“Is that Faisal’s copy of the book?”
“Yes.” Sean passed it over to Bash. “It’s the official copy of the Kings of Akkadia. Grandmother said Faisal always kept it with him after Sayyid was killed.”
“Huh.” Bash took the book, which was incredibly heavy. “That’s a pretty big thing to carry around, isn’t it?”
“Indeed.” Sean gestured to it in frustration. “I hoped he’d left a clue about what he meant in it. Maybe a note or underlining a passage, perhaps? Anything to give me a clue.”
Bash opened the book, revealing pages of handwritten Arabic. It was beautifully elaborate calligraphy, a work of art. “You didn’t find anything?”
“Nothing. I’ve had some official lawyers going over all the different schools of Islamic jurisprudence to compile a list of every eligible candidate. I’ve even passed the problem to Nick’s analysts. I hope one of them will find a way to put Mansur on the list.”
Closing the book, Bash turned it over and over in his hands, examining the rich details and the priceless jewels, lost in thought. He didn’t know a damned thing about Islamic law, but if there was anything to be found, the people at Fortress would do it.
He glanced at the book again, then frowned when he noticed an empty indentation on the back cover. “Looks as if you’ve lost a jewel back here.”
Alarmed, Sean held out his hand, and Bash handed him the book. “I hope I didn’t knock it out. It’s centuries old!”
“It probably fell off at some point.” Bash tried to soothe Sean’s distress. He knew his lover would be heartbroken to have damaged such a valuable heirloom.
Sean studied the indentation. “This doesn’t look like a spot for a missing jewel. It looks like an impression.”
Bash frowned. “An impression of what?”
Sean continued to stare at the spot, then glanced at his own right hand, where a heavy diamond ring — the Akkadian Ring of State — occupied his fourth finger. “It looks like this ring, actually.”
“Huh.” Bash looked between the ring and the book, and he nodded. “You’re right.”
There was a sudden light in Sean’s eyes, and he moved his hand, pressing the ring firmly into the book. There was a click as it settled in place, and then, when Sean lifted the ring away, the cover of the book popped open, revealing a slender space. A space that was occupied by a few pieces of paper.
“Holy shit,” Bash said, leaning over to look. “What are they?”
“Maybe it’s the ‘solution in the Quran’,” Sean replied. He pulled out the papers, opening them and quickly scanning the contents. All Bash could see was more Arabic writing, but there were signatures at the bottom.
“Are you going to keep me here, dying of suspense?” he asked, as Sean continued to read.
“Itisthe solution!” Sean’s face lit up. “This is a divorce decree for Faisal and… I think she was his second wife. I don’t remember her. She died long before I was born.” He looked at the next sheet. “And this is a marriage contract! One for Faisal and Mansur’s mother, Farah!”
“Wait, what?” Bash frowned. “Wouldn’t that make Mansur legitimate? But if he was legitimate all this time…” He suddenly laughed. “That old bastard. That was the wife who didn’t have any children, right? I bet those papers are as fake as my Interpol badge!”
“Who knows?” Sean grinned and shook his head. “I don’t know if they’re real or not, but as long as they pass scrutiny, who cares? I suspect I can even get Grandmother and Aunt Amani to swear they knew about the marriage but had to keep it a secret. Father once told me about Faisal’s wives. He said the wife who had no children was from an exceptionally powerful family. No doubt we could claim Faisal covered up the divorce so as not to anger them, and he couldn’t claim Mansur’s mother as his wife while the other was still alive.”
Bash chuckled in admiration. “He probably set this up right after Sayyid was killed, but he couldn’t ‘go public’ then because he already suspected someone was taking out his sons one by one. If he had, Mansur would have been dead in short order.”
“That makes sense.” Sean placed the papers back into the book, then closed the hidden panel. “He could probably have claimed that when Sayyid was alive, there was no reason to ‘disgrace’ the family of his former wife by admitting he’d divorced her for not giving him children. And he hadn’t claimed Mansur’s mother because replacing a woman from a powerful family with the common-born daughter of a minor nomadic chieftain would have caused outrage.”
“Do you think this will work?” Bash asked. “I’m sure Majid will protest. Khaleel might too.”
“Let them.” Sean’s expression was haughty, which Bash had never seen before. “If Faisal believed the plan would work, I do, too. If I throw my support behind it and say I believe this was Faisal’s wish, then the population will get behind it. I never realized until his funeral how much my grandfather was honestly loved by his people.”
“Good.” Bash rubbed his hands together as Sean rose to his feet. Reaching out, Bash captured one of Sean’s hands, and looked up at him. “Just promise me one thing.”
“Anything,” Sean replied at once, squeezing Bash’s fingers.
“Take a picture of Mansur’s face when you tell him,” Bash asked. “That way, if he ever gets too much on his high horse, we have ammunition to take him down a peg.”
Sean chuckled, then leaned down to kiss Bash again. He took his time, seeming to savor the contact — and apparently no longer caring about who might see them. Bash returned the kiss, sliding one hand behind Sean’s neck, hungry for the taste and feel of the man he loved. Desire rose quickly, leaving Bash breathless with need, and he wondered what they could get away with before his stitches came out.
After several moments, Sean pulled back. “Hold that thought,” he told Bash. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
