Accidentally the Sheikh's Wife

Chapter SEVEN

RASHID answered the phone the next morning when his assistant told him it was Khalid.
“So the deal is done. You’ve both signed?” his brother asked without amenities.
“I’m flying to Morocco on Friday to sign with Benqura. Then it is done. And a better deal than expected, thanks to his daughter’s flight. He needs to save face and I’ve assured him I will handle things on this end.”
“And how to explain to the minister that your special friend Bethanne left?”
“I don’t have to explain anytime soon.”
“Because?”
“I’ve asked her to stay. I may offer her a pilot’s job. Alexes will not be able to fly again. Another stroke could happen at any time.”
“There are other pilots who work for us.”
“I choose who will fly my planes.”
“Fly your planes and warm your bed.”
“Hardly that. Bethanne and I are not involved to that extent,” Rashid said coldly. Not for lack of desire on his part. Bethanne was special, and he would treat her so. For as long as it suited him. And her.
“She wants something. Mark my words.”
“And what does it take to prove you wrong—her friendship and loyalty for fifty years?” He knew what Bethanne wanted. It was impossible to give it to her. Beyond that, she cared for nothing he had to offer.
“That’s a start.”
Rashid laughed. “Give it up, Khalid. She is not like the others.”
A groan sounded. “You are too far gone. All women are alike.”
“Cynic. Is that why you called—just to warn me again about her?”
“No, I’m going to open Grandmother’s other house. I can’t decide whether to live there or sell it. So I thought if I stayed there a few weeks, I’d know what I want to do. It’s strange to go there without her.”
“She wanted you to have it, Khalid. She loved that house because it was her father’s that he gave to her when she married.”
“My flat suits me. I’m not in it long enough to feel closed in.”
“Give it a fair chance. You don’t have to rush into selling.”
When Rashid hung up, he thought about his brother. Life had treated them so differently. Both had the same advantages until the fire had destroyed part of his brother. It wasn’t only the scar. There were wounds that went deeper. Were the al Harum men doomed to stay single? Not leave heirs on the earth?
How would he fare if he took that step? What if he considered marriage with someone like Bethanne? Their children would be beautiful. She’d be full of surprises for a long time. Would they agree on how to focus their lives, or always want something different?
Not liking the way his thoughts were going, he picked up a report and refused to think about her for the rest of the morning.
Easier said than done, he admitted a few moments later. He didn’t believe Khalid. His brother had not been around Bethanne long enough to know her. Yet that shadow of doubt wouldn’t fade. Marguerite had seemed devoted, until offered a sum of money. Would Bethanne prove as shallow?
Restless, he checked his calendar. There was nothing pressing. Telling his assistant he was going to take the rest of the day off, he headed for the villa. He wanted to see her, spend time with her. Assuage the doubt and prove once and for all she was different.
Prove to Khalid that Bethanne was unique.


When Rashid reached the villa it was to find Bethanne had gone out.
“Where?” he asked the maid. Maybe he should have kept Fatima to watch her.
But Bethanne wasn’t a prisoner. She was free to go where she wished.
“She received a note and then asked if Teaz could drive her to the city,” Minnah said. “I don’t know when she will return.”
Rashid nodded and went into the study. Using his mobile phone, he called the driver.
“Where are you?” he asked when Teaz answered.
Hearing they were in old town, Rashid arranged for Teaz to stay there until he arrived. He’d enjoy showing Bethanne some of the history of the capital city. She’d enjoyed Quraim Wadi Samil; he was sure she’d enjoy the architecture of the Romula district.
When Rashid pulled in behind his limo, driving his own small sports car, Teaz climbed out and came to open his door.
“Where is she?”
“I stop here. She walks to the square,” Teaz said.
“You’re dismissed. I’ll bring her back to the villa.”
The chauffeur bowed and returned to the limo.
Rashid walked toward the square. It brought back memories. Hank Pendarvis had lived in this area of town. He remembered that. His father had thought so highly of him. His assistant had not yet contacted Hasid. What if there was some truth to the old man’s story? Could Hank have crashed? It still did not explain why he stole the plane.
When Rashid reached the square he paused for a moment, searching. Her blond head was quickly found. She sat at a table with an older man. From the way they were talking, Rashid knew they weren’t strangers. Who was he?
The spurt of jealousy that hit him surprised him. He didn’t want to admit he had stronger feelings for her. But seeing her laugh at something her companion said jarred him. He wanted her laughter and her smiles. He wanted her.
Walking around the square, his gaze never left them. They were so caught up in their conversation, neither looked up until he stopped at the table.
Bethanne’s eyes widened when she saw him. For a moment anger burned. He realized he was used to seeing a spurt of happiness when he came near. Now she looked startled—guilty? He kept his anger under control. The first rule—find out the facts before acting. Nothing so far condemned her.
“Hi, Rashid. I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said with a quick glance at her companion.
“Probably not.” He looked at the other man.
“This is Walt Hampstead. He teaches English at the university,” Bethanne said quickly. “Walt, this is my host, Sheikh Rashid al Harum.”
Host? They were pretending more than that. To everyone.
The man rose and extended his hand. “Sheikh al Harum. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Rashid shook hands and then looked at Bethanne. “The man who knew your father?”
She nodded. “Do join us. We were talking about mutual friends.” She gathered the photographs displayed in front of her and stacked them, handing them back to Walt. He put them in an envelope before Rashid could see them.
“I was showing her pictures of my family. It’s good to talk to Hank’s daughter. I don’t see many Americans in Quishari, you know,” he said easily, tapping the envelope against his leg.
“You have lived here long?” Rashid asked.
“Almost twenty years. Married a local girl. We have two children—teenagers now.” He glanced at Bethanne. “I hope to see you again soon. Thanks for the update.”
Bethanne smiled and nodded, her glance flicking to Rashid.
“I did not mean to run you off,” he said.
“I need to be going. Classes soon.” Walt nodded once and quickly walked across the square and down one of the side roads.
Rashid pulled out a chair and sat. The waiter hurried over and asked if he wanted anything.
“I’ll have a coffee,” he said, leaning back. His curiosity rose. “What was really going on?”
Bethanne looked at him, her eyes wide. “He knew my father. He doesn’t believe my father stole a plane, either.”
When his coffee was delivered, he took a sip of the hot beverage. Bethanne fidgeted with her own coffee cup, now nearly empty.
“What are you doing here?” she asked at last.
“I thought I’d take you up on your offer to take some time off. I expected to find you at the villa.”
“I still want to see as much as Alkaahdar as I can. Wander around town. This is a nice café.”
“We can wander around old town if you like. I sent Teaz away. I drove.”
“Lovely. The architecture is similar to that in Quraim Wadi Samil, don’t you think?”
“It’s from the same age.”
They finished their coffee and started out. The stalls selling food were crowded. The others had vendors calling out, enticing people with special sales. Bethanne smiled and walked at his side. When they reached a cross street, he waited to see what she’d do. She appeared to be studying the architecture as if she were genuinely interested. Rashid watched her. He was still bothered by the encounter with the other man. She was tenacious in searching for Hank. She was not one to give up quickly. He wondered how she’d found the man who had known Hank.
A woman came from an apartment building. Rashid stepped aside to allow her to pass on the narrow sidewalk. When she saw Rashid’s gesture, she smiled as she walked past—stopping suddenly when she saw Bethanne.
“Were you coming to see me?” she said in Arabic.
“No. Should I be?” Rashid asked, wondering who she was.
“The woman was here in the street a few days ago searching for the man who had the flat before me. She was told I knew nothing about him. I thought maybe you were coming to seek more information. I have nothing else to add.”
Bethanne watched, her eyes darting from Rashid to the woman back to him.
He looked at her.
“You were looking for more information about your father?” he asked in English.
Bethanne nodded. “I was hoping he’d left something behind that might tell me where he’d gone and why. She wasn’t home last time I was here. But Walt said he came by when he hadn’t seen my dad for a while and was told the apartment had been cleared before being rented again. The man on the oil rig told me he crashed. Walt said he spoke of a secret assignment, a special flight. There had to be more to it than he appropriated a plane and I want to know what. I want to know the truth. I want you to admit the truth.”
He stared at her. “I would tell you if I knew more. Do you think I like knowing your father was a thief? Especially after years of service with my family? What else might he have stolen? What other harm might he have done?”
“None. He was not like that. He loved working here. We often spoke about his finding his ideal job. He planned to show me the country, introduce me to his friends. He went on some secret mission for your father. If you don’t know what it is, come with me to find out what it was.”
“Come with you where?”
“Quraim Wadi Samil. Isn’t that where the answers lie?”
“There are no answers.”
“Only questions? Like why people think he is a thief? I need to find out what happened to him.”
“Everyone wants something—Khalid was right. I thought we had something developing between us. But you only see me as a way to prove the unprovable.”
“We might have something growing between us. Just because the reasons I agreed to stay haven’t changed doesn’t mean my feelings aren’t genuine or aren’t involved. I…love you, Rashid.”
“No!”
“If I do?”
“Impossible.” He glared at her. “Please give me some credit. Women say words like that hoping to bend men to their will.”
“We’re talking two different things here, Rashid. First I want to prove to you my dad is not what you think. And second, why wouldn’t I fall for someone like you? You’re—”
“Enough! We have an agreement, nothing beyond the charade until the negotiations are complete and the contract signed. What do you hope…that I’ll fall for you? Maybe see you as my wife? I would not dishonor my family by marrying a woman whose father was a thief. Who caused the death of my father.”
Rashid resumed walking, at a quicker pace. He clamped down on his emotions. Khalid had been right; he should have sent her back the first day. How dare she say she loved him? He knew better—he was a means to an end. Find out about her father. Hadn’t they tried that three years ago? The sooner he got her to the villa, the sooner he could be rid of her.
Except for the flight to Morocco, he thought. Should he consider using another pilot?
“Wait.” She hurried to catch up. “Rashid, this doesn’t change anything.”
“It changes everything. Here’s my car. Get in.”
Ignoring his manners, he strode to the driver’s side and got in just as she jumped in the passenger’s side.


Starting the engine, he pulled away from the curb at a pace faster than safe. For a moment anger ruled. Then he deliberately slowed down. He would not take his anger out on others.
How dare she suggest she was in love with him? They had not known each other long enough for emotions to grow. It was a ploy, just as Khalid suggested. He was furious for letting his own emotions grow concerning her. He’d been so confident he could enjoy her company and then say farewell. She turned out to be like all others.
“What did Hampstead tell you?” he bit out.
“That the last time he saw Hank, my dad spoke about a secret mission. Walt thought he was pumped up about it, like a thriller or something. He wouldn’t tell Walt any more than that. But Walt thought it more a lark than a dangerous mission. He was obviously wrong since it seems likely my dad ended up dead. The man at the derrick said Hank’s buried in Quraim Wadi Samil. It would be worth checking out. Did you question him?”
“My assistant is handling that.” And it sounded like Rashid needed to make sure it was done immediately. “The reason he was pumped up was probably considering stealing a multimillion-dollar jet plane.”
Bethanne refused to respond.
Rashid stopped in front of the villa a short time later. She scurried out of the car before he could come around to her door. Running up the shallow steps, she turned and looked at him. “I shall leave the villa, of course. I understand you wouldn’t want me here. I’ll call a taxi to take me to a hotel.”
“Stay here until we leave.”
“We?” she asked.
“I still need to fly to Morocco tomorrow.”
“And Quraim Wadi Samil?”
“Once we return, you’ll have to find your own way there.”
She glared at him. “Don’t worry, I shall!” She turned to enter the villa.
Rashid stood standing beside his car. The door closed. She was gone.
For endless minutes he stood staring at the door, feeling numb. One moment she says she loves him. The next she’s talking about leaving. The images of them together over the last few days danced in his mind. He could almost hear her laughter, see the sparkle in her eyes. For the first time since Marguerite he’d let himself consider—No, he was not going there.
He clenched a fist and hit the top of the car. He’d been thinking of ways to keep her in Quishari, and she’d been playing him. At least she had no idea he’d been halfway falling in love with her.
It was a small solace.


Bethanne reached her bedroom and shut the door. Sinking on her bed, she blinked her eyes. She would not cry. But the heartbreak she’d feared was closing in. Rashid had been so annoyed. Why? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t known from the beginning she was searching for her father. She should not have confessed her feelings. He hadn’t wanted any emotional entanglements. He was probably laughing all the way back to the city about her claim. Her throat ached with keeping back the tears.
His reaction was unexpected. How could he feel so strongly about his own family and not recognize the same bond she had for hers?
She loved him. She hadn’t meant to tell him, not without some indication he might be feeling something for her. But she had blurted it out. And he threw it back in her face. She did not want to go to Morocco or ever be around him again. How embarrassing that would be. Oh, if only she could go back in time a few hours and change everything.
She jumped up and began to pace the spacious area between her bed and the French doors. Rubbing her chest, she tried to erase the ache that was growing in her heart. She had warned herself repeatedly. But no matter—she’d fallen in love with a man who had never given any hint he returned her feelings. If he thought she was as dishonorable as he thought her father, he never would. Despite the kisses they’d shared.
Her father had been an honorable man. She resented the fact people thought he’d stolen a valuable plane and disappeared. She wanted the world to know the truth.
And she wanted Rashid to fall in love with her—daughter of a thief or not.
She might as well wish for the moon.


Minnah came into the room some time later with a message the sheikh had moved up the departure for Morocco to the next morning. They would depart at six.
Bethanne accepted her visit to Quishari was over. She’d fly the sheikh to sign his important contract, return to Quishari and be on the next commercial flight to the United States.
Packing, she took only those clothes she’d brought. She fingered the beautiful dresses that hung in the closet. She had felt like a princess wearing them. Who would wear them next? Would he donate to a charity or dump in the trash?
Taking advantage of her last afternoon, she went to the beach. Walking eased some of her distress. She was still trying to figure out a way to get to Quraim Wadi Samil when she looked up and saw Rashid.
Her traitorous heart gave a leap of happiness when she saw him, even though his face was grave. When would she get over this feeling of delight in his presence?
“Is something wrong?” she asked when he got closer.
“My mother is having a small dinner party tonight and insists we attend.” The muscles in his cheeks clenched with anger.
Bethanne hadn’t expected that. She searched his face for a clue he also wanted to attend. He glared at her. No hope there.
“Surely you can tell her about the charade. She wouldn’t expect us to attend after finding out about that,” she said.
“The minister and his wife will be there. The contracts are not yet signed. I will do nothing to jeopardize this deal. Not having come this far.”
“Of course. The deal. No matter what.”
“Nothing’s changed. Except my perception of your cooperation. If you do anything tonight to enlighten anyone, you’ll be sorry.”
“Gee, what will you do? Send me back to the U.S.? Banish me from the country I’m leaving anyway?” An imp of mischief goaded her. She wanted him to want her. As she’d thought his kisses had indicated. So be it that he had not fallen in love with her as she had with him. She would not go off like some quiet, docile child. He was a wonderful man. Her love was not returned, but it didn’t make it wrong, just sad that the one man she’d found she’d want to build a life with had no similar feelings for her.
“Don’t push me, Bethanne.”
“You have something I want. I have something you want. Let’s make a deal.”
“You have nothing I want.”
“My silence. My continued acting like a love-struck woman clinging to your every word—especially if the minister is present.”
He looked out to the sea.
“And in return, I want a plane ride to Quraim Wadi Samil. We swap.”
He was silent for so long she knew he was going to refuse. She had no other leverage. She would have to find the grave herself—if in fact it was there.
“Deal.”
His answer surprised her. Before he could change his mind, she held out her hand, but when he turned back, it was to grab her shoulders and draw her close enough to kiss. It wasn’t a sweet kiss, but one full of anger. His mouth pressed hard against hers. His fingers gripped tightly. She scarcely caught a breath before he released her a second later. No matter, her heart pounded.
“Consider the deal sealed,” he said and turned to head toward the villa.
“I’ll pick you up at six-thirty,” he called over his shoulder.
She brushed her fingertips across her lips. Tears filled her eyes. She wanted kisses, but not punishing ones. Could she ever forget the passionate ones they’d shared? She was afraid she never would. All men in the future would come short when compared with Sheikh Rashid al Harum.
“I hope your deal brings you joy. Nothing else seems to,” she said to the empty beach.


Bethanne took extra care getting ready for her farewell performance, as she termed it. She had Minnah style her hair and selected the prettiest of the gowns hanging in the closet. It was a deep burgundy, long and sleek. Her makeup was donned for impact, making her eyes look larger and mysterious. She matched the gown color with lipstick and studied the dramatic effect in the mirror.
“Eat your heart out, Rashid,” she whispered.
She went downstairs to await her escort. When he arrived, she met him at the door. “I’m ready,” she said, walking past, head held high. She planned to deliver exactly what he wanted: a woman infatuated with him—when in public.
Teaz stood at the back door of the limo. Once she was seated, Rashid joined her on the bench seat. The ride was conducted in total silence.
Once at his mother’s, Rashid morphed into a charming host. He greeted the other guests, introducing Bethanne to those she hadn’t met before. She was gracious and friendly. She was never going to give him a single reason to think of her as less than professional in all her dealings. Her greeting to Madame al Harum was warm, as she felt suitable to a prospective mother-in-law. The older woman did not thaw at her overtures. Bethanne merely smiled. She would never please her. And tonight she had no reason to even pretend.
She greeted the minister again. Tonight she met his wife. The woman did not speak English, so Rashid translated. When they moved on, she breathed a sigh of relief. So far so good.
Conversation was a mixture of Arabic, French and English. She had a nice chat with a young diplomatic couple, on their way to a post in Egypt. The minister of finance was no more friendly than he’d been at the polo event. She wondered if he were perpetually grumpy. She wished Walt had been invited. It would have been nice to have one friendly face in the group.
Dinner was traditional Arabic fare—from an avocado appetizer to the delicious lamb to the sweets at the conclusion. Bethanne enjoyed every bite. She especially liked the sugared walnuts that Rashid insisted be brought for her enjoyment. She smiled her appreciation, wishing he’d meant the gesture for more than show to the people present. To the rest of them, she was sure they looked like a couple who enjoyed each other’s company. Maybe were in love.
Only the two of them knew the lie behind the facade. It was bittersweet to have him so attentive, when she knew by the look in his eyes how false it was. She met him gaze for gaze, tilting her chin up to convey she had no qualms of standing up for herself. Or defending her stance. He’d asked her to stay to foil the attempts of the opposition to bring an end to negotiations. She’d done just that. He had not asked for more. It was her own foolish heart that betrayed her—not him.
The company moved to the salon and terrace after dinner. Soft music played in the background. The view from the terrace was beautiful; the entire city of Alkaahdar spread out before them, lighted in the darkness. In the distance, the Persian Gulf, where a lone ship gleamed with lights as it slid silently along on the horizon.
She would miss this place, she realized. In the short time she’d been here, she’d fallen in love with Quishari and one very special person. Her father had loved this country and she felt the same.
She realized she was alone on the terrace when Madame al Harum came to stand beside her.
“You are leaving,” she said.
“Yes. We fly to Morocco tomorrow. When we return to Quishari, I will fly home.”
“It is good.”
“I’m sure you think so. What if Rashid loved me? Do you think a broken heart is good?” she asked.
“He would never be so foolish to marry someone so unsuitable. It’s obvious you have fallen for him, but my son knows his duty. He will marry to suit his family. It is the duty of children to honor their parents.”
“It is a bit old-fashioned,” Bethanne said gently. “We honor our parents, but don’t marry to please them.”
“We are a traditional country. We have the modern conveniences necessary to enjoy life, but our values are time-honored. My son does not need you.”
Bethanne nodded, the thought piercing. “You are right. I’m leaving and you will be happier for it, right?”
The older woman stared at her for a long time, then looked out toward the sea. “I will be content. It is what I want.”
Bethanne longed to ask her if she missed her husband. Hadn’t they been love? If not when first married, had love come? No matter what the custom, it had to be awkward to marry if not in love. Yet the union had produced two dynamic men. Had she longed for a daughter? For grandchildren?
Bethanne had once thought she’d never marry. She’d been fooling herself. If Rashid asked her, she’d say yes in a heartbeat. Her declarations of independence had been made before falling in love. The world changed when that happened.
Even if the ending wasn’t happy.
“Mother, one of your guests is leaving,” Rashid said from the doorway.
She turned and smiled politely at Bethanne. “If I do not see you again, have a pleasant flight home.”
“Goodbye, Madame,” Bethanne replied.
Rashid stepped onto the terrace. “Are you ready to leave?”
“Anytime. Your mother can’t wait for me to be gone. I’m glad this pretense will end soon. I’m thinking it never should have begun.”
But then she would not have spent but ten minutes with Rashid while he signed the papers for the new jet. She’d have missed these days which, despite the circumstances, would remain some of the happiest of her life.
“The past can never be changed,” Rashid said.
The future could. But she refused to cling to false hope.


Bethanne arrived at the airport before the sheikh the next morning. She checked with the ground crew and had visually inspected the aircraft before he arrived. Her flight bag was already stowed. Teaz loaded a small suitcase for Rashid and then drove away. Rashid brought a briefcase and was soon seated on the sofa, papers already pulled out to review.
“The weather outlook is good the entire way,” she said. “We’ll have a refueling stop in Cairo.”
He nodded and Bethanne went to the cockpit to begin her preflight checklist. They were soon airborne. She watched as the land moved beneath her. She was not familiar enough with it to recognize landmarks. Somewhere below them soon would be the oasis in the desert where her father lay. She was not going home without stopping there. Maybe she’d ask Khalid to find out from Hasid where exactly her father was buried. If he knew she were leaving, he might be amenable to helping her.
As the hours slipped by, the topography changed. The hills and valleys gave way to mountains. Crossing over a while later, the blue of the Mediterranean Sea could be seen in the distance.
It was late afternoon Morocco time when she approached the runway of Menara Airport, serving Marrakech.
It had been a long day. They’d refueled in Cairo where Bethanne had stretched her legs for a while. The flight had not brought the usual delight. She dwelled on the vanished hope the two of them might come to mean more to each other. It was also a bit lonely without someone to share the cockpit with. She would love to talk about the beauty of the earth below or the freedom flying usually gave her.
Rashid remained in the cabin. He’d declined to get off in Cairo. She had hoped for some kind of truce, but he obviously wasn’t of the same mind.
She followed the directions from the tower and pulled the jet to a stop near a private hangar on the edge of the vast airport. Cutting the engines, she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes for a moment. She was tired—not just from the long flight but from the emotional toll of the last two days.
Garnering what energy she could, she finished her checklist, signed it and left the clipboard on the copilot’s seat. Going to the door, she opened it and stood aside, waiting for Rashid to leave.
He carried his briefcase and headed down the stairs, where there was already a chauffeured limousine for his use. She wondered how all the details of such precision were conveyed. She knew his staff was efficient, but this seemed almost miraculous.
When the uniformed chauffeur saw him into the back of the car, he came to the plane to retrieve the sheikh’s suitcase. He nodded briefly to Bethanne, but didn’t say a word. She stood back and watched as the limo pulled away.
If she had not told him about her feelings, or if he had believed her, she would be going with him, meeting the man whose daughter caused the charade. There was no need to keep up the pretense here where no one from his country could see. Once the contracts were signed, it would no longer matter.
She sighed and turned to check the cabin. It was as neat and tidy as if she’d flown it empty.
A maintenance worker came aboard, saying something in Arabic.
She replied in English. He shook his head, so she tried French. That he understood and explained he’d come to clean the interior. She told him to go ahead, but she’d wait until he was done. In fact, Bethanne wasn’t sure what she would do. Stay with the plane was her inclination. She had no hotel reservations, hadn’t a clue how to get a cab to this isolated area of the airport, didn’t know how to find a place to stay since she couldn’t speak the language. She could sleep on the sofa. Food and beverages stocked the refrigerator.
“And as the ranking crew member present on the plane, what I say goes,” she murmured. When the maintenance worker left, she activated the door, retracting the steps and closing it. Cocooned in the aircraft, she hunted up a magazine and went to flop down on the sofa. In less than ten minutes she was asleep.


Rashid registered at the hotel, paid for a second room for Bethanne’s use and sent the limo driver back to get her. It was petty to leave her like that, but he was still angry—more with himself than her. She had things to do when a plane landed, so the timing would probably be perfect.
He checked out his suite, found it satisfactory. Truth be told it could have been a hovel and he wouldn’t have cared. Leaving it behind, he went to find a decent restaurant for an early dinner and to finalize his strategy for tomorrow’s meeting.
When Rashid returned to the hotel, it was after ten. He’d had a leisurely meal, then gone to a small coffeehouse to work on the final details of the deal he and al Benqura would sign the next day. Walking back to the hotel, he enjoyed the atmosphere of Marrakech. He’d visited as a younger man on holiday one summer. The walk brought back memories.
He crossed the lobby heading for the elevators when the desk clerk called him.
“Yes?”
“Message for you, sir,” he said.
Rashid went to the counter and took the folded paper. Scanning it as he started for the elevators, he stopped.
“When was this delivered?” he asked, turning back.
“A bit before six. It’s written on the back.”
He murmured an expletive. The note explained Bethanne had not been at the plane when the chauffeur arrived. The door was closed and no one had seen her since the arrival. Crossing to the house phone discreetly located in a quiet corner, Rashid dialed the number on the note. The car service was closed for the day. Crushing the paper in his hand, he went outside and asked the doorman to hail a cab.