Emma Darcy - Climax Of Passion

What wonderful words they were!

By order of Xa Shiraq, the bearer of this note is entitled to have any request within my jurisdiction fulfilled.

A visa for Xabia from the embassy at Bejos had been produced in a flash. She was even given a complimentary first class ticket on the first available flight to Alcabab, the capital of Xabia. No customs check for her at the terminal. She was waved through, or rather bowed through, as though she were royalty.

Mocca had claimed her. He was an enterprising youth who scouted the airport terminal for foreign pigeons waiting to be plucked. In the guise of offering his services to provide any service–any service at all–he had offered himself to Amanda.

The clear-eyed limpid innocence, the fresh vitality of his olive skin, helped Amanda to come to a quick decision.

‘I need help,’ she declared.

‘There is no one better than I with help,’ he had replied with deep fervour to press his claim. Amanda had shown him the sheikh’s note of authority.

His eyes were larger than saucers and brighter than a Christmas tree when he read it. He treated Amanda with something akin to reverence. She figured she had turned out to be the plumpest, fattest, most succulent pigeon Mocca had ever plucked.

Amanda thought she needed one truck. Mocca opted for three four-wheeled drives, nineteen heavy-duty trucks and a desert cruiser.

Amanda thought she might need a little mining equipment. Seven of the trucks were now loaded with enough TNT, plastic explosive and dynamite to make a sizable hole in any mountain.

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