Jerking, she turned to see Tariq standing behind her, his expression creased with anger and his own sorrow. “I detected it the second she and Jafar knocked on the door.” He lifted the device he had been working on. “I fixed it.”
She turned and wiped her eyes. “That only detects it,” she whispered painfully.
He shook his head. “I switched on a device beneath the table before I left that alters the audio signal, either analog or digital. I didn’t disable it until I saw you weren’t going to betray Abram. Then, I used the controls in my suite to allow enough out to whoever was listening to assure them that you weren’t shit, even if you knew. Perhaps, Jafar will send her home now.”
He moved closer as more tears fell down her face, as she sniffed back the pain that tore through her and the disillusionment that shredded her heart.
“I hate this place,” she suddenly spat, though the sobs, as quiet as they were, roughened her voice to a rasp. “Oh God, Tariq, I hate this place.”
He stepped closer, his expression suddenly tired, and just as disillusioned as she felt. “And you aren’t alone,” he whispered as he tucked a heavy strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertips caressing her ear gently for a fragile second before they dropped away. “Trust me, Paige, in that, you will never be alone.”
mbp:pagebreak/>9
A day of dealing with Azir and Jafar’s paranoia a
s he searched fruitlessly for the only contact that could arrange extraction out of Saudi Arabia had Abram in a less than pleasant mood when he returned to his room that night.
For whatever reason, and he was beginning to suspect those reasons, Jafar had convinced Azir that Abram needed to personally handle the drilling of a new water well outside of the fortress.
That well supplied water to the dozen or so families that lived outside the fortress walls and provided the Mustafa province with the few vegetables and animals used for their meals.
The problems with lines, pipes, and generators had led to more than one worker throwing his hands up in surrender at the seemingly unending problems and delays.
Two of those settlements farmed domesticated rabbit and lamb and sold the wool and small amounts of meat to other provinces as well. They had to have that water, yet it seemed something or someone had deliberately fouled the equipment to halt the pumping of it.
There were a few local incomes that Abram had been able to provide for the province, knowing that once he left the few benefits the regime provided would drain away.
To add to the problems, Abram had learned several of the men had spied Azir and Jafar testing the ground and the fortress wall behind his and Tariq’s suites for tunnels and exits.
Azir had been searching for that tunnel since before Khalid’s mother had escaped. And no tunnel had even played a part in her ability to slip from the fortress.
The part that worried Abram the most was the fact that Azir was certain the tunnel was there. There were no drawings or blueprints left to reveal or cause anyone to suspect any bolt holes other than the ones already filled in.
Entering the suite silently well after dark, he found Paige curled on the couch napping, and Tariq at the small dining table still adjusting the piece of electronics he had been working on for over a week.
Closing the door silently he watched as Tariq held a shushing finger up, rose to his feet, and motioned Abram to the connecting suite.
Frowning, Abram followed, wondering what the hell could have happened here in the suite today to cause the look of anger that gleamed in his eyes.
No doubt, it had something to do with either Jafar or Azir. The two men were beginning to irritate him to his last nerve, even more so than usual.
Closing the door to the sitting room behind them, Tariq turned to him, his lips tightening as his dark eyes flashed with silent, burning anger.
“Jafar brought Chalah here today and she was simply a fount of information.” He sneered. “As well as carrying a tiny listening device attached to the medallion I f**king gave her for her sixteenth birthday.” There was the reason for the fury. Tariq had always been fond of his little cousin. That medallion held special significance for him, and for her to use it against him or Abram would seem the worst betrayal.
Chalah Mustafa, Jafar’s half-sister. She was Abram’s first cousin, and would have been Tariq’s if it weren’t for the fact that Tariq’s father hadn’t been Hussein Mustafa as everyone assumed it was. That bit of knowledge was something even Azir was unaware of. There were a lot of half-siblings, step-siblings, half-cousins, and half-families parading as Mustafas these days though. There were times the dynamics of it boggled his mind and he wasn’t a stupid man.
Abram listened silently to the conversation Tariq had recorded. His mind turned with suspicions and possibilities as Chalah attempted to gain the details of his relationship with Paige, as well as any plans they might have for leaving. She had revealed the recording device to Paige before leaving though, which meant she hadn’t been there voluntarily.
She had been forced.
Somehow, Azir and her brother had found a way to make her attempt to betray those she considered family, as well as Paige, who had always been a friend.
Abram wasn’t going to hold it against her, but neither would he ever be able to trust her again. Had she revealed the device before the conversation started, then he would have felt differently.
“What was your impression?” he asked Tariq as he rubbed the back of his neck in irritation when the recording ended. “Was she forced by Jafar, by Azir, or by both?”
Tariq grimaced furiously, his dark brown eyes burning with his anger and perhaps even a hint of betrayal. He’d always cared for Chalah, always watched out for her whenever she returned to the province. To have her do something like this, without warning them, would have struck him in one of the few vulnerable areas he had.