“Coffee?” he asked.
They nodded. He signaled the waiter and ordered four coffees. He offered them cigarettes, which they refused. Baydr lit one and sat there looking at them.
The elder Japanese said something in his own language to his associate. The younger man leaned across the table. “Mr. Hokkaido asks if you have had time to consider our proposition.”
Baydr addressed himself to the young man even though he knew that Hokkaido understood every word. “I have thought about it.”
“And?” The young man could not restrain his eagerness.
Baydr saw the flash of disapproval cross the older man’s face and quickly disappear. “It won’t work,” he said. “The arrangements are entirely too one-sided.”
“I don’t understand,” the young man said. “We are prepared to build the ten tankers at the price you offered. All we ask is that you use our banks to finance.”
“I don’t think you understood,” Baydr said quietly. “You are talking about making a sale and I am interested in forming a total consortium. I can see no point in our competing with one another to purchase certain properties. All we succeed in doing is driving up the price we ultimately pay. Take the Rancho del Sol deal, for example. One of your groups just bought it.”
“It was another group, not ours,” the young man said quickly. “But I didn’t know you were interested in it.”
“I was not,” Baydr said. “But there is another big development in that area that we are interested in and so is your group. The end result is that the asking price has almost doubled and whichever one of us gets it has lost before we begin.”
“You are negotiating through your bank in La Jolla?” the young man asked.
Baydr nodded.
The young man turned to Hokkaido and spoke quickly in Japanese. Hokkaido listened attentively, nodding, then replied. The young man turned back to Baydr. “Mr. Hokkaido expresses his regrets that we find ourselves in competition for that property but says that negotiations began before we were in contact with each other.”
“I regret it also. That was why I came to you. To find a rapprochement. Neither of us needs the other’s money. Each of us has more than enough of his own. But if we work together perhaps we can be helpful to one another on other matters. That is why I spoke to you about building tankers for us.”
“But even that you make difficult,” the young man said. “We will build the ten tankers you want but where will we find ten tankers to deliver to you immediately? There are none on the market.”
“I know that, but your shipping line has over one hundred. It would be a simple matter for you to transfer them to our company, one in which we would each own fifty percent. In that manner, you are really not losing the benefit of them.”
“We’re losing fifty percent of the income they produce,” the young man said. “And we see nothing to replace that.”
“Fifty percent of the income from the additional tankers you are building will more than take care of that,” Baydr said. “And fifty percent of your foreign investment supplied by me will certainly be looked on with favor by your government.”
“We have been having no trouble getting our foreign investments approved,” the young man said.
“World conditions change,” Baydr said smoothly. “A recession in the Western world could alter your favorable balance of payments.”
“There is nothing like that on the horizon at this time,” the young man said.
“One never knows. A change in the world’s supply of energy could bring its technocracy to a screeching halt. Then you would be faced with two problems. One, a shortage of customers; two, an inability to maintain your own rate of productivity.”
Again the young man addressed himself to Hokkaido. The older man nodded slowly as he listened. Then he turned to Baydr and spoke in English. “If we agree to your proposition, would you use the tankers to bring oil to Japan?”
Baydr nodded.
“Exclusively?”
Again Baydr nodded.
“How much oil would you be able to guarantee?” Hokkaido asked.
“That would depend entirely on what my government would allow. I think under the right circumstances a satisfactory agreement could be reached.”
“Would you be able to secure a most-favored-nation clause?”
“I could do that.”
Hokkaido was silent for a moment. His next words were very clear and precise. “To recap, Mr. Al Fay, in effect you are saying that if we give you five ships now at half price and build five more ships for you with our own money, you will then be good enough to use those ships to bring to our country the oil we buy from you.”
Baydr did not answer. His face was impassive.
The Japanese smiled suddenly. “Now I know why you are called the Pirate. You are indeed samurai. But I will still have to discuss the entire matter with my associates in Japan.”
“Of course.”
“Would you be able to come to Tokyo if we should desire to go ahead?”
“Yes.”
The Japanese got to their feet. Baydr rose also. Mr. Hokkaido bowed and held out his hand. “Thank you for a most enjoyable and informative lunch, Mr. Al Fay.”
Baydr shook his hand. “Thank you for your time and patience.”
Carriage signaled for the check as the Japanese walked away. “I don’t know what they’re complaining about,” he said with a laugh. “We’re paying for the lunch.” He signed the check and added, “Michael Vincent is waiting in the bungalow for us.”
“Okay,” Baydr asked. “What time is Jordana’s plane arriving?”
“ETA is four o’clock,” Dick answered. “I checked just before lunch. It’s running about fifteen minutes late. We should leave the hotel no later than three thirty.”
They walked through the dark Polo Lounge and out again into the sunlight to take the path which led to their bungalows. Their footsteps echoed on the pink cement walk.
“Did you check with Rancho del Sol?” Baydr asked.
Carriage nodded. “Everything’s ready. We’ve taken a private house for you near the main building, overlooking the golf course. The bank people have all been booked into the club itself. Dinner will be in a private room with cocktails first. That will give all of us a chance to get to know each other.”
“Any cancellations?”
“No. They’ll all be there. They’re as curious about you as you are about them.”
Baydr laughed. “I wonder what they would think if I showed up in a traditional costume?”
Carriage laughed with him. “They’d probably shit. I’ve already heard talk that they suspect you of being a simple savage. That’s a very snobbish group down there. All WASP. No Jews, no Catholics, no foreigners.”
“They should love Jordana then,” Baydr said. It was true. She was a born and bred California girl and they didn’t come any WASPier.
“They will,” Carriage answered.
“Still, it’s not going to be easy. I have noticed a lack of enthusiasm in their pursuit of new business, and we have dropped some important accounts since we’ve taken over the bank.”
“According to their reports, they blame it on the Jewish-controlled Los Angeles banks.”
“That’s too easy an excuse to satisfy me. I always get suspicious when they tell me something they think I will accept. They bungled the Star Ranch offer and let the Japanese maneuver us into a bid situation.”
“They said the Japanese were working through the LA banks.”
“Not good enough. They were there on the ground floor. We should have had it all wrapped up before LA even heard about it. Now it’s had time to get all the way to Tokyo and back.”
They were at the bungalow. Carriage opened the door and they went into the cottage. The cool, dark air-conditioned room felt good after the white heat of the sun.
Vincent got to his feet, the inevitable glass of whiskey on the cocktail table before him. “Baydr, it’s good to see you again.
”
“It’s always good to see you again, my friend.” They shook hands and Baydr walked around the small table to the couch and sat down. “How is the script coming?”
“That’s what I wanted to see you about. At first, I thought it would be easy. You know. Like my films about Moses and Jesus, there would always be some miracles to fall back on for visual excitement. The parting of the Red Sea or the Israelites, the Resurrection. But it’s not like that at all. Your Prophet has no miracles going for him. He was just a man.”
Baydr laughed. “That’s true. Just a man. Like all of us. No more and no less. Does that disappoint you?”
“Cinematically, yes,” Vincent answered.
“It would seem to me that should make the message of the Prophet even more convincing and dramatic. That a man, just like any of us, should bring the revelations of Allah to his fellow men. What about his persecution by the pagan Arabs and the taunts of the Jews and Christians, and his banishment and flight from Medina? And what about his battle to return to Mecca? Surely, there should be enough drama in that for several films.”
“For the Muslim world perhaps, but I doubt very much that the Western world would take to the idea of their being the villains of the piece. And you did say that you wanted this film to be shown all over the world, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“There’s our problem,” Vincent answered. He picked up the whiskey and drained his glass. “We’re going to have to solve that before we begin on the script.”
Baydr was silent. The truth in the Koran was self-evident—why, then, was there always this problem? The unbelievers didn’t even want to listen. If, only once, they would open their minds and hearts to the Prophet’s message the light would come to them. He looked thoughtfully at the director. “If I remember your version, the film on Christ had him crucified by the Romans, not the Jews, is that right?”
Vincent nodded.
“Was that not contrary to fact?” Baydr asked. “In reality did the Jews themselves not condemn Christ to the cross?”
“There are different opinions,” Vincent said. “Because Christ Himself was a Jew and betrayed by one of His own apostles, Judas, who was also a Jew, and because He was hated by the rabbis of the Orthodox temples for threatening their power and authority, many believe that the Jews pushed the Romans into crucifying Him.”
“But the pagan Romans were made the villains of the film, were they not?”
“Yes.”
“Then we have the answer,” Baydr said. “We will build our film around the Prophet’s conflict with the Quraish, which led to his flight to Medina. The Prophet’s wars in reality were not with the Jews who already had accepted the principle of one God, but with the three great Arab tribes who worshiped many gods. It was they who drove him away from Mecca, not the Jews.”
Vincent stared at him. “I remember reading it but I never thought of it in that light. Somehow I felt that the Arabs had always been with him.”
“Not in the beginning,” Baydr said. “The Quraish tribe consisted of pagan Arabs who worshiped many gods and it was to them rather than the Jews and Christians that Muhammad first directed his teachings of the true Allah. It was they whom he first called ‘Unbelievers.’”
“I’ll try that approach,” Vincent said. He refilled his glass and looked across the table at Baydr. “Are you sure you would not be interested in writing the script with me?”
Baydr laughed. “I’m a businessman, not a writer. I’ll leave that to you.”
“But you know the story better than anyone I have met.”
“Read the Koran again. Maybe then you will see what I see.” He got to his feet. “Youssef will be arriving later this afternoon and we’ll all get together after the weekend. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going out to the airport to meet my wife.”
Vincent got to his feet. “I think you’ve set me on the right track. I’ll get right to work on the new approach.”
They shook hands and Vincent left the bungalow. Baydr turned to Carriage. “What do you think?” he asked.
“If I may say so, chief, I think you ought to pay him off and forget the whole thing. The only thing you can guarantee yourself in a film like that is losses.”
“The Koran teaches that man can benefit in many ways by his actions, to seek not only the profit but the good.”
“I hope you’re right, but I would still be very cautious before you go ahead with the film.”
“You’re a strange young man. Don’t you ever think of anything but dollars and cents?”
Carriage met his gaze. “Not when I’m working. I don’t imagine you hired me for my social graces.”
“I guess not,” he said. “But there are some things more important than money.”
“That’s not my decision to make,” Dick said. “Not when it’s your money.” He began to put some papers into his attaché case. “My job is to be sure that you are aware of all the risks. The rest is up to you.”
“And you think the film is risky?”
“Yes, sir.”
Baydr walked to his bedroom door. “Thank you, Dick,” he said quietly. “I don’t want you ever to feel that I don’t appreciate what you’re trying to do for me.”
Dick flushed. It wasn’t often that Baydr complimented him. “You don’t have to thank me, chief.”
Baydr smiled. “I’ll grab a quick shower and I’ll be ready to go in a few minutes. Have the car brought around in front of the bungalow.”
“Will do, chief.” Carriage was on the telephone before Baydr closed the bedroom door.
CHAPTER 5
As usual, the plane from Paris was an hour late. Silently Baydr cursed the airlines. They were all alike. They never gave accurate arrival information until it was too late to do anything but sit at the airport and wait for the plane to come down.
The telephone rang in the small VIP room and the hostess picked it up. She listened for a moment, then turned to them. “Double-O-three is touching down right now. It should be at the gate in a few minutes.”
Baydr got to his feet. She rose from her desk and walked toward them. “Mr. Hansen will meet you at the gate and expedite Mrs. Al Fay through the formalities.”
“Thank you,” Baydr said.
There was a crowd around the arrival area. Mr. Hansen, a heavy-set man in an Air France uniform, came to meet them. Quickly, he ushered them downstairs through the restricted customs area. A uniformed immigration officer joined them and they went into the entrance room, just as Jordana came from the plane.
He nodded to himself in approval. Jordana had great instincts. The casual tie-dyed jeans and see-through clothing she affected in the south of France were nowhere in evidence. Instead, she was the fashionably dressed young California wife. The Dior suit with its modestly cut skirt, the slouch hat and lightly applied makeup were exactly right in the society they were about to enter. He moved forward to greet her.
She held her cheek for his kiss. “You look lovely,” he said.
“Thank you.” She smiled.
“The flight comfortable?”
“I slept all the way. They fixed up a special bunk for me.”
“Good. We have a kind of difficult schedule in front of us.”
Youssef, slightly rumpled in his dark suit, appeared behind her with her secretary. Baydr shook hands with them, as the Air France representative collected their passports for clearance. He led Jordana away from the crowd of people so they could talk privately.
“I’m sorry I could not get back this summer,” he said.
“We were too. The boys especially. They gave me a message for you.”
“Yes?”
“They wanted to tell you that they are doing very well in their Arabic. That you would not have to be ashamed of them.”
“Are they?” he asked.
“I think so. They insist on speaking nothing but Arabic to all the help whether they are understood or not.”
He smiled, pleased. “I’
m glad.” His eyes met her own. “And you? What have you been doing with yourself?”
“Nothing much, the usual thing.”
“You look very well.”
She did not answer.
“Were there many parties this year?”
“There are always parties.”
“Anything exciting?”
“Not particularly.” She looked at him. “You’ve lost weight. You look thin.”
“I’ll have to eat more,” he said. “It would never do if I were to go back to the Middle East looking like this. They might think I was falling upon hard times.”
She smiled. She knew what he was talking about. The Arabs still judged a man’s success by his girth. A portly man was always more highly regarded than a thin one. “Eat bread and potatoes,” she said. “And more lamb.”
He laughed aloud. She knew how Western his taste was. He disliked starchy and fatty foods, preferring to eat beefsteaks. “I’ll remember that.”
Hansen came over to them. “Everything’s okay,” he said. “We have a car waiting on the field to take you over to the helipad.”
“We can go then,” Baydr said. He gestured to Youssef, who came toward them. “Vincent’s at the Beverly Hills Hotel,” Baydr told him. “You spend the weekend with him and try to find out exactly where we’re at. I’ll be in touch with you on Monday.”
Youssef tried to conceal his disappointment. He hated to be left out of anything that might be important. “Do you think there’s a problem with Vincent?”
“I don’t know, but it would seem to me that in three months he should have at least made a start.”
“Leave it to me, chief,” Youssef said confidently. “I’ll build a fire under him.”
***
“It will take about a half-hour to get down there,” the helicopter pilot said as they lifted off.
“What’s the dress for tonight?” Jordana asked. “How much time will we have?”
Baydr looked at his watch. “Cocktails are at eight, dinner at nine. Black tie.”
Jordana looked at him. She knew how he hated evening dress. “You’re going all out.”
The Pirate Page 15
