Dazzle The Complete Unabridged Trilogy (126 page)

'It is said that to Westerners an education at a fine university
is like gaining entry into an exclusive club.'

Najib couldn't help but show his surprise. He would never
have suspected that Abdullah was so knowledgeable about
such things as education. The only thing that he had ever seemed interested in was weapons and violence.

'The plan is this,' Abdullah continued. 'At Harvard you will
make friends with people you would otherwise never have an
opportunity to meet—friendships that will serve us well in
the far-distant future. You will meet the young men who will
eventually become powerful forces in business and occupy
the highest seats in government, and eventually may whisper
important secrets in your ear. And you, in turn, will on certain
occasions be able to help swing their thinking in a certain
direction. Ours.'

Najib stared at him, impressed by the boldness and far-
reaching consequences of the plan.

Abdullah smiled and his lean face regarded Najib thought
fully. 'So you see, your part in this is quite indispensable. It is
not easy to befriend our enemies and know them intimately, or to understand the way their minds work, or to be able to influence them and gain their trust and respect. But only by
doing that can we truly exploit the Westerners to our purposes.
Think of the vast possibilities! If you start a business, a legit
imate business that is successful and respected, but is actually
a cover for our activities, the Western banks, and even Jews'—
he gave a low laugh—'can unknowingly finance our cause, and
we can then buy all the weapons and politicians we need. Their
factories can even supply us, however indirectly, with bombs!
Their ships can bring them to us! We will be able to undermine
the very foundation of Israel and, if it so behoves us, the
countries of the smug Westerners as well.'

'There is only one problem,' Najib pointed out. 'From my
experience at Eton, I have found that Westerners do not like
Arabs. They are contemptuous of us and consider us beneath
them.'

'Then it is up to you to change their way of thinking. You will be a rich student and therefore a popular one. You will
become even richer afterwards and thus even more popular.
The Westerners worship the money in their banking temples
more than they do their god in the churches. They are dazzled by riches. There comes a point when they are ready to forgive someone anything—murder even—as long as millions of dol
lars are involved.'

'It is not easy to come up with millions,' Najib cautioned.

'With seed money, a fortune can grow as long as it is tended
carefully and the right people guide its growth.'

'But we do not have money.'

'We have. I will provide it, as I have provided for your
education. There are many rich Arabs who dare not speak out publicly for fear of losing American investments, but who have
offered to help finance this. And you, Najib al-Ameer, will be
at the head of it all. You will keep this secret and tell no one.
You will report only to me. Just think! With true power—
economic power—we can accomplish more than with all the
guns and knives in the world combined! Eventually . . . Who
knows?' He shrugged and smiled slightly. 'We might even
become a world force to be reckoned with.'

Najib looked at Abdullah with rising respect. 'It's . . . awe
some. Brilliant.'

'Yes, it is.' Abdullah paused. 'So you will do as I bid you to
do?'

Najib hesitated. Abdullah seemed to have it all worked
out—except for one thing. 'But the Jews from the settlement. The ones who murdered my sister and stole our water. Will I
never be able to avenge what they have done?'

Abdullah's face darkened with fury. 'My plans for you are
far too important to let simple vengeance interfere with them!'
he said coldly. 'Get the sand out of your eyes and be not so
blinded! You will make them, and a million others, pay a
thousandfold! Do you not see that?'

'But I have vowed vengeance,' Najib said stubbornly.

'So you have.' Abdullah looked at him. He could see the
hungry unforgiving face, the dark liquid eyes turning cold as
ice, and the intractability in the set jaw. But he saw far beyond
that; the young man was his most potent weapon. The future
depended upon him, and nothing could be allowed to get in the way of that. If Najib did something foolish now, it could ruin all the years of careful planning. 'We will discuss your
personal vendetta when the time is right,' he said flatly, intend
ing to put an end to the subject for the time being.

But Najib smiled. He was sure of himself now. Abdullah
had let him know that he was indispensable. 'I will do as you
wish, half-uncle,' he said quietly, 'but one thing you must
promise me. I will wait for my vengeance until the time is ripe,
and I will do nothing which might jeopardize your plans. But
when the time comes that the Jewish settlement and its leaders
and families are destroyed, I want to be part of it. In person.
I intend to fulfill the vow I made.'

'Very well.' Abdullah nodded. 'That can be arranged.' He
was pleased, but made a point of not showing it. 'Just remem
ber one thing,' he warned, 'and never forget it, half-nephew. You will have one foot in the Western world and the other in
ours. You will grow rich and powerful, but do not let it seduce
you. Never forget for a moment where your allegiances lie.
For if you should . .
.'He
left the threat dangling.

I
will be destroyed and so will my immediate family, and all
generations thereof. My entire bloodline, those born and yet to
be born.

The last week in August Najib again exchanged his
ghutra
and his robe for his Western suit and left for the United States. He remained there for the entire four years until he graduated
from Harvard with honours. His address book was filled with
the names of friends which brought to mind former and
current presidents, ambassadors, Supreme Court justices,
bankers, law firms, corporations, and countless millionaires
from all arteries of business.

In the meantime Abdullah had grown stronger and his band
of guerrilla terrorists began to make such a reputation for
themselves that they were mentioned in Western news broad
casts with regularity.

The runway raced forward to meet the aeroplane, and then the
tires touched down on the concrete, sending puffs of friction
smoke squealing up from the rubber. A shudder passed
through the fuselage. Najib tore himself away from the mem
ories and came back to the present as the plane taxied up to
the terminal, the propellers spinning slowly now.

The stewardess was standing atop the mobile stairs when he
got off. She smiled her professional smile at him. 'Good-bye,'
she said. 'We hope you have a pleasant stay in Beirut.'

Najib winced at the almost visible blast of heat as he hurried down the steps. Once again he had forgotten just how furnace-
like this climate was, and how blinding the light. Silently he
cursed the constricting, sweat-soaked seersucker suit he wore.
He hated Western clothes. They did not let him breathe. He
much preferred the long, cool, flowing robes of his people,
which made far more sense in this arid climate.

He smiled to himself. He had been gone far too long. It was
good to be back.

He wondered what plans Abdullah would have in store for
him.

Chapter 2

'Mr. Najib al-Ameer . . . MEA passenger Mr. Najib al-Ameer.
Please come to the information desk,' a disembodied female
voice called out over the paging system.

Karim Hassad's eyes scanned the customs area. When Najib
came breezing through, suitcase in hand, and headed for the information desk, he moved forward to intercept him. He fell
neatly into step beside him, matching his stride. 'Was there
fog in London?' Karim asked softly.

Najib missed a step. Slowing, he eyed the man curiously.
'London was sunny,' he murmured carefully, replying to the
elaborate password which Abdullah had arranged for him four
years earlier.

'And Barcelona?'

'I did not visit Barcelona, though I was once in Lisbon.'

'And the Portuguese ladies, are they as beautiful as the
Spanish?'

'If they are without their
dueñas,
they are.'

'Greetings,' Karim said solemnly, acknowledging Najib's correct replies. 'There is no need to go to Information. It was
only so I could identify you. Let me take your suitcase. The
car is waiting outside.'

Najib handed the suitcase over and followed him through
the terminal and outside into the white glare of sunshine.
Karim was a huge man, over six feet tall, and he had extraordi
narily wide shoulders and thick, powerful legs. Even his neck
was massive. Although he was dressed in the Western fashion,
he wore a short white headcloth with a shiny black coil. His
pockmarked olive face sported a drooping bushy moustache.
He looked like a bodyguard.

The car, a dented black Mercedes dressed as a taxi, was
waiting at the kerb. Karim tossed the suitcase into the trunk
and Najib started around to the front passenger door. Karim
shook his head and unlocked the rear door for him. He held
it open. 'It is best if you look like an ordinary passenger. I
hope it does not inconvenience you, but our mutual friend
would like to see you before you are driven to the house of
your parents,' Karim told him as he switched on the ignition
and pulled out into the traffic.

Najib nodded and let himself relax, looking out at the pass
ing scenery. Everywhere, there were signs of a booming econ
omy. A lot of construction had gone on during the four years
since he had been here last. Modern balconied apartment blocks and glittering new high-rise hotels made Beirut look
far more European than Middle Eastern. And everywhere,
more big buildings were under construction. Western and
Arab women were dressed in the latest Paris fashions. He
could almost smell the prosperity in the air.