The Sheikh’s Reward

CHAPTER FOUR

ALI BEN SALEEM’S house was quiet for a few days while he took a flying trip to New York. He returned in a hurry and spent the next week on the telephone, confirming deals and setting up new ones. Apart from his secretary, the staff saw very little of him, and he saw little of them. He certainly had no time to notice the new maid, which was what Fran had counted on.

It had been surprisingly easy to set up. Joey had mobilised his contacts to find an employment agency in the area. Using bribery and persuasion, he’d arranged for them to send out an advertisement to all the houses in the area, and Ali’s chief steward had taken the bait. The house needed a live-in maid. Fran had applied, carefully disguised in a long, dark wig, drab clothes and flat shoes, and calling herself Jane. She’d been hired at once.

She’d thought long and hard before going under cover in Ali’s house. It wasn’t the way she liked to work, and she’d very nearly backed off.

But then the Sheikh had spoken in her mind: ‘I do not discuss business with women… In my country women know their place and keep to it… No woman is equal with men.’

It was the memory of his imperious tone, as much as his words, that made her temper rise and her resolve harden. She knew she would have no peace until she’d made him unsay those words, and give her some respect.

She’d started on the day Ali departed. To begin with, her work had been downstairs, mostly in the kitchen. Once she was allowed upstairs, to clean Ali’s bedroom, but only under the steward’s supervision.

She’d found the room disappointingly austere. There was none of the silk-curtained luxury of downstairs, where Ali entertained ladies with names like Diamond. In his private domain Ali had plain white walls, polished floors and a large mahogany bed. Three pictures adorned the walls, all of them of horses. The steward had informed her that these were His Excellency’s racehorses, shown at their moments of triumph in the Derby, the Grand National and at Ascot. Then he’d remembered his dignity, and told her sharply to get on with her work.

Fran wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking for. Apart from getting a general picture of his life, she wanted something that would let him know she couldn’t be simply dismissed, as he had done. It was proving hard to find.

She was working alone now. Joey had left London to take up another assignment in the north. She’d told Howard that she had to be out of town for a few weeks. Nobody knew where she was. She felt safer that way. But she was growing depressed by her lack of progress.

When Ali returned she kept well out of his sight, but it was hardly necessary. Sheikh Ali didn’t notice servant girls.

But tonight it seemed he’d made a mistake. Watching from above, Fran had seen him go to his bedroom with files tucked under his arm. An hour later he’d been summoned downstairs by a late visitor, and gone down without locking his door.

This was her chance. Those files might contain some detail that would prove to be the key to the whole, involved oil empire. This man who spent a fortune on his pleasures and gave his people no say in the running of his little country must be made accountable. And she was the person to do it. If she also made him sorry he’d patronised her, that would merely be a bonus.

As soon as she saw him vanish she slipped down the stairs and into his room. The files were spread out on the bed. To her disappointment only one was in English, but she started on that.

She read rapidly, and as she did so her eyes widened with indignation. The documents concerned The Golden Choice, the casino where she and Ali had met, and they made it clear, beyond any misunderstanding, that Ali was the owner.

‘The unscrupulous-’ Words failed her, but she hurried to read as much as possible, her indignation growing.

Then, from behind her, came the ominous sound of a door being closed. Appalled, she looked up and found Ali standing there, regarding her with a cynically tolerant smile.

‘I have to take my hat off to you,’ he said. ‘You don’t give up, do you?’

Fran rose to her feet, trying to look dignified. It was difficult in the circumstances, but she did her best.

‘You should have known I wouldn’t give up,’ she said defiantly.

‘But I did know. The interest has been in seeing how far you were prepared to go. My dear Diamond- Frances-Jane-whatever you’re calling yourself today-did you think I’d be so easily fooled?’

‘You-knew it was me?’

‘The advertisement that came through my door so conveniently, directing me to an employment agency? Of course I knew. I warned my steward to look out for you, and sure enough you turned up. To be fair, you did a good job. He barely recognised you. I knew you at once. There’s something about you that no drab clothes can disguise.’

‘You knew all along,’ she repeated, in a daze.

‘Poor Diamond. You thought you were doing so well.’

His smile never wavered as he spoke, but behind it lurked something that troubled her, something that would have frightened her if she’d been easily scared. Inside, he wasn’t smiling. She was sure of it the next moment when he turned the key in the lock, and put it in his pocket.

‘Hey, now, let me out of here,’ she said, as firmly as she could.

‘You want to rush away? Isn’t that a little premature, seeing how much trouble you took to get in here?’ He indicated the file she’d been reading. ‘I do hope the result was worth it.’

That reminded her that she was aggrieved. ‘You deceived me,’ she said.

He began to laugh. ‘I deceived you? You smuggled yourself into my house under false pretences, and I deceived you?’

‘At the casino. It was a set-up. You own the place. No wonder you didn’t mind losing. You were losing to yourself. And you fixed the winning too, making me think I was a lucky charm. Just another way of recycling the money to spend on enjoying yourself.’

‘I didn’t fix the winning,’ he said. ‘That would be cheating, and beneath me. It just happened that way.’ He saw her sceptical look and snapped, ‘I do not lie.’

‘Of course not; I’m sorry.’

‘You seem to have a very poor opinion of me. But after everything that’s happened I think we should declare a draw and be friends.’

As he spoke he opened a mahogany cupboard, revealing a refrigerator within it. From it he took a bottle of champagne, which he opened and poured into two glasses.

‘You won’t refuse to drink champagne with me, will you?’ he asked. ‘Or would you prefer a nice cup of tea?’

‘Tea would be very dull,’ she said, recovering her poise and accepting the glass.

She’d been surprised to find Ali taking this in good part, but, after all, she hardly knew his character. Doubtless he was feeling pleased at having wrong-footed her, and the matter would end here.

‘You’re a most extraordinary woman, Diamond,’ he said affably, beginning to tidy away the files.

‘My name is Fran,’ she pointed out.

‘I know, but I can’t help thinking of you as Diamond. Fran is such an abrupt name, but my Diamond is the jewel who glittered for me that first night, and has teased and tormented me ever since. You must admit that after that cheque you owed me the chance to get my revenge.’

Fran couldn’t resist a smile. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I read in the paper about your generous donation. I really did get the better of you, didn’t I?’

She heard him give a swift intake of breath. He was looking at her strangely, and for one moment she thought she saw something in his eyes that he would rather have concealed. Briefly it flashed in his eyes- a look of cold menace, warning her to beware.

Then it was gone as completely as a desert mirage. He was smiling as he said, ‘No woman ever managed that before.’

‘I’m beginning to realise that I didn’t know you at all,’ Fran admitted. ‘I never dreamed that you’d be as reasonable as this about it.’

‘What did you expect?’ he asked, amused.

‘I’m not sure, but something outrageous and outside the normal rules.’

‘In other words, you thought I’d act like a stage foreigner out of a cheap novelette,’ he said, sounding nettled. ‘I’m a civilised man.’

‘I know. It was very unfair of me.’

‘So now that’s settled I think we should toast each other, as equal combatants.’

They chinked glasses.

‘I wonder what you’ll tell your confederates?’ Ali mused, sitting beside her on the bed.

‘Luckily I have no confederates. I prefer to work alone.’

‘What about the little man who was with you at the casino? Don’t tell me you haven’t been sending him reports?’

‘I only employ him occasionally. He’s far away on another job right now.’

‘But your family-oh, no, you have none. What a sad life!’

‘It isn’t sad at all.’

‘But there’s nobody to praise your successes, and nobody to sympathise with your failures. It does seem hard that you should have so little to show for your efforts.’ He looked at her thoughtfully, and seemed to reach a sudden decision. ‘All right! Perhaps I’ve been unreasonable. You may have your interview. There.’

‘Do you mean that?’ she asked eagerly.

‘You can come and talk to me as soon as I return. That’s a promise.’

‘Return?’

‘The man who just came to see me warned me of a crisis in Kamar that needs my immediate attention. I have to leave at once. But we’ll talk when I get back.’

‘When will that be?’

He shrugged. ‘How can I tell?’

‘Oh, I see,’ she said in a deflated voice. ‘That kind of promise. One day, never.’

‘How suspicious you are! You think I mean never to return?’

‘Well, if you do it’ll be a long time, and you’ll have forgotten we ever had this talk.’

‘You may be right. In that case, you’ll have to come with me.’

She gasped with delight. ‘You mean that?’

‘I’m a man of my word. You will be my guest in Kamar.’ His eyes held a curious light. ‘You will be privileged as no woman has ever been before, and I promise you an experience you will never forget.’

‘When do we leave?’

‘In half an hour.’

‘But I don’t have my passport.’

His ironic smile reminded her that he was a head of state. ‘Leave me to worry about that. Hurry now! If you’re not ready on time I’ll depart without you.’

Fran didn’t need any further encouragement. Filled with joy and relief, she bounded up and headed for the door. Laughing, Ali turned the key and let her out.

In her own room she threw her few clothes together and had just zipped up her bag when there was a knock on her door. Outside, she found a beautiful Arab girl, who bowed gracefully to her.

‘I bring you these,’ she said, holding out her arms which were filled with dark green robes. You wear- and you will be me.’

Through her fractured English she explained a little more, and Fran gathered that she was a Kamari servant in Ali’s household, allowed to enter the country only to work for him. Fran would assume her identity, and her passport for both the outward and return journeys.

The girl helped her on with the robes, and showed her how to cover her head and swathe her face so that only the eyes were visible.

‘But you must look down so that nobody sees your blue eyes,’ she advised. ‘Also, that is how a woman must walk, with eyes downcast. Not raise to master.’

Really, thought Fran ironically. It was a black mark against Ali, but she was feeling too much in charity with him to brood on it.

A few minutes later she was ready to join Ali’s car, waiting at the front. He was already seated in the back, and she stared at the sight of him. He had discarded western clothes, and now looked every inch an Arab prince in splendid flowing white robes and headdress. He was absorbed in papers, but he looked up and indicated for her to sit beside him.

When she was settled the door slammed behind her, and the car began to move.

‘You’ll have to forgive me if I work,’ he said. ‘This crisis is going to take much of my attention.’

‘What kind of crisis?’ she ventured to ask.

‘Don’t ask me questions now.’ A brief smile flitted across his face. ‘When we reach Kamar, all will be made clear to you.’

In half an hour they were at the airport. The car swung away from the main terminals towards the area where cargo planes and private aircraft operated. Looking out of the window, Fran saw the chauffeur get out and approach an official, handing him some documents which, she supposed, were the passports. The official glanced at the Rolls with its Kamari flag, proclaiming that the head of state was on board, and indicated for them to go through. It was easy if you were royalty.

The Rolls swung in a great arc and finally stopped. The chauffeur opened the door on Ali’s side and bowed as his master got out. Fran followed and found herself standing before a private jet, painted in the blue and silver colours of Kamar. Ali was already headed up the steps without waiting to see if she followed, and she hurried to catch up with him.

The interior of the aircraft took her breath away. It was hung with silk curtains and the seats were large armchairs. A thick, multicoloured carpet covered the floor.

Ali seated himself alone, while someone waved Fran to a separate section of the plane. She guessed he’d retreated into loftiness because his employees were there, and for the moment she was prepared to play along with it.

The engines were already running, and as soon as the doors were closed the plane began to taxi. In another few minutes they were airborne.

Soon after take-off the steward fixed a small table in front of her, and served wine and almond biscuits. It was some time since she’d eaten, and she devoured them. Ali joined her for a few minutes, smiling at her excitement.

‘I shall have to spend most of my time on the phone,’ he said, ‘but I have ordered that your needs should be attended to. There is a bed if you wish to sleep. It’s gone midnight and this is quite a long flight.’

She yawned. ‘I guess you’re right. Perhaps a lie-down would be nice.’

He gestured with his head and the steward showed her the way to a separate compartment. Her jaw dropped as she saw the satin-draped double bed. This was more like a luxury hotel than an aircraft. But then, Sheikh Ali was like no other man.

She was almost ready for sleep, but she found that as soon as she lay down her yawns vanished. She was too excited to miss a moment, and she lay by the window, gazing through it at the lights on the wings, until the first gleam of dawn appeared on the far horizon.

She watched, transfixed, as the light grew until she could see the world, and she took a long breath of sheer wonder. Below her was sand as far as the eye could see. The sun was rising, and the desert lay in a pale half light, dim, mysterious. For the first time she realised its immense size. It was huge, featureless, and potentially as dangerous as the man who was taking her to it.

But danger was only a small part of the story. The fierce beauty of the desert struck some people like a fever from which they could never really be cured, and in that instant she knew that she was one of the afflicted. With joy she realised that she had come to the land of her dreams, the land that had haunted her ever since that lonely, rain-drenched childhood. And nothing in her life would ever be the same again.

She heard the door open, and the next minute Ali had dropped down beside her.

‘There is my land,’ he said. ‘Waiting to welcome you.’

‘It beautiful,’ she said, awed. ‘More beautiful than anything I could ever have imagined. It’s so big and lonely-so-so self-sufficient.’

He looked at her with quick interest. ‘You’re right. That is what I have felt myself. The desert needs none of us. It is complete unto itself. How clever of you to understand that at once. Many people who are born here take a lifetime.’

She smiled, glad that he felt she was on his wavelength. It was a good start to her trip.

And then the sun finally appeared fully over the horizon, and the sand was flooded with smouldering light. Before her eyes it blossomed into deep yellow. The sky became a vivid, incredible blue, and the whole world seemed to glow.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘Thank you for bringing me here.’

He shot her a troubled look that she didn’t see.

‘Come and sit down,’ he said. ‘We’ll be landing any moment.’

She took her seat, still looking eagerly out of the window. Then the desert vanished, and they were coming in to land at Kamar’s main airport, which looked exactly like every other airport. Another Rolls, with blacked-out windows, was waiting for them at the bottom of the steps.

Fran hastily adjusted her veil, lowered her eyes, and followed Ali demurely down the steps and into the back of the car. The door slammed, and they were moving.

The first part of the journey was uninteresting, along a long straight road that led from the airport to the city. Looking out of the darkened window, Fran saw the squat buildings of refineries.

But then they reached the city, full of early morning bustling, and at once her interest quickened. There was no time to see very much, for the car moved quickly, but she noticed that some of the people smiled and waved at the sight of the official flag. Whatever Ali was like as a ruler, his people were glad to have him among them again. Unless…

‘Do they do that of their own free will?’ she challenged Ali.

‘Do what?’

‘Wave and smile.’

She thought she heard him mutter, ‘Give me patience!’ Aloud he said sardonically, ‘No, of course not. I issued a decree that anyone who doesn’t look pleased to see me is beheaded in the market-place.’

‘Sorry,’ she said ruefully.

Ali glared, but relaxed into a sigh.

‘I ought to have you beheaded for daring to insult me,’ he said. ‘But you’d only come back as a ghost and lecture me. Now be quiet and cover your face. We’re nearly there.’

A few minutes later they swept beneath a huge archway and up to a broad flight of steps where several men in robes were waiting. One of them pulled open the car door.

‘Remain here,’ Ali commanded, and Fran stayed in her seat.

As he walked away someone else got into the car, which moved off immediately. It was a tall woman, who removed her veil.

‘I am Rasheeda,’ she said. ‘I am to take you to your apartments.’

She reached out and unhooked Fran’s veil, fixing a long, hard look on her face. Her lips pursed critically, as though she disapproved of what she saw, and Fran began to feel that this was rather rude. But she concealed her indignation. With Ali’s authority behind her, she had nothing to fear.

The car seemed to move for a long time, and she sensed that they were travelling right round to the back of the palace. Just before it came to a halt Rasheeda replaced her own veil, and nodded to Fran to do the same.

‘Follow me,’ she said as she left the car.

The way led up a flight of stairs, less ornate than at the front, and into a long, tiled corridor that was mercifully cool. In the few minutes between the car and the building Fran had felt the heat of the day that was rising fast. She breathed out, and Rasheeda gave her a quick glance.

‘In your apartment you will find servants ready to make you comfortable,’ she said.

‘Thank you. You were expecting me, then?’

Rasheeda shrugged. ‘We are always prepared for one more.’

It seemed a curious thing to say, but after puzzling it for a moment Fran shrugged. She would find her way around in time.

She had little time to look around, except to see that the building was exactly her idea of a traditional eastern palace. But the next moment they came to a lift. Rasheeda pressed a button and soon they were flying upwards.

They walked along another corridor, until they stopped outside a door, bearing the number 37, which she pushed open. Inside Fran found a luxurious apartment, opening onto a balcony. An archway led to an ornate bathroom, covered in elaborate mosaics. Dazed, she realised that every fitting was solid gold. Rasheeda followed her gaze.

‘You are much favoured,’ she said briefly. ‘I will summon your maidservants to prepare your bath now. You must be tired from your journey.’

‘I don’t seem to have my bag,’ Fran said. ‘Will it get here soon?’

‘You will not be needing it.’

‘But I will. All my things are in there.’

‘Everything you could possibly need is here. His Highness prefers that his concubines accept only from his hands.’

‘Excuse me? Did you say concubines? Look, there’s been some mistake. I’m not a concubine. I’m a journalist.’

‘I do not know what word you use in the west to describe such a woman as yourself.’

‘But didn’t Ali tell you-?’

‘His Highness,’ Rasheeda said, emphasising the words, ‘telephoned me from the plane, giving me precise instructions for your reception. I am his mistress of concubines. I have followed my master’s orders, and that is the end of the matter.’

‘It certainly is not,’ Fran said wrathfully. ‘Are you saying that he dared to put me with his-his-?’

‘It is a great honour for you,’ Rasheeda said coldly. ‘He will be most displeased at your ingratitude.’

‘He’s not the only one displeased,’ Fran said. ‘I’m going to see him now, and he’s going to hear about my displeasure.’

She ran to the door and tried to pull it open, but it stayed firmly shut.

‘Open this door at once,’ she raged.

‘His Highness’s orders are that you remain here,’ Rasheeda said firmly. ‘Until he can find the time for you.’

‘And just how long is that likely to be?’

‘How can I tell? A week? A month? He has important things to attend to first.’

‘Does he think he can get away with this?’

‘His Highness is all-powerful and does as he pleases.’

Fran cast her a look of fury and ran past her, out onto the balcony.

‘Help!’ she cried. ‘Help!’

She was four storeys up. Far below her stretched out a vast carpet of flowers and lawns. One or two men, presumably gardeners, glanced up at the sound of her voice, looked at each other, shrugged, and returned to their work.

Fran turned back into the room. The terrible truth was beginning to dawn on her. It was impossible, and yet, in her heart, she’d known that Ali was capable of anything, no matter how outrageous.

Rasheeda was standing beside the door.

‘I shall leave you now,’ she said, ‘and send your attendants when you are more composed.’

She opened the door and quickly retreated. Fran made a desperate run, but she was too far away. By the time she reached the door it was already closed and locked. She hammered at it frantically.

‘Let me out,’ she cried. ‘Let me out. You’ve got no right to do this!’

She listened, but there was only silence. She hammered again, harder this time.

‘Let me out! Let me out!’

There was no response. She was left alone as the full horror of her situation dawned on her.

Ali had never meant to give her an interview. To him she was merely a woman who had dared to outwit him, and must be taught a lesson. He had tricked her into coming here, and now she was his prisoner, friendless, alone, with nobody to hear her cries.

In this country where he was all-powerful he might wreak what vengeance he pleased on her, and there was nothing she could do about it.