The Icarus Agenda (29 page)

Yet he is the man! My appliances tell me that and I trust them.

Evan struggled against the constricting tape around his left shoulder and then was aware of a stinging sensation that extended throughout his upper chest accompanied by the sharp smell of rubbing alcohol. He opened his eyes, startled to find that he was sitting up in a bed, pillows supporting his back. He was in a woman’s bedroom. A dressing table with a low gold-rimmed chair against the wall stood on his left. A profusion of lotions and perfumes were in small ornate bottles in front of a large three-sided mirror bordered with tiny bulbs. Tall cathedral windows flanked the table, the cascading peach-colored drapes made of a translucent material that virtually shouted—as did the rest of the rococo furniture—a hefty decorator’s fee. A satin chaise was in front of the far window, beside it a small telephone table cum magazine rack with a top of rose marble. The wall directly in front of the bed, some twenty feet away, consisted of a long row of mirrored closets. On his right, beyond the bedside table, was an ivory-colored writing desk with another gold-rimmed chair, and then the longest single bureau he had ever seen; it was lacquered peach—
pêche
, as Manny Weingrass would insist upon—and extended the entire length of the wall. The floor was covered with soft, thick white carpeting, the pile of which appeared capable of massaging the bare feet of anyone walking across it if he dared. The only item lacking was a mirror over the bed.

The sculptured door was closed, yet he could hear voices beyond it, a man’s and a woman’s. He turned his wrist to look at his watch; it was gone.
Where was he? How did he get here? Oh, Christ! The airport concourse … He was slammed into a car—two rushing cars—and a crowd had gathered around him until, limping, he was led away. Azra! Azra was waiting for him at the Aradous Hotel!… And MacDonald! Gone! Oh, my God, everything’s blown apart!
Close to panic, only vaguely aware of the late afternoon sun streaming through the windows, he threw off the sheet and climbed out of bed, unsteady, wincing, gritting his teeth with each move he made, but he
could
move and that was all that mattered. He was also naked and suddenly the door opened.

“I’m glad you could get up,” said the olive-skinned woman
as Kendrick lurched back to the bed and the
pêche
sheet while she closed the door. “It confirms the doctor’s diagnosis; he just left. He said you were badly banged up but the X rays showed no broken bones.”

“
X rays?
Where
are
we and who the hell are
you
, lady?”

“You don’t remember me, then?”

“If
this
,” exclaimed Evan angrily, sweeping his hand over the room, “is your modest pied-à-terre in Bahrain, I assure you I’ve never seen it before. It’s not a place one easily forgets.”

“It’s not mine,” said Khalehla, shaking her head with a trace of a smile and walking to the foot of the bed. “It belongs to a member of the royal family, a cousin of the Emir, an elderly man with a young wife—his youngest—both of whom are in London. He’s quite ill, which accounts for the medical equipment in the basement, a great deal of equipment. Rank and money have their privileges everywhere, but especially here in Bahrain. Your friend the sultan of Oman made this possible for you.”

“But someone had to make it possible for him to know what happened—for
him
to make it possible!”

“That was me, of course—”

“I
do
know you,” interrupted Kendrick, frowning. “I just can’t remember where or how.”

“I wasn’t dressed like this, and we saw each other under equally unpleasant circumstances. In Masqat, in a dark, filthy alleyway that serves as a street—”

“
Rot town!
” cried Evan, eyes wide, head rigid. “Slime town. El-Baz. You’re the woman with the gun; you tried to
kill
me.”

“No, not true. I was protecting myself from four thugs, three men and a girl.”

Kendrick briefly closed his eyes. “I remember that. A kid in cut-off khakis holding his arm.”

“He wasn’t a kid,” objected Khaleh. “He was a drug addict as stretched out as his girlfriend, and they both would have killed
me
to pay their Arab suppliers for what they needed. I was following you, nothing more, nothing less. Information, that’s my job.”

“For
whom
?”

“The people I work for.”

“How did you know about me?”

“That I won’t answer.”

“Whom do you work for?”

“In the broad sense, an organization that seeks to find solutions for the multiple horrors of the Middle East.”

“Israeli?”

“No,” replied Khalehla calmly. “My roots are Arab.”

“That doesn’t tell me a damn thing but it sure scares me.”

“Why? Is it so impossible for an American to think we Arabs might want to find equitable solutions?”

“I’ve just come from the embassy in Masqat. What I saw there wasn’t pretty—Arab-pretty.”

“Nor to us. However, may I quote an American congressman who said on the floor of the House of Representatives that ‘a terrorist isn’t born, he’s made.’ ”

Astonished, Evan looked hard at the woman. “That was the only comment I ever made for the
Congressional Record
. The
only
one.”

“You did so after a particularly vicious speech by a congressman from California who practically called for the wholesale slaughter of all Palestinians living in what he termed Eretz Israel.”

“He didn’t know
Eretz
from
Biarritz
! He was a WASP grubber who thought he was losing the Jewish vote in Los Angeles. He told me that himself the day before. He mistook me for an ally and that I’d approve—goddamnit, he
winked
at me!”

“Do you still believe what you said?”

“Yes,” replied Kendrick hesitantly, as if questioning his own response. “No one who’s walked through the squalor of the refugee camps can think anything remotely normal can come out of them. But what I saw in Masqat went too far. Forget about the screaming and the wild chants; there was something ice-cold, a methodical brutality that thrived on itself. Those animals were enjoying themselves.”

“The majority of those
young
animals never had a home. Their earliest memories are of wandering through the filth of the camps trying to find enough to eat, or clothes for their younger brothers and sisters. Only a pitiful few have any skills, even basic schooling. These things were not available to them. They were outcasts in their own land.”

“Tell that to the children of Auschwitz and Dachau!” said Evan in quiet, cold fury. “These people are
alive
. They’re part of the human race.”

“Checkmate, Mr. Kendrick. I have no answer, only shame.”

“I don’t want your shame. I want to get out of here.”

“You’re in no condition to continue what you were doing. Look at you. You’re exhausted, and on top of that you’ve been severely damaged.”

The sheet across his waist, Kendrick supported himself on the edge of the bed. He spoke slowly. “I had a gun, a knife and a watch among several other valuable items. I’d like them back, please.”

“I think we should discuss the situation—”

“There’s nothing to discuss,” said the Congressman. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Suppose I were to tell you we’ve found Tony MacDonald?”

“
Tony?
”

“I work out of Cairo. I wish I could say we were on to him months ago, perhaps years ago, but it wouldn’t be true. The first inkling I had was early this morning, before daybreak, in fact. He followed me in a car with no headlights—”

“On the road above the Jabal Sham?” asked Evan, interrupting.

“Yes.”

“Then you’re Cawley or something like that. Cawley the—enemy, among other things.”

“My name is
Khalehla
, the first two syllables pronounced like the French seaport Calais; and I am indeed his enemy, but not the other things, which I can easily imagine.”

“You were following me.” A statement.

“Yes.”

“Then you knew about the ‘escape.’ ”

“Again, yes.”

“Ahmat?”

“He trusts me. We go back a long time.”

“Then he must trust the people you work for.”

“I can’t answer that. I said he trusts
me
.”

“That’s a corkscrew statement—two corkscrew statements.”

“It’s a corkscrew situation.”

“Where’s
Tony
?”

“Holed up in a room at the Tylos Hotel on Government Road under the name of Strickland.”

“How did you find him?”

“Through the taxi company. On the way he stopped at a sporting goods store suspected of selling illegal weapons. He’s armed.… Let’s say the driver was cooperative.”

“ ‘Let’s say’?”

“It’ll suffice. If MacDonald makes a move, you’ll be informed immediately. He’s already made eleven phone calls.”

“To
whom
?”

“The numbers were unpublished. A man will go over to the
Central Exchange in an hour or so when the calling lets up and get the names. They’ll be given to you as soon as he has them and can reach an official or a public phone.”

“Thanks. I need those numbers.”

Khalehla pulled over the small rococo chair in front of the dressing table and sat down opposite Kendrick. “Tell me what you’re doing, Congressman. Let me help.”

“Why should I? You won’t give me my gun or my knife or my watch—or a certain piece of clothing you’ve probably sold by now. You won’t even tell me whom you work for.”

“As to your gun, your knife, your watch,
and
your billfold,
and
a money belt with some fifty thousand American dollars,
and
your gold cigarette lighter,
and
a squashed pack of not-for-export American cigarettes—which was very foolish of you—you may have them all if you’ll just convince me that what you’re doing won’t result in the slaughter of two hundred thirty-six Americans in Masqat. We Arabs can’t tolerate that possibility; we’re despised enough for the horrible things we can’t control. As to whom I work for, why should it matter to you any more than it does to your friend and my friend Ahmat? You trust him, he trusts me. So you can trust me, too. A equals B equals C. A therefore equals C. Incidentally, your clothes have been fumigated, laundered and pressed. They’re in the first closet on the left.”

Evan, perched awkwardly on the edge of the bed, stared at the intense young woman, his lips slightly parted. “That’s a hell of a mouthful, lady. I’ll have to think about your alphabetical logic.”

“I don’t know your schedule, but you can’t have much time.”

“Between eleven-thirty and midnight tonight,” said Kendrick, with no intention of revealing anything but a time span. “A young man was with me on the plane. He’s a terrorist from the embassy in Masqat.”

“He registered at the Aradous Hotel on the Wadi Al Ahd as ‘T. Farouk.’ ”

“
How …?
”

“Another cooperative driver,” answered Khalehla, permitting herself a broader smile. “ ‘Let’s say,’ ” she added.

“Whoever you work for has a lot of input in a lot of places.”

“Oddly enough, the people I work for have nothing to do with it. They wouldn’t go this far.”

“But you did.”

“I had to. Personal reasons; they’re off limits, too.”

“You’re something, Cawley.”

“Khalehla—
Kah-layla
. Why don’t you call your friend at the Aradous? He bought clothes at the hotel and also got a haircut. I assume these were your instructions. But call him; relieve his mind.”

“You’re almost too cooperative—like the drivers.”

“Because I’m not your enemy and I want to cooperate. Call Ahmat, if you wish. He’ll tell you the same thing. Incidentally, like you, I have the triple-five number.”

It was as if an unseen veil had been lifted off the Arab woman’s face, a lovely, striking face, thought Evan as he studied the large brown eyes that held such care and curiosity in them. Still, he swore silently at himself for being the amateur, not knowing who was real and who was false!
Between eleven-thirty and midnight
. That was the zero hour, the thirty-minute span when he would catch a link,
the
link to the Mahdi. Could he trust this terribly efficient female who told him only so much and no more? Then again, could he do it himself? She had the triple-five number … how did she
get
it? Suddenly, the room started to spin around, the sunlight through the windows became a sprayed burst of orange. Where were the
windows
?

“
No
, Kendrick!” shouted Khalehla. “Not
now
! Don’t collapse
now
! Make the call, I’ll
help
you! Your friend must know that everything is all
right
! He’s a terrorist in
Bahrain
! He has nowhere to go—you
must
make the
call
!”

Evan felt the hard slaps against his face, the harsh, stinging blows that rushed the blood to his head, his head that was suddenly cradled in Khalehla’s right arm as her left hand reached for a glass on the bedside table. “Drink this!” she commanded, holding the glass to his lips. He did so. The liquid exploded in his throat.

“
Jesus!
” he roared.

“A hundred-and-twenty-proof vodka and brandy,” said Khalehla smiling, still holding him. “It was given to me by a British MI-Sixer named Melvyn. ‘Get someone to have three of these and you can sell him a gross of anything on the rack,’ that’s what Melvyn told me. Can I sell you something, Congressman? Like a phone call?”

“I’m not buying. I don’t have any money. You’ve got it.”

“Make that call, please,” said Khalehla, releasing her prisoner as she retreated to the gold-rimmed dressing-table chair. “I think it’s terribly important.”

Kendrick shook his head, trying to focus on the telephone. “I don’t know the number.”

“I have it here.” Khalehla reached into the pocket of her flight jacket and pulled out a piece of paper. “The number is five-nine-five-nine-one.”

“Thank you, madame secretary.” Evan reached for the phone, feeling a thousand aches in his body as he bent over and picked it up, pulling it to his lap. The exhaustion was spreading through him; he could barely move, barely dial. “
Azra?
” he said, hearing the terrorist’s voice. “Have you studied the map of Manamah? Good. I’ll pick you up at the hotel at ten o’clock.” Kendrick paused, darting his eyes up at Khalehla. “If for any reason I’m delayed, I’ll meet you in the street at the north end of the Juma Mosque where it joins the Al Khalifa Road. I’ll find you.
Understood?
Good.” Kendrick, trembling, hung up the phone.