Born In Secret

“The sheik hopes you will forgive him for sending an emissary for this very important meeting. Problems at home require his attention.”

El-Dabir nodded. “Please convey our regrets to Ahmed Kamal. We pray for his son’s safe return.”

The prime minister’s tone was ingratiating. Jasmine wondered just how much, if anything, El-Dabir knew about the young sheik’s disappearance. Dirk hadn’t mentioned any such relationship between the two, but it seemed coincidental that Rashid would disappear around the same time that Maloun was preparing a strike against his country. Resolving to question Walker about it later, she said, “Sheik Kamal was eager to make a start in negotiating a trade agreement with your country.” Falling silent as a male servant carried in a tray, Jasmine waited until the tea had been served before continuing. “It is no secret that tensions between Tamir and Montebello have increased. The sheik would like to build a relationship with Tamir’s other neighbors.” She paused to sip at her tea, giving the prime minister time to digest her words. He would believe Kamal anxious to gather allies, in case war broke out with Montebello. It was exactly the impression she’d hoped to give.

“A good neighbor is to be highly valued.”

“Indeed. And there are many advantages for both sides when trust is not an issue. Tamir always welcomes new trading partners, especially those countries who do not embrace the western culture.”

El-Dabir smiled, obviously pleased at the prospect. “Talk of such an alliance is intriguing. I have acquaintances, very powerful men in our country, who share my goals for the future of Maloun. I have arranged a small dinner party in your honor for this evening, so that you may become acquainted with them and their wives.”

A leap of excitement shot through her veins, but Jasmines voice was merely polite when she answered. “It would be a pleasure. Any avenue to further our countries’ accord would be welcomed.”

El-Dabir nodded, pursing his lips. “I feel certain Tamir and Maloun can come to an agreement. I appreciate your candor and look forward to further conversations with you on this subject.” He smiled, resembling a crocodile showing its teeth. “Although I must say, it is never a hardship to converse with a beautiful woman, Madame Mahrain, whatever the topic.”

Jasmine smiled, averting her gaze demurely. “Please. You must call me Rose.”

When she was shown to her room, Jasmine unpacked leisurely, then set her purse on the small dressing table and withdrew her lipstick. Methodically she outlined her lips, colored them. A barely audible beep sounded. Without reacting, she replaced the lipstick cover, then trailed to the window, looking out at the view. There was another tiny beep. When she turned and crossed to the bed she heard yet another.

The room was bugged.

A miniscule sensor hidden in the bottom of her lipstick case was sensitive enough to pick up the presence of any security device available. Her casual trip around the room picked up a hidden camera behind the mirror, and two bugs. Her host was obviously not the trusting sort. She wondered if the devices had been planted in anticipation of her visit, or whether every guest was treated to this type of hospitality. She rather thought it was the latter.

There was a knock at her door. When she opened it she found Walker, carrying a notepad. “Would you care for a walk in the courtyard before we get ready for dinner, madame?”

With a murmur of acceptance, Jasmine preceded him down the hallway. Once downstairs they made their way to the courtyard they’d admired on the quick tour the prime minister had given them.

They didn’t speak until they were outside. Walker reached for a slim gold pen in his shirt pocket, asking, “I trust your room is comfortable?”

“Yes. And yours?” During the innocuous conversation they strolled slowly through the bricked courtyard. Stone benches were situated near fountains and statues. She listened carefully, heard the telltale sounds emitted from the top of Walker’s pen as they passed the center fountain. She paused as if admiring it, wondering where the detected listening device was hidden. Somewhere near the heavy marble base, she imagined.

Moving slowly, they covered the courtyard, finding other bugs located on several of the benches. Again she was struck with the paranoia the devices suggested. It wasn’t until they reached the far end of the courtyard that looked out over a short wall to the busy street beyond that Walker deemed it safe to speak freely.

“Distrustful bastard, isn’t he?” His voice was very nearly soundless as he appeared to study the people on the street.

“Are you certain we are out of range?”

“Planting so many of them in such a limited area suggests that each has a limited capability. Chances are they’ve been here for years.” He looked down at the notebook he carried, as if to consult notes jotted down there. “At one time I’ll bet every bench was bugged so our host could keep tabs on his guests’ private conversations.”

“Charming,” she murmured, letting her gaze roam the area. “My room is similarly equipped.”

“Mine, too. We have to figure the whole place is loaded with them.”

She wished she’d remembered to retrieve the sunglasses from her purse. The afternoon sun was brutal. “We will have to be sure and not disappoint the prime minister. It would be a shame if all his eavesdropping were for nothing.”

Walker didn’t smile but his face lightened a fraction. “When the time comes, I’ll follow your lead.”

Her lips curved slightly. “That will be a welcome change, and another first for you.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she wished them back.

The mirrored lenses of his glasses made it impossible to tell what he was thinking, until his voice came, low and intimate. “Maybe you’ve forgotten a time when I was all too happy to let you set the pace.” Memories washed over her like a warm caress, evoked by his sensual tone. “I put myself into your very capable hands then and found you to be slow, but…thorough.”

Because her hands suddenly had a tendency to tremble, she clutched them together. The mental images his words elicited were vivid, graphic. There was nothing quite so sexy as a man who would lie back and let a woman explore his body, and Walker had made no secret of the pleasure he’d found when she’d done so. Venice may have been three years ago, but the memories weren’t buried nearly deeply enough.

To hide their effect on her, she turned away, pretended an interest in the bustle in the street in front of them. She’d be ill-advised to let Walker think he could disconcert her with one well-placed reference to the past. “Ancient history does not interest me. I am more focused on our present assignment.” It gave her a chance to change the subject, so she asked the question that had been bothering her earlier. “Do you think El-Dabir and the Brothers know anything about the young sheik’s disappearance?”

Sending her a sharp look, Walker asked, “What makes you ask?”

Jasmine shrugged. “It seems odd that he would vanish around the same time the Brothers are trying to heighten the strife between the two countries.”

“I thought of that, too. If the Brothers did snatch him, maybe we’ll discover some trace of their actions when we get inside the compound.” He sent a glance back toward the prime minister’s quarters. “Actually getting us inside the Brothers’ headquarters is going to be up to you. Any ideas yet about how you’ll accomplish it?”

“That will depend in a large part on the events tonight, and how the talks progress with the prime minister.” She paused, smiling as a pair of young children darted by, chasing a dog bigger than both of them. “El-Dabir wasn’t what I expected.”

“He’s little more than a hired thug.” Walker propped his elbows on the low wall, their shoulders brushing. “In a country as uncivilized as this one, a man doesn’t hold office as long as he has without having some very interesting acquaintances.”

“Acquaintances affiliated with the Brothers of Darkness.”

He nodded. “I’d be surprised if some of its members weren’t among the guests at the dinner tonight. If our information is correct, then leaders of the group run the country, and El-Dabir. No agreement would be made with Tamir without their involvement.” As her lowly assistant, it was understood that he would excuse himself shortly after dinner, leaving the invited guests to mingle. “If you do more listening than talking this evening, you’ll get a better…”

He must have seen the expression on her face, because he cut his words short. “But I don’t want to tell you how to do your job.”

“Yes, you do. And quite frequently.” But she was finding that habit of his far less provocative than his frequent reminders of the time they’d spent together. “I will be more than willing to listen to your advice if I am allowed to tell you what you should do while the party is going on.”

“Point taken,” he responded dryly. “You tend to your business tonight and I’ll tend to mine. We can compare notes tomorrow, unless it’s urgent. Do you know where my room is?”

She nodded and looked away, feigning an interest in a nearby street vendor displaying his wares to some Malounian women. A situation would have to be urgent indeed to convince her to go to Walker’s bedroom in the middle of the night. Jasmine had a strong commitment to duty, but her sense of self-preservation was equally powerful. She could imagine few scenarios so critical that she could be convinced to approach the man while he was in bed.

The color she felt rising to her cheeks could be blamed on the afternoon heat. It would be more comfortable to believe that she was indifferent to him. Until a day ago she’d almost convinced herself that she was. But an innate sense of honesty forced her to admit, at least to herself, that indifference was the last thing she felt for him.

And therein lay the real danger of this assignment.

Chapter 3

The dinner party was to be formal. Although Walker was most comfortable in the basic black worn for breaking and entering, he had packed a dark suit jacket and tie. He wore it now, as he lingered in a corner of the gathering room, observing the steady trickle of guests entering the prime minister’s home. Most of the them wore traditional Maloun garb—flowing white robes for the men and brightly colored caftans for the women.

The presence of the females at the dinner gave the appearance that this was purely a social event, but Walker knew differently. Where politicians were involved, socializing was business. Some of his most lucrative tips had been picked up at parties much like this one.

But it would be Jasmine’s job to elicit whatever interesting information was to be had tonight. After dinner, he had other matters requiring his attention.

Of its own volition, his gaze sought her out now, standing in the center of a small crowd, smiling brilliantly at a swarthy man who was bending over her hand.

The kick in the stomach he experienced at the sight was most easily blamed on the bitter tea he was drinking. In her brilliant blue caftan she resembled an exquisitely crafted Madonna he’d once stolen from the Boston home of a wealthy shipping magnate. The memory filled him with something close to nostalgia. The piece was one of the few fruits of his earlier career that he still owned. He knew he’d never look at it again without thinking of Jasmine.

She’d done something to her eyes before this trip to disguise their shape. The makeup made the upper lids look heavier, as though she’d recently climbed out of a man’s bed.

The thought brought him no pleasure. He, better than anyone, knew how deceptive her looks were. They were a tool, one she wielded with skill. Right now they seemed to be working quite effectively on the man who hadn’t yet released her hand as he rattled off a spate of Arabic.

Gripping his cup more tightly, he tore his gaze away. The women had gathered on one side of the room, leaving the men and Jasmine on the other. Voices, conversations mingled, broken by an occasional burst of laughter. Walker found he was able to interpret much of what was said. Jasmine had been following the script when she told El-Dabir he spoke only English. Although not fluent in Arabic, he was able to understand quite a bit of it. He’d spent a fair amount of time in one Middle Eastern trouble spot or another.

He strolled closer to the group surrounding Jasmine. Pausing in front of a rather bad portrait of the prime minister, he pretended to admire it until they were all seated for dinner. Mentally he sifted through the snippets of conversations flowing around him.

“…until he is weaned, and then I shall…”

“…perhaps we will have to let him go. He no longer…”

“…not depart from what we discussed.” Instinct had Walker’s inner radar honing in more closely on the last sentence. With a skill born of long practice he ignored the rest of the talk and focused on the dialogue that had caught his interest.

“I will do exactly as instructed. You will not be disappointed.”

Walker recognized El-Dabir’s ingratiating tones, but the other voice belonged to a stranger. Not daring to turn around at the moment, he contented himself with listening.

“There should be no problem. She is only a woman.”

Inwardly amused, he wondered what Jaz would have to say about the man’s assessment. There was no doubt in Walker’s mind that the conversation concerned her. People drifted by, making their way into the dining room, and he shifted closer to the pair of men, as if politely making room for the guests.

“…have a hand in his own destruction.” The noise from the people passing by them had covered all but the last of the sentence. Walker found himself wondering just what he’d missed. The room was clearing out and there was no longer any reason to linger. He made his way into the next room and turned, scanning the area for an empty seat. From the corner of his eye he watched the men he’d been eavesdropping on as they entered. As he’d suspected, one was the prime minister and the other a short man in his mid-sixties with a weather-beaten face. He made a mental note to ask Jasmine about him later.

Even as Walker slipped into a seat at the end of the table, El-Dabir’s companion made his way to the table head. Jasmine sat across and down the table from Walker, flanked by the prime minister and a sleekly polished man on her left. Keeping his attention trained on the dishes placed in front of him, he listened carefully as the stranger monopolized Jasmine’s attention.

“You are too young and beautiful to be a widow, Madame Mahrain. How long ago did your husband die?”

“Two years,” Jasmine answered with just the right amount of sorrow in her tone. “He was killed in a car accident.”

“Allow me to express my regret for your loss.” The stranger reached out, stroked the back of her hand for an instant. “Had you been married long?”

Walker held his breath, but he needn’t have worried. Jasmine had perfected her lines before they’d left Tamir. “We had been married for ten years, and engaged for two years before that.” Her smile was hauntingly sad. A man would have to be made of granite not to respond. The stranger by her side, Walker noted, did not appear to be made of stone. He stared at her with an expression all too easy for another man to recognize.

The man leaned toward her, lowered his voice. “I hope I will have the opportunity to banish some of the sorrow I see in your beautiful eyes. I would like to show you some of our country before you leave.”

“That is a kind offer, Mr. Abdul.”

“Please.” Again he touched her hand briefly, then reached for his tea, his gaze never leaving her. “You must feel free to call me Tariq.”

Jasmine hesitated, her gaze dropping to her plate. “Tariq. I do not know that I will have any free time. The business that brings me to Maloun is very serious.”

“In any business, madame, there must be time for pleasure.” The man showed his teeth in a brilliant display, clearly unwilling to give up. He appeared to be a man used to getting what he wanted, Walker thought narrowly. People acquired that kind of confidence from money, position or power. He didn’t know which fit Tariq Abdul, but he’d find out.

The voices from the guests were a distant hum. Walker paused outside the only door on the lower floor that he’d found locked. It was safe to presume it was the prime minister’s study.

Keeping a careful eye out for lost guests or inquisitive servants, he withdrew the pen from his pocket and checked for security devices. He exchanged the pen for a thin, flexible length of wire, which he fed into the lock. After a couple of quick twists, a click was heard. Faintly irritated, he turned the knob and slipped into the room. When people made it so easy, it took the thrill right out of it.

Gloves, he’d found, could be hard to explain if someone happened by. The container of spray he’d brought along applied a thin layer of wax to fingers and palms, while allowing for greater dexterity.

He closed the door behind him and took out a small compact machine resembling the size of a pocket organizer. A press of a button had the two halves springing open, revealing a screen on one side and command keys on the other. One of Walker’s newest acquisitions, it functioned as a combination scanner and computer. He switched it on and went to the desk.

The locks on the drawers were less of a challenge than the one on the door. Swiftly he withdrew the papers he found there, then dragged the screen over each, moving it left to right until the full sheet had been copied into the mini computer. Then he moved to the next. In less than five minutes he was done. Replacing the materials, he resecured the locks and surveyed the room.

Surprisingly, there was no computer in sight. Maloun wasn’t a particularly advanced country, but Walker hadn’t expected a complete lack of technology in the room where the prime minister conducted his business. He set his mini computer on the desk and reached for a pocket flashlight. Playing it along the walls and floor, he studied the area. A man like El-Dabir would have secrets. And a man with secrets must have a place to store them, if not in encrypted computer files, then in something a little more traditional.

He found what he was looking for a few minutes later when he moved a painting aside. The prime minister had made up for his lack of imagination by installing a very decent wall safe, with numbered tumblers. In his youth Walker would have simply drilled it or used a small amount of plastique. But his current career often called for a bit more finesse. He didn’t want El-Dabir to know that his security had been breached. From the pouch fastened around his waist, he withdrew another small bag and shook out four pieces of curved metal. The devices were fairly new; Dirk hadn’t even had a set, and Walker knew the man prided himself on having the best.

Carefully he arranged them to surround the dial. Magnetized, they clung to the metal face of the safe. But these were no ordinary magnets. The pull of the specially constructed devices would interfere with the tumbler action, scrambling the combination until the safe simply sprang open. He swung the dial completely around clockwise, then reversed the action. With only a few more manipulations, the door swung outward.

Reaching for his pocket flashlight again, Walker surveyed the contents. There were more papers inside, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess that these would be of more interest than the ones he’d found in the prime minister’s desk. He copied each of them, then set them aside. There was a .357 Magnum, complete with holster and cartridges. His brows raised. El-Dabir believed in heavy firepower.

A small black notebook was in the back, so Walker withdrew it and copied each of its pages, then replaced it. A bundle of photos revealed that the prime minister had a penchant for porn. Those were the only objects in the safe, and all of them were perched atop some stacked bundles. Examining one of them, he gave a silent whistle. Each package was full of one hundred dollar bills, U.S. currency. And there were at least fifty packages.

It was late when Jasmine entered her room. Stripping off the caftan, she hung it on a hanger. Then with a sigh of relief, she unfastened the Velcro straps of the specially designed undergarment she wore.

It covered her from breasts to hips, and completely changed the shape of her body, flattening her chest and adding pounds to her middle. It was exceedingly hot and not very comfortable, but would effectively throw off any description of her. She slipped into a short silky nightgown and went to the adjoining bathroom to brush her teeth.

And nearly had a heart attack when a hand clapped over her mouth, pulling her hard against a solid masculine chest.

“Quiet.”

The word, breathed in her ear, was accompanied by a push to the door, shutting it. Only then was the hand removed from her mouth. Her elbow came out then, slamming into Walker’s ribs. She was annoyed enough with him to be pleased by his hiss of pain.

“What are you doing in my bathroom?” Her words were whispered, but didn’t lack vehemence.

“Getting the hell beat out of me, apparently. Turn on the shower. Cold water.”

She did so, waited until the water was beating a solid spray, then turned around. He must have found, as she had, that there was no listening device planted in the bathroom, which wasn’t surprising. The moisture in the air would have interfered with its functioning. The sound of the shower running was just a precaution. Walker was nothing if not careful.

He was still dressed as he’d been at dinner, and an unwelcome shiver chased down her spine. He had seemed to arouse no undue curiosity from the men at the dinner tonight, but he’d been the object of many surreptitious glances from the ladies. Being female herself, she could appreciate their interest. On a purely objective level, of course.

The solid black he’d chosen only accentuated the aura of sexuality he exuded. Other men wouldn’t pick up on such a thing, but it was certain that women did. It was something that couldn’t be disguised. She wondered if he was even aware of it, and then decided in the next instant that he was. He was entirely too confident around women for it to be otherwise.

“Here.” He unfolded a small handheld machine and pressed a button. Instantly a screen display on one side lit up. “I want you to skim through these, see if any of it’s important. It would take me all night to decipher the Arabic.”

She took the machine from him, turning it one way and then another to examine it. “What is this?” she asked, marveling at the technology. She’d never seen anything like it.

He explained how it could copy documents, storing them for later retrieval. She was impressed, and said so. Her method of taking pictures of records to be blown up for later reading was a more time-consuming process.

“If I promise to get you one of your own, would you stop playing with it and get to work?”

She looked up at him in quick delight. “You will do that?”

He stared at her silently for a minute, then cleared his throat. “Yeah, but only if you quit talking and start interpreting.”

Happily, Jasmine did as he requested. She had a deep and abiding appreciation for new gadgets, secondary only to her love for clothes. He showed her how to scroll down the screen and flip to the next document.

“Correspondence only,” she said after a few minutes. “The first few appear to be from city officials of Redyshah regarding a public building being constructed.” A moment later she said, “Here is a letter from a man named Ali bin-Sadin.” Although he didn’t make a sound, she felt Walker’s reaction in the sudden tenseness of his body. She glanced up. “You know of this man?”

“He’s a suspected terrorist from Yanda.” The rogue nation was a known haven for terrorists acting against western nations. “What’s it say?”

Jasmine scrolled down on the screen. “He thanks Hosni El-Dabir for his hospitality.” She was silent a moment as she read on. “He says the sympathies of his group lie with Maloun and he is certain they can do business together again in the future.” She considered for a moment. “Perhaps El-Dabir introduced the man to the Brothers of Darkness.”