The Pirate (18 page)

It had been daylight and a few minutes after five o’clock when she entered her bedroom at the villa. Her suitcases, neatly packed, were against the wall and still open in case there was anything she wanted to put in at the last minute. A note from her secretary was propped against the lamp on the night table. She picked it up. It was terse, in Diana’s usual style:

She looked at the clock again. If she wanted to have breakfast with the boys at seven o’clock, there was no point in her going to bed now. She would be better off trying to sleep on the plane.

She went into the bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet and took out a vial of tablets. She popped a Dexamyl into her mouth and swallowed it with a drink of water. It would keep her going at least until the plane took off from Paris.

Slowly she began to undress. When she was naked, she looked at herself in the full-length mirror that was built into the wall of her dressing room. There were faint bruises on her breasts where Gerard had squeezed them, but they could not be seen in dim light, and in the daytime a little body makeup would cover them. Her belly was just flat enough and there was no extra flesh on her hips or thighs. She placed her hand on her pubis and gently parting the soft blond hair, examined herself critically. Her vagina felt heavy and swollen and seemed slightly red and irritated. A faint tingling went through her as she thought about the way the black had taken her. She never dreamed that she could come as many times as she had. She turned back to the medicine cabinet and took out a packet of Massengill. A douche wouldn’t hurt and at least it would be soothing. As she mixed the solution another thought flashed through her mind.

What if the black had venereal disease? There was always a possibility especially since she knew he was bi. Somewhere she had read that homosexuals had the highest rate of venereal infections. Again she opened the medicine cabinet. This time she swallowed two penicillin tablets. She put the vial in her handbag so that she would not forget to keep taking them for the next few days.

The Dexamyl was beginning to take effect and when she finished her douche she went right into the shower. Hot and cold, hot and cold, hot and cold, three times as she had learned to do it from Baydr. When she stepped out of the shower, she felt as refreshed as if she had slept all night.

She sat down at her dressing table and slowly began to put on her makeup. Afterward she dressed and went downstairs to the breakfast room to join the boys.

They were surprised to see her. Usually she did not have breakfast with them. Instead they would come to her room after she had awakened, which was generally just before their lunch.

“Where are you going, Mommy?” Muhammad asked.

“I’m going to meet Daddy in California.”

His face brightened. “Are we going too?”

“No, darling. It’s just a quick trip. I will be back in a few days.”

He was visibly disappointed. “Will Daddy be coming back with you?”

“I don’t know,” she said. It was the truth. She didn’t know. Baydr had only asked her to join him. He had said nothing about his future plans.

“I hope he does come,” Samir said.

“I hope so too,” she said.

“I want him to hear how well we speak Arabic,” the little one said.

“Will you tell him, Mommy?” Muhammad asked.

“I will tell him. Daddy will be very proud of you.”

Both children smiled. “Also tell him that we miss him,” Muhammad said.

“I will.”

Samir looked up at her. “Why doesn’t Daddy come home like other daddies? My friends’ daddies come home every night. Doesn’t he like us?”

“Daddy loves you both, but Daddy is very busy and has to work very hard. He wants to come home to see you but he can’t.”

“I wish he could come home like other daddies,” Samir said.

“What are you doing today?” Jordana asked to change the subject.

Muhammad’s face brightened. “Nanny’s taking us on a picnic.”

“That should be fun.”

“It’s all right,” he said. “But it’s more fun when Daddy takes us water-skiing.”

She looked at her sons. There was something about their serious faces and large dark eyes that reached into her heart. In many ways they were miniatures of their father, and sometimes she felt that there was very little that she could do for them. Boys needed to model themselves after their father. She wondered if Baydr knew that. Sometimes she wondered if Baydr cared about anything but his business.

The nanny came into the room. “Time for your riding lesson, boys,” she said in her dry Scottish voice. “The teacher is here.”

They jumped from their chairs and ran, whooping, to the door. “Just a moment, boys,” the nanny said. “Haven’t you forgotten something?”

The two boys looked at each other, then, shamefacedly, trooped back to their mother. They held their cheeks up to be kissed.

“I have an idea,” Samir said, looking at her.

She looked at the little one, a smile coming to her face. She knew what was coming. “Yes?”

“When you come back, you surprise us with a present,” he said seriously. “Don’t you think that’s a good idea?”

“It’s a good idea. What kind of a present do you have in mind?”

He leaned over and whispered into his brother’s ear. Muhammad nodded. “You know those baseball caps that Daddy wears when he’s on the boat?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Can you get some like those?” he asked.

“I’ll try.”

“Thank you, Mommy,” they chorused. She kissed them again and they ran off without a backward glance. She sat at the table for a moment, then rose and went back to her room. At nine o’clock, when Youssef arrived with the limousine, she was waiting for him.

***

The drone of the jets and the sleeping pills began to take effect. She closed her eyes and thought about Youssef. What had he been trying to do? Was he acting on his own or at Baydr’s instructions? It was odd that Baydr had been away for almost three months. That was longer than they had ever been separated before. And it wasn’t just another woman. She understood him better than that. She had known about Baydr and his women long before they had gotten married. Just as he had known about her passing affairs.

No, this was something else. Deeper and more important. But she would never know what it was unless he told her.

Though he had been Westernized in many ways and she had become a Muslim, they were still separated by a thousand years of different philosophies. Because although the Prophet had granted women more rights than they had ever had until that time, he still had not granted them full equality. In truth all their rights were subject to man’s pleasure.

That was one thing that was clear in their relationship. She knew it and he knew it. There was nothing she had that he could not take away from her if he so desired, even her children.

A chill ran through her. Then she dismissed the thought. No, he would never do that. He still needed her in many ways. Like now, when he wanted her to appear beside him in the Western world so that they would not think him so much a stranger.

This was Jordana’s last thought before she fell asleep.

CHAPTER 4

The noon sun filtered through the trees into the loggia outside the Polo Lounge of the Beverly Hills Hotel, tracing delicate lines on the pink tablecloths. Baydr sat in the shadows of one of the booths, sheltered from the sun. Carriage and the two Japanese were opposite him. He watched them as they finished their lunch.

Meticulously, their knives and forks were placed lengthwise across their plates in the European manner, to signify that they were finished with the course.

“Coffee?” he asked.

They nodded. He signaled the waiter and ordered four coffees. He offered them cigarettes, which they refused. Baydr lit one and sat there looking at them.

The elder Japanese said something in his own language to his associate. The younger man leaned across the table. “Mr. Hokkaido asks if you have had time to consider our proposition.”

Baydr addressed himself to the young man even though he knew that Hokkaido understood every word. “I have thought about it.”

“And?” The young man could not restrain his eagerness.

Baydr saw the flash of disapproval cross the older man’s face and quickly disappear. “It won’t work,” he said. “The arrangements are entirely too one-sided.”

“I don’t understand,” the young man said. “We are prepared to build the ten tankers at the price you offered. All we ask is that you use our banks to finance.”

“I don’t think you understood,” Baydr said quietly. “You are talking about making a sale and I am interested in forming a total consortium. I can see no point in our competing with one another to purchase certain properties. All we succeed in doing is driving up the price we ultimately pay. Take the Rancho del Sol deal, for example. One of your groups just bought it.”

“It was another group, not ours,” the young man said quickly. “But I didn’t know you were interested in it.”

“I was not,” Baydr said. “But there is another big development in that area that we are interested in and so is your group. The end result is that the asking price has almost doubled and whichever one of us gets it has lost before we begin.”

“You are negotiating through your bank in La Jolla?” the young man asked.

Baydr nodded.

The young man turned to Hokkaido and spoke quickly in Japanese. Hokkaido listened attentively, nodding, then replied. The young man turned back to Baydr. “Mr. Hokkaido expresses his regrets that we find ourselves in competition for that property but says that negotiations began before we were in contact with each other.”

“I regret it also. That was why I came to you. To find a rapprochement. Neither of us needs the other’s money. Each of us has more than enough of his own. But if we work together perhaps we can be helpful to one another on other matters. That is why I spoke to you about building tankers for us.”

“But even that you make difficult,” the young man said. “We will build the ten tankers you want but where will we find ten tankers to deliver to you immediately? There are none on the market.”

“I know that, but your shipping line has over one hundred. It would be a simple matter for you to transfer them to our company, one in which we would each own fifty percent. In that manner, you are really not losing the benefit of them.”

“We’re losing fifty percent of the income they produce,” the young man said. “And we see nothing to replace that.”

“Fifty percent of the income from the additional tankers you are building will more than take care of that,” Baydr said. “And fifty percent of your foreign investment supplied by me will certainly be looked on with favor by your government.”

“We have been having no trouble getting our foreign investments approved,” the young man said.

“World conditions change,” Baydr said smoothly. “A recession in the Western world could alter your favorable balance of payments.”

“There is nothing like that on the horizon at this time,” the young man said.

“One never knows. A change in the world’s supply of energy could bring its technocracy to a screeching halt. Then you would be faced with two problems. One, a shortage of customers; two, an inability to maintain your own rate of productivity.”

Again the young man addressed himself to Hokkaido. The older man nodded slowly as he listened. Then he turned to Baydr and spoke in English. “If we agree to your proposition, would you use the tankers to bring oil to Japan?”

Baydr nodded.

“Exclusively?”

Again Baydr nodded.

“How much oil would you be able to guarantee?” Hokkaido asked.

“That would depend entirely on what my government would allow. I think under the right circumstances a satisfactory agreement could be reached.”

“Would you be able to secure a most-favored-nation clause?”

“I could do that.”

Hokkaido was silent for a moment. His next words were very clear and precise. “To recap, Mr. Al Fay, in effect you are saying that if we give you five ships now at half price and build five more ships for you with our own money, you will then be good enough to use those ships to bring to our country the oil we buy from you.”

Baydr did not answer. His face was impassive.

The Japanese smiled suddenly. “Now I know why you are called the Pirate. You are indeed samurai. But I will still have to discuss the entire matter with my associates in Japan.”

“Of course.”

“Would you be able to come to Tokyo if we should desire to go ahead?”

“Yes.”

The Japanese got to their feet. Baydr rose also. Mr. Hokkaido bowed and held out his hand. “Thank you for a most enjoyable and informative lunch, Mr. Al Fay.”

Baydr shook his hand. “Thank you for your time and patience.”

Carriage signaled for the check as the Japanese walked away. “I don’t know what they’re complaining about,” he said with a laugh. “We’re paying for the lunch.” He signed the check and added, “Michael Vincent is waiting in the bungalow for us.”

“Okay,” Baydr asked. “What time is Jordana’s plane arriving?”

“ETA is four o’clock,” Dick answered. “I checked just before lunch. It’s running about fifteen minutes late. We should leave the hotel no later than three thirty.”

They walked through the dark Polo Lounge and out again into the sunlight to take the path which led to their bungalows. Their footsteps echoed on the pink cement walk.

“Did you check with Rancho del Sol?” Baydr asked.

Carriage nodded. “Everything’s ready. We’ve taken a private house for you near the main building, overlooking the golf course. The bank people have all been booked into the club itself. Dinner will be in a private room with cocktails first. That will give all of us a chance to get to know each other.”

“Any cancellations?”

“No. They’ll all be there. They’re as curious about you as you are about them.”

Baydr laughed. “I wonder what they would think if I showed up in a traditional costume?”