Dark Oil by Nora James Read Free Book Online Page A

it hard to believe this was Zakra, the capital of the country. She wondered if it came to life in the evenings, when it was cooler.
    â€œSo is this a taxi?” she asked, since Ismael wasn’t driving.
    Jack shook his head. “Company car. Taxis aren’t safe.” He pointed to a battered old car that seemed to be composed of the parts of several models of old bombs. “That’s a taxi.”
    Lara’s eyes widened with surprise. “I see what you mean.” She wouldn’t have got into that eclectic mix of metal if they’d begged her.
    Martin turned to her. “We only travel in Global Oil’s cars with a local driver we’ve trained. It’s a liability issue. People would throw themselves in front of a car if we were driving, so they could sue us and make as much money as they could out of it. If the driver’s one of their own, they don’t.”
    â€œSounds a bit extreme. But then again. . .” As they drove through another intersection she glanced down the street to the shantytown that stretched from the back of the airport to the centre of the city. Perhaps she, too, would throw herself under a vehicle if she lived there, on the off-chance she’d make a successful claim against the company. Anything to make enough to leave this place.
    The car pulled up in front of a large, walled property. The second storey of the house was clearly visible from outside, a square concrete home of the kind she’d seen when they were landing.
    This one was prettier than most. Unlike the others, it was painted, a soft terracotta shade that appealed to Lara, and the oriental carved shutters gave it a more exotic air. The heavy door to the garden was of ancient wood, mysteriously protective and reassuringly strong. It took Lara back to the tales of Ali Baba she’d read as a child. She smiled. This was more like the Negala she’d imagined.
    Ismael pushed the door open and its large hand-made hinges creaked, just as Lara expected. She stepped into the courtyard with the anticipation of a child about to discover a magic garden.
    It was a total disappointment, though. Two pink begonias thrived without competition from any other plants, but they were the only living things in the front yard, except for a tiny patch of grass that was struggling to survive in the hot, dry conditions.
    A plastic table and chairs, completely covered in sand, sat in the shade of the balcony, looking harshly uninviting. Lara sighed. Reality hardly ever lived up to the delights of the mind.
    They were greeted at the door by a small, thin man in a blue dwana. He carried a bucket of water. “Hello, Bengali,” Jack said, cheerfully. “How’ve you been? This is Lara.”
    â€œGood, Mr Jack, thank you. Pleased to meet you, Miss Lara. Mr Martin.” Bengali nodded at Martin who, ignoring him, pushed his way inside. Bengali’s eyes narrowed.
    â€œAny messages for us?” asked Jack.
    â€œYes. The Minister’s secretary called. The meeting has been brought forward to ten o’clock today.”
    Jack checked his watch. “All right people. Fifteen minutes is all we’ve got. We’ll convene down here at nine thirty sharp.”
    â€œYour room is the first one on the right upstairs, Mrs Lara.” Ismael showed off his brilliant white teeth in a smile that seemed so sincere under any other circumstances it would have been contagious. “And if the water doesn’t drain it’s OK, we fix later.”
    Lara held back a cry of despair. Fifteen minutes! It wasn’t going to be a long, luxurious shower and a nap. It would be a two minute wash standing in dirty water that didn’t drain away. In a quarter of an hour she’d be rushing off to a meeting with top government officials and she’d have to be at her best.
    How was it, again, that she had found herself here, making effort upon effort just to earn a living? If only Tim were happy