A man dressed in a dark Saville Row suit entered after knocking. He was dark skinned with light brown eyes, a neat goatee and I saw the butt of a large gun hanging under his armpit. Khalid looked surprised.
“Rashid.”
He came forward, kissed Khalid on both cheeks, and did the same to me. He smelled of sandalwood. “My eternal thanks, young man, for saving the life of my younger brother.”
I looked at the boy in the bed. “Your brother?”
“One of them,” he smiled, taking Khalid’s unbroken hand. “Rashid el Melek. Number Two.”
“Prince Rashid?”
“Only at home. Here, I am Rashid Melek, bodyguard. Security. Father will be here in ten minutes.”
On the dot, an entourage of Saudi nobles in suits filled our room bringing typical sickroom gifts of fruit, magazines, and fresh clothing for both of us.
I tried to get up and bow; my early training on royal etiquette kicking in but the older gentleman in the sharp suit and headdress pressed on my shoulders and bowed. To me. He was an older version of Rashid, with a devilish twinkle in his eyes and a dimpled chin.
“My honor and eternal thanks to you, Aidan Argent,” he said in proper English with an Etonian accent.
I said in Arabic, “Your son is my friend, Sheikh. I only wish I could have prevented those sons of a diseased camel from hurting him at all.”
His eyebrows rose and he broke into a delighted babble of Arabic. “You speak my language! Who taught you? Your accent is like my own.”
“I speak many languages. It is my blessing.”
“French?” I nodded.
“Italian, Spanish, German, Dutch, Farsi, Turkish, Armenian, Arabic, Tuareg, Chinese, Hindu. I speak them all.”
“Allah be merciful! How?”
“Woke up one morning and was the Tower of Babel,” I shrugged.
“I’m taking Khalid home. Would you care to accompany him? He tells me you are alone until your parents come back from sabbatical. The Head Master told me he has attempted to contact them and cannot reach them.”
I swallowed. That could be a problem. They were in Cornwall with no idea I was alive.
“Inspector Novelette wishes to speak with you, Master Aidan. About your attackers. And the disappearance of the two boys, Jason Chelmsley and Peter Glenellen.”
“I know nothing about them,” I denied flatly. He didn’t press us but visited with both of us until the Matron shooed them along.
Chapter 35
Khalid had been raped so many times and with such brutality, that his insides were torn and he’d needed emergency surgery and serious transfusions. His dad stayed at his bedside for the first three days and the nurses fawned over the royal Princes. The Detective Inspector came, asked questions under the Sheik’s steely gaze and it went no further.
Mr. Compton-Baird came to visit us and was admitted only after we vouched for him.
Khalid was fearful of every shadow and stranger. He begged me to come home with him and after an initial bout of indecisiveness, I agreed.
With whirlwind speed, the Sheik had us discharged, on his private jet and on the way to Dubai to his summer palace. In the mountains where it was sunny, cool, surrounded by armed and loyal Tuaregs, his whole family fussed and fawned over both of us. Even though I was totally excited about the flight and the trip, I slept through most of it like Khalid. I suspect the doctor gave us something to keep us quiet. Khalid needed it; his injuries were more severe than mine were. All I had was a bruised larynx, whip lashed neck and contusions where Chelmsley had punched me. Khalid’s spleen was torn, his nose, cheekbones broken, and four fingers fractured, two ribs and his insides torn to hell. The doctor told me he would have hemorrhaged to death if I hadn’t gone for help.
The sheikh personally saw us to a wing of the white stone palace. The ceilings were high and light were everywhere. Bright and clean, like the air of mountains.
We slept in regular beds made up with the softest cotton sheets I’d ever felt and lazy fans stirred the air over us. There were silent people moving about, ready to fall on our every whim. It drove me nuts not to have a moment away from someone’s attention.
The rooms were white and blue. Lots of blue. Deep dark cerulean, glazed tiles in aqua and navy. Every blue imaginable.
Tile work that rivaled great masters; of chunky little horses with spidery legs and ladies with big almond eyes in brilliant colors that made them seem like jewels.
There were no doors; just archways closed with intricate latticework that Khalid told me was all that separated prying eyes from the interior occupants.
“I thought you people lived in tents,” I commented and he hit me.
“Maybe forty years ago. This is one of the most progressive Arabic sultanates running.”
“So we don’t get to visit a tent?”
He punched me and I yelped, rubbed my arm, and laughed. His smile grew and by now, I could almost tell he was smiling.
Chelmsley and his friends had damaged the nerves in his face amongst the breaks and swelling; his face was just returning to near normal. There were no mirrors in our wing.
“What’s on the agenda for today?” I asked. Bored. Too much time, not enough to do.
“You don’t have to stay with me, Aid,” he said, sitting carefully on a stack of pillows. It still hurt him to put any weight on his bum. “You can go out. My father has a great stable, there’s archery, hunting, hawking, swimming. Some great cliffs to climb or, you can watch the latest flicks in his theater. He has a bowling lane, too. Videos and games. Girls.”
“Concubines from the harem?” I perked up.
He snorted. “I told you my dad is a progressive modern Arab. He doesn’t keep a harem.”
I raised both of my eyebrows. “Hullo? Number 22 I think you said?”
“Well, he sort of inherited them. Couldn’t turn them out. They live with him in the other Palace and if they want to leave, he divorces them, sets them up financially. A lot of them were betrothed by his dad way back when he was born. Contracts. He honored them.”
“So how many wives does he have?”
“Just one,” he said quietly. “My mother, Noori. The love of his life. Would you like to meet her?”
“Yes.”
The process of getting him ready to visit his mum relieved my boredom. Three men came in, helped him into a shower chair, and then into a room done entirely in blue tiles, even the floor. It felt like you were floating in the sky. Water came out of the walls in a gentle stream and he washed himself slowly and carefully. His body was lean, coffee colored where green fading black and blues were. Save for the stitch marks on his belly where they’d opened him up to repair his spleen. It almost matched one of mine.
The servants helped him, didn’t see, to mind getting wet. One of them, a young teen said something and made him choke with laughter.
He said, “Aidan speaks Arabic and Tuareg. He asked, Aid, if you were hung like my dad’s stud horse.”
I blushed and that set off another round of genuine laughter, which changed their solemn manner to camaraderie. I retreated in a dignified rush.
“Just wait!” he shouted. “It’s your turn next!”
I ran for our rooms.
Chapter 36
Clean, perfumed, dressed in cool cotton pants and shirts, I walked next to Khalid while he rode in splendor in a wheelchair pushed by a youngster he said was a cousin. We went down a series of hallways I said was a maze and he agreed. Said it was that way to the old sheikhs harem and designed that way to protest the women from casual encounters. Of course, if you’d been caught in those rooms, gelding was the least of your problems.
Guards with automatic weapons were everywhere. I learned that it was because these were the Sheikhs apartments.
I expected something out of the Arabian Nights; what I found was a typical English upper class study, living room, and office down to the top of the line computer and big screen plasma TV.
The Sheikh wa
s seated on the couch in robes and he smiled as he saw my face. “I find it more comfortable in the mountains,” he explained. He rose and took my hands, bowed again. “My dear boys, Khalid, how are you? Your doctor said you are healing.”
“I’m okay, dad,” he said and kissed him on both cheeks. A beautiful woman walked in from the doorway in the rear and on her hurried steps, reached Khalid, and hugged him fiercely. She was dark haired with lush, exotic gray eyes, and porcelain skin. Almost as tall as me, nearly six foot and in her early forties. She turned to me and regarded me openly, staring particularly at my eyes.
“Aidan. Thank you,” she said simply. “Khalid is my life and my joy.”
“He’s my friend,” I shrugged.
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“How old are you?” she persisted.
“I was born in 1956,” I murmured.
“Your eyes are so wise, compassionate and aged well beyond what your face states,” she nodded. “Rashid, this child is truly an old soul. He has been born and died many lifetimes. He is a treasure and we should honor him.”
She bowed with her hands together and kissed my forehead. Khalid watched with his mouth hanging open and I kicked him.
“Would you like something to eat and drink, boys?” she asked. “Please, sit. It is my pleasure to wait on you.”
I blushed. “My Lady, I should be waiting on you. You’re a…Queen.”
She laughed. “Just a minor Sheikhs wife. What would my two boys like to do?”
Khalid looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “Want to sight-see? We can go in the helicopter to the city.”
“I’ve always wanted to see the Bazaar,” I drooled. They laughed.
“More like Neiman Marcus and Saks,” he grinned. “This is the Sultanate of Dubai, not the back alleys of Marrakesh.”
“No camels? No houris with kohl and slanted eyes?” I teased. “No hashish pipes and eunuchs with big curved swords?”
“Only if you want them,” they promised me. “Whatever you want is yours. What is in my house is yours.”
“I’ll settle for a Coke and a sandwich,” I grinned. “And whatever Khalid wants to do is fine with me.”
He opted for a day spent by the pool. It was an Olympic sized beauty with a high dive but he wasn’t allowed on it. He squinted when I scrambled up like a monkey and dove off without a tremor of fear. Why would I? I loved climbing things and one of my new ambitions was to climb the Dubai Needle. I didn’t tell anyone that, I’m not totally crazy.
After an hour of climbing up and jumping off, I dragged myself over to the lounge chair and sank into it, dripping onto Khalid. He threw his ice cubes at me. “Hey,” he complained. “You’re in my sun.”
“You think your tan needs work?” I teased, closing my eyes. “Too bad we don’t have one of those servants with the palm fronds waving.”
“I can get some.”
“Naw, I’m good.” I paused. “You gonna go back, Khalid? Finish?”
He was still. “What happened to me is not culturally as bad as if I was a girl, Aid. It’s something I’ll never forget but it won’t break me. I had a relationship with a cousin a few years before. Enjoyed it but it proved to me I like girls better.
“You---it would have scarred you forever.”
“How do you know that?” I was curious.
“I just do. Something in your eyes. Now, take a nap. I have some serious tanning to do.” I shoved him into the water and ran.
Chapter 37
The following week, his mum (her name was Emeer Noori) took Khalid to the doctor for a check up to ensure everything was healing correctly and to evaluate him for physical therapy. He wanted me to go in with him but his mum gently persuaded him to let me have the afternoon alone. As alone as one could be with a royal escort and guards. I asked if I could see the Tower and she surprised. “It’s the tallest building in the world,” I explained. “My wish list is to climb the world’s top ten.”
“He means climb up the top ten,” Khalid said with a warning look. He knew of my penchant for climbing.
Driven downtown in a Mercedes limo, I gawked at the modern, clean city with its public health care, free schooling, and incredible racecourse. The sultan of Dubai stud was globally famous.
I had mentioned wanting to see it and a tour was scheduled for next week if Khalid was up to it.
As the limo stopped in front, a valet came out and offered to park it but the Sheikhs driver shook his head and said he was to stay with the vehicle at all times so they valet escorted us inside. Business people watched to see who the celebrity was. Their eyes passed over and dismissed a European, a teenager, settled on one of the Security guards, another of Khalid’s cousins and me. A lot of his family was in security. I’d asked if oil was their main source of income and he’d told me it was only a small part, most of it came from real estate, old money, and gold mines.
The lifts were state of the art bullets that flew up the outside faster than I could blink. What was funny was the look on Khalil (a third cousin) face as we rose to the 128th floor.
“Scared of heights?” I asked him in Arabic and he nearly vomited a litany of words at me.
He closed his eyes, I told him that made it worse, touched him on the arm, and his eyes opened, wide and staring. Spoke to him low enough so that no one else heard and he gaped at me in fascination, nodded once, and relaxed.
His family looked at him, back and me as he lost his fear. He told me his name was Khalil Omar.
He came with me to the top floor of the observation Tower. We couldn’t go outside; the wind today was too fierce and the building’s security had locked us out but I could walk the entire roof and stare down at the rest of the city.
“You’re not afraid of heights, Aidan?” he asked me. “Khalid said you like to climb onto the roof at school and mock the bullies.”
“Yeah. It takes them down a peg or two when you’re forty feet up and they can’t reach you,” I answered. I couldn’t see anything on the ground from up here.
“He told me what happened,” Omar added.
I was surprised. The only one he’d talked to about it personally was his dad and me. “What about?” I asked, cautiously. “About…everything?”
“He told me the two boys were after you. Did you know he tried to stop them from following you that day? That’s why they went after him and beat him.”
“I didn’t know,” I was silent. He was the one should be honored and feted. “They raped him, all seven guys. I’d called a friend and told him about those two, was going to take care of them. Someone came. While I was looking for our teacher to help us. He…” I hesitated, rushed on, swallowing the nausea. “He cut their throats, got rid of the bodies.”
“That was a kinder fate than what I would have given them. You have nothing to fear from them or the police, Aidan. My father has seen to that. Will there be any repercussions for the two’s disappearances? The school is well known for its student roster.”
“You mean will their parents make a big brouhaha? Chelmsley’s dad is a Labor party bigwig, Glenellen’s father is Lord Somebody-or-other,” I answered.
“And your father?” asked Omar.
“On sabbatical in Africa. Out of touch.”
“In this time of cell and satellite phones, Aidan? Khalid might buy that but I know better.”
“My parents think I’m dead,” I mumbled.
“My uncle, Sheikh Melek tried to find them. All he could look up were Lord and Lady Argent, Earl and Countess of Bowden. They had a son. Forty years ago. He died. Tragically.”
“Painfully,” I didn’t say anything else, just stared out the glass-covered panorama and saw a jet streak by and it seemed close enough to touch.
“Aidan, I saw a picture of their son.”
“Looks like me, does it?” I smiled.
“It is you, Aidan. Even down to the scars on your back, belly, and chest. My aunt and Khalid said you were special. Are you
the Angel of Life?” He was serious so I didn’t laugh at him although I wanted to. That was as good a name for me only, I thought more like the Angel of Death.
“I don’t know what I am, Prince Omar,” I sighed.
“I’m not a prince. Khalid is, so is Rashid. The rest of us are just family.”
“There are a lot of you. I’m glad Khalid had your support,” I told him. “It’s getting late. Don’t we need to get back for Khalid?”
“He was having another MRI and CAT scan. He’ll be late, perhaps even stay the night,” he said.
“He’ll want me with him,” I headed for the door to the lifts and he followed.
“Are you and Khalid lovers?”
The question made me stop in my tracks. “No!” I denied vehemently. “He’s not like that! Nor am I.”
“He had an affair, once,” he said calmly and it was my turn to stare at his pleasant face.
“You?” He nodded. “Do you still love him?”
“Yes.”
“He likes girls. He told me that.”
“Did he mention me?”
“Not by name. Said it decided him he liked girls better.”
He was silent. “You?”
“No. Never.”
“It's your eyes,” he said. “Like jewels that suck you in, make you an irresistible elixir, a drug that is addictive. But then, if you are the Angel of Death, you would be a fatal fascination, wouldn’t you?”
He frightened me and I had no words to give him as we traveled down the lift to the Lobby and met the driver. We rode back to the hospital annex in an uncomfortable silence.
Chapter 38
Khalid was visibly upset when I joined him. As soon as he saw me, he relaxed, sighed and went to sleep. He was in a private room in a special wing that was a high security area for VIPs and high-risk patients that required one on one care. The doors were electronically coded for entry and only personnel programmed to enter could get past the Kevlar reinforced doors. The rest of the place resembled a five star hotel.
I held his hand and told him he should relax; that nothing would happen to him, I promised. He smiled in his sleep.
His mum and dad were with him and I looked inquiringly at them. Their faces made my heart sink. “What?” I nearly screamed.
“His intestines are dying. Infection, trauma, they’re shutting down section by section. The specialists want to go in and remove the dying parts. He’ll wind up with a colostomy bag if it gets bad enough,” his mum explained. In this culture that was nearly as unclean as cutting off your right hand.