Steele of the Nile
Part 3
Christine Powers
Disclaimers in Part 1

Laura was reeling from lack of sleep and shock. The past twenty-four hours seemed as a blur on her mind. The party, the assassination attempt, the farewell with Remington, the long plane ride. She desperately wanted to sleep but she could find no solace from her thoughts, proceeding rapid fire through her head. I left him, left him as if forever…it’s for the agency’s good…it’s for my good…no, I’m only happy when I’m with him, that’s when I’m normal…or when my craziness just seems normal because he makes it that way…the case is important…Omar is an important man…Omar isn’t him…something doesn’t feel right…why didn’t I ask him to come with me?…because then I’d need a buffer and we all know how that turned out…does Mildred even know I’m gone?…I never got to say goodbye to her…it’s not the end, I’ll see her again…and yet, I wonder if I ever will….

And so it continued as the plane soared through the clouds of the darkened night sky, mingling with the stars, as a woman contemplated the choices she made and the dreams she had had and wondered what the future would bring.

***

Meanwhile, Remington paced the worn gray carpet at the airport waiting for the minutes to pass. Mildred had taken Abdullah, for that was the assassin’s real name, as they later learned, to get some coffee. Remington didn’t need coffee. His anxiety was enough of a buzz to keep him on edge and his senses on ultra alert. If he had only gotten there a few seconds earlier… if he had only spoken his mind before she had made her decision… "If only"s became his mantra, as he plodded a path into the floor.

Their flight was not nearly half as comfortable as Laura’s. Stuck in coach, the three were shoved into the very back of the plane. The seats were so small that even Mildred suffered from a lack of leg room. Remington felt as if his knees were lodged in his throat. Abdullah seemed indifferent to the cramped quarters and quickly fell asleep, his head resting on Mildred’s shoulder. She shifted and complained of the man’s unique smell until she too drifted off, her head resting against the cool glass of the porthole window.

Remington merely stretched his long legs out into the aisle and after politely refusing the stewardess’ advances, he closed his eyes and thought of Laura. Of how he had hurt her, how she had hurt him. Of the time they first spoke. Of the day he first saw her, through the lens of a cheap camera. Of the way her hair fell down upon her shoulders. Of her eyes and the way they looked at him when she thought that he wasn’t looking back. The life he knew before her didn’t seem to exist. Tonight, he went to sleep thinking of someone other than himself, something that he hadn’t done in a very long time.

***

Laura could not get over the opulence in which Omar lived. After the jet had landed, a helicopter had transported them to a fortress near the grounds of his palace. Guards rushed round to their posts and stood at attention as Omar disembarked, with Laura at his side.

"Where are we going now?" Laura asked as they got into a sleek convertible.

"We go to my home. The people have anxiously awaited my return. No doubt they are ready to welcome me back to my country," he replied, nodding and waving to the men and women that stood in packed lines by the dirt road. They watched the procession of vehicles passively, some holding banners with Omar’s face printed on them.

"They love me!" he proclaimed, with a grin.

Just then a noise broke through the parade, sounding suspiciously like a shot from a rifle. Omar ducked under the seat, the driver shifted down and Laura looked warily around for a gun and a target. The car behind them in the procession merely suffered from a bad muffler which proceeded to sputter. The procession continued directly onward towards the palace at a fast pace, passing by citizens now highly amused by the their ruler-to-be’s performance.

They soon came to the large gates of the palace. Guards quickly leapt to action, moving the large doors to make way for the cars. With a wave of his hand, Omar said, "Welcome to my humble abode," as the car pulled into a large courtyard of an immense estate.

"You live here?" Laura asked incredulously, surveying her new surroundings with awe. Compared to the small mud brick houses out in the city, Omar’s house was practically a state unto itself.

"It’s modest, but I call it home."

Laura raised an eyebrow to this statement. For if the last few hours had taught her anything, it was that Omar was not a modest man. They exited the car and Omar began to show her around. The only telephone she could spot was in the massive library. She politely asked if she could call the agency to let them know she got in okay. Omar nodded and impatiently waited for her to finish.

Calling the agency, she received a message that the number had been disconnected.

"That’s odd," she remarked, half to herself. Warily glancing at Omar, she quickly added, "Wrong number. Guess I misdialled."

This time, instead of dialing the office, she called Mr. Steele’s apartment. After 16 rings, she hung up.

"No one in?" Omar asked sweetly.

"Nope. Out to lunch, I suppose." Laura laughed uncomfortably. Where the hell were they? Why weren’t the agency phones working? Laura had a bad feeling brewing in her stomach. Half queasy, she obediently followed Omar on a tour through the rest of the house. The rest of the house, that is, with the exception of several rooms on the fifth floor.

"My offices. Nothing really impressive to see there. Just bare walls and typewriters. Now Laura Holt, you must rest and get ready for tonight. We will dine like royalty!" Leaning in seductively he added, "Hopefully, your new wardrobe will agree with you." With that he left her in her massive suite, all alone with two guards stationed outside her door.

Sighing, she glanced around the room. Going to the end table by the bed, she found a picture of Omar, dressed in full regalia with a smile on his face. She laid it flat on the table in disgust. Going to her suitcase, she pulled out her own frame. Inside was a picture of Remington from the Mediterranean. He was leaning against the railing of a boat, the wind in his hair and the sunlight dancing across his face. His smile was much more appealing thought Laura, as she set it by her bed and then began to catch up on her missing hours of beauty rest.

***

Remington disembarked from the plane, with Mildred and Abdullah following him down the metal steps. He began to follow the other passengers towards the main building of the airport when Mildred called out to him. Turning around, he saw Abdullah greeting a large group of men on camelback. One even had a stereo strapped to its back, blaring out static and second rate dance mixes in Arabic

Eyeing them warily Mildred remarked, "I don’t think all these people are going to fit in our rental car."

Abdullah waved them over, introducing the other Sufis. One pulled up a camel and gestured for Mildred and Steele to get on.

"Nice camel, nice boy," Mildred said in a faux cheery voice. Gripping Steele’s arm, she whispered harshly, " I don’t do well with animals. Don’t make me do this, pleeeease? Let’s go get the car…."

Abdullah shot Steele a piercing look. Earlier in the airport, he had warned them both of what would happen to them if they didn’t follow his lead. They were either with him or with Omar. Siding with Omar led to a series of painful things that Remington found uncomfortable even to think about. He weakly smiled back and through gritted teeth said to Mildred, "Icy calm, Mildred. Icy calm. It’s a stupid animal. Won’t hurt you. Think of Rudolph Valentino or Lawrence of Arabia! It’s an adventure, eh?"

Returning his weak smile, she struggled onto the camel’s back while Remington wound his jacket on his head, creating a makeshift half-turban. Seeing Mildred’s difficulties, he gave her backside a shove and agilely climbed up behind her.

With a banshee shriek from Abdullah, the Sufis and their two new friends began to ride off toward the city.

***

Laura awoke as the breeze from the open window ruffled her hair. Sitting up, groggy from her nap, she picked up her watch from her bedside table. Dinner would be in a half hour. Rising from the bed, she headed for the bathroom for a quick shower. Minutes later she emerged, in a terry cloth robe with a towel wrapped around her head. She was about to open her suitcase to look for something suitable to wear but then remembered Omar’s parting words. Something about new clothes.

She went to the full length wardrobe that stood next to the vanity table at the other end of the suite and opened its doors. Inside, she found a multitude of outfits. Everything from the typical black sheath of most of the village women to sequined gowns tailored to show décolletage. Lots of décolletage.

And I bet they’re all my size, Laura thought grimacing at the prospect that somehow Omar had figured out her measurements in advance. With a sigh, she picked one of the less revealing ensembles, a black pantsuit of sorts. It wasn’t really until she had put it on did she realize that her choice was not as conservative as she had thought. The pants, though voluminous with quantity of fabric were mostly see through. The top, though much less transparent, was tight fitting, molding to her waist and chest.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. The rest would not be much better, she thought eyeing her options. And Omar would almost certainly send her back upstairs if she wore the black villager robes. Maybe I should just wear one of my suits, she mused. Yet that would probably get the same results and offend the others at the dinner. Accepting her fate with a sigh and cursing Omar for his perverted notions, she began to dry her hair.

Midway through the drying process, she heard a loud knock at the door. It was two women who began to mutter something about being sent by Omar to help her get ready.

"I’m fine. Just tell him I’ll be down in a minute," Laura told them but apparently, they had very little understanding of English. Instead of leaving, they followed her over the vanity table and began fussing with her hair. Laura slapped their hands away but they were insistent and kept invoking Omar’s name.

"I give up," Laura said to no one in particular, and let them arrange her hair as they insisted.

***

Meanwhile, Remington and Mildred were bringing up the rear in the long line of camels headed for the city.

"Boss, I can’t…oof…take much more…oof…of this! My rear end is killin’ me!" Mildred moaned.

"Persevere, Mildred! It’s only a few more miles until we stop for the night," Remington said in a not so convincing voice. "I think."

"You think?" Mildred was not very hopeful either.

"I’m definitely sure that I don’t want to walk to Omar’s palace," he countered.

"That’s if we can walk after this …ouch-oof…damn camel ride."

"Well, at least the smell isn’t that bad."

"You don’t have to smell its breath."

"Would you rather smell its behind?"

"You have a point there."

And so they wearily rode on as the sky turned orange with the setting of the sun.

***

Laura came to dinner expecting to meet with several of Omar’s advisors and had hoped to be able to grill them for information concerning the Jewel. She hadn’t even established what kind of gem it was yet- if it was a ruby or a diamond or whatever. For once she wished she had the expertise of Mr. Steele to help back her up. Yet he could always give in to temptation and steal it, said a nasty voice at the back of Laura’s mind.

However, all of that didn’t matter because when Laura arrived in the massive dining hall, all she found was a candlelight dinner. For two.

The ladies had endowed Laura with a gauzy veil, a golden headdress of coins and a matching necklace. Feeling foolish and very embarrassed, she made her way to her place next to Omar, very disconcerted with the whole atmosphere he had created. She didn’t want to have a candlelight dinner with him dressed as some kind of harem girl from a bad matinee movie. She would rather have that with someone else…who was miles away and not answering his phone, she thought despondently.

Omar rose when she approached, smiled appreciatively, and pulled out her chair for her to sit down.

"How lovely you look, Laura Holt."

"Thank you. You clean up nice yourself."

At this remark, Omar threw his head back and laughed. "Yes, I suppose I do," he commented. "Ah! Hakim! We are ready for the first course," he said, snapping his figures at one of the lackeys lurking in the doorway.

They ate their soup in silence though Laura couldn’t help but notice the soulful glances Omar was giving her underneath his thick lashes. Boy, you have some seduction scheme cooked up, pal and I ain’t biting was all she could think. He had stifled her attempts to talk about the case.

"Never mix business with pleasure, Laura Holt."

"You’re telling me."

"What? What?"

"Never mind. It’s…it’s not important."

"Ah. Well, we will talk of that later. Now it is time for the second course!"

***

As Laura and Omar ate their entrée, Mildred and Remington had finally persuaded Abdullah to stop the riders and begin to set up camp for the night. Mildred limped off the camel and sat on a nice hard rock instead, refusing to help in the least bit, claiming physical and emotional injury.

They eventually got fires burning and Remington was able to "borrow" some blankets from another Sufi- as all of their luggage was still at the airport. According to Mildred, probably toted away by another group of camel lovin’ natives. Their fire was on the fringe of the main group, but Remington was uncertain if that was their doing or Mildred’s who did not seem to appreciate them very much after her harrowing experience with the camel. That is, until one of them brought her food.

It was a nameless stew, something that Remington thought belonged in Oliver or the slums of his youth, with the exception that while those were bland goop this was relatively spicy. Mildred couldn’t thank the man enough and had eaten all of hers. She was about to ask Remington for the rest of his when Abdullah came over and asked them how they had liked the camel meat soup.

Mildred threw up behind her rock.

***

Laura was thoroughly exasperated. After a very nice meal, which she had to compliment Omar on several times before he relented on asking her if it had been to her liking, she wanted to talk about the case. Omar thought a moonlit stroll was in order to walk off the dinner. Laura pointed out that, though a woman, she did have the capability of walking and talking at the same time, Omar merely smiled deprecatingly and tugged her along through his gardens making esoteric comments about his predecessors.

"I am going to change the way things are done in this country. We will be culturally defined. I am building an opera house. Do you like opera?"

And so it continued. He rambled on and on, skipping from one topic to the next with incredible ease, slipping in compliments that made Laura blush and feel incredibly uncomfortable. This was not what she wanted. She did not come here to be some sort of consort. She stopped him in the middle of a rant about his roses.

"Omar, I came here to do a job. To help you find your Jewel. All this attention is very flattering but when can I finally be given some details on this case?"

"All in due time, Laura Holt. We must not rush this. It is a delicate balance in my country. We cannot allow the last straw to break the camel’s back."

Laura grimaced at his mixed metaphor and continued walking, this time back towards the house.

"Tomorrow, my escorts will take you into the city. You will be able to gather information then." Coming close to her, he said softly, "Do not be angry with me, Laura Holt. Things are done differently here. You must be patient. I know that you can do this for you are a woman of considerable talents, I am sure."

"Thank you." Distancing herself from him, she said quickly, " I had better get some sleep then. I want get started bright and early tomorrow." With that, she hurried off to her room before he could say otherwise.

Tearing off the headdress and veil the second she entered the suite, she stepped out onto her balcony. Resting her arms on the railing, she gazed up at the full moon, illuminating the sky with ghostly white light. She thought exclusively of Remington. Where was he, that no one was answering the agency phone or his apartment phone? She hoped against hope that he had not abandoned her.

Yet I abandoned him…she thought. He had every reason to leave…no reason to stay…if I were a man, I wouldn’t wait this long for me either…why was I so stupid?…why couldn’t I think of his feelings for a change?…God, how I miss him! With all her heart, she wished that he could be here with her now, and know that she’ll never leave his side again.

***

And miles away, in the darkness of the desert, Remington looked at the moon and wished the same exact thing.

To Part Four


Back Home CaseBook E-Mail Next