Controlling Interest (36 page)

“I would like to know this also, Yasmine,” said a dark, accented voice behind her. “What information have you shared with our American friends?”

Yasmine turned with a jerk, flattening herself against the window. Jarrar Haq, dressed in an impeccable Italian suit, leaned against a metal pole riveted to the ceiling and floor in the center of the chamber.

Words would not come. All she could do was suck in a huge, gasping breath.

Natalie whirled. “What are you doing here, you sneak? You scared the bejeebers out of me.”

He shook his head, a faintly supercilious smile on his lips. “My, how ladylike you are. And what a sleuth. It has not been difficult to keep up with Yasmine at all.”

Natalie scowled. “You've been following us? Why?”

Jarrar's thick brows rose. “Why do you think? I want my fiancée.”

Yasmine didn't like the black glitter in Jarrar's eyes. Her voice returned with her anger. “And now that you have found me, I tell you to your face that I have decided not to marry you. I gain much courage while I travel the South alone. I meet people who have a stick up for themselves. I discover I am not just Abbi's little girl.” She lifted her chin. “I am sorry to disappoint you, Jarrar. You have come all this way for nothing.”

Haq pushed away from the pole. “Oh, no. I never do anything for nothing. You promised to be my bride. Your father will make sure you are.”

“I am not going back to my father.” Said aloud, the words had a bald finality. Yasmine swallowed and committed herself to exile. “I am a Christian.”

“You do not know what you are saying.” He smiled indulgently. “Allah will forgive you when you are married to a good Muslim.”

“Like
you
? You are not a good anything, I think. I am an adult. I have made up my mind.” Yasmine caught Natalie's eye. “We should be going. It has been nearly an hour since — ”

“Yes, we should really be going,” said Natalie, taking Yasmine's arm. “I'm tired of this place anyway. My feet hurt from climbing all those stairs.”

“You will come with me.” Haq nodded toward the stairs. “I have made arrangements.”

Yasmine drew strength from Natalie's arm in hers. “I told you, Natalie and I are not going anywhere with you.”

“I am responsible for your well-being.” Haq made a peremptory gesture. “I have a car. I will take you back to your father.” He held out a well-shaped, almost feminine hand. “Give me your cell phone. Now.”

Yasmine's heart thudded hard, but she pretended a bravado she did not feel. “I left everything in Memphis.”

Haq frowned. “You are lying. Give it to me or I will search you.”

He would make good on the threat. Yasmine's skin tightened in revulsion. She reached into the backpack Natalie had returned to her and withdrew her cell phone. She handed it to Haq. “It is dead anyway.”

He looked at Natalie. “Give me yours too.”

Natalie was shaking so hard Yasmine could feel the tremors, but she squeezed Yasmine's arm in a comforting way. “No way, you jerk. If I scream, there'll be people down here in seconds.”

Haq folded his arms and spoke to Yasmine in Urdu. “There is a pistol in the inside pocket of my jacket. You will make sure your friend does not scream.” He paused, glanced at Natalie, then back at Yasmine. His tone remained soft and courteous. “I have your father's permission to move the date of the wedding up. I promise I will be a good husband to you, Yasmine. We should hurry.”

Yasmine dragged in a breath and answered in her native tongue. “Move the wedding up? Are you insane?”

Jarrar smiled and said gently, “No one will get hurt if you both come with me, but you should know that I have connections that will greatly affect your family's ability to return to Pakistan should you decide to cross me.”

Yasmine closed her eyes.
Father God
, she prayed, thoughts stuttering,
I am terrified. For me, for Natalie, for my family. You have brought me safe this far. I know you can handle this madman. But what should I do?

Though she heard no audible voice, she had a sense that she should cooperate, at least outwardly. With the blood roaring in her ears, she opened her eyes and looked at Natalie. Her eyes were closed. She was probably in prayer too.

For where two or three come together . . .

She squeezed Natalie's arm. “I have changed my mind. We will go with him.”

Natalie blinked. “W-what? Where is he taking us?”

Does that matter?
Yasmine thought in despair. “I am not sure, but it will be alright. I will make sure he does not hurt you.”

“But what about you? Yasmine, you can't — ”

“I said it will be alright.” Yasmine sharpened her voice. “Please, Natalie, do not make it harder on me.”

Natalie's mouth opened; she shook her head, but couldn't seem to verbalize her outrage.

“I will have your cell phone now,” Haq said to Natalie in English.

“I beg your — ”

“Natalie, let him have your phone,” said Yasmine. “It is for your protection.”

Scowling, Natalie reached into her purse. “Here.” She threw the cell phone at Haq.

Catching it, he gave her a thoughtful look. “Thank you. Please to come with me.”

Yasmine dragged Natalie toward the stairs. The good God would help them somehow.

He had to.

Natalie stumbled across the parking lot with Yasmine and her psycho terrorist fiancé. Ridiculous that she was in a park full of American military vessels and aircraft, full of tourists and museum curators and other workers, and yet she could not stop the chain of events. She kept straining to watch for Matt pulling up. Unless he was speeding, he wouldn't arrive for another twenty minutes. And he wasn't the speedster of their dynamic duo.

No, Natalie was the one who always jumped head-first into trouble.

Haq's demeanor was suave, courteous — well, if you discounted that ridiculous demand that she surrender her cell phone — and therefore infinitely chilling.

He had clearly made some sort of threat to motivate Yasmine to insist on accompanying Haq to his car. For eight days Yasmine had run, just as hard as she could go, away from this man and his marriage proposal. Now she walked along beside him, if not exactly blithely, then at least with serene resignation.

Haq approached a long, sleek black sedan parked at the back side of the parking lot. A uniformed driver sat in the front reading a newspaper. Haq opened the rear door and politely gestured for the women to get in. “Please,” he said, though clearly it was a command and not a request.

Natalie gave him a fulminating look as she slid into the car after Yasmine.

He smiled slightly, shut the door, and went around to get into the front passenger seat. He turned and said something to Yasmine in that liquid language she presumed was Urdu.

Yasmine wetted her lips and responded briefly.

Haq then said in English to Natalie, “Yasmine's parents charged me with the task of making sure she returns safely to Memphis.”

He clicked his tongue. “I believe they did not quite trust the ability of you and your partner to accomplish the task. The fact that you allowed her to leave Memphis at all was not a good recommendation. This has become quite an expensive venture.”

At this point, Natalie decided, it would probably be more dangerous to let him know she was aware of his real motives. “First of all,” she said, “
you're
not the one footing the bill, so you have no room to complain. Second, Matt and I have done exactly what we said we would. We found Yasmine, safe and unharmed.”

“I assure you I had no intention of hurting your feelings, Miss Tubberville. Please forgive me.” The guy was smooth as glass.

Natalie turned her head away. Since she wasn't familiar with the city of Mobile, she looked out the tinted window, trying to figure out where they were headed. They'd already skimmed back across the causeway, through the tunnel and into downtown. A left turn took them down an oak-tree-lined avenue into an increasingly depressed area where tiny shotgun houses and subsidized apartment projects moldered amongst turn-of-the-twentieth-century mansions. Eventually the mansions gave way to dilapidated rentals and commercial wrecks held together by graffiti and burglar bars.

Just when it seemed the road might disappear into the Gulf, it jackknifed off to the right. The sedan swung into an industrial complex of warehouses, brick and aluminum office buildings, and airplane hangars.

“Where are we?” Natalie whispered to Yasmine.

Haq spoke over his shoulder, intent on every sound the women made. “I have arranged a plane to take us to Memphis.”

“Hey!” Natalie sat up indignantly. “I'm not leaving my car and my partner here. Turn this school bus right around and take me back where you found me.”

“I am sorry,” Haq said calmly, “but Yasmine and I are in a hurry. There is no time. You will have to accompany us.”

“Natalie, please don't leave me alone,” Yasmine murmured.

Natalie felt Yasmine's small hand reach for hers. It was ice cold. On second thought, she wasn't letting Yasmine out of her sight unless she had to. Not when she'd traveled over five hundred miles by land and sea — okay, well, river — to find her. She gripped Yasmine's hand. “Don't worry, Yasmine. I'm hanging with you.”

Yasmine's mute smile trembled.

The car executed several more turns and pulled through a gate in a chain-link fence around a private airfield. The driver stopped in a parking lot beside a hangar with several small prop planes parked nearby.

Natalie got up the nerve to address Haq. “Which one of those is yours?”

“My private jet will arrive soon.”

The guy had a private jet? He must be pulling in money from somewhere.

The driver got out and opened the door for Natalie and Yasmine. He hadn't said a word during the whole trip from the battleship to the airfield. Presumably he didn't speak English. Now he addressed Haq gruffly in Urdu.

Haq answered, then the driver slid back into the car, put it in reverse, and drove out of the parking lot the way he'd come. Natalie didn't know him from Adam's housecat, but she suddenly felt bereft. Crazy.

Haq looked at Yasmine. “Come, we go inside.” He approached the hangar, held open a door marked “office,” then waited with perfect courtesy for Yasmine and Natalie to enter.

Natalie stopped just inside the door. The windowless room contained a metal desk, one small rolling chair, and two file cabinets. Something wasn't right. But she had no idea what to do. Haq had not threatened her with a weapon, but a contained menace tightened his expression. Nothing like this had ever happened in Tunica County. The worst she'd had to deal with were drunk gambling addicts and parents who abandoned their children in parked cars.

She glanced at Yasmine. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Yasmine nodded without looking at Natalie. Her hands were clenched in a knot at her waist.

“Wait here,” said Haq. He walked out the door and shut it behind him with a solid
clump
.

Natalie heard a deadbolt click. Her knees buckled. “Yasmine, why are you going along with that man? He's a terrorist!”

Yasmine's face bled out to chalk. “I didn't — didn't know until it was too late,” she stammered. “I'm sure my parents don't know. They would never do this to me. Zach asked me questions. About Jarrar. How I came to know him. What he wrote to me. I thought it was natural jealousy.” Tears spurted from her eyes, which were squeezed shut. Her mouth twisted. “I am such a fool.”

Natalie sank against the edge of the desk for support. “But Yasmine, why did you make me come? Why are we here? We could have gotten away while we were at the battleship. There were people all around!”

“He has a gun. Hidden in his coat. I do not think he would hurt me, at least not now, but he might have hurt you. And he threatened my parents and my sister. He knows where they are.” Yasmine mopped her face on the sleeve of her T-shirt. “He is very dangerous. Al-Qaeda, maybe. Natalie, I am so sorry.” She began to sob.

Natalie walked to the door and tried the knob. Of course it was locked. She whirled. “Stop crying, Yasmine. We're going to figure out how to get out of here.”

CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO

T
hey bought tickets for a battleship tour?” Incredulous, Matt stared at the woman behind the gift shop ticket counter. “I told her to wait for us here!”

Carothers looked equally mystified. “Are you sure it was Yasmine and Natalie?”

The woman shrugged. “I heard the little blonde say they had nearly an hour to kill, so they might as well do something educational.”

“That would be Natalie.” Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of all the — ”

“Do you know how big that ship is?” Carothers's voice rose. “We could spend the day searching and still miss them. And I doubt if her cell phone will work inside it.”