Born In Secret

“Madame Mahrain.” The Maloun prime minister lingered over her hand, addressing her in Arabic. “It is an honor and a great pleasure to have you visit our nation.”

“The pleasure is mine, sir. What I have seen of your country so far is very impressive.” Jasmine answered in the same language, that of her birth. Walker hung back circumspectly. “May I present my assistant, John Logan? I’m afraid he only speaks English.”

In heavily accented English, El-Dabir turned to Walker and said, “Welcome to our country. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you, sir.” Walker’s tone was respectful, with a clipped British accent. He remained at Jasmine’s elbow, a couple steps behind her, in a position of silent deference. She wondered if it was the first time in his life that he’d acted deferential to anyone, even if it was feigned.

She would never have believed the difference he could manage in his appearance. She’d been prepared for the lighter hair, the contacts that changed his piercing blue eyes to a nondescript hazel. Like her, he’d placed slim cotton pads inside his cheeks to alter the shape of his face. But the alteration went beyond the obvious. The black loose-fitting shirt and trousers he’d chosen were a size too big. He stood with his shoulders slightly rolled, his chin tucked. Little details taken by themselves, but together they gave him the look of a man inches shorter, many pounds lighter. His manner suggested a lowly government employee whose demeanor was light-years away from that of the confidently arrogant Walker James.

El-Dabir led them down a graciously wide hallway into a large airy room. It was furnished with a lovely piano in one corner, with chairs and couches scattered throughout the rest of the space. As Jasmine and Walker seated themselves on one of the overstuffed couches, the prime minister summoned a servant and issued an order for tea. Then he returned to his guests and sat on a chair facing them.

“I trust your trip was pleasant.”

“Sheik Kamal’s jet is quite comfortable. Far more luxurious than I am used to.” As she spoke, Jasmine studied her host surreptitiously. Hosni El-Dabir did not look like a career politician, she mused. As most Maloun males, the prime minister wore a traditional jellaba. He’d donned a jacket over the hooded loose-fitting robe, and a kaffiyeh covered his head. His nose was flat, as though it had been misshapen in a brawl. He had the square body of a boxer, and his dark gaze had a way of sliding over her face rather than focusing on it. In contrast, his hands were well-manicured, the skin surprisingly smooth when he’d touched hers. If Maloun had an American equivalent of the syndicate, she could have easily pictured him at its helm.

“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