She leaned back in her seat. She was still wearing the jeans and woolen sweater she put on that morning. Only ten hours removed from the chilly damp of London, her body was unprepared for the onslaught of tropical heat. The jeans felt as though they were glued to her thighs, and the sweater seemed to be sawing at the side of her neck. She glanced at bin Talal, who seemed to be having no difficulty adjusting to the abrupt change of climate. He had a wide face, two small dark eyes, and a goatee beard. Dressed as he was now, in his tailored gray suit and tie, he might have been mistaken for a financier. His hands, however, betrayed the true nature of his work. They looked like mallets.
The roar of the rotor blade made further conversation impossible, and for this she was eternally grateful. Her loathing of him was now limitless. Since just after dawn he had been a constant presence at her side, menacing in his politeness. At the airport he had insisted on coming with her to the duty-free shops and had intervened with a company credit card when she bought a flask of aloe lotion. During the flight he had shown an endless interest in all aspects of her life.
When she looked out the window again,
The Sikorsky settled over
BIN TALAL showed her to her quarters. They were larger than her flat in Chelsea: a sprawling bedroom with separate seating area, a marble bathroom with sunken tub and Jacuzzi, a sweeping private deck which at that moment was lit by the setting sun. The Saudi laid her bag on the king-size bed like a hotel bellman and started to pull at the zipper. Sarah tried to stop him.
“That’s not necessary. I can see to my own bag, thank you.”
“I’m afraid it
He lifted the top and started removing her things.
“What are you doing?”
“We have rules, Miss Sarah.” The profound courtesy was now absent from his voice. “It’s my job to make certain the guests adhere to those rules. No alcohol, no tobacco, and no pornography of any kind.” He held up an American fashion magazine she’d picked up at the airport in Miami. “I’m afraid I have to confiscate this. Do you have any alcohol?”
She shook her head. “And no cigarettes either.”
“You don’t smoke?”
“Occasionally, but I don’t make a habit of it.”
“I’ll need your mobile phone until you leave
“Why?”
“Because guests aren’t allowed to use cellular telephones aboard this craft. Besides, they won’t function because of the ship’s electronics.”
“If it won’t function, then what’s the use of confiscating it?”
“I assume your cell phone has the ability to take photographs as well as record and store video and audio clips?”
“That’s what the little man said who sold it to me, but I never use it that way.”
He held out his enormous hand. “Your telephone, please. I can assure you it will be well cared for.”
“I have work to do. I can’t be cut off from the world.”
“You’re more than welcome to use our shipboard satellite phone system.”
She dug her phone from her handbag, switched off the power, and surrendered it to him.
“Now your camera, please. Mr. al-Bakari does not like cameras around when he is trying to relax. It is against the rules to photograph him, his employees, or any of his guests.”
“Are there other guests besides me?”
He ignored her question. “Did you bring a BlackBerry or any other kind of PDA?”
She showed it to him. He held out his hand.
“If you read my e-mail, so help me-”
“We have no desire to read your e-mail. Please, Miss Sarah, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can settle in and relax.”
She handed him the BlackBerry.
“Did you bring an iPod or any other type of personal stereo?”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Mr. al-Bakari believes personal stereos are rude and inconsiderate. Your room contains a state-of-the-art audio and visual entertainment system. You won’t need your own.”
She gave him the iPod.
“Any other electronics?”
“A hair dryer.”
He held out his hand.
“You can’t take a girl’s hair dryer.”
“You have one in your bathroom that’s compatible with the ship’s electrical system. In the meantime, let me have yours, just so there’s no confusion.”
“I promise not to use it.”
“Your hair dryer, please, Miss Sarah.”
She pulled the hair dryer from her suitcase and gave it to him.
“Mr. al-Bakari has left a gift for you in the closet. I’m sure he would be flattered if you wore it to dinner. It’s scheduled for nine o’clock this evening. I suggest you try to sleep until then. You’ve had a long day-and then there’s the time difference, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Would you like to be awakened at eight o’clock?”
“I can manage on my own. I brought a travel alarm clock.”
He smiled humorlessly. “I’ll need that, too.”
MUCH TO HER surprise she did sleep. She dreamt nothing and woke in darkness, unsure of where she was. Then a puff of warm sea wind caressed her breast, like the breath of a lover, and she realized she was aboard