For a long moment Sean looked uncertain, but then he sighed. “You do not understand,” he said softly. “Faisal will never let me go. I think he would order my death first.”
Bash frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he risk pissing off the U.K. over some issue of tribal succession? Even if he tried to make the death look accidental, there would be outrage — especially if I let them know how much danger you’re in.”
“It makes perfect sense, at least from the king’s point of view. He has nothing to lose because he has complete power here. I can’t even pretend to ‘drink the Kool-Aid’ because I’m gay, and no doubt any woman he made me marry would reveal I had no interest in her.” Sean made the admission in a low voice. “He would kill me for that, if nothing else. But this isn’t some simple tribal matter. God, I wish that was all it was.”
“Who the hell are you?” Bash asked, suspicious that he wasn’t going to much like the answer.
“In the west, I’m just Dr. Sean Grimaldi, as I’ve told you — and I swear to you, that’s all I’ve ever wanted to be. But here, I’m Mishaan bin Fahd bin Faisal Al Rasheed… and, unfortunately, the king is my grandfather.”
Well, Bash thought,I was right about one thing. I don’t like that answer at all — but it certainly does make things a lot more interesting.
4
“Holy shit.”
Of all the reactions Sean might have expected in response to his revelation, the low voiced epithet his fellow prisoner uttered wasn’t one of them. Nor was the look of intense concentration the man wore, as though he were trying to work out a difficult puzzle.
“You see why I have to get out of here?” Sean hated to feel as though he were begging, but he had little choice. He waited for a reply, then gave an impatient huff when his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. “What is your name? Or can you at least give me something to call you? I can’t keep thinking of you as ‘that hot stranger’.”
There was a moment of hesitation, and then Sean finally received an answer, accompanied by a wicked grin that proved the man had noticed Sean’s roundabout admission of attraction. “Call me Bash.”
“All right… Bash.” It was an odd name, likely a nickname, but given Bash was probably a spy , Sean supposed it fit. Despite the lack of information, Sean somehow felt he could trust Bash. It might be a dangerous or even foolish thing in the long term, but Sean had faith in his instincts about people — and his instincts were telling him Bash was a man of his word. “Are you going to take me with you?”
Bash stared at him for several long moments, as though sizing him up, and Sean lifted his chin in challenge. He might not be as buff as Bash was — though they were close to the same height, he was nowhere close to being as broad and muscular — but he was in decent shape, and he didn’t think he’d bog down an escape attempt.
“I have a better chance if I’m by myself,” Bash pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. Yet there was a gleam in his grey eyes, as though he might be teasing Sean a bit. “If the king is as determined to keep you as you think, they’ll come after us hard. If we get caught, they’ll probably execute me.”
“I can help you,” Sean said quickly, sensing he needed to make his case, but feeling a twinge of conscience at what he was asking Bash to put on the line for him. “I told you, I’m a doctor, and you’re obviously hurt… I saw those ribs when I came in, and they’re probably cracked, if not broken. I can also read and speak Akkadian fluently. Please, Bash. I have to get out of here. If I don’t, you’re as good as sentencing me to death.”
Bash seemed to hesitate, and Sean’s heart pounded as he worried he might have pushed Bash too hard. But after a minute or so, Bash ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Fine. But you have to do exactly as I say. I won’t tell you how to be a doctor, and you don’t tell me how to do my job either, right? Because if you fight me on some decision, I might find it far more convenient to leave you behind. Got it?”
Sean would have agreed to anything for the chance to get away, so he nodded. “I’ve got it,” he said. “When do you plan for us to go, and how?” Now that the question of his inclusion in Bash’s escape was settled, he was eager to get started.
“I need to figure that out.” Bash stepped back and looked at Sean, the intensity of his regard feeling as direct as a touch. The sensation made Sean’s toes curl, and he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be naked to Bash’s gaze and have Bash so focused on him. “Do you have a watch? Is it accurate? What about anything that can be made into a weapon? A knife? A pair of scissors? What metal do you have?”
“I do have a watch,” Sean said slowly, jerked back to reality by Bash’s pragmatic question. He pulled back his sleeve to reveal the sleek Breitling on his wrist. “It was a gift from my father when I finished university.”
“Perfect.” Sean thought Bash was going to ask for it, but he looked beyond Sean, into his cell. “That guitar… I need the strings.”
“What?” Sean glanced at the guitar, then back at Bash, unable to determine what guitar strings would be useful for. The instrument had been a gift from his sister, and Sean knew he’d likely have to leave it behind in the escape, which gave him a pang. “Why?”
“I don’t think you really want to know,” Bash said with a somewhat grim smile. “What else do you have?”
Sean quickly went over the contents of his cell, watching as Bash considered each item. He didn’t have much else, mostly books and a few small personal items, but Bash seemed satisfied. Bash took nothing into his own cell, although he had Sean place the guitar and his pad of paper and pen close enough that Bash could grab them through the bars if he wished.
“Now, I need to know your routine. The names of the guards, where you go when they take you out, exits you know of, and so on.” Bash pointed to the pad and pen. “Draw it, if you can. Then, the next time they take you out of here, I want you to look around and note if there are any exits where there are fewer guards. Do you ever go out at night? What’s it like then? Even the smallest details could be helpful, especially anything out of the ordinary.”
Sean answered the questions as best as he could, and Bash asked even more, drawing out details Sean didn’t realize he remembered, nor had he thought were important. It was an intriguing ability, and it bolstered Sean’s opinion that he was right to believe Bash could actually get them out of the palace. The story behind Bash’s talents remained a mystery, however, since Bash deflected all of Sean’s less than subtle attempts to discover the particulars of how and why he was in Akkadia.
When the time approached when the guards would arrive to fetch Sean for dinner, Bash went back to his cot and sat down, facing away as though he had been ignoring Sean the entire time.
“Remember, look for guards, but try not to look like you’re looking,” Bash said softly, and then he glanced over his shoulder at Sean and winked. “Spy casual.”
Before Sean could reply, the door at the top of the stairs gave its familiar metallic groan as it was opened. He stood up to await his guard; it was an older man named Ahmed, who cast a curious glance back at Bash before unlocking Sean’s cell.
“Is he going to be given anything to eat?” Sean asked in Akkadian.
Ahmed’s eyes widened in surprise. “That’s none of your concern,” he said, gesturing for Sean to precede him to the steps. “He’ll be dealt with as Captain Mansur sees fit.”
