Page 56 of Queen of Barrakesch
Crossing her arms over her chest, she gazed out at the passing scenery of golden sand interrupted by tufts of green foliage on the long road from Kabatra to the private airport where the royal plane awaited her arrival.
SayingI love youcame much easier than she had expected and would become easier still in the coming weeks as they grew more and more comfortable with each other. She thought back to how their marriage had initially started and marveled at how far they had come as a couple. Wasim had been right all along. Love could come after. Or in their case, had it been there all along? She’d certainly had feelings for him, and based on their conversations, he’d always had feelings for her.
The limo slowed to a crawl, and Imani turned her attention to the scene playing out in front of them. The SUV carrying four members of her security detail slowed to a stop to let an old farmer with stooped shoulders lead his sheep across the roadway. Not an unusual site in this part of the country, and they had left early enough that time was on their side.
The driver, an older man with deep wrinkles carved into his face that made him look older than he was, met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “Not too much longer, Your Highness.”
Imani waved away any concern that she might be annoyed. “We have plenty of time, and he’s simply doing his job.”
She let her mind wander to the upcoming trip. She couldn’t wait to tell her parents, especially her mother, that she was pregnant. Benu would be excited about becoming a grandmother and would no doubt start planning some type of celebratory event to commemorate her pregnancy at a later date, after she’d been pregnant for a few months.
Movement from the corner of her eye caused Imani to turn her head to the left, but what she saw caused alarm to spring to life in her stomach. A group of six men approached swiftly on horseback, all of them wearing traditional clothes and riding as if the hounds of hell pursued them. She straightened in the seat and stared. They all wore theirghutraspinned across the bridge of their noses, hiding their features so only their eyes were visible.
What was happening?
The power locks on the limo engaged, and her gaze lifted to the rearview mirror again where they met the driver’s worried gaze. Without saying a word, his eyes darted to the right, and she saw five more men on horseback coming toward them from that direction.
The driver flung the vehicle into reverse and slammed into the SUV behind them filled with additional security. Imani gripped the seat and let out a soft cry at the impact. Her driver uttered a curse and quick, “I’m so sorry, Your Highness.”
Then, shots rang out. Imani screamed and covered her ears.
The next series of events happened quickly. The limo sank toward the right as the tires were blown out. The same happened to the vehicle in front of them, and she was certain behind them as well, though she didn’t turn around to look. The cars were incapacitated and they couldn’t get away.
The bodyguards in the front vehicle hopped out, two on each side to combat the incoming men who’d gotten much closer in a matter of seconds. They fired off a series of shots, but instead of the men on horseback ending up with casualties, she watched in horror as three members of her security team collapsed to the roadway, clutching their necks as if someone had stabbed them with a knife.
More shots rang out in the front and behind the limo, and one of the men to the left tumbled from his horse. The lone remaining bodyguard scrambled to reload his weapon, and Imani’s eyes widened as the men on horseback pulled their animals to a stop and hopped down almost simultaneously.
Unexpectedly, the old farmer ran up the front hood of the SUV and stood on top of the roof. The old farmer wasn’t old after all. He moved with the speed and agility of a much younger man. He looked down at the guard, who shrunk against the outside of the vehicle, head twisting left to right as he took in the men who’d surrounded him. The farmer blew into a bamboo tube and the fourth bodyguard fell to the asphalt.
Using bamboo darts was a fighting tactic the Barrakeschis had borrowed from Zamibia during their long history of friendship. The poison came from a mollusk indigenous to Zamibia. Hunters had used the poison to take down wild game, but her tribe, the Mbutu, turned it into a weapon of war. The poison worked best when sent through the neck and quickly incapacitated its victim for several hours. The weapon was basic but effective and demonstrated these men didn’t want to seriously hurt anyone.
At least, that’s what she hoped. Because when she turned around, the same fate had befallen the guards in the SUV behind her. The men on horseback completely caged her and the driver in the limo. Hardly daring to breathe she was so frightened, Imani gripped the leather seat with both hands. Then she remembered her phone.
The farmer hopped off the top of the SUV and came walking slowly toward the limo. He definitely was young. She could see it in his eyes though she couldn’t see his whole face. He yelled something to one of the men to his left, and the man came forward and pointed a rifle at the right passenger window at the front.
Standing back to avoid ricocheting bullets, he fired off a shot, but the bulletproof glass didn’t break. Imani took the phone from her purse, and with trembling fingers hit redial to get Wasim. He was the last call she’d made that day. Unfortunately, she would not be reaching him now. Somehow, the men on horseback must have jammed the phones because she didn’t have a signal. There was no way she was going to make any kind of call—to Wasim, emergency, or otherwise.
Another shot went off, and she jumped. They were going to keep shooting in the same spot to weaken the window. It would only be a matter of time before they got in.
The driver reached for the glove compartment.
“No!” He was going for a gun but they would kill him if he pulled it out.
“Your Highness…”
She winced as another shot hit the glass. “Don’t. They’ll kill you. And I don’t think they want to kill anyone. They want me.”
Another shot. And another. Each loud bang brought them closer to getting inside and tightened the noose of fear that wound around her throat.
The glass didn’t break, but it absorbed the blows and splintered into a spiderweb-like pattern. When it was sufficiently damaged, the farmer came forward and held up a ball-peen hammer that appeared to have a piece of ceramic attached to it. He whacked the window several times and the glass broke into small pieces.
He reached in and opened the door, and blew the poison dart at the neck of the driver, who quickly collapsed against the seat. Then he turned cool, emotionless eyes to Imani. He climbed across the driver and unlocked the back doors. They were immediately swung open by men on either side.
“Get out,” one of the men said gruffly.
Before she could even think about responding, he caught her by the hand and dragged her from the vehicle. She let out a small yelp as she tumbled from the car.
“Be careful!” one of the men said, shoving the one who’d grabbed her.
