Alex wet her lips. “Murad was ambushed the moment he left Neilsen’s. Two Turks stole my things. I don’t know who would do such a thing—but perhaps I can take a good guess.” Again Alex stared at Zoe, aware that she was caught between a rock and a hard place. If Zoe admitted to the theft, she would have to produce Alex’s passport, and the damning evidence that she was a time traveler would be brought before Jebal. But surely that was a less serious crime than being a spy, and that less serious than being discovered in Blackwell’s arms.
Jebal also regarded Zoe.
Zoe’s eyes widened innocently and she shrugged. “Why do you always blame me?” she asked Alex sweetly. She glanced at Jebal. “Haven’t you ever thought it strange that Zohara knows so much about boats—especially about the American ones?”
Jebal’s gaze darkened.
“My father was a sailor!” Alex cried.
“Zohara knows the palace intimately. She could provide a detailed plan to Neilsen, Jebal.”
Alex gasped. “I have done no such thing!” But she had included that information in the letter Blackwell had sent to be forwarded to Preble, and Blackwell had detailed all of Tripoli’s defenses. Rivers of sweat poured down Alex’s body beneath her robes. “Jebal, Zoe hates me. She wants to destroy me.”
Jebal looked at her and said nothing.
“Would you convict me of these crimes on her word, without proof?” Alex asked desperately.
Still Jebal said nothing. He paced around her room, his strides hard, angry, and then turned and went to the door. He issued a command and Alex felt her legs give way as two janissaries entered her bedchamber.He was going to arrest her.
Instead Jebal said, “Search this room. Thoroughly. I am looking for anything unusual, anything written in English, maps perhaps—evidence that my second wife is in contact with the Americans.”
Alex hugged herself Murad moved to stand beside her.
The Turks began swiftly. One went to the armoire and began discarding its contents, which was all of Alex’s wardobe. The other went to her bed, stripping it. Soon all of her clothing was on the floor, along with all of her bedding. Alex watched, becoming more horrified, as one Turk lifted his scimitar and proceeded to shred the mattress into tiny pieces, and then the velvet and silk hangings. She began to shake. Murad put his arm around her and held her upright.
The loud cracking of wood caused Alex to jerk. She cried out. The first soldier had been given an ax and was demolishing the armoire. Tears began to stream down Alex’s face. The sides were hacked into pieces, the bottom, the top. Murad tightened his grip on her waist.
Alex turned to watch her pillows being slashed on the other side of the room, one by one. Their stuffing was strewn everywhere. More wood groaned and cracked. Murad gripped her hand. The room’s two chests had been emptied of their contents, and were now being viciously axed into numerous pieces and splinters. Even the small dining table with its inlaid mother-of-pearl top was destroyed. But no secret hiding compartments were revealed.
And finally, when there was nothing left to destroy, the soldiers began shredding her clothing—as if they might find a secret pocket containing secret papers that way.
Alex was stricken with dread. What if their next move was to search her physically? Her pants were ripped in half, and she was filled with Blackwell’s semen. She began to pant. She felt faint. She met Murad’s eyes and knew he was thinking the exact same thing.
She had to save herself. Alex found her voice; it was hoarse with emotion. “Haven’t you done enough?” she asked Jebal.
He stood like a statue in the center of the room. He turned his hazel eyes on her, and some of the frost-filled coldness seemed to be gone. He stared at her, perhaps with regret.
It was hard to tell. Alex began to cry. “Haven’t you done enough?” she repeated.
“I am sorry,” Jebal said. He turned to the soldiers. “Cease.”
Zoe stepped forward. “She should be searched, Jebal. Perhaps she carries maps and papers on herself? Or even inside herself?” Zoe’s eyes glittered.
And Alex froze.Zoe knew.
“No,” Jebal said heatedly. “Enough has been done today.”
Alex knew she was very close to passing out. She tried to breathe deeply and regain her equilibrium.
But Jebal still addressed her. He said, “You will come to me tonight. And if you do not prove to me that you are my wife in thought as well as deed, in your heart and with your body, then I will continue to assume that you are a traitor and a spy. And I shall act accordingly.”
Alex choked off a moan. Murad held her harder. Jebal strode from the room.
Zoe smiled, shrugged, and followed.
Alex turned and collapsed in Murad’s arms.
Alex sat on the mattress where Murad and Blackwell slept in Murad’s small room. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, her cheek resting on one kneecap. Murad was in her bedchamber with three slaves, cleaning up the mess—trying to make her bedchamber habitable.
