Sandra Marton - Hostage Of The Hawk

Joanna’s smile blazed. ‘Just watch me.’

Her father reached out, took a notepad from the nightstand, and held it out to her. ‘Here’s the phone number. It’s direct to Khalil’s suite.’

Joanna nodded and reached slowly for the phone. She would have preferred to make this call from the other room instead of here, with her father watching her every move, but Sam would be quick to pounce on that as a sign of weakness.

‘Good evening,’ she said to the operator, then read off the number on the notepad. Her stomach was knotting but Sam’s gaze was unwavering and she forced a cool smile to her face as she sank into the bedside chair, leaned back, and crossed her legs. The phone rang and rang. Maybe nobody was there, she thought—and at that moment, the ringing stopped and a deep voice said something in a language she couldn’t understand, except for the single word ‘Hassan’.

Joanna clasped the phone more tightly. ‘Good evening, Mr Hassan,’ she said. ‘This is Joanna Bennett. Sam Bennett’s daughter.’

If Hassan was surprised, he covered it well. ‘Ah, Miss Bennett,’ he said in impeccable English, ‘I am honoured. What may I do for you?’

‘Well?’ Sam said impatiently. ‘What’s he saying?’

Joanna frowned at him. ‘How are you enjoying your stay in Casablanca?’ she said into the phone.

‘The city is delightful, Miss Bennett, as I’m sure you agree.’

Joanna touched the tip of her tongue to her lips. ‘And the Prince? Is he enjoying his stay, as well?’

‘Dammit,’ Sam hissed, ‘get to the point! Is Khalil there, or isn’t he?’

‘Indeed,’ Hassan said pleasantly, ‘my Lord Khalil has always had a preference for this city.’

Joanna took a deep breath. Enough pleasantries. It was time to get down to business.

‘Mr Hassan,’ she said, ‘I should like to speak with the Prince.’

Hassan’s tone hardened. ‘I’m afraid that is out of the question, Miss Bennett. If you have a message for him, I shall be happy to deliver it.’

Joanna’s hand began to sweat on the phone. Her father was still giving her that same steadfast look and a self-satisfied smile was beginning to form on his lips.

‘Give it up, baby,’ he said quietly. ‘I told you you couldn’t pull it off.’

‘Mr Hassan,’ Joanna said evenly, ‘I’m afraid you don’t understand. I want to assure the Prince that the only reason for the change in plans is because my father is ill. As for Mr Ellington—I’m afraid he misunderstood my father’s instructions. The Prince will be dining with my father’s representative, whom he trusts completely and holds in the highest esteem.’ Joanna looked at Sam. ‘Vice-president Jo Bennett.’

‘One moment, please, Miss Bennett,’ Hassan said.

Joanna felt a rush of hope. She smiled sweetly at Sam. ‘He’s going to put the Prince on,’ she said, and hoped that her father couldn’t see her crossed fingers.

* * *

Across town, in the elegant royal suite of the Hotel Casablanca, Prince Khalil glared at his prime minister.

‘What sort of man is this Sam Bennett,’ he growled, ‘that he asks his daughter to telephone me and beg on his behalf?’ He folded his arms across his chest, his dark blue eyes glinting like sapphires in his tanned, handsome face. ‘Bennett is worried,’ he said with satisfaction as he leaned his hard, six-foot frame against the wall.

‘Precisely, my lord. He must be ready to bend to your will or he would not have ordered a woman to act as his agent.’

‘Only a fool would bring his daughter on such a trip,’ Khalil said with disdain. ‘The woman must have thought Casablanca would be an exotic playground in which to amuse herself.’

Hassan’s grizzled brows lifted. ‘Of course, my lord. She is, after all, of the West.’

Khalil grunted in assent. ‘What does she want?’

‘To speak with you.’ Khalil laughed and Hassan permitted himself a smile. ‘I told her, of course, that was not possible, and then she said Sam Bennett wishes tonight’s dinner meeting to take place.’

‘Ah.’ Khalil’s hard mouth curled with the shadowy beginnings of an answering smile. ‘Bennett has decided he wants to keep our appointment now?’

‘He is ill, sire, or so the woman claims, and wishes to send an emissary. I suspect it is an excuse he uses to save face.’

Khalil strode forward. ‘I do not meet with emissaries, Hassan.’

Hassan dipped his head in respect. ‘Of course, my lord. But her offer is interesting. The emissary is Joe Bennett, a vice-president of the company.’

Khalil’s eyes narrowed. ‘Who? I have never heard of such a person.’

Frowning, Hassan took his hand from the telephone and spoke into it. ‘We have no knowledge of this person who would meet with Prince Khalil, Miss Bennett. Is he related to your father?’

‘Mr Hassan, if I could just speak with the Prince—’

‘The Prince does not speak with underlings, and he surely does not meet with them,’ Hassan said coldly. ‘If you wish to answer my questions, I will transmit the information to my lord. Otherwise, our conversation is at an end.’

‘Jo,’ Sam said, ‘give it up. You’re not gonna get to first base with this guy.’

Joanna swung away from her father. ‘Jo Bennett is hardly an underling, Mr Hassan.’

‘Jo,’ Sam said, his voice gaining authority, ‘did you hear me? Give it up. You took a shot and you lost.’

‘Miss Bennett,’ the voice in her ear said sharply, ‘I asked you a question. Who is Joseph Bennett? Is he Sam Bennett’s son?’

Joanna swallowed, shut her eyes, then opened them. ‘Yes,’ she said into the telephone, praying that the Prince would forgive the deception after she convinced him that there’d be enough money in this deal to make him happy, ‘yes, that’s right, sir. He is.’

‘A moment, please.’ Hassan put his hand over the mouthpiece again and looked at the Prince. ‘The man you would dine with is the son of Sam Bennett.’

Khalil glared at his minister. ‘A son,’ he snarled, ‘a young jackal instead of the old.’ He stalked across the elegant room, turned, and looked at Hassan. ‘Tell the woman you will accept a meeting with her brother. Perhaps my judgement is wrong. Perhaps the son has some influence on the father. At any rate, you can convey my message clearly: that I will not be ignored in this matter!’

Hassan smiled. ‘Excellent, my lord.’ His smile fell away as he tilted the phone to his lips. ‘Miss Bennett.’

Joanna blinked. ‘Yes?’

‘I, Adym Hassan, Special Minister to His Highness Prince Khalil, will meet with your brother tonight.’

Joanna clutched the cord tighter. ‘But—’

‘Eight o’clock, as planned, at the Oasis Restaurant. As they say in your world, take it or leave it, Miss Bennett.’

‘Jo?’ Sam’s voice rose. ‘Dammit, Jo, what’s he saying? He’s turning you down flat, isn’t he?’

Joanna hunched over the phone. ‘Of course,’ she said, ‘eight o’clock. That will be fine. Thank you, sir.’ She hung up the phone, took a deep breath, and turned to her father. ‘You see?’ she said briskly. ‘That wasn’t so hard after all.’

‘He’s meeting with you?’ Sam said doubtfully.

Joanna nodded. ‘Sure. I told you he would.’

Sam blew out his breath. ‘OK,’ he said, ‘OK. Now, let’s figure out how to get the most mileage we can out of tonight.’ He looked at his daughter and a grin spread over his face. ‘Not bad, kid,’ he said, ‘not bad at all.’

‘It’s not “kid”,’ Joanna said with an answering smile. ‘It’s Vice-President Jo Bennett, if you don’t mind.’

Vice-President Joseph Bennett, she thought, and gave a little shudder. Things were going to get interesting when Special Minister Adym Hassan found out he’d been lied to.