use it and as he replaced it now, he wondered if there ever would be.
He sat there for a while by the mausoleum, thinking of his wife and son, then took a deep breath and stood up. So, Russian oil fields and armaments. So be it. And he went out.
By 1992, he was seventy, his holdings in Russian oil extensive because of the temporary loss of the Kuwaiti oil fields in the Gulf War and the embargos placed on Iraqi oil. The money simply poured in, and the continuing threat in the Middle East and India and Pakistan made for more and more lucrative deals in the arms business.
In both Britain and the United States, there was unease at the highest level about his various dealings, but he didn’t care. He was now head of a consortium so staggeringly wealthy that his power was immense.
In 1997, James Kelly died in New York, but later in the same year, the Baron suffered his greatest blow of all when Karl Hoffer passed away with a heart attack.
The open coffin was on display in the chapel. Sitting beside it, alone, his hands on the silver handle of the cane he needed to get around these days, he thought of their years together in the war and that last final flight from Berlin.
“So, it would appear I am the last, old friend. My hip bothers me a great deal these days. You remember our old wartime motto: To the men of the SS, nothing is impossible.” He sighed, then gathered himself together. “So back to work.”
He limped out, and the chapel door slammed behind him. It was quiet, lit only by the guttering candles. Little did he know that just around the corner, a series of events were waiting that would change his life forever.
London
The Empty Quarter
Iraq
3.
THE FOLLOWING YEAR was the first time he met Paul Rashid, the Earl of Loch Dhu. The legendary figure behind Rashid Investments, the earl had had an English mother and an Omani general for a father, and had served in the SAS during the Gulf War. The Rashid wealth was well known, as was their grip on the oil fields of Hazar, and also in the Dhofar, for Paul Rashid was Bedu and controlled the vast deserts of the Empty Quarter.
Berger International had sought oil concessions in the Dhofar, but even the Americans hadn’t been able to break the iron control of the Rashids. The Baron tried a different approach. He arranged an arms deal with Yemen, then asked Rashid Investments to broker it for him, reporting directly to him. In this way he hoped, of course, to get to meet Paul Rashid, and one day he received a message that the chairman would meet him in the Piano Bar at the Dorchester Hotel.
He arrived in the early evening as stipulated and ordered a whiskey – an Irish. He’d always favored that. He sat, hands on the handle of his cane, and noticed a supremely beautiful woman pause at the entrance. She wore a black jumpsuit, her black hair hanging to her shoulders and framing a face that could have belonged to the Queen of Sheba. And then she came down the steps and approached him.
“Baron von Berger?”
“Why, yes.” He started to rise.
“No, don’t get up.” She pulled a chair forward. “I’m Lady Kate Rashid.”
He was totally thrown. “My dear young lady, I was expecting Lord Loch Dhu.”
“But you asked for a meeting with the chairman of Rashid Investments, and that’s me. My brother prefers to stay in the shadows, so to speak.” She laughed. “Don’t look so surprised. I did manage to get an M.A. in business at Oxford. Now let’s have a glass of champagne and you can tell me how we can possibly help the great Baron Max von Berger to do something he can’t do for himself.”
She called to Guiliano, the bar manager, and ordered house champagne. “Don’t worry, it’s the best in the place, but then everything here is the best. So, Baron…”
“Well, as you may know, Berger International dabbles in the arms business.”
“I wouldn’t call it dabbling, Baron.”
“It’s not quite on a par with your oil interests.” He smiled. “I have an order from the Yemeni government for assorted weaponry. Ten million pounds’ worth. It’s no big deal, but the shipment is Russian in origin, so I was hoping to bring it down from the Black Sea in a Greek-owned freighter to Aden.”
“Let me guess. Suddenly there are difficulties with the port authorities in Aden, greedy hands held out.”
“You are a very perceptive young lady.”
“A realist, Baron.”
“Who understands the Arab mentality.”
“I do not regard myself as Arab, Baron, and not just because I am half-English.”
“I am well aware of that. Your family is as great in England as my own is in Germany. I meant no slight.”
“Of course you didn’t, but, as I said, that’s not what I meant. My other half is Bedu, and that is different from being Arab. We bow our heads to no one. The Bedu are the real power in Hazar and the Dhofar, but especially in the Empty Quarter. The Bedu control the Empty Quarter, and the Rashid control the Bedu. My brother is the undisputed leader.”
“A remarkable man, the earl, and the rise in Rashid Investments has been equally remarkable. And yet he is not so often on the scene, as it were.”
“As I told you, he prefers to stay in the shadows. I have two brothers, George and Michael, who are managing directors. And, as you know, I am chairman.”
“And Paul?”
“He prefers to spend time in Hazar with the Bedu. To them, he is a great warrior. He roams the desert by camel, lives in the old Bedu way, guarded by men who would die for him, burned by the sun. He eats dates and dried meats. Would you eat dates and dried meats, Baron?”
Guiliano had materialized with a waiter and thumbed the cork off a bottle of Dorchester champagne.
Max von Berger laughed out loud. “To be frank, I’d rather enjoy the delights of the Piano Bar.”
“Then taste the champagne for me.”
“Only if you allow me one privilege.”
“And what would that be?”
“To call you Kate. It’s a delightful name and suits you beyond measure.”
She smiled. “My pleasure, Max.”
He laughed again and nodded to Guiliano, who smiled and poured. “So where are we, Kate?”
“Regarding your arms shipment? It’s no problem, but we can do better than the Greek freighter. I’ll provide a Rashid ship with an Arab crew. I’ll sort out the Aden end of things, and provide security for the cargo, including its deployment up-country.”
“And what will I have to pay for such munificence?”
“Twenty-five percent.”
There was a moment’s pause, then von Berger smiled. “What a remarkable young woman you are, Kate. I accept, of course.”
“No contract, no handshake?”
“My word.” He raised his glass. “To you, my dear, and to the future.”
They clinked glasses and drank. She nodded to Guiliano, who came forward to refill, and then she sat back, watching the Baron calmly. She knew everything about him, or at least thought she did. He intrigued her, everything about him, and she enchanted him: not in some silly superficial way, a seventy-six-year-old man falling for a beautiful young woman. It was just that everything about her was so remarkable.
“To the future, you say?” She smiled. “So now we come to it. Your interests in the Russian oil fields are not enough. You seek oil concessions in the Dhofar.”
