‘You’ve still got your touch, I see,’ she whispered.

‘The perfume?’ Lourds reminded.

‘And you still have a one-track mind.’

‘I wouldn’t say that.’ Lourds closed his hands over the tender flesh of her breasts and gently tweaked her nipples. ‘I’m quite capable of multi-tasking when there’s a need.’

A quiet moan escaped Olympia as she tilted her head back. ‘Oh, there’s a need. A definite need.’

Lourds grinned and kissed her again. He slid his hands across her back and pulled her close to him. He felt the heat of her melding into his.

‘The perfume could have been from a maid stopping by to turn down the bed,’ Olympia suggested. She pushed free of Lourds and gazed up at him. ‘There is a bed, isn’t there? I specifically asked for one when I reserved this room.’

‘There must be one in here somewhere. I just haven’t seen it yet.’

Olympia looked around the room. ‘If it were me, I’d guess it was behind that door.’

‘Well, then we’ll try that one. You do have a doctorate, after all.’

‘Three, actually.’

‘You’re obviously overcompensating for something.’ Lourds bent down and lifted her into his arms, then started for the bedroom door. Once inside he fumbled for and found the light switch. He turned it on and a soft glow filled the room.

The bedroom was spacious and adorned with pastel-coloured curtains and bedding. The king-sized bed dominated the room. Lourds carried Olympia towards it and gently laid her on it. When he tried to crawl after her, she pushed him away.

‘You’re dirty,’ she said.

Lourds stood at the side of the bed, only then remembering his current state. ‘You weren’t objecting a moment ago.’

‘A moment ago, we were in the living room, not in the bed where I expect to be happily entertained for the next ten or twelve hours.’

Lourds cocked an eyebrow in mock surprise. ‘You do have grand designs, don’t you?’

‘A large appetite, thank you. And it’s already been kept waiting for two days while you’ve been off gallivanting around.’

‘I’d hardly call nearly getting killed – on more than one occasion – and getting interviewed by the local constabulary “gallivanting”.’

‘An imposition, then.’

‘Most impositions I’ve had don’t include getting shot at.’

Olympia sat on the edge of the bed and unbuttoned his shirt. She ran her hands across the flat planes of his chest and stomach. Years of playing soccer had kept him taut and lean. He ran his fingers through the shimmering waves of her hair, then bent down to kiss her. As they kissed, her fingers busied themselves with his belt buckle and trousers. A moment later they slid down his slim hips. He’d already been erect, and getting freed only promoted that. Her fingers closed round his erection and he shivered in anticipation. He cupped her breasts again and squeezed just enough to elicit a moan. She broke free of his lips then trailed kisses down his chest and stomach. She made him wait, his hands knotted in her hair, before she slowly, delicately, took him into her mouth.

Lourds’ knees almost buckled at the sensation. His breath came in ragged gasps and he teetered on the edge of control. He was aware she knew that, and doubtless enjoyed being in a position of power. Olympia had always been a generous lover, but she’d also been an incredible tease. Just before he begged for mercy or permission, Olympia drew back and smiled wickedly up at him.

‘Go,’ she said sternly. ‘Shower. We’ll continue the frivolity after you’re clean.’

‘Of course, my lady.’ Lourds took her hand and kissed her fingers. ‘I won’t be but just a moment.’

‘You’d better take longer than that. You reek.’

Lourds turned to walk away and very nearly tripped over his own trousers, which were down round his ankles, forgotten during the distraction. He unlaced his boots and stepped out of them, then the trousers. He glanced back at Olympia, who sat on the bed half-undone with one sleek leg tucked under her.

Washington Dulles International Airport

Washington D. C.

United States of America

17 March 2010

Vice-President Elliott Webster’s cellphone rang as his private limousine glided out onto the tarmac to the waiting military jet scheduled to fly him to Saudi Arabia. When he checked the Caller ID, he answered and said, ‘One moment, please.’

The limo driver parked the vehicle in the shade of the jet. Webster raised the soundproof glass that separated the rear of the luxury vehicle from the chauffeur. Then he nodded at the three secret service men who were part of his personal detachment.

‘If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I need to take this call alone.’

The three agents opened the doors and stepped outside. They stood watch while Webster relaxed in the back seat.

‘We’re alone, Colonel, and on a secure line. You may speak freely.’

‘Very good, sir,’ Colonel Anthony Eckart said. In his early forties, the colonel had been a Marine officer for twenty-one years before taking retirement. The retirement hadn’t entirely been his idea. His outspoken ‘America first’ policy as he’d pursued it hadn’t sat well with the Marines. The media had loved him for his volatile diatribes on who he believed America’s enemies truly were. His list included all the Middle East, to start with. After retiring from the Marines, Eckart had gone to work for Webster as part of his clandestine security group that was still secret from the press and the president. He’d served in that capacity for the last three years.

‘I assume you’ve heard about the deaths in Saudi?’ Eckart asked.

Webster’s gaze flicked to the plasma television hanging from the limo’s ceiling. WNN News had been covering the story since early that morning. The footage of the flaming building in King Abdullah Economic City had been taken by a ship out in the harbour. Black smoke hung above the city.

Currently, it was evening in Saudi Arabia. Arranging the trip had taken hours.

‘I have,’ Webster replied. ‘I’ve been expecting your call.’

‘Things here have become a little crazy,’ Eckart said. ‘After the attack, the whole city was blacked out – all ordinary communications are down. I didn’t want to use the sat-phone till after the media people had descended into the metro area en masse. Otherwise the Saudis might have tracked our signal.’

‘Understood. I take it you and your men survived?’

‘Yes, sir. We got lucky on this one. Both targets ended up at the same twenty. They were at the king’s grandson’s birthday party.’

‘I’d heard they might be negotiating oil disbursements with the Indian government.’

‘Those people were at the party as well. The hardest part was managing to take out the two primary targets without killing Khalid, the younger prince.’

‘That was done?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘So how is our young prince?’

‘Khalid was wounded, but sustained no permanent damage.’

‘I take it the prince – now king – is talking of retribution.’

‘From what I’ve heard, he’s positively foaming at the mouth, sir.’

Webster smiled. ‘Khalid was always hot-headed and looking for a fight.’

‘He’s going to turn that country into a hornet’s nest.’

‘As we’d planned.’

‘If our enemies destroy each other, sir, it saves a lot of our soldiers.’

Webster knew the coming military conflagration would do more than that. He was counting on it.

‘There was some collateral damage,’ Eckart went on. ‘Some of the king’s servants and personal bodyguards and a few of the wives and children were also killed, but no one we’re going to lose any sleep over.’

‘That’s all perfectly acceptable, Colonel. You and your men did a good job.’

‘Thank you, sir. I’ll mention it to them.’

‘There’s been a change in plans,’ Webster said. ‘I want you and your team in Istanbul as soon as you can get there.’