Sharp Shot by Jack Higgins & Justin Richards

Author:Jack Higgins & Justin Richards [Higgins, Jack & Richards, Justin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: young adult, Suspense, Adventure, Fiction
ISBN: 9780142417300
Google: _j-oQwAACAAJ
Goodreads: 6753443
Publisher: Putnam Juvenile
Published: 2009-09-17T00:00:00+00:00

Soaking in the luxuriously cool water, Jade decided on her plan of action. She needed to know as much as possible about the place, and she needed to keep the extent of her knowledge secret. Eventually someone would come to find her, and the more she knew by then the more she might glean from them.

And you never knew. If there was a secret underground laboratory, then maybe there was transport of some sort, or a telephone that she could use to call Ardman or Halford.

She was glad of the bath, and felt a lot better for it. But she didn’t want to waste any more time. Whoever had left her here—McCain, or the man with the scar, or someone else—might think it was safe enough to leave her unattended in a building in the middle of the desert, but Jade was determined to prove them wrong.

She dried herself quickly, and slipped on the white silk dressing gown. She was rubbing at her hair with the towel as she walked briskly back into the bedroom. But the clothes that had been left on the chair were no longer there. They were lying neatly on the dressing table nearby.

Put there, Jade realised, by the man who was now sitting in the chair. Watching her.

He was wearing white robes and an Arab headdress. His face was as wrinkled as a prune—even more so as he smiled up at Jade. His eyes were deep and dark, and a neatly trimmed grey beard clung to his chin. As he shifted slightly in the chair to see Jade better, she caught sight of the curved sword hanging at his side.

“Who the hell are you?” Jade demanded. “And why am I here—wherever here is?”

The man inclined his head slightly, as if Jade had paid him a compliment. “My name is Ali,” he said, his accented voice deep and rich. “I am honoured to have you as my guest, Miss Chance.”

“Believe me, the honour is all yours.”

The man pressed his hands together, fingertip to fingertip. “I am sorry that you have to stay here for a short while. But if all goes well, you will be able to leave in a very few days.”

“You reckon?”

“In the mean time, please—my humble house is your home. You may swim in the pool, sunbathe in the roof garden, order what you like from my kitchens…though I warn you they are not as well stocked as they might be. You may walk outside the house if you wish, but I would caution you not to go too far as the sun is hot and the desert is unforgiving.”

“Is that a threat?”

Ali shook his head. “A statement. If you want to walk out into the desert and die of heat and dehydration no one will stop you, and no one will go looking. Or if you prefer there is a snooker hall, and a small cinema with many American DVDs.” He smiled apologetically. “No alcohol, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Then that will not be a problem.

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