Abruptly Zoe dropped it. It clattered on the floor. Although she was fascinated by it, she had a sick feeling in her stomach. Zoe decided to inspect the lamp later.
She began to pace her bedchamber. She had just passed a sleepless night. She had discovered far too much while eavesdropping on her rival, and she had spent the night sorting through all that she had learned. Many answers still eluded her. But she had learned enough to destroy Zohara any time she wished.
Zoe smiled happily. It was beginning to appear that Zohara was a spy. She had been discussing the commander of the United States Navy in the Mediterranean, Commodore Preble, with her new slave. She was amazingly well-informed about Tripoli’s state of war with the United States. How did Zohara know so much? She must be a spy; there was no other explanation. How delicious that was! And it explained so much, especially her sudden, inexplicable appearance in Tripoli two years ago. Jebal might very well execute her for her treachery and her lies. He would certainly divorce her, selling her off. But he would punish her cruelly first.
And she had already told Jovar that the Americans had war plans. He had been furious with her, though, for not knowing what those plans were, instead of being pleased. Zoe hadn’t minded his anger. His anger always made him massive and hard.
Zoe turned and stared at the two little books again. She could pay someone to translate them and keep silent. All of Zohara’s secrets were undoubtedly written there.
The bedouin woman’s haunting words suddenly returned to Zoe. The old woman had insisted that Zohara was from a different time, a different place. Zoe became very still.
Then she shook herself free of any doubts. It was absurd. And Zohara was a fool to have told Blackwell that she was a “time traveler.” It was beyond the realm of possibility that Zohara was from the twentieth century. She wondered why an intelligent woman who was a spy would make up such a stupid story and continue to insist upon it. Unable to fathom her motives, Zoe finally laughed and dismissed her speculations.
In fact, Zohara’s claims to be a time traveler were irrelevant, as was her being a spy. Because Zoe had discovered the astonishing truth. The tall slave was Xavier Blackwell.
Zoe wanted to shout and dance with glee. How wonderfully kind Fate was! Blackwell had returned. He would be, Zoe knew, the final instrument of Alex’s destruction.
They had to be lovers. They had been lovers once, a year ago, in the bagnio. Now it was up to Zoe to catch them at it again—and expose them to Jebal.
Jebal might forgive Zohara her political treachery, or merely allow her to live, but he wouldneverforgive her for taking a lover, not ever, and Zohara’s fate would be death.
32
“IAM SOsorry, Alex,” Murad repeated.
Alex stared, two thoughts competing viciously in her mind. Blackwell would never believe her now, and without the lamp, she would remain forever in the past, alone and rejected by him. Those two stark realizations paralyzed her.
“Alex,” Murad said, touching her hand. “Zoe must have sent those soldiers after me.”
Alex came out of her reverie, aware that Xavier was regarding her closely, suspiciously. Dread formed an unpleasant lump in her chest. “Yes, I imagine Zoe is behind this.”
“If Zoe is not behind the theft, then there are other, even more dangerous spies within the harem,” Murad pointed out.
Alex began to feel that she could not cope. She was overwhelmed. She walked over to the cushions and sat down and stared at a plate of dates. Now what should she do?
Murad followed her. “Neilsen told me that a Danish ship will be in port any day now. It continues on to Alexandria and Constantinople, but from there, it calls on Leghorn. You two should make your escape on it.”
Alex stared at him, then caught Blackwell’s sharp eye. “Any day now?” She should be thrilled; this was what she had dreamed of, her escaping Tripoli with Blackwell. Her hopes, dreams, and convictions had given her the strength to endure two years of captivity. Instead, she was frightened.
Blackwell came forward. “We will be on that ship.” He eyed Alex. “That is, I shall certainly be on that ship. Notify me the moment she is sighted off of the coast.”
“Neilsen said he would send word immediately,” Murad responded. His worried gaze remained upon Alex.
Blackwell crossed his arms. “What is in the sack that was so damned important that the two of you are actually green?”
Alex shot him a dark look. “My passport. And … a special lamp.”
“Any other papers that I should know of?”
She shook her head. “Just the evidence of the truth about me—which I wanted to show you. Zoe, or someone, has that evidence now.” Alex tried to imagine Jebal’s reaction to her passport, but failed. She had no idea if he would believe her, or if he would be furious with her for her deception.
Blackwell’s voice was hard. “This is very convenient.”
She jerked.
“Isn’t it?”
She was on her feet, breathing hard. She had had enough. She could not take any more. “You bastard! You think I’m making this all up, you think that I’m lying! That Murad is in league with me—that there is no proof and that there was no ambush?”
