The Power of Five Oblivion

of them had barely spoken throughout the meal and he remembered how angry she had appeared as they left the casino.
    “What does he want with her?” Richard asked.
    “What do you think he wants with her?” Jaheda was angry again. “If you care for her, why did you even bring her here?”
    Richard’s first instinct was to lie. He knew nothing about this woman. He didn’t know if he could trust her. But at the same time, he wondered if she might be able to help them. She seemed to have an agenda of her own. “We came here to get the pilot,” he said. “That’s all we want. We need him to fly us out of here.”
    “That is not possible. He is in prison. He is being executed tomorrow.”
    “Can you talk to him?”
    “To Rasheed?” She shook her head and when she spoke again, she didn’t attempt to conceal the bitterness in her voice. “Not all the men in this country are like Rasheed,” she said. “And even he was not always like this. He was cruel. He was always spoilt. But when he lost control of his world, that was when he turned into this … child!”
    “Why do you stay with him?”
    “Because I want to. Because it is my duty. I am his wife!” Jaheda’s eyes flickered towards Scarlett and at that moment Richard understood exactly what was in her mind. “I will not be replaced by a child,” she said. “I knew that this girl would cause trouble for me the moment I saw her in the casino. And look at him now.” The sheikh had his arm around Scarlett, trying to force her to eat a piece of Turkish delight. “He is besotted by her. It makes me sick!”
    “Then help us leave,” Richard said. “Do you know where Larry Carter is being held?”
    “Of course I do.”
    “Then get him out. Bring him to us. There’s a plane at the airport and we have a car just down the road.”
    “I cannot do as you say. Rasheed will kill me.”
    On the other side of the table, Rasheed threw the Turkish delight in the air and caught it in his mouth. He was doing tricks for Scarlett, trying to entertain her.
    “I don’t think he’ll kill you,” Richard said. “I think he’s forgotten you.”
    Jaheda nodded slowly. “We will see…”

THIRTY
    By midnight, Jaheda still hadn’t come.
    Richard and Scarlett had been given adjoining rooms in the palace. They were certainly comfortable enough. The beds were enormous, covered with Egyptian cotton sheets and silk duvets, buried underneath an avalanche of pillows. Anything that could be made of gold turned out to be just that – from the mirror frames to the light fittings to the bathroom taps. They had hot and cold water too. The baths were deep and surrounded by oils and shampoos. It was like staying in the most luxurious hotel in the world, apart from two small details: the windows were barred and the doors were locked.
    They were both still awake. After everything that had happened during the course of the evening, sleep would have been impossible. Scarlett could still feel the clasp of the sheikh’s fingers on her wrist. She saw his black eyes and the food caught in his beard. She remembered what he had said. The one thing she hadn’t done was to tell Richard the threats that he had made. He would kill Richard to make her change her mind. Maybe that was why he had allowed them to stay near each other tonight, to remind her what her refusal would cost. But she had already decided that she wouldn’t let it happen. She would marry Sheikh Rasheed if she had to – but she would deal with him in her own way before she allowed him to touch her again.
    For his part, Richard was angry with himself.
    It had been his idea to come to the palace. What had he been thinking of? Martins had warned them that the sheikh was unstable. Had there really been any chance that they could persuade him to hand over the pilot and let them fly out of here to Antarctica? Richard had allowed them to walk in here without any plan at all and now they were both prisoners. His position was bad enough but from what he had seen at the dinner table, Scarlett’s was worse. He had brought her to this. It was his fault.
    It seemed so long now since he had been a writer, working on a local newspaper in the north of England. The Greater Malling Gazette … he could see it so clearly, the drab offices set behind the High Street, filled with cheap furniture and computers that were forever crashing. It had been his first job after leaving university. Not The Times , not the Telegraph , not even the