Chapter 2
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Chapter 2
Captain Khalid Sahab, as friends and acquaintances knew him, was an inveterate pilot. He had lived at the Hotel de Crillon on the Place de la Concorde since his father died many years ago. Although not flaunting his noble background at anyone’s face, Khalid was an Arab fellow who enjoyed the Parisian life and the luxury that came with his blue blood ancestry. Not a pretentious man by any means, Khalid had an acute sense of his fellow human beings. He was intelligent, well educated—in England—and he displayed a deep-seated wisdom. Tall and handsome, he was not flirtatious or even interested in befriending the opposite s*x. Originally raised as a Touareg, his beliefs led him to maintain his distances from women. His greying hair at the temples revealed his age and when people saw him in the company of his daughter, Aisha, they somehow gathered that he was serious about his family ties and beyond the age of chasing the alluring Parisian skirts.
He had been thrown in the midst of an international affair two years ago, which had almost ruined him financially and had left him emotionally scarred. He had met Talya at a time she was herself in deep trouble. Together they evaded their enemies and thwarted or even foiled the operations of a drug lord in France while uncovering an arms’ trafficking ring spanning three continents.
He deplored Talya’s injuries. He knew that, ultimately, she had blamed him for what happened. She had been shot, and his absence at the time had made it all the worst for him and for her. He had left her to her own device in Miami and he knew the move had ignited a pursuit by a Mossad agent that ended up in disaster.
He had not heard from Talya in many months. He’d phoned James Flaubert, her boss and founder of Carmine Resources, on many occasions. James had told him she wanted to see no one and she lived a secluded life now.
Khalid was again reminiscing of the happy times he had spent with Talya when the phone on his desk rang and startled him back to the present.
“Yes, Marie, what is it?” Khalid answered tersely.
“A Dr. Hendrix is on the line for you, Capitaine. Shall I put him through?” the woman replied quietly.
“Yes, Marie, please.”
“Khalid?” Aziz asked as soon as he heard the phone being picked up.
“Yes, Aziz. How can I help you?”
“No, not me, Khalid—you’ll never be able to help me—it’s Talya who needs your help.”
Paying no heed to Aziz’s comments, “How is she?” Khalid asked.
“Physically, as well as can be expected, but psychologically, she is irresponsive.”
“What do you mean with ‘irresponsive’?”
“I guess you’ve lost your perspicacity while ignoring your friends…”
Khalid was reaching the point of annoyance very quickly. Aziz had put him on the defensive. “All right, and what do you want me to do about it? She wouldn’t even pickup the phone when I tried calling her. She does not want to see me—you know that!”
“She might not pickup the phone, but if she knows you’re at her doorsteps, she’ll see you. I’m sure of it.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Khalid, don’t play games with me. I know you’re still in love with her and if anyone can get her out of that bubble of hers, it’s you.”
“Listen to me, Aziz. Let’s say I get her out of her torpor and she finally starts living a normal life again; what would happen if she decides to come back to Paris with me? Because that’s a possibility. Have you thought of it?”
“I would prefer seeing her going to Paris with you for ever—if that’s what she wants—than seeing her the way she is now.”
“All right. Let me make some arrangements and I’ll contact you with an arrival date.”
“Thank you, Khalid.”
“I hope that was as sincere as your plea on her behalf was,” Khalid said.
“Yes, it was. Yet, I would like to hear the story from your lips one day.”
“By all means, Aziz, you should.”
When Khalid hung up, he was thrilled. Not only because he was going to see Talya again, but because he was finally going to be able to open the book that had been closed too soon in his opinion.
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