Esme’s heart lurched at the bright red smear of blood coating her father’s palm.
Her father’s eyes caught hers for a moment then began to roll back in his head as his body listed sickeningly to the side.
Zaid walked back into the room, his eyes latching on her as she lunged for her father.
‘Esmeralda.’
She barely heeded the taut command in his voice. Barely felt him arrive beside her as she dropped to her knees next to the wheelchair.
‘Dad?’
‘Step away from him, Esmeralda.’
‘No!’ Fear climbing into her throat, she placed her hand on his father’s cheek. ‘Dad!’
He didn’t respond.
Zaid spoke sharply in Arabic, and she heard the sound of running feet. ‘Esmeralda.’
She shook her head, her gaze fixed on the unmoving form of her father. ‘Dad!’
Strong hands gripped her shoulders and pulled her up. Blindly she turned, fisted Zaid’s lapels and stared into his grim face. ‘I’ll give you whatever you want. Please. Just help him!’
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE NEXT WEEK passed at times in a dizzying blur, at times in nerve-racking slow motion.
Her father had received the diagnosis of severe bronchitis and possible pneumonia with a shrug when he finally came round, and his fatalistic attitude seemed to deepen by the minute. Esme, her despair escalating, pleaded with Zaid again. His response after she’d been summoned to his office on her return from the hospital that first night had been bracing, to say the least.
‘And what do you expect me to do about it?’
‘Something. Anything! Please, Zaid. His lawyer isn’t answering his phone calls. I know you’re the prosecutor but surely you can make a recommendation for something to be done?’
‘Something like what?’ he enquired coldly. ‘And don’t be coy about what you want. I know many conversations have taken place between you and your father at the hospital.’
‘I’m not asking for anything that’s outside the law. Can’t you offer him protective custody or something like that? And before you say he’s a criminal, remember he hasn’t been tried and found guilty yet. If the rule of law means so much to you, then prove it. Treat him like a human being and help me stop this from happening again.’
Despite the condemning emotions that swirled through his eyes at her outburst, he didn’t respond immediately. She knew the tide was about to turn. So far his actions had been those of the ruler of a rich, if somewhat turbulent kingdom. But the ruthless lawyer whose skills had been honed in the glass and chrome power corridors of Washington DC was finally emerging.
He rounded his desk and placed himself squarely before her. ‘You wish me to help your father?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is this where you suggest a quid pro quo arrangement? Reiterate your offer to do anything?’
The knot of apprehension didn’t prevent her from responding. ‘If it’ll help my father, then yes.’
Again a contemplative silence greeted her question. Then he returned to his desk. ‘Very well. You will be informed of the exact details in due course.’
In due course resulted in days of being left in suspense by his absolute silence until her summons today to the house two hours outside Ja’ahr City.
The trip to Jeddebah had been as rough and unforgiving as the terrain surrounding the stunning property in which she now stood, although Esme admitted some parts of it had been raw in their beauty and magnificent to witness.
The mountains, for instance. Green and majestic to the east, they formed a sharp contrast to the distant and endless roll of the desert to the west. Until they dramatically gave way to the turbulent waters of the
Persian Gulf. She’d arrived three hours ago at the location on the southernmost point of Ja’ahr half an hour before a security escort had delivered her father.
Esme had been relieved to see his mood dramatically improved, despite the armed guards surrounding him and the menacing-looking security monitor attached to his left ankle. Despite his state, it didn’t take long for the healthier-looking Jeffrey Scott to begin subtly owning the place.