A Devil Is Waiting - Jack Higgins [77]
He was rather somber when he finished. “So death for death was my aim with Ferguson and his people, and we’ve failed miserably.”
“You must not talk so. It’s not you who has failed, but those who were supposed to serve you.”
“How is the Sultan?”
“Dr. Hassan does his best. He has an excellent setup at the palace, top staff and equipment.” She shrugged. “But what do you do with strokes, heart attacks, and age?”
“Aptly put. Do you think the Council of Elders would favor Owen for Sultan?”
“I wouldn’t bank on that. A majority of them are traditionalists who don’t care for him at all. They also don’t like that he’s not even married, and a known womanizer.” She poured him more coffee. “What do you think?”
“I’ve only met him once,” Ali Selim told her. “The first time I visited the Monsoon when the sheikh brought it down to Rubat and gave a party. You hadn’t joined then. Owen was a guest, and so was I.”
“So you’ve never met again.”
“Well, to be honest, I’ve haunted his life in a way.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been a ghost in his machine.” He took off his glasses and polished them with his handkerchief. “A ghost called Abu.”
What an amazing story,” Fatima said when he was finished.
Ali Selim said, “Owen Rashid is not the only one who made the mistake of responding to Al Qaeda advances for corrupt reasons. He believed it would give him an advantage in the oil business, some extra muscle when wheeler-dealing in the marketplace. But like others, he discovered there was a price to pay. He had to obey orders. Osama bin Laden made that clear. There can be no difference between rich and poor in this matter.”
“And so it should be,” she said. “But where does that leave Rashid? I suppose if the Elders do choose him as Sultan, that would at least be good from Al Qaeda’s point of view.”
“But Al Qaeda is already powerful in Rubat,” Ali Selim told her. “Powerful in its effect on ordinary people, most of whom work in the oil industry. You know this is true, I’ve seen the reports you’ve collated. However, as you say, such people are not the majority of the Council of Elders. They may well say no to Owen.”
There was silence for a moment between them, and she frowned uncertainly. “Are you suggesting something else? If so, what is it?”
So he told her.
She was unable to speak for a few moments when he had finished, staring at him in awe. “Oh, my God,” she whispered.
Ali Selim said, “In a newsroom, this is what a reporter would describe as a hell of a story.”
“In any newsroom,” Fatima said. “It could run for weeks.”
“Thanks for the input,” Ali Selim told her. “Now go and find Ibrahim for me and bring him here. I know he looks frightening, but he has a highly developed sense of low cunning—and that’s just what we need.”
Owen Rashid was running in Hyde Park when his mobile sounded. Ali Selim said, “Good morning, Owen. Starting the day as usual with a run?”
“God help me, what do you want now?” Owen demanded. “It’s breakfast time, Abu, though since I’ve no idea where you are, I don’t know what you’re up to.”
“Looking out the stern window of the Monsoon in Rubat Harbor.”
“What bloody nonsense are you giving me now?”
“No nonsense, Owen, I’m calling you from the Monsoon. I’m here on Al Qaeda business. By the way, it isn’t Abu. You must excuse my little subterfuge.”
Owen said, “So who the hell are you?”
“Mullah Ali Selim.”
Owen laughed wildly. “I’ve never heard such rubbish in my life.”
“What a shame. I never pegged you for a stupid man. I’m just calling you to tell you I’m going to phone Henri Legrande in twenty minutes. He’s utterly failed me, and I thought I’d let him know his shop could burn down one night this week—unless he does what I say. I’ve got a job for you all. If you leave now, you should be able to get there in time for me to talk to the three of you.”
He switched off his mobile and turned as Fatima and Ibrahim entered. “We’ll have to wait for approximately twenty minutes or so.” He smiled