Free Sudden Deception (A Jill Oliver Thriller) by Judith Price Page A

officer. Arabic, he says his name is Zayed. Can you see what you can find on him?”
    “How do you know him? Do you think he's dangerous?” She sounded slightly concerned.
    “Well, he was here waiting for me. Said he hasn’t heard from David. But you know me, Rine,” Jill said wryly.
    “Yeah, just be careful, Jill.” But Karine’s words fell on deaf ears.
    Jill had no intention on visiting Al Binood unarmed. She needed some sort of weapon. She had not been able to bring her gun onto the aircraft as she was not on official US Marshall business, and guns were illegal in Qatar. Jill had read of American security contractors being thrown into Qatari jails for merely having a couple of live bullets in their luggage. Not something she needed right now.
    She smirked as she pulled out her key-chain lighter and marveled at the cleverness used to disguise her switchblade. The knife's sleek cold metal had never been discovered by even the most observant of airport security. She changed into her dark fatigues, slipped the knife into a side pocket within easy reach on her right leg and left her room.
    Zayed looked different sitting in the plump lobby chair. His head nodded, motioning her towards him. His spotless white dishdasha appeared freshly laundered and starched, and he sported traditional Arabic headgear—a black agal held in place the flowing gutra that he had lifted back on both sides and then neatly crossed over at the back. Jill studied him up-close he resembled a figure from an old Arabian movie, a modern-day Lawrence of Arabia.
    Sitting across from him was a woman dressed in a black abaya complete with the hijab and burka, holding a large blue shopping bag. Jill could see only her dark brown eyes. She was surprised when the woman looked back at her directly without a hint of shyness. Her eyes were expressionless at first, then Jill saw slight crinkles appear at their edges and she knew the woman must have been smiling.
    “She will help you dress to blend in.” Zayed said. The woman stood, then waved her hand directing Jill to follow her. They walked across the gold lobby to a room next to the hotel concierge desk and opened the door. Inside, the room was empty with faded pear-green walls and a small cot in the corner. The silent woman removed the contents of the blue bag and placed them on the unmade cot—an abaya, a black scarf, and a small cotton cloth cap. Without a word the cloaked woman, who now stood in front of her, began to gently stroke Jill’s hair off her face; as if preparing her for a wedding. Jill automatically stiffened slightly. She wasn't accustomed to strangers being in her personal space, let alone touching her in such a familiar way. But there was something comforting about this woman’s presence.
    Maneuvering around as deftly as a Park Avenue stylist, the woman pulled Jill’s hair back into a ponytail, then up into a bun. Jill felt the tautness as the tight cap covered her hairline, it was like she was preparing to race in a swim meet. She brushed her fingers along the edge of the cloth cap, not a single hair strayed where it might be seen.
    The silent woman stood back in front of her, holding the black robe to Jill’s shoulders. She scrunched it like pantyhose into a ring and gently slid it over her head. The cloaked woman’s face was close to Jill’s and she glimpsed into her misty brown eyes rimmed with crevassed lines. After several adjustments the woman in black clapped her hands. “Yalla yalla,” she said and motioned Jill to turn around.
    The glossy polyester robe hung heavy. She looked down and saw just the tips of her toes poking out from under the hem. She wondered how much she would sweat today. Now the woman began to wrap the scarf tightly around her face, meticulously pinning and tying. Jill did not expect that she would breathe easy with her mouth and nose covered. Then she suddenly felt a sense of relief. There was no mirror in the room. No one could see her, no one knew