by Judith Gould
Khalid took a deep breath. After a while he chuckled. 'In a strange way, it would be poetic justice, don't you think? The Israelis helping me into a position of terrorist power?'
Najib did not reply.
Khalid looked at Hamid, and a silent signal seemed to pass between the two of them.
Najib looked at Khalid questioningly.
'You can count us in,' Khalid said definitely.
Najib sprang it on them then. 'First, I want three guarantees,' he said flatly. 'Without them, you are on your own.'
Khalid's voice was edgy. 'And what are those?'
Najib ticked the points off on his fingers. 'First, after this mission is finished and done with, I am out of this organization completely. I want nothing more to do with the PFA. Second, I want to ensure my safety and the girl's, and that goes for as long as we live. And third, the same goes for her family. The Boralevis and ben Yaacovs are never to be touched by violence from this organization again.'
He could feel Khalid tightening up. Guarantees that went years down the road weren't easy ones to make. 'Those are my terms. Take them or leave them.'
The minutes ticked soundlessly by. Again Najib did not press for a rushed answer. He didn't want a quick yes that wouldn't be honoured.
Khalid finally nodded. 'I will guarantee that,' he said slowly. 'But only from the PFA. As far as the PLO and the Fedayeen, and the other groups are concerned . . .'He shrugged helplessly. 'I cannot be held accountable for them.'
'I do not expect you to be responsible for the actions of other groups. Only for your own.'
Khalid began to smile. 'It is agreed, then.'
'Good.' Najib nodded. 'And now, since we have only a few hours left for planning our strategy, we had better get busy. In the morning, I am flying to Riyadh, ostensibly to have this'—he raised his bandaged hand and smiled grimly—'taken care of. As they say in the westerns, when I return, it will be with the cavalry.'
'Then we have no more time to lose. When are you planning on returning?'
Najib met his eyes straight on. 'Two nights from now. Waiting any longer wouldn't do us any good. It'll either work or . . .'
Khalid finished the sentence: 'Or it won't.'
Chapter 21
Famagusta, Cyprus, was an ordinary seaside city with grandiose pretensions of becoming a kind of Mediterranean Miami Beach. Although balconied hotels and modern apartment blocks of concrete and glass lined the length of the shore, it hadn't yet reached the exalted status to which it aspired, nor was there a likelihood that it ever would. Overall, it looked more like one of those Spanish resorts on the Costa Brava which had gone slightly to seed, and as the day waned, a curious phenomenon occurred. The Famagusta beach faced east, and as the sun began to move behind the tall buildings, the sunbathers had to move out of the giant blocks of creeping purple shadow and arrange themselves in regimented rows along the narrow, sunlit strips between the buildings.
The glass-walled suite was fourteen floors above the shadow-darkened beach, and Najib, facing the windows from the couch at the far end of the room, saw only a panorama of vast blue sky. A distant speck of aeroplane flashed bright silver as the sun reflected off it.
He lowered his eyes from the window and focused them on Schmarya. The old man was in an armchair and faced him squarely across the coffee table; Dani's swivel armchair was angled toward them both.
No one spoke. For over a minute already, they had been sitting in such intense silence they could have heard a pin drop.
Najib slowly switched his gaze over to Dani. Dani's face was a carbon copy of Schmarya's—white and tense—and Najib could see shock in both men's eyes. Their disbelief was nearly palpable; Najib could almost hear them wrestling with themselves, and he knew that they were trying to find loopholes in his story.
Najib pushed himself to his feet, went soundlessly over to the sideboard, and splashed three glasses half-full of brandy. He carried them back to the coffee table, set one down in front of each of them, and lowered himself onto the couch again.
He could well understand what the men were going through. Their minds would be numbed with shock and incomprehension. During the last half-hour, they had learned enough from him to be stupefied by the immense undertaking Daliah's freedom would require. Najib could tell by their looks that both of them had believed that the worst scenario would involve a half-dozen kidnappers at most—not a virtually impregnable desert compound teeming with a hundred well-armed, well-trained terrorists.
The drinks stood untouched and unwanted on the coffee table. Hands shaking, Dani lit a rare cigarette and drew in the smoke nervously, and Najib, still waiting, sat back, pinched the crease of his trousers, and crossed one leg over his knee; it was a while before any of them spoke.
It was Schmarya who finally broke the silence.
Najib knew what was coming before he even opened his mouth. The old man was going to pick holes in his story.
'Mr. al-Ameer,' Schmarya said quietly. 'Let me get this straight. You had the picture of Daliah delivered to us so that we could meet together here in private and arrange her release?' He looked at Najib. 'Am I correct in that assumption?'
Najib met his eyes and shook his head. 'Not quite, Mr. Boralevi. As I told you, I am afraid she will never be released. What we need to plan is her escape.'
There was a short silence, and then the swivel of Dani's chair squeaked as he shifted his weight and sat forward. He frowned deeply. 'With all due respect, Mr. al-Ameer,' he said sceptically, 'you are an Arab. You have just gotten through telling us that you have been involved with Abdullah and the PFA for the better part of your lifetime.' His frown deepened. 'Surely you realize that that makes us enemies.'
Najib was unruffled. 'Sometimes, Mr. ben Yaacov,' he said in a hushed voice, 'two enemies must form an alliance in the face of an even greater danger.' He shook his head sadly. 'Such is the case now. Our only choice is to unite forces. It is perhaps one of the ironies of life.'
Dani was silent for a moment. 'Tell me. Why should we believe that you really intend to turn against Abdullah? What guarantee do we have that you really want to effect Daliah's release?'
Najib spread his hands and pointed out the obvious. 'I am here, am I not?'
Dani leaned even further forward and stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette in the glass ashtray. Then he sat back again. The swivel of his chair squeaked once more. 'It could be a trap,' he persisted.
Najib inclined his head slightly, a position which made his face look hawklike. 'You will have to trust me that it is not.'
'In ordinary circumstances, trust must be earned,' Dani said bluntly.
Najib nodded. 'We both know there is not time for that. In this instance you will have to trust me blindly.'
'I know,' Dani said tightly, 'and I don't like it a bit.'
Najib allowed himself a wry little smile. He couldn't blame Dani. If their roles were reversed, he would feel exactly the same way. 'What you would really like,' he speculated, 'is some indication that her release would . . . ah . . . profit me. You would tend to trust me more if there were something in it for me. Is that it?'
'To put it bluntly, yes.'
Najib got up from the couch. 'I could give you countless reasons, such as: Abdullah must be stopped before he and Qaddafi begin the holy war I warned you they are plotting. Or because he wants to destroy Mecca, our most holy shrine. Or because I wish to extricate myself from him once and for all, and this is my only way out. Those are all valid reasons, but they are not the real reason why I came to you.' He paused and added softly, 'The reason is more basic than any of these: I am in love with your daughter.'
Dani jerked as though he had been struck. Then his face twisted with rage. 'You are what?' He stared up at Najib.
'I said,' Najib repeated calmly, 'that I am in love with Daliah.'
Dani's lips made a hiss that sounded like air being expelled from a balloon. He blinked rapidly and exchanged glances with his father-in-law. 'Impossible,' he said in a
horrified voice.
'Listen to him, Dani,' Schmarya advised gently. 'About such a thing he should lie?'
Dani propelled himself to his feet so swiftly that for a second Najib prepared for a fist to come slamming, but then Dani walked across the room. He stood trembling at the windows, staring unseeingly down at the deep blue sea. 'Impossible,' he muttered to himself shakily. He shook his head. 'Impossible,' he repeated in a whisper.
Schmarya twisted around. 'When you live as long as I have, you find out everything is possible,' he said to Dani's back. 'Why shouldn't we believe it?'
For a long while Dani did not reply. Finally he crossed the room and returned to his chair. He sat down heavily and sized up Najib more warily now. 'I suppose what I have read about you is true,' he said. 'You really are most unpredictable.' His smile held no warmth.
Najib sat down and waited.
'But then, Daliah is unpredictable too.' His voice was trembling. 'I suppose I never really understood her choice of men. First that medical student, and then that director she's lived with all those years . . .' Dani shook his head and made an agitated little gesture. 'And now you.' His expression became a cold, pained mask. 'It seems she has a talent for choosing the . . . the unpredictable, shall we say.'
Najib tightened his lips at that. If only Daliah had chosen him, he thought. But all she'd done was try her best to repel him. He wondered if her father would believe that.
Wearily Dani pinched the bridge of his nose, then let his hand drop to his lap. 'I am sorry,' he said stiffly, and reassembled his face into a mask of composure. 'I know this is not the time to discuss your relationship. It just came as such a shock . . .'
Najib nodded. 'It was not a good time to tell you, but I wanted you to understand why I want to help her escape, and why I have come to you. I need your help. The way I see it, Daliah's only chance is that you and I join forces. You have military resources available to you, and I have the inside knowledge of how to pull it off. Even so, it is a ticklish situation and will require utmost secrecy.'
Schmarya looked thoughtful. 'Tell me . . . are the Saudis aware that she is being held in their country?' He looked at Najib.
Najib shook his head. 'I seriously doubt it,' he replied, 'because if they were, they would not stand for it. As you probably know, they are treading a fine tightrope at the moment. They need the new American fighter jets they are negotiating for, and thus cannot afford to anger the United States. And on the other hand, the United States cannot get too tough with them, because they depend upon Saudi oil. It did occur to me to appeal to the government of either Saudi Arabia or the United States to apply pressure on Abdullah—'
'And?' Schmarya interrupted.
Najib shook his head. 'I'm afraid it would only have negative results. The Saudis do not want to anger the United States, but they cannot afford to anger Abdullah either. And can you blame them? Allah only knows where Abdullah's next bombs might be planted. Riyadh? Al Madinah?'
'Mecca?' the old man said. 'If they were told—'
'No!' Najib cut down that suggestion at once. 'That is out of the question. Abdullah is too crazed to listen to reason. If the Saudis pressured him, it might force him to do one of two things: either to kill Daliah right away or to move her elsewhere.' He smiled grimly. 'The way things stand now, at least we know she is alive, and we know where she is.'
Schmarya took a deep breath. 'So. What do we do? Right now, my own government is trying to hold out the olive branch and talk peace agreements with our Arab neigbours. Because of that, Israel will not dare use military force to rush across the borders and rescue Daliah, or else all our efforts at gaining peace will be destroyed. There could even be war in the Gulf.' He frowned and looked at Najib. 'You were right. Without the permission of my country and the Saudi government, it is a very ticklish situation indeed.' He paused and his eyes took on a kind of shrewdness. 'I take it you have worked it out already?'
'I have.' Najib leaned forward excitedly, but his voice was soft. 'What is to stop a group of us from going in and releasing her? Unofficially, of course.'
'You mean . . . use mercenaries?' Dani asked, perking up.
'No, no.' Najib shook his head. 'We do not have the time for that. It would take far too long to recruit a highly trained force. What we need—immediately—is the best commando team we can get hold of.'
'Israelis.' Schmarya grunted it as a statement, not a question.
Najib nodded. 'Israelis. But dressed in civilian clothes, not uniforms. And they must not carry any identification on them. It goes without saying that if they are caught, your country would have to disavow any knowledge of our attempt.'
Schmarya gave a snort. 'You are not asking for much! Only our best boys to lay down their lives for an unsanctioned private invasion!' He narrowed his eyes at Najib.
'I realize that,' Najib said. 'But we have no other choice. It is that or nothing.'
'I was afraid it would come down to something like this.' Schmarya sat back heavily. 'It will be very difficult. Very difficult.'
'I cannot overemphasize how little time we have,' Najib warned quietly. 'A week ago, Daliah was important to Abdullah. He had plans for her. But since then, things have changed markedly. Now that he's got this idea for a holy war, I am afraid he'll soon find himself saddled with her—and have no reason for keeping her alive any longer. Already she is a liability to him.'
Schmarya sighed painfully. 'So speed is of the essence. When is it not?' He frowned thoughtfully and then got briskly down to business. 'What, exactly, other than manpower, do we need for mounting a rescue attempt?'
'Weapons,' Najib said immediately. 'Under the circumstances, preferably as few Israeli weapons as possible. The rest is all in place. My yacht carries a helicopter, and I have had it moved into position off the coast of Oman. The palace has an airstrip, and I have a large private jet. Also, there are two of Abdullah's top men inside the palace right now whom we can depend on.'
He paused and added softly, 'We have already planned the mission for tomorrow night.'
'Tomorrow!' Schmarya was shocked.
'Tomorrow.' Najib nodded. 'Except for the commandos, everything is set to go. I have sketched plans of the palace layout, and the two inside men will do what they must at the appointed hour. You must understand, we have no choice. The mission must be accomplished tomorrow, or never at all. It is too late to change the timetable now.'
'It is crazy.' Schmarya rolled his eyes.
'Perhaps. But it is necessary.' Najib caught his look. 'Then I can count on your help?' he asked.
'We'll see what we can do,' Schmarya grunted gruffly. 'I’ll get on it right away.'
'Two-forty-five a.m. solar time,' Najib warned. 'This is the hour it must take place tomorrow. If you cannot round up the men in time for that mission, there is nothing else I can do.'
'I understand,' the old man said, the deep lines of his face settling into taut grim crevices. 'I only hope to God that my contact understands it too.'
'In that case, we had better waste no more time.' Dani looked at his watch and rose to his feet. 'I will call the airport and see when the next flight leaves for Tel Aviv. The sooner we get back, the sooner we may be able to arrange something.'
'There is no need to call the airlines,' Najib said. 'I have taken the liberty of chartering a jet for you. Right now, it is waiting at Nicosia International, and is prepared to take off the moment you board. The pilot has instructions to remain in Tel Aviv until you give him further instructions. When you have rounded up the men—and I am working on the assumption that you will—the jet will fly them all here. My own jet, which we will be using for the escape attempt, will be at an abandoned military airfield on the Karpas Peninsula. It is suitably deserted, and if there is time, we can perhaps hold a drill. Your pilot knows where it is.'
Schmarya frowned. 'And the men's weapons? How will we get them past Cyprian customs?'
'That has already been arranged.' Najib allowed himself a slight smile, 'T
he authorities will look the other way.'
'But if your customs agent should come down sick, or be—'
Najib shook his head. 'It will not matter who is on duty. I chose Cyprus specifically because of my relationship with the Cypriot government. For some time now, they have been negotiating with me to build a waste-processing plant, wineries, and an airport addition here.' He smiled wryly and his voice was unconcerned. 'They will look the other way. I have spoken with someone at the highest level of the government, and it was a condition I insisted upon before I agreed to their terms.' He smiled again. 'It seems they will have obtained the buildings with less negotiating than they expected.'
Schmarya was impressed. 'You have apparently thought of everything.'
Najib's brow furrowed. 'I only fear that there must be many things I have overlooked.'
For the first time, Schmarya permitted himself a smile. He rose from his chair. 'I think we understand each other, Mr. al-Ameer,' he said warmly. 'You are a man who cuts swiftly to the heart of the matter. Who knows? Maybe—just maybe— we stand a chance.' His voice became thick with emotion. 'Your grandfather must be very proud of you.'
Najib got to his feet and turned away quickly. 'My grandfather died last winter,' he said quietly. 'He had never been quite the same since Abdullah took over the leadership of our village. It was then, many years ago, that he began to die. After that, he was but a living shell.'
'I am truly sorry,' Schmarya said. He stood there a moment, silent, and then tears filled his eyes and his voice grew husky. 'There was a time when he and I were close friends.'
'I know,' Najib said softly. 'He spoke of you often.'
'It is a pity that our religious beliefs and politics pulled us apart. I owed him my life, you know.' Schmarya shook his head. 'And now, it seems, Daliah may well owe you hers.'
The words stirred Najib. He shook his head. 'She will owe me nothing, Mr. Boralevi. It is as I told you. I love her.' He extended his hand. 'Thank you for coming to see me. I will be anxiously awaiting word from you.'
