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Her stomach seemed to turn over. Despite a sudden and debilitating feeling of weakness in her bones, Amanda forced herself to look once more at the commanding, ageless face in front of her. Was he...could he possibly be...Xa Shiraq himself?
CHAPTER THREE
NO SOONER had the electric thought gripped Amanda’s mind, than a wash of common sense defused it. No way would Xa Shiraq arrive at any hotel as casually as this man had, or dressed as this man was. The Sheikh of Xabia would have a retinue, bodyguard. He wouldn’t wait for anything. He’d be waited on hand and foot!
‘This isn’t signed,’ Charles Arnold said huffily. ‘Anyone could have typed those words. I do not consider it an authorisation to give you complimentary use of our Presidential Suite. Unless you can produce more than that, sir...’ he tossed the page back onto the desk in contemptuous rejection ‘...you are wasting our time.’
It gave Amanda the opportunity to read what was written on the page. The message was short and succinct.
By order of Xa Shiraq, the bearer of this note is entitled to have any request within my jurisdiction fulfilled.
Her mind dizzied again with the enormity of what was happening in front of her. This man was certainly not Xa Shiraq but he had to be important to have such a note. He could be one of Xa Shiraq’s three great supporters, all military men who by their loyalty and skill had helped Xa Shiraq win the sheikhdom in the first place. There was Jebel Haffa and...
Amanda took a deep breath. She pulled her mind into order. This man could lead her to one of her primary goals, the secretive and elusive Xa Shiraq himself.
‘You question its authenticity?’ The icy sting in his voice was not propitious to any pact of friendship.
‘Naturally a man in my position of authority has to do so,’ Charles Arnold observed coldly.
On the surface, it was a reasonable statement. It was true, Amanda reflected, that anyone with access to that particular notepaper could have written the letter. The hotel had discreet procedures for checking authenticity and credit ratings for guests. These procedures should now be followed.
‘Perhaps...’ she began.
Charles Arnold cut her short. ‘The figures please, Mandy.’
He turned back to the stranger, intent on cutting this arrogant foreigner down to his own level. Amanda had seen it all before. ‘As I’ve already said, anyone could have typed this order...’
‘Who would dare?’
The challenge sent a quiver through Amanda. Her gaze flew up to the hard commanding face. This man had to be close to Xa Shiraq. Very close. And his eyes missed nothing. How could she possibly get close to him? Yet if she could... must...her pulse quickened. Given half an opportunity...and she would leap at it.
‘I will not fall prey to a cheap confidence trick,’ Charles Arnold scoffed, losing control of the situation but reasserting his sense of superiority.
To reinforce it even further, he picked up the typewritten authorisation, held it gingerly by one corner as though it were contaminated, slowly drifted it to a position above the disposal bin, then released his grip. The letter floated down to join the rest of the garbage paper in the bin.
‘That,’ said Charles Arnold with satisfaction, ‘is what I think of that.’ As far as he was concerned, he had just won his encounter with the stranger.
The stranger said nothing. The black blaze of his eyes would have incinerated most people but his target was cocooned in self-importance. He lifted a hand. Amanda prayed for more time. The hand moved up to shoulder height as though he intended to slap it onto the counter. But it did not descend.
A man loitering near the fountain moved abruptly into a brisk walk towards the desk. He wore a black suit and carried a black leather attaché case. Amanda recognised him as a guest who had booked in two days ago, a Mr Kozim from Bejos, a rather portly, middle-aged man, darker in skin tone than the stranger in front of her and more obviously of Middle Eastern origins.
He came to a halt beside the stranger who then lowered his hand but did not so much as glance at the man who had responded to his signal. Mr Kozim placed his attaché case on the desk, opened it, removed a typed page with the letterhead of the Oasis chain, and passed it to Charles Arnold.
‘For legal purposes you will find that document is signed by Jebel Haffa,’ the stranger stated bitingly. ‘I hope you will recognise his signature.’
Charles Arnold began sputtering. ‘What is the meaning of this? It can’t be...’
‘It means that as of this moment you are relieved of your duties as assistant manager of this hotel,’ came the hard, relentless reply. ‘You are no longer employed here. You have no further involvement with the Oasis chain.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ Charles Arnold blustered. ‘I’m calling the general manager.’
‘That would be expedient.’
Amanda reached for the phone. Charles Arnold beat her to it. This call was too important to be entrusted to a menial like Amanda.
Charles Arnold protested his fate in acrimonious terms.
Amanda’s mind whirled.
