ISBN: 0-7860-0416-9
(click on the ISBN to order online at Amazon.com Books)
Aboard the train from Paris to Istanbul, Mason jumped out of bed at the first sound of his beeper, glancing at his watch as he did so. Twenty minutes past three. The train had stopped. What the...
"This is Fenwick. What's the problem?" He didn't like the quiver in the conductor's voice. He'd grabbed his Bermuda shorts and jumped into them before the man could get his voice under control.
"Some soldiers, about eight of them, just boarded the front of the train. They blocked the track, so the engineer had to stop. We're only a mile from the Bulgarian border with the former Yugoslavia, so we don't know what's going on. They're not customs officers. I'm alerting the tour guides and the unescorted passengers."
"Are they showing their rifles?"
"Combat ready, sir."
Mason swore. "Thanks. Keep a cool front, pal. Never let a man know he's got you down." He flipped off the phone, hooked it to his belt along with a can of mace, grabbed his keys, and raced down the corridor to Jeannetta's compartment.
"Open up, Jeannetta." He hoped she didn't sleep soundly.
"Who is it?"
"Mason. Soldiers on the train. Put on a dress and open this door. Now!" While she dressed, he alerted people in other compartments, getting a few surprises as he did so. In different circumstances, he might have found the evidence of bed switching amusing. Two men and one of the women were sleeping in a bed to which they hadn't been assigned. He dashed back to Jeannetta's door.
"Let's go, Jeannetta. Hide your valuables and money, but bring your passport. Come on, babe."
She opened the door, her eyes wide and unblinking. He didn't have time to allay her fear; later, if there was a later. He pulled her through the door, slammed it and raced with her to his room.
"Wha...what's going on, Mason?"
"We don't know, but we're near the border and, European history being what it is, we may be in disputed territory. If they stop here, don't volunteer information, and don't discuss anybody but yourself; if these soldiers were friends, they wouldn't have their fingers on the trigger."
"We always stop at the borders. What's so different this time?" He wanted to hug her to him, but he needed his wits. He had to keep her safe, and nothing was more dangerous for a beautiful woman than sex-starved soldiers.
"Customs officers don't board these trains with rifles drawn." His glance swept her unsteady form. He shook his head. She'd brought her most valuable possession with her - a little doll. He'd ask her about that later.
"Button up your dress, honey. All the way to the neck. And pull your hair up on your head."
"Why?" He glared at her, partly in frustration and partly in anger at the situation into which he'd unwittingly put her.
"Because those soldiers will see exactly what I see, and they may not be averse to taking it."
Her shaking fingers couldn't manage the buttons, and he fastened her dress, his large fingers innocently brushing her soft mounds and threatening to disconcert him. If he got her safely to Istanbul, he was going to kiss God's good earth. He twisted her hair on top of her head and knotted it. The knock on the door of his compartment was loud and brutish. His lips brushed hers quickly.
"Don't be afraid, honey. If they touch you, they'll have to kill me." With his best nonchalant air, he opened the door, raised an eyebrow and asked, "May I help you?" Only two of them. He hoped the rest weren't busy intimidating the other passengers. They swaggered in without waiting to be asked.
"What country you from?" He told them. The leader of the two examined their passports, and Mason couldn't help expelling a long breath when the man returned them to him. The other man had his gaze fixed on Jeannetta.
"Your husband?" Jeannetta nodded. The leader reminded her that her passport gave her status as single.
"It's over a year old," she told him, referring to her passport. Mason shifted his stance, and icy tingles hurtled along his spine as both men's gazes fastened on Jeannetta, their eyes ablaze with lust. His focus shifted from the can on his belt, and his mind adopted the attitude of the karate master that he was. He hadn't applied those principles since college, but he knew he could depend on them.
The soldiers must have noticed his change of demeanor, because the leader half smiled and told him, "If she was my woman, I'd leave her home. She is black American?"
Mason nodded. He couldn't let himself be lulled into thinking they were safe only, to have the trial of his life.
"You're the tour leader?"
Mason inclined his head.
"Everybody in this car is American?" the leader asked him.
Mason nodded.
The man appeared to have satisfied himself that whatever he sought wouldn't be found in that compartment, but the other continued to drool over Jeannetta. The leader nodded toward the door and spoke in a language that Mason didn't understand, but he didn't doubt the essence of the message. "Leave it. We don't have time for that."
The leader touched the door handle, looked back and asked Mason, "You see any soldiers with this on their sleeve?"
He pulled a small emblem that Mason recognized as the colors of a flag out his pocket. He hadn't seen any soldiers except them, he said. The door closed behind them.
"Oh, Mason. Do you think they've gone? I'm so scared." He pulled her trembling body to him.
"We'll have to wait until the conductor signals. As sure as they see me alone in that corridor, one or both of them will make a beeline straight to you." She moved closer to him, but he stepped farther back; until he knew the danger had passed, he couldn't allow her nearness and patent vulnerability to scramble his wits. He pushed the buttons on his beeper and held his breath until the conductor answered.
"Motorman, here. All clear."
"Any problems?" Still holding Jeannetta, Mason leaned against the wall. That had been close. The last time he'd been that strung out... He fought back the memory of his scalpel suspended over the lesion in Bianca Norris's exposed brain.
"Just a hundred thirty-three scared passengers. Excluding yourself, of course, sir. They're after terrorists. We'll be on our way shortly."
Mason thanked him and looked down at Jeannetta.
"I'm sorry they frightened you." He sat on the sofa with her cuddled in his lap.
"I wasn't afraid for myself, as much as for you," she whispered. "If anything had happened to you because of me... Oh, Mason, you don't know how scared I got." He set her on her feet.
"I can imagine. I'll walk you to your compartment. You'd better try and get some sleep, because we reach Istanbul later this morning, and you won't be near a bed again until we get to Singapore."
Her hot, welcoming kiss wasn't something a man could easily shrug off. He had to marshall self-control to walk away from the invitation mirrored in her eyes. He wasn't superman, but if he could turn his back on his profession, work he'd dreamed of enjoying for as long as he'd known himself, if he could make himself do that, he could do anything. He headed back to his compartment, certain that he'd walked away from the loving of a lifetime.
This
page is designed and maintained by The
Literary Times
Send e-mail to TLT's Webmaster
with questions or comments about this web site.
Copyright ©2000, 2002 The Literary Times, Inc.