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Of course, Ring Around the Rosie was about the Black Death and that was a game played in preschool and kindergarten without fail.
Surely the other side of the wall was quicksand. At least that would be more plausible in this sand-filled corner of the globe. She should have paid more attention to the perils of quicksand in second grade. She circled the yard, allowed to walk by herself as long as she stayed in Bassam’s line of sight.
She was glad for this, as she hadn’t been alone except for the bathroom since they got here. During the dig, she’d always been within sight of one of her guards, but the range of area she had to explore had been four times the size of this yard. At least she’d been able to get distance and take deep breaths of air that wasn’t tainted by cigarette smoke. And at night, there were those few times she’d been able to lie under the stars all by herself and try to find a moment of joy to hold on to.
She’d thought of the SEAL and rescue and hope. But that was all behind her now. The only hope she still had came from what she might do to save herself.
No handsome, powerful SEAL would ride in on a white horse at this late date.
She’d left joy in the remote Jordanian desert. She’d felt nothing but tension and despair since arriving here. This compound was full of men with guns who eyed her in ways that made her thankful Jamal or Bassam slept in front of the door.
Not that either boy could stop one of the others if they decided she was fair game. She suspected Rafiq had given orders to leave her alone until she no longer had value to add to the organization.
So now she breathed cigarette-smoke-tinged air and leisurely walked around the enclosed compound, feeling the eyes of armed men mark her every step. She focused on the grounds and tried to forget the guards. While there was no doubt the property had once been a fine estate, everything about it now was worn down. Dilapidated. The paint on the enclosing wall and buildings was chipped. Metal hinges showed rust, while wood panels decayed.
She circled around the house, checking over her shoulder for Bassam, noting one of the unnamed guards had joined him for a smoke. Bassam’s gaze was on her, but he didn’t appear to be paying close attention. She imagined he basked in the attention of the older guard.
Bassam wanted to move up in the ranks. To be important to this group. From his bearing, she knew he was pleased to be considered one of the men. No longer a boy now that he was doing important work for the leader.
She had helped him attain that status, but she could also take it away.
She forced herself not to alter her stride when she noticed the wrought iron gate that crossed the driveway was open slightly. Just enough for a person to slip through.
The gap was explained by a bicycle that leaned against a post just beyond the metal bars.
From where Bassam stood, could he see the gate was open? She hadn’t spotted the gap when she first turned the corner, the angle being such that it wasn’t obvious.
Whose bike was it, and why were they here?
Diana didn’t have a moment to think or plan. It was an opportunity that no one could have predicted. She stood a mere ten feet from the open gate. Bassam and the other guard were more than ten yards away. They were smoking and laughing. Careless of their prisoner, who’d been mostly meek and pliable for six long weeks.
The person who owned the bike could be at the door, on the path, or inside the house. She didn’t dare look.
Instead, she ran.
Chapter Eighteen
The team was on the outskirts of Aqaba, ready to move in on a moment’s notice. Still, when the signal came, it was a shock. Even more so when the commander explained why.
“What do you mean she just ran out, grabbed a bicycle, and escaped?”
“Exactly that. It appears Dr. Edwards saw an opening and took it.”
From the commander’s tone, he sounded annoyed that Edwards had mucked up their plans for a tidy rescue, which, Chris had to admit, would be a problem as now they’d have to find her in the city, or worse, if she was captured again, she’d be harder to get to in the compound. If they even bothered to take her alive.
But still, Chris was impressed the woman had made such a bold move. She must have believed special forces wasn’t coming to her rescue.
“We’ll break into four Fire Teams to search for Edwards,” Fallon said.
“We need to send a Squad to the house. If Rafiq is there, this is our only chance to get him,” Chris said.
Kramer agreed. “If Edwards isn’t recaptured quickly, Rafiq will bolt knowing his location has been compromised.”
Fallon gave a sharp nod. “I’ll lead a Squad to raid the house. Without Edwards there, it’s a capture-or-kill mission.”
They all knew Rafiq was the primary. The rules of engagement—ROE—had been spelled out in the briefing room. Given that daytime raids were far more dangerous than night ops, it was better that they wouldn’t be dealing with a hostage situation.
Chris signaled to the seven men on his Squad. “Let’s go find Edwards.”
