Chapter 13
She was dreaming again, and Dorothy knew it, but she didn't want to awaken from this dream because this time she would make it end the way she wanted.
Pain wracked her body from a particularly strong contraction, the worst yet after several hours of labor.
"It's almost time," she heard a doctor say.
Despite the agony she was feeling after refusing any drugs that might cloud her memories of this moment, Dorothy felt such intense joy that tears gathered in her eyes.
The nurse at her side squeezed her hand and smiled kindly at her. "On the next contraction you can push."
Almost before she finished saying it, the contraction came, and Dorothy did as the nurse instructed. She had thought there would be more pain, but she felt only relief from the effort of pushing her baby into the world. When its tiny body slip from her own, she felt a mixture of both sadness and happiness. She would miss its movements inside her, but she was looking forward to holding her baby in her arms.
"You have a beautiful baby girl," the nurse told her as she approached with a bundle wrapped in a blanket.
Dorothy reached out for her baby.
The nurse placed the bundle in her arms.
Dorothy moved the blanket so she could see her daughter's face.
There was nothing amongst the blankets.
"Wake up, Miss Dorothy!" The voice seemed to be coming from far away.
The pain in her temple almost made Dorothy groan, but as she became aware of her surroundings, she realized that she was better off pretending not to have regained consciousness. Her hands were tied behind her back, and she was lying on a cold, hard floor. The air seemed stale, but she could smell the faint odor of a lemony floor wax that brought back memories of the shining floors of the Dermail Mansion.
The hinges of a door creaked, and she heard footsteps. "Here, kid, have some toast and jam. You can have milk or orange juice." Dorothy recognized Morrison's voice.
"I'm not hungry! Miss Dorothy is sick! Wake up Miss Dorothy!"
Jamila sounded like such a demanding little autocrat that Dorothy almost smiled.
"Shut up and eat!"
"Where is Grandpapa? Why did he hit Miss Dorothy?" Then she heard Jamila whimper and Dorothy wished she could put her arms around the frightened little girl. "I want my Papa."
"You can have the milk." Dorothy heard footsteps again, then the door shut with more force than necessary.
When she was sure that Morrison was gone, Dorothy opened her eyes. Her vision was blurred at first, but it soon cleared enough for her to see Jamila a few feet away, sitting with her back against a wall of dark mahogany paneling. She was hugging her knees to her chest, her face hiding in her arms, and Dorothy could see that she was crying because her shoulders were shaking. On the plate beside her was a slice of burned toast sloppily spread with grape jelly and there was a small carton of milk nearby. Dorothy tried to lift her head, but the movement made her feel nauseous. She felt something fuzzy under her chin, and moving it, she saw that the teddy bear she had given Jamila was placed against her. Dorothy was so moved that Jamila had put the precious teddy bear with her that a tear slipped from her eye and she sniffled.
Jamila's blond head popped up. "Miss Dorothy! You are awake!" She quickly crawled across the floor to her.
Dorothy tried to move her hands, but they were tied so tightly with rope that her fingers felt numb. Her mouth was dry, but she managed to talk although her voice sounded strangely gruff. "Are you all right, Jamila? They did not hurt you?"
She shook her head in answer, then said. "Why did Grandpapa hurt you? He told me that Papa sent him."
Dorothy's heart rose to choke any answer she might give Jamila. Her head ached with the effort of convincing herself that Quatre would have nothing to do with this, and yet when she had expected him to come to her home to get Jamila, Hassan Barak had come in his place. Was she foolish enough to ignore the proof of his betrayal?
"Why didn't Grandpapa take me home?"
Jamila's question startled her into realizing how peculiar their situation was. If Quatre had sent Barak to take back Jamila from her, then why hadn't Jamila been returned to the hotel? Why was she here with Dorothy being served breakfast by Randolph Morrison?
She could hear footsteps approaching again, so she looked at Jamila. "Pretend that I am sleeping. Go eat your toast."
"I don't want to," pouted Jamila as she swiped at the tears on her cheeks.
The footsteps were coming closer and Dorothy could tell that there was more than one person. "You must listen to me," she told Jamila as calmly as she could. "You must pretend that I am still sleeping."
The door handle was turning.
Jamila looked at her in puzzlement for a moment, then crawled back to the toast. By the time the door opened, she was munching on the toast, and Dorothy was able to close her eyes with the relative surety that Jamila wasn't going to give her away.
"She is still unconscious," she heard Morrison say. "I think Mr. Barak may have killed her."
"He isn't going to be happy," she heard another voice say. "He was planning for Dorothy Catalonia to call Winner to make arrangements."
"I can do it just as well," volunteered Morrison.
"He wants her to do it. He's planning on the shock of her treachery will making him careless. Winner already doesn't trust her. He thinks she arranged to have Salim killed in Switzerland."
Dorothy had been so distracted that she had forgotten about Quatre sending men to Switzerland. One of them had been killed? Quatre suspected her of arranging the murder? Although she was beginning to understand why Quatre had sounded so suspicious on the phone with her, she was hurt that he would believe for even a moment that she could be involved in the activities for which she was being implicated in a very intricate plot orchestrated by Hassan Barak.
"Is my Papa coming to get me, Yaqob?" Jamila asked.
"Shut up, kid!"
"Do not speak to Missy Jamila like that!" Dorothy heard a blow and enjoyed imagining Morrison being the recipient. Whoever Yaqob was, he would at least make certain that Jamila wouldn't be harmed. She heard his voice again, this time speaking softly in Arabic, then she heard Jamila respond before Yaqob spoke to Morrison again. "This food is not even fit for swine! I should beat you like the dog that you are for offering it to her."
"It's the cook's day off," replied Morrison sarcastically. "Stop complaining. Tomorrow she can have all the strawberries and cream her pampered little belly can hold."
"I want to go home," complained Jamila. "Take me home, Yaqob. I want my Papa."
A moment of silence preceded Yaqob's answer. "You will be home by tonight, Missy Jamila."
"You're too soft on the girl," remarked Morrison.
"Keep your mouth shut or I will cut out your tongue. " Dorothy could sense that Yaqob was uneasy with his current assignment, but she doubted he would help her because whatever they were planning he was in too deep to back out.
She heard their footsteps move away, then their low voices at the door, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. The door opened and closed, and hearing both sets of footsteps, she opened her eyes again.
Jamila crawled toward her, the slice of toast in her hand. "Are you hungry, Miss Dorothy?" She held up the toast to her mouth.
Dorothy wasn't hungry and was nauseated by the sight and smell of the toast, but she smiled and took a bite. She chewed quickly and swallowed. "Jamila, did you know that man?"
"I remember Mr. Morrison from the night when you gave me the angel," Jamila said.
"The other man," Dorothy prompted her.
"Yaqob. He watches Papa to keep him safe."
Dorothy closed her eyes for a moment to stave off a wave of dizziness. She probably had a concussion, but she couldn't afford to drift into unconsciousness again. From what she had heard, Dorothy concluded that Yaqob was involved in some plan of Hassan Barak to lure Quatre away from his bodyguards and they hoped to use her to accomplish it. There was no way she could help as she was. She struggled against the ropes securing her hands, but they were too tight. Opening her eyes again, she looked around the room hoping to find something that Jamila could bring to her to use on the ropes, and for the first time, she realized where she was. Raising her head, she saw that furniture was shrouded with drop cloths, but she recognized her own bedroom at the Dermail Mansion.
"I don't like Mr. Morrison," commented Jamila.
"I don't like him either," Dorothy said with a smile as she looked back at the little girl.
"Mama likes to talk to him," Jamila told her.
Dorothy suspected that Sadirah Barak had something to do with this abduction.
She tried to remember if she had left something in her bedroom that could be used to cut the ropes, but Dorothy had left the Dermail Mansion five years ago with no intention of ever returning. She couldn't think straight now with the pain in her head.
Jamila sat beside her and picked up the teddy bear to hug. "I'm scared."
Before Dorothy could try to comfort her, the door opened, and she closed her eyes again.
"Come with me, Missy Jamila." Dorothy recognized Yaqob's accented deep voice although he spoke gently to the child. "Wake her up," he ordered Morrison.
Dorothy opened her eyes to see Jamila leaving with her hand in that of a large man. "Where are you taking her?"
He stopped and turned to look at her. "She will be safe with me."
"How long have you been awake?" demanded Morrison who was standing over her.
Dorothy ignored him to continue staring at Yaqob. "Where are you taking her?"
"I will bring her back in a few moments when you have made yourself presentable." Without another word, he left with Jamila who didn't seem to be frightened of the huge, dark Arab.
Morrison worked at the ropes binding her wrists. "Are you pleased to be home again? I rather like the old Dermail residence. I was hoping that we would live there after we were married." Dorothy didn't tell him that he must have been delusional to believe that she would marry him.
The ropes loosened and Dorothy quickly pulled her hands out. Almost immediately she felt the barrel of a gun against her temple. "Don't try anything, you bitch, or plans or not, I'll put a bullet in your brain."
Even if she wanted to try something, her hands were too numb, and as the circulation was restored, her fingers tingled painfully. "Mr. Barak wouldn't be too happy about that," she remarked as she rubbed her hands together.
Morrison stepped back although he continued to point the gun at her and he nodded toward the bed. "I've already laid out some clothing for you."
Dorothy felt dizzy as she stood, so she moved slowly toward the bed so that she wouldn't faint. Lying across the bed was an OZ uniform. She stared at it for a moment as poignant memories of her chaotic youth clouded her mind, then she turned to look at Morrison. "I'm not putting that on."
He raised his hand to slap her, but Dorothy didn't flinch as she faced him. "You will put it on, or I will dress you myself." The sickening smile on his face warned her that he would do more than dress her.
Although she was worried about his intentions, she did as he ordered, removing her sweatshirt and jeans and carefully dressing in the uniform. She wasn't surprised that it fit snugly in the areas where she had matured in the past ten years, but she was able to make herself presentable. Dorothy used to feel pride dressed as she was, but now she felt only disgust and shame for the things she had done while wearing the uniform.
"How lovely you look, Dorothy," sneered Morrison. "I see why Barak wanted you to wear it. You look like the Romefeller bitch who could kidnap an innocent child and hold her for the fortune that you will be getting out of Winner."
"He doesn't carry money," she informed him. "So why does he have to come here? You don't expect him to attempt to withdraw the kind of cash Al-Jazar would want."
"No, he doesn't carry cash, but he is the only person who knows the access code to his accounts." Morrison snorted derisively. "And Al-Jazar doesn't want his money."
Dorothy stared at him blankly.
Morrison smirked. "Hassan Barak plans on making a very large withdrawal from Quatre Winner's accounts, but the man doesn't even know how to untie the Winner fortune that he has worked so hard to accumulate over the years."
"He is using his own granddaughter to extort money from Quatre Winner?" Dorothy was outraged that the people that should love and protect Jamila were using her in their despicable greedy plots. "Don't you think Winner will realize what has happened? How does Barak plan to hide the kind of money he will undoubtedly demand?"
"Barak doesn't need to hide the money. Once Winner gives you the code, you are going to kill him."
"I will not!" Dorothy was astounded that they expected her to kill Quatre.
Morrison chuckled. "Don't be so obtuse, Dorothy. You won't really be killing Winner, but as far as the police are concerned, you will be getting the blame."
"And I suppose that I won't be alive to tell them any different."
"I'm not exactly sure who is getting the pleasure of ending your life, my dear, but I am hoping that I will." He came close to her and jammed the barrel of the gun beneath her chin. "Ever since the night you decided to end our relationship, I've thought of nothing else. Did you think I was so stupid that I didn't know what was going on with Winner?"
"There was nothing going on with him," she told him calmly. Perhaps if she goaded him, he would lose his concentration and she would be able to get the gun away. Dorothy was relatively sure that he wasn't going to kill her now as long as she was an integral part of Hassan Barak's scheme.
Morrison narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth, but he seemed to get control of his anger. "I don't care if he was screwing you before, during or after our relationship. You're both going to die tonight."
"What is to become of Jamila? They aren't going to hurt her, are they?" Dorothy was heartsick to think of any more harm coming to the innocent girl who probably knew nothing but beatings at the hands of her own mother.
"She is the key to this whole thing! Winner has arranged for his entire fortune to be left to her in trust should anything happen to him. Naturally, her mother would be given control of the trust."
"And since you have befriended Hassan Barak and are helping him in this escapade, you will be getting a slice of the pie?"
"A very generous helping."
"You think you're going to be able to enjoy it? The police probably already know that you are involved."
"With the kind of money they are giving me, I can go anywhere and do anything. You've already ruined my reputation on Earth, but I'm quite sure that with Barak's recommendation, I can find a way to live comfortably on L4, especially after Barak deposes Mahmad Al-Jazar." He waved the gun toward the door. "Yaqob is waiting in the salon. He will tell you exactly what to say, and I suggest you do not alter from the script. The safety of that little girl is depending on your actions."
Dorothy had little choice but to do as they said. But she had no intention of peacefully submitting to any kind of execution. Jamila's safety depended on her, just as Randolph Morrison had said, and she would do as they instructed her. After that she would find a way to escape with Jamila.
"Are you sure that you want to stay here?" Heero Yuy was standing in beside the taxi that would take him to the airport. "It's damn cold in Geneva this time of year."
After working with Heero for the last six weeks, Dorothy could almost call him a friend. The dozen times she had reported to him in person, giving him names and revealing the plans that her grandfather's former associates had made to dismantle the Earth Sphere United Nations, Dorothy read the blatant mistrust in his eyes. Reprising her role as General Catalonia's fanatic daughter had been difficult, but Dorothy accepted it as a necessary evil. No one suspected that she was a spy. She was confident that the men and women who had been arrested did not even guess that she had been behind it.
At first Dorothy had refused to be a part of the undercover operation, but after giving it some thought, she realized that leaving her home and going to Switzerland could be incorporated in the story she would tell when she returned with a baby and no husband. Her mother had loved to ski and so her father had purchased a quaint chalet in the mountains. Dorothy had never been there, but she had heard her mother speak fondly of it. Her grandfather once remarked that it was strategically located near civilization but far enough away to be private.
"I like to ski," she lied to Heero. Dorothy had never been skiing in her life although she had lived at a boarding school near Geneva. "I'm sure Relena is looking forward to your return."
Heero raised a brow. Dorothy realized that she probably shouldn't have brought up something so personal. "She's visiting L3 and will be there for another week. Then she will be making a scheduled stop at L2."
Dorothy rubbed her hands together then pulled on her leather gloves before drawing the fur-lined hood of her parka over her head. "Well, I guess you should be going. Your taxi is waiting."
He glanced at the taxi, then back at her. "What about that guy you mentioned? Are you meeting him? Is that why you are staying?"
She blushed, mostly because she had hinted to him about her fictitious lover and was embarrassed about the deception. What she had told him could apply to Quatre Winner anyway, so she didn't really feel as though she had lied. Heero Yuy could interpret her embarrassment as confirmation, but she wasn't going to say so. Dorothy felt guilty enough about the subterfuge without resorting to outright lies.
When she didn't respond, he frowned. "I guess that was a rude question. I just wanted to be sure you would be all right here. There are some people who might connect your freedom with the sudden incarceration of the Romefeller traitors."
"I'll be all right," Dorothy told him. "I attended school here, so I have friends nearby. Don't worry about me, Heero Yuy."
He snorted derisively as he pulled open the door of the cab and settled inside. "You are the last woman I would worry about, Dorothy Catalonia. Don't break your neck skiing." With that, he pulled the door shut, and the taxi pulled away from the curb soon after.
She stayed in Geneva for a couple more weeks during which time she saw a doctor who told her that she was in excellent health and that her pregnancy was proceeding normally. Dr. Richter was a handsome young man who didn't see anything amiss with flirting with a woman almost five months pregnant, so she guessed that he did so with all his patients. Dorothy was flattered, but not interested. She made an appointment to return in a month, then set out for her family chalet.
The old caretaker couple viewed her suspiciously when she arrived to claim her mother's property. They had come to think of the chalet as their own, believing that the balance of the Dermail family had been wiped out during the war and would never return to the chalet. Dorothy was able to convince them of her identity and that she would deed them the chalet when she left in the spring. They were relieved, first because of the uncertainty of living in a home that did not belong to them, and second because Dorothy wasn't as demanding as her grandfather and mother had been while staying at the chalet. Greta and Albert Huffmann saw to her every need, and before long they relaxed together almost like a family in the cozy chalet.
Soon enough she had admitted to Greta what happened to her although she didn't reveal the name of the baby's father. Greta clucked over her like a mother hen thereafter. Dorothy imagined that she knew how it felt to have a mother from the attention she got from the old woman. The first time she felt the baby move inside her, Dorothy shared it with Greta and the woman was just as delighted as Dorothy had been.
Dorothy didn't think she could be any happier. Each time she felt the baby, she imagined what her little boy or girl would look like, and her heart filled with joy. After a month, Dorothy returned to Geneva for her doctor's appointment, and the doctor did an ultrasound to determine an exact date of delivery. She was amazed to see the tiny baby on the monitor, as Dr. Richter pointed out important details, not the least of which was the sex of her baby.
After finding out that she would have a girl, Dorothy spared no expense in purchasing items for her daughter that she arranged to have shipped back to her house with instructions for the maid to place them in the nursery. Later, as she walked in a shopping center, she paused to look at dresses for little girls and imagined her blond, blue-eyed daughter wearing them. She felt as if she were walking on a cloud.
Shortly before leaving the shopping center, she got the unpleasant sensation that she was being watched, but looking around her, there were many people shopping that she couldn't pick out any one person that might be stalking her. Dorothy considered the possibility that there were men and women who might retaliate against her for working with the Preventers, but dismissed it because she was certain that the worst of the rebels had been rounded up and arrested.
The feeling that she was being followed persisted when she left Geneva. Looking in the rearview mirror, she did note that a car had followed her from the moment she left the shopping center, but shortly before she made her turn to take the road to the secluded chalet, the limousine passed her and continued on. Although she was relieved, she was trembling when she arrived back at the house. Greta hustled her off to bed for rest while Albert left to find out if anyone had come up the road. Dorothy wasn't able to calm down until he returned to report that he hadn't seen anyone. Dorothy couldn't shake the feeling that someone had been watching her.
By the time another month passed, Dorothy had almost forgotten her fears, but when she went to Geneva for her monthly check-up, Greta and Albert insisted upon accompanying her. While Dorothy met with the doctor, Greta sat in the waiting room with her husband. Dr. Richter thought they might be her parents at first because of their genuine concern for her. The old couple was actually the closest she had come to having parents, and she was grateful because now was the time that she needed someone to give her some support.
The baby was growing normally, so Dorothy took the opportunity to shop for some maternity clothing since she had finally outgrown every loose article of clothing that she owned. Greta was delighted to join her on the shopping excursion while Albert left to pick up supplies for the chalet. Dorothy bought mostly comfortable clothing that she could wear while lounging around at the chalet, and she purchased a few gifts for Greta too before they went to a restaurant to meet Albert for lunch before they would head back to the chalet.
While they were waiting for Albert, and Greta was suggesting names for the baby, Dorothy glanced at a table nearby and saw that a man was reading the newspaper. She was about to turn her attention back to Greta to give her opinion about one of the names she had proposed when she noticed a picture on the society page that made her heart feel as though it had been crushed. There was a picture of Quatre Winner beside the picture of a beautiful dark-haired woman. Although she didn't want the pain that she would feel, Dorothy asked the maitre d' to bring her a copy of the day's paper. Greta watched her curiously as she pretended to study some news articles, and Dorothy wondered how she managed to keep her hands from shaking when she finally turned to the society page. The article was actually gossip hinting about a relationship between the two, and yet when Dorothy saw the name beneath the picture of the very young, very beautiful woman, she felt nauseous. Sadirah Barak.
Dorothy barely heard Greta ask if she were feeling sick, pointing out that she looked pale. She read the article, noting that Quatre was still on L4 and that his business manager's daughter had spent her vacation from school with the eligible tycoon at his home before returning to boarding school in Geneva recently. The writer of the article hinted that the bachelor had curbed his wild, hedonistic behavior and that perhaps cupid had hit him with an arrow. Dorothy tried not to be depressed as she realized he had probably fallen in love with the young woman he was destined to marry.
Scanning the article for the name of the school to which Sadirah Barak had returned, Dorothy was surprised to note that she had attended the same school in Geneva. Dorothy thought it strangely coincidental that she had chosen to hide during her pregnancy in the same general area that Quatre's future wife attended school. Although she had planned to shop a little longer, Dorothy decided to return to the chalet. Neither Greta nor her husband seemed to mind.
The following weeks Dorothy tried not to think of Quatre with the other woman, but she couldn't help causing herself the pain. She wished that she could turn back time so that she could refuse to have anything to do with Quatre Raberba Winner. In fact, if she had it all to do over again, she wouldn't have gone to Barbados at all. And yet, when she sat by herself, reading a book or listening to music and she would feel her baby move, Dorothy knew that she would do it all again just to experience the joy of carrying her daughter.
The next doctor's appointment, Greta accompanied her to Geneva, but she went shopping while Dorothy saw the doctor. Dr. Richter seemed strangely distracted, but he apologized, saying that he had been up late the night before delivering a baby. While he examined her, his brows were drawn together in a frown that Dorothy did not find at all comforting. He left the examining room for several minutes, and when he returned carrying a file, he was looking very serious. He informed her that her blood pressure had risen, and she had traces of protein in her urine, and although Dorothy hadn't noticed, he pointed out that her ankles were swollen and that she was starting to retain water. All were symptoms of a complication that wasn't altogether uncommon. Dorothy couldn't believe that he was telling her that she was having problems when she felt perfectly healthy. But he ordered her to see him in another week and if the symptoms persisted, he would give her some medication for treatment.
Dorothy returned home in a daze. For the next week, she was very careful about her activity and her diet, and she got plenty of rest. But on her next trip to the doctor, Dr. Richter informed her gently that the symptoms had gotten worse, that he would try medication as a last resort before sending her to the hospital for observation. Greta was just as upset as Dorothy was about the sudden problem, but she was a great comfort to her. Despite following the doctor's instructions and taking the medication, Dorothy began to feel sick, and only a few days passed since her last appointment before she decided to return to Geneva again. She was only a few weeks from full term, but Dr. Richter didn't think either she or the baby would make it if they waited any longer.
So she checked into the hospital. Dorothy briefly considered calling Relena Peacecraft or even Heero Yuy to let them know the danger she was in, but Greta talked her out of it, wisely pointing out that she would regret revealing her secret once she was out of danger. Dorothy could barely concentrate as Dr. Richter explained the procedure to her, that he would be inducing labor to attempt a normal delivery. If either her or the baby showed any signs of distress, he would surgically deliver her.
The contractions began shortly after the nurse started the intravenous drip. Greta stayed with her for most of the day until the delivery drew nearer, then the doctor suggested she wait with her husband in the lounge. Dorothy would have felt better having someone with her, but she had little time to think about it as the contractions became stronger and closer together. The nurse offered to add a pain-reducing drug to her intravenous drip, but Dorothy shook her head. She wanted to see her daughter immediately when she was born, and she didn't want to be groggy from drugs.
After what seemed like hours of agony, the doctor finally said, "It's almost time."
Dorothy wept tears of relief and joy as she realized her daughter would soon be born.
"On the next contraction, you can push," the nurse said.
The contraction came, and Dorothy concentrated her energies into pushing, but nothing seemed to happen. The nurse checked her pulse, then connected a monitor. On the next contraction, she pushed again with all her might until Dr. Richter ordered her to stop. Dorothy was beginning to feel light-headed, and the room seemed to be spinning around her.
"What...what is happening, doctor?" she asked although her voice sounded strangely slurred.
Dr. Richter came around the side of the bed. Although another contraction came, she was too weak to push. She felt as if her strength were draining away.
"Dorothy, I'm going to have to operate."
Dorothy felt another contraction, but she couldn't do anything more than raise her hand and lay it on her distended abdomen where she could feel her baby move. Suddenly the lights dimmed and she had the sensation that she was falling a long way into a black, bottomless pit.
When he returned to the hotel suite with Heero, Quatre discovered that Sadirah had already left, taking with her all of her baggage. He thought he should feel some sense of loss after they had lived as husband and wife for four years, but he felt only relief. He could not imagine continuing their marriage even one more day after what he had learned of her treatment of Jamila. According to Rashid, she had gone to stay with her father, taking with her a handful of men who were more loyal to her than to Quatre.
Heero hadn't said a word about his wife's disappearance, but had gone immediately to the telephone to make a call while Quatre told Rashid what had happened. Rashid felt responsible for not stopping Jamila from running away in the first place, but he didn't comment on whether he believed that Dorothy had used the opportunity to hold Jamila for ransom. Quatre didn't think that Dorothy would hurt Jamila, but she also would not return her unless Quatre followed her instructions.
After hanging up the phone, Heero turned to Quatre. "The bullet in the wall came from Dorothy Catalonia's own gun. Forensics also found blood on the bullet that doesn't match hers."
"You have this kind of information on file for everyone?" asked Quatre incredulously.
"Only for Preventer agents. I also received news that the other man you sent to Switzerland turned up on a flight back here."
"Yaqob has returned?" Quatre was relieved that he didn't have to deal with the death of yet another of his employees. He turned to look at Rashid. "Why didn't you tell me he had returned? What does he know about Salim's death?"
Rashid shook his head. "Yaqob has not returned here."
Quatre sighed. "He is one of Sadirah's men? He was one of the men that guarded my father." Quatre was disheartened to realize that his men had been so divided and yet he had never noticed. He wasn't sure whom he should trust anymore.
"He was the brother of Sadirah's mother," Rashid told Quatre. "Many of the men that left with her have some connection with the Barak family."
Quatre sat on the sofa, then rested his head in his hands. "How could I let this happen? First Dorothy, now Sadirah."
"You're a bad judge of women," remarked Heero. "And getting worse by the minute."
"I can't believe Dorothy is doing this to me," he said aloud.
"I don't believe she is doing this to you," Heero said.
Quatre looked at him. "But..."
"I seem to know Dorothy better than you do. She would never harm your daughter, nor would she use a child as a pawn. I would guess that she fired her gun at the house to protect Jamila. But if you would rather believe the worst of her..." Heero shrugged and left the sentence hanging.
Quatre didn't want to believe the worst of Dorothy, but how could he continue to trust her when all the evidence proved that she was guilty. He couldn't ignore the fact that she had left the house with Randolph Morrison, that Morrison had used her money in activities that probably included building a mobile doll factory on X7350. Barak had warned him against believing that running into Dorothy in Barbados was a coincidence. Had she learned of his trip to Barbados, then followed him? Perhaps she had purposely chosen to dine at that particular restaurant knowing that he was going to be there as well? Had she enticed him and seduced him when he believed the opposite was true? She would have to be incredibly clever to pull it off as she had, and yet he knew the daughter of General Catalonia and granddaughter of Duke Dermail could do it just as Barak had insinuated.
The doorbell rang, and instead of the maid answering, Rashid went to the door to open it revealing Hassan Barak accompanied by two men. Rashid stepped aside to let him in.
"Have you heard anything?" asked Barak tersely.
"Not yet." Quatre felt uncomfortable knowing that Sadirah had left him and gone to her father. The older man's dark eyes met his, and Quatre had to look away from the disappointment he saw reflected. No doubt Sadirah had bruises to show him, and Quatre felt remorse for having hurt her. Sadirah needed some counseling to manage her temper with Jamila. She certainly didn't need him to prove that violence was acceptable in his house.
"What do you know about Yaqob bin Haroon?" Heero suddenly asked Barak.
Barak reluctantly took his piercing gaze from Quatre and turned to look at Heero. "He is my late wife's brother."
"Do you know what he was doing in Switzerland?"
"I sent him to Switzerland," Rashid spoke up.
Heero looked at him. "Why did you choose him?"
"What does this have to do with that madwoman kidnapping my granddaughter?" demanded Barak angrily.
Calmly raising a brow, Heero said, "You tell me."
"This is getting us no where," interrupted Quatre, stepping between the two men. "We shouldn't be arguing about something that has nothing to do with Jamila's abduction."
"Does Yaqob carry a gun?" continued Heero as if he hadn't heard him.
"All my men carry guns," Quatre answered. He could see that his father-in-law was becoming agitated by Heero's harassment. "They have special licenses because of their unique position as my bodyguards."
"Convenient," was all that Heero said. He continued to stare at Barak as if trying to read his mind.
Shaking his head, Quatre crossed the room and stepped out onto the balcony where he pulled out a cigar, lit it and watched the sun sinking in the west. Rashid had followed him and was standing a few feet away also watching the sun.
Quatre glanced at him after a few moments of smoking in silence. "What are your thoughts, my old friend?"
Rashid didn't look at him. "I am not sure what I should believe." He released a long sigh. "Master Quatre, I didn't want to send Yaqob to Switzerland with Salim, but Mr. Barak recommended him because he had some old friends to look up from the days when his niece attended school near Geneva."
What did all this mean? "Is it possible that Dorothy had some contact with Sadirah in Switzerland?"
Rashid looked as if he wanted to say more, but Barak stepped out onto the balcony with them. Rashid bowed his head and slipped back into the suite.
Barak spoke immediately once Rashid was inside. "I do not know what your friend was trying to imply about Yaqob, but I am offended by his questions."
"Heero is a Preventer agent. He is suspicious of everyone." Except Dorothy, thought Quatre. Heero put a lot of faith in her. But he hadn't given his heart and soul to her only to have her leave him without a word. The next time Quatre saw her, she was spying on him for the Preventers.
"He will back Dorothy Catalonia. She is one of them."
Quatre looked at him. "What are you suggesting that I do?"
"When that woman calls, keep the Preventer from becoming involved. This matter is private, between you and her." Barak reached into his jacket and pulled out a gun. He held it out to Quatre, handle first. "You will need this."
Quatre stared at the gun for a moment, his stomach churning unpleasantly. Although his men carried weapons, Quatre had not even touched one since the war. He looked at Barak's face. "I couldn't do it."
Barak raised a brow. "Not even to protect your daughter? You don't know what that woman is capable of if she doesn't get what she wants."
Quatre shook his head. "I can't shoot the gun."
The door to the suite slid open and Quatre could hear the telephone ringing as Heero stood in the entrance. Heero cocked his head inside, and after Quatre followed him in, he waited anxiously as the maid crossed the room to pick up the phone.
She didn't even have a chance to use a greeting before she turned to look at Quatre. "The call is for you, Mr. Winner."
When Quatre took the phone, his hand was shaking. "Miss Dorothy, is it you? Is Jamila with you?"
Dorothy's voice was calmly cold on the other end of the line. "You have one hour to meet me at the Dermail Mansion. I suggest that you come alone or the consequences could be quite unpleasant for the little Winner princess."
"Dorothy..." He didn't have a chance to say any more before the line went dead.
As he replaced the phone, Heero asked, "Where is she?"
Quatre glanced at Barak first, then looked back at Heero. "She didn't say. She will call in the morning with further instructions. For the time being, she is safe."
"I will inform my daughter." Barak headed to the door.
"I need to get out of here." Quatre followed him, and when Rashid and Heero tried to follow, he shook his head. "I'll be back after a short drive. You should stay here in case she calls again."
Both men looked skeptical, but Quatre ignored them as he left with Barak. Neither spoke until they were alone in the elevator. "I have to meet her within the hour or she will hurt Jamila."
Barak smiled grimly as he reached into his jacket to withdraw the gun. "To protect Jamila, I think you could do anything. Including taking care of Dorothy Catalonia once and for all."
Taking the gun, Quatre knew that Barak was right. He couldn't let Dorothy hurt his daughter, and if he had to, he would put an end to Dorothy Catalonia's schemes the only way she seemed to understand.
