"Yes," came the muffled voice from the hallway. "Please. I would talk."
"Just a minute." Sara ran a hand through her hair. She exchanged the thin, lacy robe shed put on for a heavier, more concealing one. She unchained the door, opened it a crack.
A heavy hand threw the door entirely open, and Sara stifled a shout. A burly man scowled at her, a handgun gripped in his large fist. He ignored Sara after an initial glance and prowled through her room, opening the closet door, peering into the bathroom. He grunted, then went back to the door. He spoke something in Arabic, and then Kahina entered. Her bodyguard shut the door behind her and stationed himself near it.
"I'm sorry," Kahina said. Her voice struggled with the English, but her eyes seemed kind. She gestured in the direction of the guard. "In our society, a woman…"
"I think I understand," Sara said. The man was staring rudely at her; Sara tightened the robe's sash and tugged the neckline higher. Involuntarily she yawned. Kahina seemed to smile under her veil.
"Again I am sorry I woke you, but the dream…" She shrugged. "May I sit?"
"Please." Sara waved toward two chairs by the window. The guard grunted. He spoke in rapid-fire syllables. "He says not by the window," Kahina translated. "Too unsafe." Sara dragged the chairs to the center of the room; that seemed to satisfy the guard, who leaned back against the wall. Kahina took one of the chairs, the dark cloth of her robes rustling. Sara seated herself carefully on the other. "You were at the meeting?" Kahina asked when they were settled.
"At the press conference afterward, you mean? Yes." Kahina nodded. "I saw you there. I knew your face from Allah's dreams. I come here now because of tonight's dream."
"You say my face was in your dreams?"
Kahina nodded. Sara found that the chador made it nearly impossible to read the hidden face. There were only Kahina's piercing eyes above the veils. Yet there seemed to be a deep kindness in them, an empathy. Sara felt herself warming to the woman. 'At the… conference"-Kahina stumbled over the word-"I said that Nur al-Allah waited to hear of my dreams before he would decide to meet with your people. I've just had his dream.'
"Then why come to me instead of your brother?" "Because in the dream -I was told to come to you." Sara shook her head. "I don't understand. We don't know each other; I was just one of a dozen or more reporters there."
"You're in love with him."
She knew who Kahina meant. She knew, but the protest was automatic. "Him?"
"The one with a double face. The one with strings. Hartmann." When Sara didn't answer, Kahina reached cut and touched her hand gently. The gesture was sisterly and strangely knowing. "You love the one you once hated," Kahina said. Her hand had not left Sara's:
Sara found that she could not lie, not to Kahina's open, vulnerable eyes. "I suppose so. You're the Seer; can you tell me how it turns out?" Sara said it jokingly, but Kahina either missed the inflection or chose to ignore it.
"You are happy for the moment, even though you are not his wife, even though you sin. I understand that." Kahina's fingers pressed against Sara's. "I understand how hate can be a blunted sword, how it can be beat upon until you begin to think it something else."
"You're confusing me, Kahina." Sara sat back, wishing she were completely awake, wishing that Gregg were there. Kahina withdrew her hand.
"Let me tell the dream." Kahina closed her eyes. She folded her hands in her lap. " I… I saw Hartmann, with his two faces, one pleasant to see, the other twisted like an abomination of Allah. You were beside him, not his wife, and the face that was pleasant smiled. I could see your feelings for him, how your hatred had been turned. My brother and I were there also, and my brother pointed to the abomination within Hartmann. The abomination spat, and the spittle fell upon me. I saw myself, and my face was yours. And I saw that I too had another face within my veils, an abominationface ugly with spite. Hartmann reached out and twisted my head until only the abomination could be seen."
"For a time the images of the dream were confused. I thought I saw a knife, and I saw Sayyid, my husband, struggling with me. Then the images cleared, and I saw a dwarf, and the dwarf spoke. He said: "Tell her that underneath the hate still lives. Tell her to remember that. The hate will protect you.' The dwarf laughed, and his laugh was evil. I did not like him.
Her eyes opened, and there was a distant terror in them. Sara started to speak, stopped, began again. "I… Kahina, I don't know what any of that means. It's just random images, no better than the dreams I have myself. Does it mean something to you?"
"It's Allah's dream," Kahina insisted, her voice harsh with intensity. " I could feel His power in it. I understand this: My brother will meet with your people."
"Gregg-Senator Hartmann-and the others will be glad to know that. Believe me, we mean only to help your people."
"Then why is the dream so fearful?"
"Maybe because there's always fear in change."
Kahina blinked. Suddenly the openness was gone. She was isolated, as hidden as her face behind the veils. " I said something very like that to Nur al-Allah once. He did not like the thought any more than I do now" She rose swiftly to her feet. The guard came to attention by the door. " I am glad we met," she said. " I will see you again in the desert." She went to the door.
"Kahina-"
She turned, waiting.
"Was that all you wanted to tell me."
The shadow of her veils hid her eyes. "I wanted to tell you one thing only," she said. "I wore your face in the dream. I think we are very alike; I feel we are… like kin. What this man you love would do to me, he might also do to you."
She nodded to the guard. They stepped quickly into the hallway and were gone.
WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 4, 1987, IN THE SYRIAN DESERT:
It was the most barren landscape Gregg had ever seen. The windows were thick with grime kicked up by the 'copter's blades. Below them, the land was desolate. The vegetation was sparse and dry, clinging to life in the volcanic rock of the desert plateau. The land around the coast had been relatively lush, but. the date palms and arable farmland had given way to pines as the trio of helicopters left the mountains of Jabal Duriz. Then there were only hawthorns and bristly scrub. The only life they saw was in the occasional settlement, where robed and turbaned men looked up from goat herds with suspicious eyes.
The ride was long, noisy, and distinctly uncomfortable. The air was turbulent, and the faces around Gregg were sour. He glanced back at Sara; she gave him a halfhearted smile and shrug. The choppers began to descend toward a small town that seemed under siege by brightly colored tents, set in the folds of a prehistoric river valley. The sun was setting behind the barren, purpled hills; the lights of campfires dotted the area.
Billy Ray came back as the helicopter threw swirling gales of dust through the canvas. "Joanne said it's okay to land, Senator," Billy half-shouted through the clamor of the engines, cupping his mouth. "I want you to know that I still don't like it."
"We're safe enough, Billy," Gregg shouted back. "The man would have to be crazy to do anything to us."
Billy gave him a sidelong look. "Uh-huh. He's a fanatic. The Nur sect has been linked to terrorism everywhere in the Middle East. Going to his headquarters, at his beck and call, and with the limited resources I have is cutting Security's throat."
He sounded more excited than worried-Carnifex enjoyed fighting-but Gregg could feel a faint, cold undercurrent of fear under Ray's swelling anticipation. He reached into Billy's mind and tweaked that fear, enjoying the sensation as the feeling heightened. Gregg told himself that it wasn't simply for enjoyment, but because paranoia would make Ray even more effective if there was trouble. "I appreciate your concerns, Billy," he said. "But we're here. Let's see what we can do."