One of Mansur’s dark brows arched. “I see… Well, you should know that I’ve already contacted the American Embassy, and they deny any knowledge of who you are or where you come from. Of course, if you are CIA and were so careless as to get caught, I know they wouldn’t care to claim you. You are a man without a country at the mercy of my king. If you wish to have any chance of returning to wherever it is you call home, I suggest you cooperate. Otherwise, Hamid here will be eager to persuade you to cooperate.”
So the creep had a name. Bash made a mental note, just in case he ever got an opportunity to settle the score.
“I will take your suggestion under advisement,” he drawled. Bash knew when someone was trying to intimidate him — just as he knew that to appear intimidated would give his captor the upper hand.
Mansur scowled and stepped closer to the bars of Bash’s cell. “Who was in that house? You came to retrieve someone. I want to know who it was. A dissident? A defector? A traitor to the crown? I warn you, if you aided in the escape of someone who wishes to harm my country or my king, I will get the information from you by any means necessary!”
There was an edge to Mansur’s voice that set alarm bells ringing in Bash’s mind, and he wondered if there was something more going on here, something that had Mansur almost desperate for answers. “Why don’t you ask the men in the military unit that arrived just as I was trying to leave? You know, the ones who captured me?” Bash sneered. “I bet you one of them knows. Or maybe you were the one who sent them out there to meet with the scumbags in that house. Maybe you’re trying to cover your own ass.”
The scowl became an expression of fury, and Mansur’s hands curled into fists. Obviously, the big man wasn’t used to being talked to in such a way, and Bash watched with detached interest. Emotional manipulation wasn’t something he cared for, but knowing someone’s weakness at a key moment could make the difference between life and death.
Then Mansur seemed to get a hold of himself and recovered his neutral mask. “You’re good,” he said with a chilling smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “But not CIA. Something else, I think.” He glanced into Sean’s cell. “This one will be tough to break, Mishaan. Think carefully before you make your choice.”
With that, Mansur turned on his heel and walked away with Hamid following along in his wake. Bash watched them as they mounted the steps to the door. Then he looked at where Sean stood within his own cell, his expression pensive.
“Choice?” Bash stepped closer, wondering once more who the handsome captive was to Faisal. “AndMishaan?”
Sean massaged his forehead as though it hurt. “It’s a long story. And not really important.”
“I have time to hear it,” Bash said dryly. “Neither of us are going anywhere for a while.”
Sean lowered his hand and stepped forward, his expression urgent. He gripped the bars between their cells and looked at Bash with his blue eyes full of appeal. “You said you were going to get out of here, right? Then you need to do it soon. And please… you have to take me with you.”
Bash was caught off guard by the request. After what Mansur had revealed about how Bash had been captured, Bash hadn’t expected the aristocratic-looking Sean to want anything more to do with him, especially after Sean had seemed so put off when he’d thought Bash was nothing more than an ordinary criminal.
“Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, but believe me when I say they plan to do terrible things to you,” Sean said, his tone urgent. “I cannot tell if you are a spy or a rebel, but they are going to torture you. And… they are going to make me watch.”
Bash expected the torture part. He wasn’t looking forward to it, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d been sweated hard for information. But that they were going to make Sean observe was an interesting development.
He crossed the cell to stand in front of Sean, catching a look of surprise as he moved quickly enough to startle Sean into taking a half-step back. But he needed to look at Sean up close, in order to watch any sign Sean was lying. He wanted to know more, which was dangerous on several different levels. Getting involved in someone else’s predicament was stupid when his own future was in grave doubt, yet Bash couldn’t help it. There was something about Sean, perhaps his air of innocence, that brought out all of Bash’s protective instincts. However Sean had come to be imprisoned, deception was something with which he had little experience.
“You have something they want,” he muttered, not making it a question, keeping his voice low so Sean had to lean closer. “But they don’t want to hurtyoufor it. I take it you have no stomach for torture?”
Sean shook his head. “I’m a doctor. A pediatrician. I wouldn’t be able to stand it for even a minute, I’m sure. But I cannot give them what they want.” Again, he gave Bash that quiet look of appeal. “Please. If you really can get out of here, do it. I’ll even help, as long as you get me out, too.”
As foolish as it was, Bash knew deep down inside he wasn’t about to leave Sean behind. No doubt Hamid would be more than happy to turn his attention to beating Sean instead of Bash, and there was an innocence about Sean that made Bash unwilling to leave him behind to be punished for something he hadn’t done. But Bash wasn’t about to go into a potentially deadly situation without knowing what he was up against.
“Why are they holding you? I need to know, because I don’t want it to come back and bite me on the ass if I get you out of here. I need to know I can trust you.”
“Is it really that important? If you escape and leave me, they will find someone else to torture. Does that mean nothing to you?” Sean sounded desperate, and he pressed closer to the bars.
“It’s important,” Bash said. “I need to know how hard they’re going to come after you. I know I can get myself out, and I doubt they’ll expend too many resources trying to find me. But I don’t know if they’re going to just stand by and let you go, too, or if I’m kicking the hornet’s nest by helping you.” Not that he had any genuine doubt that helping Sean would stir up a shitstorm of epic proportions, but Bash found he wanted to know more about Sean. Much, much more.
Sean swallowed, and, to Bash’s amazement, a flush crept into his cheeks. “My father… he was an important man here in Akkadia, but when he went to England to attend university, he fell in love with my mother, who was the daughter of a wealthy and prestigious European family. He brought her here, and they married in hopes his father would accept his choice of bride. But Faisal was furious that my father had chosen a foreigner. He demanded that my father divorce her, even though she had converted to Islam. My father refused, renounced his country, and took us back to England. It’s all mixed up in the sexism and tribalism this country clings to with a death grip. My father wanted more for his wife and children. The racism I grew up with in England was bad enough, but believe me, it would have been worse here, especially for my mother and sister.”
Bash knew Akkadia wasn’t as strict as many other countries in the Middle East, but equality for women wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. “Why did you come back?”
“My parents died in an accident last year.” Sean’s expressive face showed his grief. “Believe it or not, I feel a connection to Akkadia, and my father always missed his home country, despite having forsworn it. Faisal invited me back to oversee the construction of a hospital in my parent’s memory, but I discovered it was merely a ruse to get me to Akkadia. I am my father’s only son, so Faisal wants me to take my father’s place. I came here hoping to do something good for the people of Akkadia, to heal the breach in my family and earn Faisal’s trust and approval. But he wants me to marry a woman — or women — of his choosing and provide an heir that will be raised ‘properly’ — meaning in Faisal’s religion and by his methods. He’s willing to hold me here, even coerce me by threatening to torture you, in order to force me to comply.”
Bash frowned. “That’s pretty medieval, isn’t it?” He shook his head, wondering if Faisal might be trying to head off some sort of squabble over territory by setting up a “son of the son” thing to get around the infighting. Akkadia, like many of the countries in the area, had different tribes and sects who often fought one another almost as fiercely as they fought outsiders. Given the more radical elements looked upon women as little more than property, he could understand how an only son would be valued. He didn’t agree with such a backward attitude, of course, but he knew it existed.
Sean nodded. “Yes, it is. But it is also the way it is here.”
“And you don’t want to do it.” Bash could understand Sean’s reluctance, and he frowned. “Look, you’re a British citizen too, aren’t you? What if I contact your government when I get out of here? It would be safer for both of us. Couldn’t you pretend to drink the Kool-Aid, so to speak, for long enough for them to get you out? Even if you had to marry some woman just to make him think you’ve given in.”
“It wouldn’t work.”
“Why not?” Bash couldn’t understand why Sean seemed so certain. “Trust me, the Brits still have pull in this area of the world, and they aren’t going to stand for you being held against your will.”
