The satellite phone sounded, but there was heavy static. The Broker shouted, “It’s me. Is the static clearing?”
“I’m here.”
“They’re sending a helicopter. Is everything okay?”
“A minor problem. It’s been taken care of.”
“Good. We’ll be needing you soon, Hussein. There’s work to be done, you know that. Osama himself was inquiring about you when we last spoke. He sends you his blessing.”
“Tell him I thank him. Good-bye for now.”
By the pool, Sara and Jasmine tended the priest, Sara washing his back carefully with a cloth from the house.
“Are you truly a Christian, child?” he asked.
“My mother is English, my father Rashid. I am baptized.”
“And yet you wear the clothes of a Muslim woman.”
Hussein and his men sat smoking and listening, and heard her say, “In the whole of the Koran, there are only two mothers of prophets. The first, the mother of Mohammed, whose name be praised, and the second Mary, the mother of the prophet Jesus. There is good in all things. I think this is true of the Bible and the Koran.”
“So young and yet so wise.” He counted his beads and started to pray.
She stood up and went and sat on the ground beside Hussein, and the others stood up out of respect and moved away.
“I didn’t know,” she said in English. “About you.”
“Of course you didn’t. You weren’t meant to.”
“I thought I knew you. Now I see I never knew you at all. The Hammer of God.” She shook her head, repeating it in Arabic. “The servants would speak of you and sometimes you were mentioned in newspapers. Strange.” She shook her head again. “I read the news to improve my Arabic and didn’t realize I was sometimes reading about you and your doings.” She changed to Arabic. “The great warrior. Never your face on television, but when you spoke on radio, you always described yourself as the Hammer of God in English. Even the young children learned it that way, some of the T-shirts also were printed with the English phrase. Why did you allow this?”
“Personal arrogance-to mock my enemies. In the English papers, the wording would be rather different. Not great warrior, but terrorist, I think.”
“Yes, it’s amazing how much it’s a matter of the words one chooses.”
“How wise,” he said. “Such wisdom in one so young.” In the distance, a sound emerged, the unmistakable stutter of a helicopter. “So, another stage on our journey.” He pulled her up. “Say good-bye to the good father and we’ll be on our way.”
THE PORT OF HAZAR was small, with white buildings and narrow alleys, the vivid blue of the sea contrasting with the whiteness of the buildings. The harbor was well used, with coastal shipping of various kinds, fishing vessels, old-fashioned dhows and motor cruisers.
They came in from the sea in a half-circle, and about a mile out from the town Sara noticed a big dhow, very ancient from the look of it.
Sara said, “That looks interesting.”
Hussein said, “It is. It’s really being used as a diving platform. They call it the
“Are they doing anything about it?”
“The Hazar government? They couldn’t care less. A few years ago, a professor from Cambridge University got a license to dive it. He came back occasionally, but he never had any money to speak of. As I recall, he used local divers and treated it like a holiday.”
“It sounds lovely. Have you ever dived?”
“Oh, yes, many times when I was younger. It’s a different world down there.”
They swung in across the town, circling the airfield complex to the left and beyond, and then they drifted to the right to what looked like a small village above a tiny port, and on the hillside above it was an extensive villa, obviously old and standing in gardens and terracing of great beauty.
“And this is the pride of the Rashid family. The great house that has stood here for three hundred years. This is Kafkar.”
The helicopter swung down toward a landing pad, and there were people waiting there, many people, all in traditional dress, and standing alone in front of them was a very old man in a white linen suit, a Bedouin burnoose on his head. From the look of him, he had once been a man of great power, but he was leaning on a stick now.
As the engine stopped, Hussein said, “Your great-uncle, Jemal. You go first.”
He opened the door, sent out the steps and she went down. There was silence. Then the old man beckoned to her. “Sara-come to me, child.”
She started forward and the crowd broke into spontaneous applause.
LATER THEY SAT on a wide terrace above the garden, palm trees and exotic plants on every side. The sound of water was everywhere as it channeled from terrace to terrace in small waterfalls, and Jemal and Hussein sat and smoked. News of the shooting at the oasis had spread.
Jemal said, “The ben Levi business is nothing. Ali was a bandit of low repute. There’ll be no question of an honor killing in revenge. Don’t worry.”
“I don’t,” Hussein said. “They needed a lesson, these people.”
“They received one. What of your plans?”
“I shall stay a few days, leave Sara in your hands and go. There is work for me to do-important work. I am in close touch with al-Qaeda; Osama himself sent me a message only today.”
“Of course, you have been picked for great things, the chosen of Allah. The child will be safe here. What happened in Baghdad was a terrible thing. My brother’s death was the Will of Allah and the work of Sunnis, but the presence of these devils from London who would steal Sara-this troubles me.”
“And me.”
“My brother was disturbed that she was not happy.”
“Certainly she attempted to run away at first, so they tell me,” Hussein said.
“My brother and I discussed it. We made a decision to chain her. I’m surprised to see this is not so now.”
“I put her on her honor and she gave me her word. The traveling would have been difficult.”
“She is not traveling now.”
Hussein was on dangerous ground, needed to proceed with caution and knew it.
“For a young woman to be shackled so is at best awkward and difficult.” He played on his uncle’s sense of what was fitting. “After all, she is Rashid. For the world to see her shackled would be a great shame. There is your authority to consider.”
“You are right. To see her in public thus would shame us all.”
“Also a particular shame to you, Uncle.” He played now on the old man’s vanity. “That she was seen so.”
“This is true. There can be no question of the shackles. The woman Jasmine will accompany her at all times when she is outside. Two armed guards.” He looked up at the house. “The blue room will be her living quarters. All the doors and shutters are fitted with keys. No telephone.”
“That should suffice.” Hussein inclined his head. “Your wisdom, as usual, is boundless.”
At that moment, Sara came down the steps with Jasmine behind her. They were both wearing fresh clothing.
“Ah, there you are, child, come to me.” Jemal put out his hand.
She glanced at Hussein, who gave her a hardly visible nod, so she went and knelt at the old man’s knee. “It is
