The sun had disappeared behind the mountains, and the sky was losing its warm colors and deepening to mauve and a pale lemon hue. It would soon be dark.
“Did you say I could not go in with you?” the girl asked.
“That’s right,” I told her. “It’s a one-man job once I get past that fence. But you’re going to give me some hints about what I’ll find inside. And you’re going to help me get in.”
Gabrielle looked over at me and smiled. Her hair was done up in a knot at the back of her head, and some strands had come loose. It was very becoming. “How, Nick? How can I get you in?”
“By using your Almohad dialect on that guard at the gate. But let’s talk about the palace first. I presume the third floor is primarily a storage area?”
“The top floor was never used for living quarters, not even by the caliph,” she said. “Of course, the general might have renovated it. The second floor consists of bedrooms, with a small study at the northeast corner.”
“And the first floor?”
“A reception hall, a kind of throne room, a ballroom for entertaining European visitors, a library, and a big kitchen.”
“Hmm. So the library and the second-floor study would be the most appropriate rooms for an office, unless the general wanted to renovate a guest room?”
“I believe so.”
“All right. I’ll go to the library first. That would seem to suit the grand style of a general. But it may be pretty difficult to get in on the first floor without breaking a window, so I’ll have to try the roof.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Don’t worry about my part. You’re going to have enough to do yourself. I’ll tell you the details when we get back to the car. But we might as well wait here until it’s dark.”
We lay there in the encroaching dusk, watching the outlines of the estate emerge into shadow. A moon was rising behind us, and a cricket had begun rasping away in a nearby thicket.
Gabrielle turned to me, and my arms went around her. Our mouths met, and my hand found its way inside her dress, caressing the soft warmth of her breasts. She sighed, her legs parting almost automatically. She raised her hips to help me as I peeled off her panties, and then I moved onto her. She moaned as I reached deep inside her and then there was nothing for me, nothing for her, but our bodies and the need to be satisfied again and again.
She was silent when it was over, and we lay once more side by side. We stayed that way for a long time. Finally I touched her shoulder gently. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s get there.”
We drove slowly down the road toward the gate to the estate. Gabrielle was at the wheel, and I was crouched low in the back seat. It was black now, with a dull moonlight. As we approached, the olive-drab soldier moved from a small gatehouse, unslung the submachine gun, and aimed it at Gabrielle.
“Keep cool,” I whispered from behind her. “Drive right up to him.”
The car moved on to the gate. There was a hissing from the radiator and when we stopped just a few feet from the sentry, it steamed up angrily from under the hood, just as I planned.
Gabrielle spoke to the man in his native dialect. She gave him a disarming smile, which seemed to remove the scowl from his face, and I saw him look her over appraisingly, even as he held on to the gun. She mentioned car trouble and asked if he could help.
He hesitated, then answered her uncertainly.
Gabrielle got out of the car, and he followed her movement suspiciously with the big gun. She was speaking and gesturing, the smile turned on him, her eyes pleading.
He returned the smile and shrugged his shoulders. He was a slim mountain man with a dark beard. He wore a fatigue uniform and cap, with a cartridge belt at his waist. As Gabrielle walked to the front of the car, he followed her, the gun hanging at his side. She raised the hood, and he ex-claimed and gestured at all the additional steam that was released.
He was obviously a simple man who knew little about machines, but he would not want this beautiful woman to know that.
The sentry looked under the hood with Gabrielle. I climbed quietly from the Citrõen, Hugo in hand, and made a circle around him and Gabrielle, on his blind side. I was behind him as he leaned over the car.
He was speaking to her, gesturing to the radiator, apparently explaining the problem. His dialect was fast and slurred, and I was glad Gabrielle was so good with it. I could understand nothing of what he was saying, but one thing was clear: he was caught up with Gabrielle completely.
I moved up closer, grabbed him with my left arm, pulling his head back as Gabrielle stepped away from us. He tried to bring the gun into play but couldn’t. I drew Hugo across his throat with my right hand. He made a muffled sound and slumped to the ground.
I touched Gabrielle’s arm. “Go open the gate while I get him over to this clump of bushes.”
She hesitated only a moment. “All right.”
I dragged the soldier out of sight, then stripped the clothes off him. Gabrielle came back, and I handed them to her. She began putting the uniform on over her own short dress.
“This is just to reassure whoever is looking toward the gate from the house,” I told her. “If the General’s car should return before I get back, run. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Hide, and fire a warning shot from this.” I pointed to the submachine gun.
“All right.” She buttoned the shirt over her full breasts and stuck most of her red hair under the cap. I gave her the gun and she slung it over her shoulder. From a distance she would look enough like the sentry to get away with it.
We moved back to the gate, and she took up her position. I climbed into the car, drove it behind a small clump of trees off to the left outside the guardhouse, and then entered the grounds past Gabrielle. She closed the gate behind me.
“Good luck, Nick.” she said.
I winked at her and moved on down the drive toward the palace.
In a few moments I was crouching behind a square-pruned hibiscus bush near the building. There was a small portico on the front of the place, under a Moorish arch, and big double doors behind it leading into the glittering interior. The doors were open this balmy night, and I could see two soldiers standing in the entrance hall, talking and smoking. There might be others in there, too. Looking up at the second floor, I saw that there were few lights on. There were probably no guards up there.
I left cover momentarily and ran in a crouched position to the corner of the building. The arched portico ended there, in a bramble of bougainvillea. I planned on going around to the rear of the place, hoping to find a way up to the roof.
When I turned the corner of the building, I al-most walked right into a guard who was standing outside smoking. He had not seen or heard me, and when I stopped short just inches from him, his eyes went wide in surprise, then narrowed quickly as he dropped his cigarette, reaching for a big military pistol on his belt.
Hugo slipped into my palm. The man was just drawing the big automatic to fire when I stepped even closer and shoved Hugo in under his ribs.
The pistol thumped to the ground and the soldier looked at me in disbelief. I withdrew the stiletto as he grabbed at his side. He slid down the side of the building, his face twisted in death.
I cleaned the stiletto on his uniform and returned the blade to its sheath. Looking down the side of the building, I saw a small wheelbarrow covered with a tarpaulin. I got the tarpaulin and threw it over the fallen guard. Then I moved to the rear of the place.
As I suspected, there was a trellis on the back wall. The vine that grew on the trellis was not thick at this time of the year, and that helped. I climbed the trellis quietly until I reached a second-story roof over a kitchen area. From there I climbed a drain pipe up to the top roof.