The Haj - Leon Uris [210]
Ali Rahman struck a statuesque pose and pondered with princely might. Kabir knew the strange ways of the West, a world in which he was still a stranger. The calculated creation of chaos in the committees would indeed preserve the five principles, and this was what his grandfather had told him to do at all costs.
‘What are we spreading around to the other delegations?’
‘A few thousand here, a few thousand there,’ Kabir answered. ‘Key generals and ministers, a bit more. Enough to ensure that our wishes are carried out.’
‘What about the nigger slave?’ Ali Rahman asked.
Kabir cleared his throat. ‘Please do not use that expression in public, my prince. Dr. Ralph Bunche is a very respected man, despite the misfortune of his birth.’
‘Can we get to him?’ Ali Rahman, said, rubbing his fingers together.
‘We explored this carefully. He does not take gifts. However, he is naïve to our ways. We will swamp him.’
Kabir licked his lips nervously and spoke tentatively. ‘Certainly your immortal grandfather, all praise to him, has given you the instructions I have requested.
‘Concerning what?’
‘Our long-range plans to lock in Syria and Egypt after the conference.’
Ali Rahman cracked his long fingers, stroked his goatee, and nodded. ‘Tell the Egyptians and Syrians they will receive one million dollars a day from the Saudi treasury for arms.’
‘That is what they are waiting to hear, my prince,’ Kabir said, scarcely able to control the rush of excitement within him. ‘And the other matter ...’
‘What other matter?’
‘As I have explained, the Western press is very strong. The West is buying our oil. I speak of making a gesture to sway them, the donation for the refugees’ relief. It will sit very well with them.’
‘No!’ Ali Rahman interrupted. ‘We will not get involved in relief. The refugees made this situation for themselves.’
‘But it was the United Nations who created this Zionist monstrosity,’ Kabir persisted.
‘Exactly! The United Nations is therefore responsible for the refugees. It is a world matter, not an Arab matter. The point is that if life is made too comfortable for the refugees, they will be content to sit and rot in the camps. They must be kept thirsty for vengeance.’
‘I believe I have an idea,’ Kabir said, feigning the inspiration of sudden discovery. ‘Do not jump out of your seat, my prince, but suppose we were to announce to the Western press a series of plans to resettle the refugees in Arab lands.’
‘What!’
‘I implore you, let me finish. Do not underestimate the importance of winning the sympathy of the West. Let us say Egypt announces a plan to take the refugees now in the Gaza Strip and move them permanently into the Sinai. Libya will go along with taking others. Suppose, now, Syria announces a resettlement of the refugees from Syria and Lebanon to the Euphrates Valley.’
‘Your tongue is preparing itself for amputation, Kabir!’
‘No, no, no, my prince. Please, hear me. After these announcements, the great royal house of Saud declares it will donate a million dollars a day to implement the resettlements.’
Rahman’s face reddened, but he also began to smell the deftness of Kabir’s thinking.
‘All these proclamations are only for consumption in the West. We prove we are not intransigent. We prove we are humane. Times passes. This conference is over. More time passes. The resettlement plans fade over the horizon like a desert sunset. The million a day has never been spent but is shifted now into arms purchases. It will give us a great propaganda victory here in Zurich.’
The sense of outrage diminished and the silken deliciousness of the scheme became apparent. Prince Ali Rahman’s desert cunning was now producing juices of intrigue.
‘I will speak of it with my grandfather and the crown prince. As men of the desert, they could see the merit of the scheme.’
‘Meanwhile, I will keep all the delegations under control, believe me. And let us deal the Lebanese in,’ Kabir said.
‘For