Criminal Mischief

54

Wilcox pressed send, then waited. Presently, the captain came aft with two pages from his printer and handed them to the diplomat.

“Do they meet your standards?” Stone inquired.

“Not yet, but soon.” He took a Mont Blanc fountain pen from an inside pocket and scrawled something on a blank sheet of paper, then repeated the process. “Now,” he said. He took the two copies of the document and fluently signed them both, then inspected his work. “Excellent, if I may say so,” he said, handing them to Stone.

“I’ve no idea what the signature of the secretary of state looks like,” he said.

“That’s all right,” Wilcox replied. “Neither does General Said. It’s close enough to fool anybody but, perhaps, the secretary’s own secretary.”

Stone found an envelope, folded a sheet, and tucked it inside, sealing it with a lick. He picked up his cell phone and dialed a number. “General?”

“Yes?”

“This is Stone Barrington. We have received the expected communication from the secretary of state. We have sent you an electronic copy. How would you like the document delivered?”

“I’ll send the boatman, with his clever stick.”

“When?”

“Immediately.”

“Will you call me back when you have seen the document?”

“Of course.” He hung up.

Across the water Stone could see a figure jump into Star’s tender and head his way. Stone watched as he approached, then stepped up to the rail. The boatman thrust his stick upward, and Stone grabbed it, thrust the envelope into the jaws of the clip at its end, and watched as the boatman brought it aboard, tucked it into his jacket pocket, and returned to the royal yacht. “Now,” he said to Wilcox and Brio.

They watched as the boatman reached the yacht, secured the tender, ran up the boarding stairs, and disappeared. They went back to their comfortable seats on the fantail. A moment later Stone’s cell phone rang. “Stone Barrington.”

“Mr. Barrington, this is General Said.”

“I rather thought that it might be.”

“I have the document in my hand.”

“And does it meet your requirements?”

“In every respect.”

“I am pleased to hear it. Now, when do we receive the corpus delicti of Mr. Zanian?”

“We must first find and sober up his airplane’s crew, then negotiate the plane’s release from your Jeeps at the airport, then it can proceed to Cairo. Two or three days, I expect.”

“I had hoped for a more immediate surrender.”

“May I suggest that you and your party pack and move to Star? There is, of course, plenty of room, and you will be made very comfortable, then we can continue to Cairo in one yacht instead of two.”

“What a good idea! We’ll be ready for your boatman in an hour.”

“Very good. Drinks at six-thirty, on the fantail. And please don’t forget your trunk.”

“That will be brought to Cairo on my aircraft, at the appointed time for the exchange with Mr. Zanian.”

“Fair enough,” Said said. “See you at six-thirty. We’re dressing for dinner.”

“Of course. Goodbye.” They both hung up.

“We’re moving to the royal yacht, which will convey us to Cairo,” Stone said. “Go and pack. The boat will be here for us in an hour, and we may as well change for dinner now. It’s black tie again.”

“Oh, shoot!” Brio said. “Now I have to come up with another dress.”

“Judging from the capacity of your luggage and the number of cases, that won’t be a problem,” Stone said.

Stone settled with the captain and crew, and they were efficiently conveyed to Star as soon as the boat arrived. As they sat on the fantail, awaiting the arrival of their host, the usual noises associated with getting under way could be heard. From somewhere far below the engines changed their whisper to a murmur, and the big yacht weighed anchor and proceeded up the Red Sea, in good order.

The general, in yet another naval uniform, made his appearance on the fantail, and his guests rose to meet him.

“What a fine evening it will be,” he said, while being handed a large whiskey. “And I am so fortunate to have you all to share it with.”

They settled into their comfortable chairs, and refills were served.

“General,” Wilcox said, “is there a Mrs. Said?”

“Several,” Said replied, blithely.

“Of course,” Wilcox replied. “The joys of your faith and your high standing. Tell me, what becomes of the sultan’s harem in these changing circumstances?”

“I suppose that rather depends on what becomes of the sultan,” Said said.

Wilcox did not pursue that line of conversation further.

“What changes do you intend for your country, in your new regime?” Stone asked.

“Women will have equal standing, for the first time.”

“Hurrah for women!” Brio shouted.

“And what else?” Wilcox asked.

“Little else,” Said replied. “I have, as a practical matter, been running the country for some time. I expect a fairly seamless transition.”

“My country hopes there will not be bloodshed,” Wilcox said.

“We can both hope, Mr. Ambassador,” Said replied. “However, there will always be those who insist on having their blood shed, won’t there be? In those cases we will endeavor to be swift and sure, to cause as little pain as possible.”

His three guests gulped simultaneously.