"Can you get him back?
"No."
His eyes drilled into her.
"If you want him to remain safe, you will cooperate. Come to your
room, please, Mrs. Claiborne."
With numb fingers Abby set down the phone.
If you want him to remain safe, her mind echoed the threat.
Back at the desert camp, was Steve being given the same kind of warning
about her?
On stiff legs, she followed her captor down the hall to a large,
comfortably furnished bedroom.
But she hardly noticed her surroundings, except for the grihwork
barring the windows.
When the door closed behind her, Abby sank to the edge of the bed,
holding Shannon, rocking back and forth and trying desperately to work
through the convoluted twists and turns of her situation-and Steve's.
Singh had transferred her from the desert encampment to a more
comfortable prison.
And after he picked up his strategic weapon, he could do anything he
pleased with his hostages.
Now Abby was dead certain he wasn't going to let them go, because the
only way to make sure that word of his secret weapon never leaked out
was to get rid of the Claibornes.
Steve had known all that.
He'dwanted his wife and child out of the rebel camp, but he'd been
anticipating a double cross, which was why he'd told her she had to
escape.
What's more, his own plans included another double cross-deadly
exposure to Omega.
The trouble was, it was going to be just as fatal for Steve as it was
for Singh.
Abby moaned softly and clutched her baby to her breast.
Steve had said Shannon came first.
He'd meant she and Shannon.
His life for theirs.
But she couldn't let him go through with it.
She had to think of a way to save him, and quickly.
Before he and Singh arrived at the temple in the jungle.
Jumping to her feet, she started toward the door.
This place had a phone line to the rebel camp.
She could warn Singh about Omega.
Only why should he believe her?
And what if he did?
Then he'd know Steve had lied, which would put all of them in a worse
position.
The door on Abby's right opened, and she gave a little gasp.
Then she tried to compose her face as Mrs. Hamadi stepped into the
room.
Struck anew by how haggard the woman looked, she waited to find out
what she wanted.
"Do you need anything?"
Mrs. Hamadi asked.
"I don't know yet. But thank you for coming to inquire."
As they regarded each other across Shannon's head, Abby tried to read
the woman's expression.
"Whydidyouputyourhandoyermineinthe.:helicopter?"
Mrs. Hamadi asked suddenly.
"You were frightened. I wanted to help."
"Why should you want to help me?"
Abby felt a surge of cautious hope.
Maybe, just maybe, she had found an ally.
"I thought we could comfort each other."
Mrs. Hamadi looked down, as if studying the pattern of the rug.
"I stole your child. You should hate me."
"It's Singh who deserves my anger-not you."
The other woman was silent for several seconds.
"It would be dangerous for me to agree with you," she whispered.
Abby stepped close to her.
"Is there somewhere we can talk?" she mouthed.
Abby held her breath, feeling as if her lungs would burst.
Finally Mrs. Hamadi gestured for her to follow.
They went through the adjoining room and then out another door.
To her surprise, Abby found it led to a rectangular garden between the
house and the wall.
"Mrs. Hamadi."
"That isn't my name. I am Mrs. Amarjit Singh."
"But Inder-Jeet-?"
"In our culture, a man may take another wife-if his first is barren."
She raised her head and looked directly at Abby.
"I lied to you all those weeks ago in Baltimore. I was telling you the
story Singh wrote out for me. My husband didn't divorce me when I
couldn't give him a child. Instead he made me endure the humiliation
of seeing him bring another woman to his bed. Inder-Jeet is young, but
she has already given him two sons."
"That must be hard for you."
"I told you, I am parai. Property. I should be grateful I was allowed
to continue in the household of such a great man."
"You ... you admire him?"
Abby choked cut.
"Not for the way he treats me. But he is a symbol for our people.
They call him the Lion. And they follow him."
Abby felt her hopes die.
Asking for Mrs. Hamadi's-no, Mrs. Singh's-help could be fatal.
The woman's gaze flickered to the baby cradled protectively in Abby's
arms and then to her face.
"But I don't want to lie to you again. Not after I caused you so much
anguish. And not after you made such a dangerous journey to get your
little one back."
Abby tried to remain impassive as Mrs. Singh continued.
"I did something very bad. I kidnapped your baby because I thought it
might bring me back into my husband's favor."
Her face contorted.
"But I still mean nothing to him. That is making me sad-and angry.
It is also making me think about the goals of Amarjit Singh. He claims
to be fighting for freedom and justice for our people. But I don't
believe he means this for our women. It is only the men who are
important enough to be free."
"I'm sorry," Abby said.
"You don't know how lucky you are being born in a country where women
are equal."
"Not perfectly equal," Abby demurred.
"But we're getting there."
"There's another way you're lucky. You have a husband who loves you,"
Mrs. Singh continued in a low voice.
"I was listening to some of what the men were saying yesterday. I know
your husband is putting himself in danger by staying with the Lion. I
know how hard he fought to get you sent away from camp. If I were your
husband, I wouldn't trust mine."
Abby took her lower lip between her teeth.
Mrs. Singh had given her an opening.
4?
r bad she been sent here to get information, as Inder-Jeet had the
night before?
Abby knew that for her own safety and Shannon's, she shouldn't rush in
to anything.
Yet the longer she waited, the less chance she had of saving Steve.
Before she could decide what to do, Mrs. Singh began to speak again.
"I was brought up in a religious home," she said.
"I was taught to revere the teachings of Guru Nanak and the other wise
men. And I tried to be a good woman. I think I was a moral person - "
She stopped abruptly.
"When I got to know you in the hospital, I could see how much you loved
your baby, how devoted you were. Then I stole her from you.
Since that day my mind is very troubled.
I do not sleep.
I do not eat.
"What do you want from me?"
n front of
her.
"Forgiveness."
Abby put a hand on the other woman's shoulder.
Both of them were trembling.
"Tbere is a condition on my forgiveness," she managed.
"What?"
"Help us get away."
"You ask the impossible."
Abby watched in dismay as Mrs Singh scrambled up and fled toward the
house.
Chapter Fifteen
Steve stood listening to the wind, feeling the tent sway around him as
sand battered the canvas sides.
The storm was getting stronger.
With any luck it would pick up to hurricane force and sweep this whole
damn camp into oblivion.
He allowed himself to picture tents, men, camels and supplies
cartwheeling off into a five-hundred-foot dune.
Everything swept away-except Steve Claiborne, who would somehow walk
back into town and tell his wife everything was okay.
He sighed and turned toward the interior of the, shelter, his eyes
focusing'on the small hammock that still stood near one wall-and the
bed where he and Abby had spent the night in each other's arms.
The memory of her whispered words of love and her sweet kisses made him
momentarily light-headed.
Then he recalled her desperate voice on the phone a few hours ago, and
his face contorted.
He'd deliberately withheld information from her so she couldn't
interfere with his plans.
"Abby, I'm sorry," he murmured, so low that the words were lost under
the roar of the wind.
Two nights ago, after the plane crash, he'd vowed that he was going to
get her and Shannon out of danger if it was the last thing he did.
He hoped it wouldn't come to that.
"I'm doing the best I can- for all of us. I'm trying to make it work
out right," he whispered.
"But if you never see me again, please try and remember I love you more
than anything else in the world."
WAs sHE UNDER house arrest, the way she had been in the tent?
Or could she go out into the garden by herself?
Abby wondered.
Prowling around the bedroom, she found a fancy English perambulator in
the closet.
With Shannon inside, she started down the hall.
When she saw the guard who'd come with her from the camp, she stopped
for a moment, then continued on, acting as though she had a perfect
right to take her daughter for a walk in the sunshine.
The guard looked confused, as if he couldn't believe a woman had
challenged the Lion's authority.
He opened his mouth and closed it again.
Abby ignored him as he followed several paces behind her.
She pushed the pram up a brick path, pretending an absorbing interest
in the landscaping, but she was really looking at the high, smooth
wall, trying to figure out how to get over it.
There were no handholds, and she was beginning to suspect there wasn't
a chance in hell of escaping when she came to a section planted with a
stout vine that looked as if it would hold her weight.
But there was no way to find out for sure without trying.
Sticking with her ambling pace, she toured the garden for another ten
minutes but didn't see any better alternatives.
Then she headed back to her bedroom, her mind in turmoil.
It was one thing for her to assume the risk of getting shot in the
back.
But what about Shannon?
Was it possible to climb over the wall encumbered by a baby?
What if Shannon slowed her down?
What if they fell?
Shannon began to fuss.
Abby scooped her up and sank into the rocking chair by the window, her
hands tender and possessive on her daughter as she began to feed her.
"Oh, Shannon," she murmured, rocking back and forth, feeding her
daughter, stroking her soft skin.
She'd never felt more torn apart.
The only ting s knew was that under cover of darkness she was going to
break out.
Or there was no hope for Steve.
Holding Shannon tightly, she stole toward the window.
The ornamental grillwork had probably been intended to protect the
woman who lived in this room, not to jail her.
It was secured with inside screws.
How hard would it be to remove them?
Abby laid the baby on the bed and then -pawed through the contents of
the dressing table and found a metal nail file.
Working quickly', she loosened one screw, then another.
To her surprise and relief, it took only a few minutes to detach the
grill.
After propping it back into place, she pulled the curtains almost
closed and stood back.
No one would know what she'd done unless they actually yanked on the
bars.
Which probably wouldn't happen.
Singh's guards wouldn't think that a mere woman would have the gumption
to put an escape plan into action.
In fact, their low opinion of womanhood was probably the best thing she
had going for her, Abby decided as she lay down beside Shannon on the
bed, curling herself defensively around her tiny body.
Already asleep, the infant snuggled up against her mother's tummy.
But Abby was too distraught to do more than doze.
Every so often she glanced at the window, seeing the shadows
lengthening and feeling her dread increase.
Finally she fell into a troubled sleep-and was caught almost
immediately in the grip of a nightmare.
She, Shannon, and the woman she still thought of as Mrs. Hamadi were
back at the desert camp.
Guards were holding her and Mrs. Hamadi by the arms as the two of them
tried frantically to reach Shannon's crib.
But they couldn't break free.
And Amarjit Singh was standing over the baby holding a knife.
Then Steve was there, too, held by another guard behind the crib.
A guard who pressed a knife to his throat.
Abby woke with her heart pounding and her skin clammy.
With a strangled sob, she folded her daughter close.
Scrambling up, she ran to the closet where she'd seen several folded
saris on shelves.
With shaky hands, she ripped the ends of one apart, making straps that
she could tie around her neck and waist to make a baby carrier.
Then she found a purse with a shoulder strap into which she could stuff
some diapers and bottles.
She was about to secure Shannon to her chest when there was a loud
knock on the door.
Abby stuffed the said under the pillows and called out "Come in."
A female servant entered, carrying a tray of food.
"Your dinner."
"Thank you," she said, hoping her voice sounded normal.
"I-I'll put the tray outside when I finish."
She'd almost made a terrible mistake.
What if she'd already left, and the woman had found her gone?
Realizing she was starving, Abby wolfed down a flat bread stuffed with
potato and onion while she fed Shannon again.
Then she tied her daughter into the makeshift carrier.
Unaccustomed to the sling, the baby began to whimper.
"Honey, please don't cry now," Abby soothed, looking through the baby
supplies
for a pacifier.
There wasn't one.
"If you make noise, they'll catch us."