Criminal Mischief

55

Stone was practically lifted out of his bed by the loudest noise he had ever heard. He jumped up and swept back the curtain on the portside porthole. A few yards away an enormous container ship was passing, headed south. It was its horn that had greeted Stone’s new day. They were clearly in the Suez Canal, having steamed all night. He fell back into bed next to Brio, who was sitting up in bed, wide-eyed.

“Relax, it’s only the largest ship you’ve ever seen, and you could hit it with a slingshot. It’s nice to see you so awake, though,” he said, pulling the sheet down and crawling into bed with her. He laid his head on her belly and worked his way south.

“Promise me we won’t hear that noise again,” she said, arranging herself to greet him.

“I can only promise you that this is going to feel very, very good,” he said, attending to the business at hand.

She ran her fingers through his hair. “You’re right,” she said.

After Stone had proved his point a couple of times, he raised the issue of breakfast. “May I have it served on your belly?” he asked.

“No, it will either be too hot or too cold. Why don’t you raise your attention to above my waist, and we’ll discuss it?” He did so, and they discussed it, deciding to get up and have breakfast on deck.

Wilcox joined them shortly. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Stone asked. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“Nor did I,” Brio said innocently.

It took another moment before they all collapsed, laughing.

“That was the loudest noise I’ve ever heard,” Wilcox said.

“Us, too,” Stone replied.

The landscape was desert on both sides of the canal. Occasionally vehicles passed on the roads on either side of them, headed in both directions. Other ships, large and small, passed.

“I’ve had breakfast on a canal before,” Stone said, “but not one this big.”

“Oh,” Wilcox said, “I saw Said briefly on my way up, and he asked me to tell you that we will conduct the exchange for Zanian at Port Said Airport, tomorrow at midday, instead of Cairo, and to inform your air crew.”

“I wonder how long the runway is at Port Said,” Stone said.

“It’s 7,700 feet. He told me that, too.”

“We can manage that.” He called Faith.

“Yes, sir?”

“Change of destination,” he said. “Our meeting will be at Port Said tomorrow at midday, instead of Cairo. They’ve got a 7,700-foot runway.”

“That’s good. I’ll have two agents aboard to deal with Mr. Zanian.”

“Fine. And be sure that my large trunk and valise are in a position where they will be easy to unload.”

“Got it. Will we go directly from Port Said to Teterboro?”

“Yes, if we’ve got the fuel for it.”

“Barring extraordinary headwinds, we have, but we can always refuel at Santa Maria, in the Azores, if necessary. I’ll get the forecast.”

“Good. See you tomorrow.” They hung up.

“I had a strange dream last night,” Wilcox said.

“Oh?”

“I dreamed I was in a Dickens novel.”

“Poor you. I hope you weren’t Oliver Twist.”

“No, I was Tiny Tim.”

“Well, you’ve recovered. You don’t look any tinier.”

“I’m relieved to hear it.”

Stone changed the subject, reflecting that there was hardly anything more boring that someone else’s dreams.

General Said came up from below. “Good morning to you all,” he said.

“I gave your message to Stone,” Wilcox said.

“Stone, I hope the change is not inconvenient,” Said said.

“On the contrary, it is quite convenient. From Port Said we can be off to America in the early afternoon, assuming everything goes smoothly. General, do you have any reason to suppose that things might not go as smoothly as we wish?”

“None whatever,” Said replied.

“By the way, you said that Zanian was trying to raise money from his various accounts but not having much success?”

“That is correct.”

“Exactly how much success is Ms. Zanian not having?”

Said smiled. “I’m told he has raised only a few million dollars.”

“And where do those dollars now reside?”

“Apparently, in a bank account that Zanian still has access to.”

“Just not one of his bigger accounts?”

“Quite.”

“Was it the sultan’s idea or yours to sell him his freedom for a billion dollars?”

“It was Zanian’s idea,” Said replied.

“And whose idea was it to accept that deal?”

“The sultan and I never had an affirmative agreement on that subject.”

“Did the possible gaining of a billion dollars have anything to do with the, ah, change in the sultan’s status?”

Said shrugged. “You might say that. Then again, you might say the opposite. I shall leave that for the historians to work out. Why do you ask?”

“Because I am wondering why you are content to accept my two million and a quarter, when there is at least the prospect of a billion.”

“I regard that prospect as the dream of an opium eater,” Said replied. “I prefer to deal in cash I can run my fingers through and which is acceptable at any financial institution.”

“I perceive that you are not a dreamer, General, but rather a practical man.”

“It is one of the differences the sultan and I have had over the years,” Said replied. Then he concerned himself with ordering breakfast.

When he was done with the waiter, he asked Stone, “Tell me, what would you like for dinner this evening? Something else without a hump?”

“If you please.”

“It is our last evening aboard this yacht. Is there something you would like to request?”

“Osso buco,” Stone said. “A dish of veal shank.”

“I’m sure the chef can come up with a shank, instead of a hump,” Said said, laughing.