LITMIR.BIZ

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of the notion.

      Paul himself preferred to remain a shadowy figure, behind the scenes. He spent much time in Hazar with the Bedu. To the Rashid, he was a great warrior, who would appear every so often to roam the desert by camel; to live in the old Bedu way in the Empty Quarter, guarded by fellow tribesmen burned by the fierce sun; to eat dates and dried meat with them.

      Often he was accompanied by his brothers, or by Kate, who scandalized the locals with her Western ways, but no one could deny her, for by now her brother was a legend with more power than even the Sultan in Hazar, to whom he was a second cousin. It was whispered that some day he would be voted Sultan himself by the Council of Elders, but for now the old Sultan still held power, his chief strength the Hazar Scouts, a contingent of soldiers officered by British volunteers.

      And then came the night when at an encampment at the Oasis of Shabwa as he was seated by a blazing fire, a Hawk helicopter came roaring in and settled in a cloud of sand.

      Camels and donkeys milled around, children cried out in delight and women scolded them. Michael, George and Kate emerged in Arab dress, and Paul greeted them.

      ‘What is this, a family reunion?’

      Kate said, ‘We’ve got trouble.’

      He took her hand, led her to the fire and waved to one of the women to bring coffee.

      Kate nodded to Michael. ‘Tell him your bit first.’

      Michael said, ‘We’ve cracked three billion.’

      ‘So we finally made it.’ Paul turned. ‘I’d be happier about it if I wasn’t waiting for the bad news. Go on, Kate. I only have to look at your face to know if the weather is bad, and I’d say it’s raining.’

      ‘Have you seen the Sultan recently?’

      ‘No, he’s been on a pilgrimage to the Holy Wells.’

      ‘The Holy Wells? That’s a laugh. His only pilgrimage was to Dubai to meet with American and Russian government and businessmen. They’ve agreed on joint exploration rights in Hazar – without us.’

      Paul said, ‘But they couldn’t possibly do it without Bedu cooperation. And they can’t get that without us.’

      ‘Paul,’ Kate said, ‘they can and they have. The Sultan’s sold us out. You know how much the Americans and Russians have disliked dealing with us. Well, now they’ve cut us out. They’re going to walk all over us – and walk all over the Bedu in the process. Without us, those damned oilmen are going to drill wherever they please, and the Arabs can go to hell.’

      Paul said, ‘Is this true, Michael?’

      Michael nodded. ‘They are going to rape the desert, Paul. And there’s not a damned thing we can do about it.’

      Paul nodded thoughtfully and stirred the fire. ‘Do not speak in haste, Michael. There are always things that can be done – if one has the will.’

      ‘What do you mean?’ George asked.

      ‘Not now,’ said Paul. He turned to Kate. ‘Do you have the Gulfstream at the Air Force base in Haman?’

      ‘Yes,’ Kate said.

      He drew her up and kissed her on the forehead. ‘Have a good night. Tomorrow we will speak.’

      He nodded to his brothers, and they all rose. Kate turned and began to walk away, and it was then that it happened. Beyond, from the shadows, a Bedu emerged screaming, a curved jambiya raised above his head, running straight at them, with Kate in his way. Paul’s guards were caught momentarily unaware, their AK-47s at their feet, coffee cups in their hands, and it was Paul Rashid who flung himself forward, knocked his sister to the ground and pulled a Browning from his waistband. He fired four times quickly and the assassin was driven to the sand.

      There was another shrill cry and a second man, jambiya raised, emerged from the darkness, but this time he was instantly overwhelmed by the guards.

      ‘Alive!’ Paul called in Arabic. ‘Alive!’ He turned to George. ‘Who is he, where does he come from – find out.’

      George ran to the struggling group as they held the man down, and Paul helped Kate up. ‘Are you all right? You’re not harmed?’

      She held him close and spoke in Arabic. ‘No, my brother, thanks to you.’

      He embraced her. ‘Leave this to me. Go to bed.’

      She turned reluctantly and Paul Rashid went into the shadows and squatted beside the second assassin, now pegged out on the ground. The man’s face was lined and drawn. The pupils of his eyes were like pinpricks and there was foam around his mouth.

      ‘A hired assassin drugged with quat,’ George said.

      Paul Rashid lit a cigarette and nodded. Quat was a narcotic found in the leaves of shrubs in Hazar. Many of his people were addicted to it. For some, it lent false courage.

      For this man, it would lend only death.

      ‘Do what you have to do,’ he said to George.

      He went back and sat by the fire, drank more coffee, and Kate appeared and sat at his side. A cry of pain came from the shadows, a sudden scream, then silence. George and Michael appeared.

      ‘So?’ Paul asked.

      ‘The Sultan arranged it for the Americans and Russians. They couldn’t afford us staying alive.’

      ‘What a pity for them,’ Paul Rashid said, ‘that they failed.’

      There was a pause. Michael and George sat down. ‘What happens now?’ George asked.

      ‘First, I think it’s time for a new sultan. Your speciality is working with our people in Hazar,’ Paul told him. ‘See to it. But there’s a larger issue at stake. Do we let these mighty powers do this to our people? Do we let them destroy our land? Do we let them strike at us? No, I think we must strike at them.’

      At that moment, his mobile phone rang. He took it from his robe. ‘Rashid.’

      He sat there in the firelight and his face changed before them, his eyes turning to bleak holes.

      He said, ‘We’ll be there as soon as possible.’

      He switched off the phone and handed it to Kate. ‘Call Haman. Tell them to have the Gulfstream ready for immediate departure. We’re leaving in the helicopter now.’

      ‘But Paul, why? What happened?’ Kate demanded.

      ‘That was Betty Moody. Something terrible has happened to Mother.’

       2

      Something terrible indeed. Driving home to Dauncey Place, Lady Kate had been involved in a head-on collision with a car driving on the wrong side of the road. The Rashids made it to the hospital ten minutes before she died, time enough only to stand, the four of them, and hold her hands.

      ‘My lovely boys,’ Lady Kate said in her bad Arabic, always the family joke. ‘My gorgeous girl. Always love each other.’ And she was gone.

      Michael and George broke into a storm of weeping, but not Kate. She clutched Paul’s hand as he leaned down to kiss his mother’s forehead and her eyes burned, but there were no tears. Those would come later – after she discovered the man responsible for this.

      But when the name came, there was only more bad news. A chief inspector of the Hampshire Police told them that, yes, the other driver, one Igor Gatov, had been driving on the wrong side of the road on his way to London from Knotsley Hall, which was owned by the Russian Embassy. And, yes, he had most certainly been drunk, and miraculously had been able to walk away from the crash with only minor injuries. But unfortunately, he was also a commercial attaché at the Russian Embassy

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