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

who she was. Turning Jill around one final time, a look of satisfaction lit up the silent woman’s eyes.
    “Alhamdulillah. Praise be to God ,” she said thickly, as she pulled Jill back into the lobby.
    Zayed, still in the same spot, was pouring from an Arabic-style coffee pot. Steam rose as coffee hit the toy cup. He looked at Jill approvingly as as she approached.
    “Khalas, khalas. Finish .” His upright fingers touched quickly, then he opened them again. The dismissed woman turned and crossed the bright lobby; her abaya billowing as she walked out the door.
    “What now?” Jill asked.
    Zayed stood, said “Khalas,” once again, and headed towards the door, Jill trailing a step behind him.
    Unexpectedly, the heat didn’t seem as invasive as it had the day before. Could it be the abaya? Jill wondered. A passing taxi tooted twice when he noticed Zayed’s hail. The robin’s egg blue Corolla pulled up, and Zayed opened the door for Jill to get in first. She hesitated. Jill thought of the taxi she took from the airport last night and kicked herself for not appreciating it more.
    The driver was dressed in loose-fitting pants and a long overshirt with slits up the side, which Jill remembered was called 'shalwat kameez,' the pajama-like clothing that is the national dress of Pakistan. He also sported a bright orange, well-trimmed goatee, which contrasted with his baby blue colored attire. A little white crocheted beanie adorned his head. The plastic on the seat crackled and crunched when Jill slid across it. The gaudy seat material shouted through the plastic and reminded Jill of heavy curtains in an old movie theatre. Zayed said something to the driver in Arabic and the car jerked forward. The door, smudged with fingerprints and dirt, rattled ominously and Jill noticed immediately the absence of a door handle on her left side.
    The driver’s beady eyes peered at her through the rear-view mirror that was tilted at such an angle that he could see her body. Jill wondered why he continuously stared at her cloaked presence, while driving so erratically. It made her think last night's taxi driver professional in comparison. Jill closed her eyes several times as the car jerked forward and sideways. Honking cars cut them off. The streets were busy and the driver turned on the Arabic music when Jill talked to Zayed in English.
    “The streets seem abnormally clean,” Jill said, trying to take her mind off the drive.
    “We have very cheap labor here so we have a lot of people to do the work in a short period of time; they usually clean the streets at night.”
    The loud music filled the car and left no room for more chitchat.
    Suddenly, they made a sharp right, and popped over a speed bump into a giant parking lot. It took Jill several seconds to realize it was not actually a parking lot, but a back street with cars parked in disarray; too many cars for the amount of buildings. Cars were parked down the center of the lot, making forward progress virtually impossible. In some instances the cars were double-parked, making passing unattainable. Nevertheless, the small taxi snaked its way through the vehicles until they came to a bright yellow sign set back from the street. Jill thought it strange to see an English sign for Nestlé Tea in this part of the world, but there it was, its bright yellow glory. Below it was Arabic writing and Jill spied the words in English: Al Binood.
    In front of Al Binood lay several dozen sand-stained, tattered, square cushions about eight inches high. In front of the low seating area was a TV perched on a makeshift stand. The TV itself looked to be vintage 1980s and in poor condition, but a power cord ran from it to a socket in the wall. Dust coated everything. Dingy white plastic chairs on the cobblestone suggested that this must also be an outdoor meeting place. Zayed said something in Arabic or possibly Urdu, Jill wasn't certain, to the driver, and handed him some money, then reached his hand over