The Hidden by Jo Chumas Read Free Book Online

pretty mouth shut, and if the price was higher, so be it.
    “You’re a hard businesswoman,” Farouk said bitterly.
    “I know what my dead brother’s flat is worth,” Nemmat replied impatiently. “But don’t forget, the price doubles if you take longer than seven days—”
    Farouk put his hand up to silence her. “Seven days is all we need.”
    “You are very confident.”
    “We’re ready,” Farouk said firmly.
    “Have you set a date?”
    “Yes. You’ll get all the details in twenty-four hours, timing, location, your new identity papers for entry to the club. This man Issawi loves beautiful women. You must simply play your part—seduce him, spike his drink, lure him away from the Oxford, and escort him in the car that’s sent for you to this apartment. Once you’ve gotten him there, there will be nothing more for you to do. When you receive the exact instructions, you must memorise everything. Nothing can be written down. Do you understand?”
    Nemmat nodded. “Yes, but I need the money you promised.”
    “You’ll get your money when you deliver him to the apartment,” Farouk said sternly.
    “But you promised half up front.”
    Farouk examined her carefully.
    “There’s been a change of plan,” he said. “One of my men has advised me against it. Complete the delivery to Abbassiya without a hitch and you get it all. We can’t take any risks. This operation must not fail.”
    Nemmat eyed him coolly.
    “Who else is involved in this operation?” she asked.
    “I can’t tell you that, but don’t worry. You have nothing to fear. As long as you memorise your instructions and follow them exactly, you will receive your money and be promised a safe passage to Alexandria. Nothing more will be asked of you.”
    “What if I am followed?” Nemmat asked.
    Farouk paused for a moment, staring at her suspiciously, and then said, “Mademoiselle, for the price you have asked, I am convinced you will move heaven and earth not to be followed.”
    She nodded slowly, searching his eyes.
    “And you’ll be ready when you are given the dates?”
    Nemmat nodded again.
    And in the blink of an eye, Farouk was gone.
    The journal of Hezba Iqbal Sultan Hanim al-Shezira,
    Cairo, August 23, 1919
    It is early and deliciously quiet. I had to start writing by the light of a candle, but it is already growing lighter. There is pink in the sky, between the lattices of the mashrabiyya, far out on the horizon. The sun will be up soon. The muezzins will call us to prayer.
    I write to release the burden of guilt in me. I feel guilty because I know I cause Papa such distress. He doesn’t know what to do with me. I am not the person he would wish me to be, quiet and serene and unquestioning. I also hate myself because I am a hypocrite. I pray, but I do not say the words in my head, and the words that issue from my lips are uttered without sincerity. My nightclothes are sticking to me, and my head is heavy as I write. I can hardly see the pages of my journal because my eyes hurt. Rachid is dozing in the corner, curled up like a baby on his cushions. Last night Rachid gave me a little calming powder to dab on my tongue. I had become quite hysterical at the news that al-Shezira is travelling with his party to Cairo to get me. I don’t know when he will be here. It might be days or it might be weeks. Nothing more has been said about my being charged with the crime of disobedience against my husband, but that doesn’t mean this ruling won’t be passed. I imagine it’s only a matter of time.
    Rachid tried to calm me down last night. He laid me on my cushions and held me close, gently muffling my sobs with the palm of his hand so that Habrid, walking the corridors, would not summon my maman’s eunuch.
    And then when I became calmer, he stared into my eyes and told me how afraid he too was of the future, of my going to Minya, of the possibility of him not being allowed to escort me.
    He told me he loved me, and I told him I loved him. He