The Majesty said, “Ah, Ms. Jordan, you honor us by wearing the cha so elegantly.”
Narice knew from talking with Fulani that cha was the name of the dress she had on. Fulani also told Narice that The Majesty never allowed herself to be upstaged by another woman in any way, thus the reason Narice had been given the simple brown gown. The Majesty on the other hand was grandly dressed in a cha of embroidered purple silk that on close inspection appeared shiny from age and wear.
The Majesty then introduced the man at her side.
“Ms. Jordan, this is my prime minister. He is named Farouk.”
Narice inclined her head his way. She remembered the stormy look he’d given her earlier. “Pleased to meet you,” she said.
He nodded back. “Welcome, Ms. Jordan.”
The Majesty said, “Now, we will have tea and discuss our problem.”
She had a servant pour everyone a cup and then she asked, “Ms. Jordan, let me begin by telling you about the Eye and how it ties to my country, Nagal. The Eye originally belonged to Makeda, the woman the Old Testament calls the Queen of Sheba.”
Narice was surprised by that and wondered how The Majesty knew Sheba’s given name.
The Majesty was continuing, “When Makeda journeyed to King Solomon’s court, she brought him many gifts. One of which was a brilliant blue diamond we now call the Eye of Sheba.”
The Majesty paused and her golden eyes turned on Narice. “How well do you know your Bible, Ms. Jordan.”
“Probably not as well as I should.”
She smiled softly. “Makeda returned home carrying Solomon’s child. She bore him a son and she named him Ibn-al-Hakim, which means son of the wise man. In the Bible he is called Melenek, and is said to have stolen the Ark of the Covenant.”
Narice knew the Ark had been given to the Israelites by God. Her only other reference to the icon was the movie Raiders of the Lost Ark. She shook herself and settled her attention back on the queen.
“Our legends say Melenek took something else, too. The Eye. Through time and marriage it found its way into my family. It became the symbol of the Nagal monarchy, and our tie to the great queen Makeda.”
Narice found the story fascinating. “So how does my father figure into all of this?”
“When Rommel and his Nazis overran Nagal during WWII, my grandfather, the king, gave the Eye to your father to keep it out of the hands of the Germans.”
Narice knew that her father had served in northern Africa during the war, but he’d never mentioned meeting a royal family.
“Your father promised to smuggle the Eye out of the country and to keep it safe until my grandfather sent for it, but after the war, generals in our army staged a coup. My grandfather was killed in the fighting. His heir, my father, was executed shortly thereafter. My grandmother, mother and I were forced to flee our home or suffer the same fate.”
Narice asked, “Where did you go?”
“Paris, where my mother had relatives.” She quieted for a moment as if thinking back, then said, “I am the last of the Nagal royal line. Over the years the old generals were replaced by new ones, but they all cared more about power than the people.”
“Why do you need the Eye?”
“Because according to the prophecy, when the Eye is returned to its home prosperity will return as well.” “And you believe my father has had it all this time?”
“We believe so, yes.”
Farouk leaned across the table and stated bluntly, “And now, we want it returned.”
Narice held his glare. “Fine. Just tell me where it is.”
Saint weighed in for the first time. “Nobody knows. Everybody assumes your father hid it somewhere for safekeeping.”
Narice wasn’t convinced. “He never mentioned anything to me.”
“Are you certain?” The Majesty asked.
“Very.”
Farouk asked tightly, “If he did hide it, where might it be?”
Narice shrugged. “I have no idea.”
The prime minister’s face said he didn’t believe her, but Narice had no control over what he believed.
Saint asked, “What about his acquaintances, friends, would they be of any help?”
Narice shrugged again. “Uncle Willie might know.”
“Where’s he live?”
“Toledo.”
The Majesty asked, “This Uncle Willie is your blood?”
Narice shook her head. “No, but he was my father’s best friend. If Daddy told anyone about this it would be Willie. They served in the army together?”
“Then we start the search there,” Saint declared.
The Majesty seemed pleased. “A starting point.”
Narice wasn’t sure, but she kept it to herself. “So, who is Ridley, and how is he involved?” Narice remembered how terrified she’d been in the cab.
Farouk’s pale brown face twisted with distaste. “He serves the generals as their prime minister. He is after the Eye, too.”
Narice hoped to not run into him again. “Ridley recognized your voice, Saint. He must know you well.”
“He does,” was all he said.
Narice studied him and wondered what he’d meant, but his tone let her know she’d get no further explanation, at least not now, so she didn’t press him. She did have another question, though, and hoped someone had an answer. “What about my father’s death. Do you know who set the fire?”
Farouk answered, “All roads lead to the generals and their agents. If you help us the killers will be brought to justice.”
Having the arsonist convicted was a priority for Narice, but did she really want to get involved in all this? The sane parts of herself said no, but Simon Jordan had been an honorable man and would have wanted the Eye returned to its rightful owners. As his daughter she had a familial responsibility to pick up where he left off so that that his pledge to The Majesty’s family could be kept. She knew in her heart that he would want her to help these people and to find his killers.
Farouk asked, “Will you help?”
Narice nodded. “If finding the Eye will help put the people who murdered my father behind bars, I’m all yours.”
The Majesty smiled. “Good. Now, we have less than two weeks.”
“This has a timetable, too?”
“Yes, in about thirty days, your state department will be proposing a treaty that will give your government access to a very strategic strip of land in my country that is on the Red Sea. With all the turmoil in the Middle East, they’ve been after the port for years. The U.S. wants the generals to hold an open election, but the generals know that without the Eye the people will not vote for their candidate. Without the Eye the generals are nothing more than armed squatters on my family’s throne.”
“Why did you wait so long to return to your country?” Narice asked
“The political climate was not right, and the rebels were not strong enough. Until now. If I can return home with the Eye, the country will vote for the monarchy and throw the generals out.”
“What’s to keep the generals from taking power anyway?”
Saint answered, “The U.S. wants that port, but not if world opinion says they are supporting an illegitimate regime. If the generals don’t have the Eye, the U.S. won’t back them.”
“And if the generals do get their hands on it, then what?”
“It’s a toss up. Some in our government and a few fat-cat corporations want to run their own candidate.”
Narice was almost afraid to ask, “So are they looking for the Eye, too?”
“Probably.”
She shook her head. There were an awful lot of dogs in this hunt, but she’d made up her mind. She wanted in.
The Majesty took a sip of her tea. After setting the cup down, she declared, “It is decided then. Mr. St. Martin and Ms. Jordan will begin the search with the Keeper’s Toledo friend. From there we will see where it leads.”
She stood. “I will see you both soon. May the Eye shine on
your quest.”
Then she exited with her hand on Farouk’s arm.
Three
After the audience, Fulani escorted Narice back to the bedroom where Narice removed the cha and replaced it with her own clothing. As she positioned her gold hoops in her ears, she thanked Fulani for her help.
Fulani bowed. “You are very welcome.” She handed Narice her purse. “Are you truly going to help The Majesty retrieve the Eye?”
Narice saw no harm in responding. “Yes. I’m hoping it will lead the police to my father’s killers.”
Fulani nodded as if she understood. “Well, my countrymen will be pleased to have the Eye home, and I hope the killers get what they deserve, too. Good luck, Ms. Jordan. May the Eye shine on you.”
Narice smiled, and said again, “Thank you.”
Saint was waiting when Narice was escorted back to the main room.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Yep.” Suddenly Narice noticed the silence in the room. Unlike earlier, there was no one moving about. No servants. No old men in sandals. No gilded chairs. “Where’d everybody go?” she asked, looking around.
“Off to place their bets on the winner, probably,” Saint cracked.
Narice was confused, “What?”
“Never mind. Come on.”
Confused still, Narice followed him out into the hallway—which was by the way just as quiet and as empty as the suite. The burly guards who’d greeted her arrival were gone.
“What happened to the guards?”
“The Majesty has flown the coop.”
“Why?”
They were now at the elevator. He hit the triangle-shaped call button. “So she’ll be alive to claim the Eye when the time comes.”
Narice didn’t understand.
He explained, “There have been two attempts on her life in the past month. Because of that, she’s keeping her movements fluid.”
Now Narice got it. “Where will she go?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. When she needs to contact us, she will.”
“And in the meantime?”
“In the meantime, we try and stay alive, too.”
Narice wasn’t sure how to take his words. “Are you trying to scare me?”
“Hope so.”
“Why?”
“Because the other side wants us dead. Fear will keep you alive.”
Narice suppressed the shiver that ran up her spine and waited silently for the elevator to arrive.
When the elevator doors opened, Narice and Saint stepped in. Admittedly, Narice was having second thoughts about this little adventure. A sister in her right mind would admit that she’d made a mistake signing on, plead my bad, and go back to her safe life in Baltimore, but her life wasn’t safe anymore; according to what she’d heard, she was not only Alice, but the fox in this bizarre hunt as well. The only way she could get out of this was to go forward and pray.
When he hit the button on the panel labeled Garage, she asked him, “Did you forget we valet parked?”
“Nope.”
“Then why are we going to the garage?”
He looked her way and asked, “Did you ask a lot of questions growing up?”
“Yes.”
“You haven’t changed.”
Narice reached over and hit the elevator’s emergency stop.
The car lurched and halted so violently, it threw Saint and his bad shoulder painfully against the wood-paneled wall. He grabbed at the ache and barked, “What the hell’s the matter with you?”
“Just trying to get your attention.”
He evaluated her malevolently from behind his glasses. “Okay, you got it. Now what?”
“You are going to stop patronizing me, do you understand?”
“Or, you’re going to do what?”
“Make this trip a living hell.”
“You’re already way ahead of yourself,” Saint cracked, while he rubbed his shoulder and studied her face. Her chin was raised defiantly and challenge sparkled in her dark eyes. He’d be the first to admit that he had a real thing for strong women, but this fancy schoolteacher appeared to be stronger than most. “Okay, I apologize. So, what do you want me to do?”
“Answer my questions as if I’m an adult.”
He eyed her, making a vow to never cut up in her classroom. “What’s the question again?”
Her narrowed eyes met his shaded ones. “My question was, why are we going to the garage?”
“So I can check out the car before it’s brought around.”
“Why?”
“To make sure the bad guys didn’t fix it to go boom when we drive off.”
Narice’s eyes widened. “A bomb?”
“A bomb. So hit the button and let’s go.”
She just stood there with her mouth open.
He reached over and did it himself. “You wanted an answer.”
While Narice continued to be frozen in place, the elevator resumed its descent.
A shaken Narice followed him out of the elevator and into the shadow-filled lower levels of the garage. As in most big cities, parking was at a premium so some hotels rented a section of a nearby municipal lot for its valet guests. This garage was vast and every space was filled. She wondered how he’d find his car in this sea of vehicles.
Saint stood there a moment and looked around for the black sports car. Because he didn’t spot it right off, and he didn’t have the time or the inclination to spend the next hour hunting it down, he reached into his pocket and took out the handheld computer he never left home without. Ignoring the curiosity on the curvy Ms. Jordan’s beautiful face, he punched in a few codes then waited for the screen he needed. When it came up, he punched in another code and a new screen appeared. He finally looked her way. Pointing with the handheld, he said, “That way.”
An amazed Narice fell in beside him. Although she couldn’t make out all the details on the handheld, she could see a cursor blinking in the middle of what appeared to be a blueprint grid. She had questions, of course, but she let him concentrate on what he was doing.
The car was up on the second level. They saw no one as they walked the thirty or so yards it took to reach it.
Narice chalked it up to her imagination but the silence felt alive—sinister.
He reached into another coat pocket and took out a piece of paper and a pen. He scribbled some numbers on the paper, then handed it to her. “If anything happens to me, you call that number and friends of mine will come and get you. Okay?”
Narice glanced at the number, then put the paper in her purse. “Okay.”
“Good. Now go over there and stand behind that van for a minute. No sense in both of us being blown up.”
Concern etched her face, but she didn’t argue. She moved quickly to the blue van he’d indicated and waited silently to see what would happen next. He reached into his coat and drew out a small penlight. After flicking it on and being careful not to make contact with the car’s body he directed the light through the window on the driver’s side and into the dark interior. She watched silently, her heart pounding while he slowly circled the car and peered into each of the windows.
Only after he’d flicked off the light and put it back into his coat, did she exhale and ask, “Anything?”
“Not so far.”
He went back into his pockets and took out a small round device that fit easily into his palm. He pointed the object towards the car and once again began a slow walk around the perimeter. This time, when he scanned the passenger side, Narice heard a series of soft beeps.
“Bingo,” he said with soft triumph and smiled.
Narice couldn’t help it. She smiled, too. “You do know what you’re doing, don’t you?”
“Yes, Teach. I do.”
“Are you going to disarm it?”
“No time.”
“But my suitcase is in there.”
“Sorry.”
“But—”
“You can buy more soon as w
e get a chance, okay?”
Her chin went up. “Okay. So, what do we do now?”
He went back to the handheld. Punching more buttons, he said, “If I know my brother, there should be another car around here somewhere for us to use.”
“Your brother?”
But his attention was on the computer that seemed to be leading them deeper into the garage. A few rows to the left he stopped, then directed her attention to a big SUV with black tinted windows. “That one.”
By now, she had so many questions eddying in her head, she didn’t know which one to ask first.
When she came back to herself he was already seated behind the wheel and buckled in. The passenger-side door was open, and he was asking, “You coming?”
An embarrassed Narice shook herself and quickly got in.
Once she was in, and her belt secured, he hit the stick and backed up. Heading forward now, he steered through the half shadows while he reached up into the visor and pulled out a garage ticket. “This should get us out. Look in that glove box. There should be an envelope. Take out a ten so we can pay the attendant.”
A rattled Narice found the envelope. There was a fat stack of bills lying inside. The denominations on some were small but many were one-hundred-dollar bills. She was about to ask him where all this came from, but out of her window, she spotted what appeared to be a thin female figure slide quickly back into the shadows as they passed. For some reason, Narice thought it was Fulani. Wondering if her eyes and the shadows were playing tricks on her, Narice turned back for confirmation but saw no one. “Did you see that?”
“What?”
“I thought I saw Fulani.”
“Where?”
“Back there.”
“I need a ten, Narice. Come on, we’re here.”
She hurriedly pulled out a ten from the stuffed envelope, and handed it over.
“Thanks.”
While she mulled over why Fulani might have been in the parking lot, he handed the attendant the ticket and the ten, took the change and roared out of the garage and into the sunshine.
“You sure it was Fulani?” he asked as he merged into the traffic.