Blue. 'We should be at this moment—hours ago—studying the embassy. We have a job to do that has nothing to do with your American!'
'So, besides an accountant you have a hot-head,' said Weingrass. 'Anyone else?'
'Kendrick is here without sanction,' replied Ben-Ami. 'He was flown over under cover but is now left to his own devices. He's unacknowledged if caught.'
'Where did you get that information?'
'One of our men in Washington. I don't know who or from what department or agency.'
'You'd need a telephone book. How secure is this phone?' asked Weingrass, sitting down at the table.
'No guarantees,' said the Mossad officer. 'It was installed in a hurry.'
'For as few shekels as possible, I'm sure.'
'Manny!'
'Oh, shut up.' Weingrass took a notebook out of his pocket, flipped through the pages and riveted his eyes on a name and a number. He picked up the phone and dialled. Within seconds he spoke.
'Thank you, my dear friend at the palace, for being so courteous. My name is Weingrass, insignificant to you, of course, but not to the great sultan, Ahmat. Naturally, I would not care to disturb his illustrious person, but if you could get word to him that I called, perhaps he might return a great favour. Let me give you a number, may I?' Manny did so, squinting at the digits on the phone. 'Thank you, my dear friend, and may I say, in respect, that this is a most urgent matter and the sultan may praise you for your diligence. Thank you, again.'
The once renowned architect hung up the telephone and leaned back in the chair, breathing deeply to stem the rattling echo erupting in his chest. 'Now we wait,' he said, looking at the Mossad officer. 'And hope that our sultan has more brains and money than you do… My God, he came back! After four years he heard me and my son has come back?'
'Why?' asked Yaakov.
'The Mahdi,' said Weingrass quietly, angrily, staring at the floor.
'The who?'
'You'll learn, hot-head.'
'He's not really your son, Manny.'
'He's the only son I ever wanted—' The telephone rang; Weingrass grabbed it, pulling it to his ear.
'Yes?'
'Emmanuel?'
'At one time, when we found ourselves in Los Angeles, you were far less formal.'
'Allah be praised, I'll never forget. I had myself checked when I got back here.'
'Tell me, you young stinker, did you ever get a passing grade for that economics thesis in your third year?'
'Only a B, Manny. I should have listened to you. You told me to make it far more complicated—that they liked complications.'
'Can you talk?' asked Weingrass, his voice suddenly serious.
'I can, but you may not. From this end everything's static. Do you understand?'
'Yes. Our mutual acquaintance. Where is he?'
'On his way to Bahrain with two other people from the embassy—there was supposed to be only one other but that was changed at the last minute. I don't know why.'
'Because there's a string leading to someone else, probably. Is that everyone?'
Ahmat paused briefly. 'No, Manny,' he said quietly. 'There's one other you must not interfere with or acknowledge in any way. She is a woman and her name is Khalehla. I tell you this because I trust you and you should know that she's there, but no one else must ever know. Her presence here must be kept as quiet as our friend's; her exposure would be a catastrophe.'
