Nonsense." Tariq replied. "You weren't to know. Even I didn't know my father would go this far. I need a couple of things from you, though."

"Anything." Rachel agreed. "Your wish, as they say, is my command. Anything the Group can do to make it up to you, we will."

"Well first things first," Tariq asked, "a friend of mine is stuck in the panic room – you couldn't possibly get her out, could you?"

"Certainly." Rachel agreed with alacrity, striding over to the damaged vault door. She punched in a keycode and the door clicked, but didn't open. She turned back to Tariq. "It's a two-part system for security – I put my code in, but now you need to tap in your client number."

"Of course." Tariq agreed, walking over and desperately punching in his own code. This time the door clicked twice and Chloe heard the heavy metal thunk of the locking bolts retracting. She sighed with relief as the cool air began hissing in from outside, but then gulped with trepidation – after all, her own boss was standing outside, and it was pretty obvious that she had been sleeping with a client…

The door swung open and Chloe nervously stepped out.

"Ah, Miss Rouhani." Rachel smiled, barely even blinking with surprise. "Fancy seeing you here…"

Chloe's mind raced desperately, trying to come up with a legitimate excuse for her presence – scantily clad at that. In the event, Tariq didn't give her a chance.

He rushed over, the look of concern on his face touching. "Thank God you're okay!" He said, crushing her in a vice like hug that spoke more about his true feelings of concern than even the sound of worry in his voice. "I was so worried."

"
You
were so worried?" Chloe said in surprise. "I was the one safe in a metal box, not standing up to some armed madman? I was terrified for you…"

"But you're okay?" Tariq pressed. "If anything’s happened to you, I promise you that Khalid will never repay his crimes…"

"I'm fine, I'm fine – don't worry." Chloe hastened to say. "But – what are you going to do with him?"

"That's a good question." Tariq replied, stepping back from Chloe, but still noticeably holding her hand tightly. "That's something I was hoping you'd be able to help me with, Rachel?"

"As I said, Prince Tariq." Rachel replied, displaying absolutely no surprise or even a hint of reaction at Chloe's fraternization with one of her clients. "Anything we can do to help make this up to you, we will…"

"Perfect." Tariq smiled. "Do you have any connections with British Intelligence?"

"The secret services?" Rachel mused. "I suppose we do. Why do you need to get in touch with them?"

"I don't suppose they will look too kindly on a foreign agent operating on British soil, will they?" Tariq smiled grimly. "I've got a plan for our friend Khalid – and I don't suppose he's going to like it much…"

"I'll get in touch with them." Rachel agreed. "Is there anything else I can do?"

"There's one more thing… I'm going to need a copy of the footage from these cameras. The only copy,
understood
?" He gave Rachel a firm look.

"Understood."

25

T
wo days later…

"You sure you want me here for this?" Chloe asked, knees straddling Tariq's waist. "Won't it just be another thing for your father to get angry about?"

The last couple of days had been a whirlwind of activity – along with meetings with MI5 and MI6, the British intelligence agencies, they'd been constantly surrounded by armed guards provided by the Kingsland Group, and there had been lots of lots of
getting to know each other
…

All of it, though, had been leading up to this moment.

"Don't be silly." Tariq murmured, fingering a strand of Chloe's hair. "You know I want you here, and besides – I don't care what my father has to say, not any more."

Chloe looked at him with concern. She knew what he was saying was right, but still – it must have been tough for him to experience. Chloe had no frame of reference to understand what kind of pain Tariq must be experiencing: cutting out one's family certainly couldn't be easy.

"Only if you're sure, then."

"I am." Tariq smiled wanly. "You're all I have now, and I wouldn't have you anywhere else."

Even despite the smile on his face, Chloe's heart broke when she heard him say that. Deep down she knew that he wasn't
actually
giving everything he had in the world up for her, but sometimes it felt like it. Deep down, she knew that there were far deeper causes for Tariq's coming alienation from both his family and his country – but on the surface it felt like she was the catalyst.

She stroked her hands down side of his face and cupped his chin, his stubble grazing her deliciously. "You ready?"

He nodded.

"Well, I know you want me to be here – but I probably shouldn't be climbing all over you, at least." Chloe made to climb off her lover, but Tariq didn't let her go – not immediately anyway, but instead pulled her in for a long, passionate kiss. "You sure?" He asked. "Because to be honest with you, I want to annoy this man more than you know…"

Chloe giggled. "Later, Tariq." She remonstrated, batting his nose lightly with a finger. "You can do anything you want me later."

Tariq sighed grumpily. "Oh, alright then. If you say so…"

"I do." Chloe agreed with a wicked smile, regretfully pulling herself off her muscular, toned lover. She didn't go far, flopping down on the couch next to him. As she looked around, she realized how impressive the Kingsland Group's work had been – the suite showed absolutely no sign of the carnage that had ripped through it only a couple of days before. It was incredible, if you took the time to sit down and think about it. Chloe knew that the Group had builders and workmen on call at all hours of the day, but to source the parts, fill in the bullet holes and not leave a single trace of their presence – all in the short period of time that Chloe and Tariq were being debriefed by British intelligence – was nothing short of amazing.

Tariq looked at her and gave a hopeful grin, but couldn't quite hide his evident nervousness. Chloe wasn't surprised – it couldn't easy to contemplate taking the action he was about to, especially not with a family as powerful as his. "Here we go, then." He mouthed, pointing a remote control at the screen.

It flashed to life, and immediately dialed the direct line of the Saudi defense minister – Tariq's father. The call went through immediately, and Chloe knew that they would have been expecting contact for forty-eight hours, so she wasn't surprised.

"Father." Tariq said sternly, any trace of the nervousness only had observed on him just moments before now firmly tamped down. "Can you hear me?"

The camera view was showing the back of his father's head, as he sat in an imposing leather office chair behind his heavy mahogany desk. The man didn't reply, not immediately anyway, simply swiveled round so he was facing his son.

"Tariq." He snarled. "What right do you have to keep me waiting so long?"

Chloe looked it her lover's face and saw a brief flash of disgust, which disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.

"What right?" He muttered under his breath, so angry he couldn't even fully vocalize his emotions.

"Speak up, boy." His father snarled once again.

"I said – what right?" Tariq growled back – his voice deep, angered like a bear after being unexpectedly roused during the long winter hibernation. "What right?" He repeated, getting to his feet to emphasize the point.

""Perhaps I should ask you the same thing, father. What right do you have to send one of your goons to kill me?" His father's face blanched. "Oh yes, I know exactly who it was that ordered the attack – you. What right do you have to kill your own son,
father
?" He spat, sitting back down.

"I have every right." The Defense Minister snapped back. "You're my son, I can do with you what I want. If I want you dead, then I order it. I do, so I did."

"Can you?" Tariq asked, full of self-confidence. "Because I can't imagine that that kind of behavior will go down particularly well in the Kingdom. After all, our power structure only exists as a result of trust. There are a hundred Princes vying for your job, a thousand for mine – or perhaps one less now. The only thing that keeps it together is the understanding that we won't resort to violence – and you know that, don't you father." On screen, Tariq's father was turning shade of puce red, and Chloe knew without having to ask that he wasn't used to hearing people talk to him like this. Tariq continued his withering attack on his father’s character.

"But I shouldn't need to tell you this, after all the King himself issued an edict saying exactly the same thing only last year –
didn't he
? Do you think yourself above the King, father?" Tariq asked. "Do you think, perhaps, that you should rightfully have his job?"

"I said," the minister began, clenching his fists on the desk so hard that his knuckles turned white, "
you are my son
– and you have betrayed me. I’ll have you killed, and I won't lose a moment's sleep over it, whatever that weak excuse for a king has to say about it."

Chloe was getting worried – this wasn't going exactly the way she had foreseen. Tariq's father seemed altogether too confident. She glanced at her lover, but noticed that he seemed equally, and supremely self-confident – and entirely relaxed, lounging on the couch like he was talking to a friend about the soccer results, or the latest episode of Game of Thrones.

"Is that so?" Tariq chuckled. "Perhaps you shouldn't have let your agent to something as stupid as get caught on camera discussing your plans, then,
father
."

For the first time, the minister seemed knocked off balance. "My – my plans?"

"Yes." Tariq agreed smoothly. "Here, let me show you." His father's eyes tracked Tariq as he held up the remote once again and pressed a button. On screen, Tariq and his father both disappeared, only to be replaced by grainy CCTV footage of Khalid. Chloe had a moment of déjà vu as she saw the footage once again, remembering the fear she'd felt when locked in that claustrophobic metal box.