'What good would that do?' asked Azra. 'All communications are monitored, we know that. None of the Mahdi's people will risk getting in touch with us.'
'They don't have to,' interrupted Evan, sitting forward. 'I understand what your sister's saying. The response need not be verbal; no communication is necessary. We're not asking for instructions, we're giving them. It's what you and I talked about several hours ago, Azra. I know Bahrain. I'll choose a place where we'll be and let one of your contacts here in Masqat forward it, telling him that this is the urgent message your sister spoke of during the press conference.' Kendrick turned to Yateem. 'That is what you had in mind, isn't it?'
'I hadn't refined it,' admitted Zaya, 'but it's feasible. My thought was merely to speed up the process of reaching the Mahdi. It is plausible.'
'It's the solution!' cried Ahbyahd. 'Bahrudi has given it to us!'
'Nothing is solved at this juncture,' said the veiled woman, again sitting down. 'There's the problem of getting my brother and Mr. Bahrudi to Bahrain. How can it be done?'
'It's been taken care of,' answered Evan, the pounding in his chest accelerating, astonished at his own control, at his casual voice. He was closer! Closer to the Mahdi! 'I have a telephone number, which I won't give you—can't give you—but with a few words it will get us a plane.'
'Just like that?' exclaimed Ahbyahd.
'Your benefactor here in Oman has methods you haven't dreamed of.'
'All phone calls in and out are intercepted,' objected Azra.
'What I say may be heard, but not what the person I'm calling says. I was assured of that.'
'A scrambling device?' asked Yateem.
'They're part of our kits in Europe. A simple cone pressed over the mouthpiece. The distortion is absolute except on the direct connection.'
'Make your call,' said Zaya, getting up and walking rapidly around the desk as Kendrick did the same, replacing her in the chair. Holding his hand over the numbers, Evan dialled.
'Yes?' Ahmat's voice came on the line before the second ring.
'A plane,' said Kendrick. 'Two passengers. Where? When?'
'My God!' exploded the young sultan of Oman. 'Let me think… The airport, of course. There's a turn in the road about a quarter of a mile before the cargo area. Someone will pick you up in a garrison car. Tell them it was stolen to get you past the guards.'
'When?'
'It will take time. The security's heavy everywhere and arrangements have to be made. Can you give me a destination?'
'The twenty-second letter split in two.'
'V… split—a slanted I—Iran?'
'No. By the numbers.'
'Twenty-second… two. B?'
'Yes.'
'Bahrain!'
'Yes.'
'That helps. I'll make some calls. How soon do you need it?'
'At the height of the festivities here. We have to get out in the confusion.'
'That would be around noon.'
'Whatever you say. Incidentally, there's a doctor—he has something I may need for my health.'
'The money belt, of course. It will be slipped to you.'
'Good.'
'The turn before the cargo area. Be there.'
'We will.' Evan hung up the phone. 'We're to be at the airport by twelve noon.'
