Interest lighted Kimberly's fair face. "What did he say?"
"He said I had screwed up. His exact words. That is why I do not always believe in the Prophet. The true Mohammed would never speak such words to the Scimitar of the Arabs."
"What do I do with you?" Kimberly Baynes asked, running her multiple hands through Maddas Hinsein's coarse hair.
Ask him what will happen if the Americans succeed in assassinating him.
"You know the Americans have sent agents to harm you, Precious One," Kimberly prompted. "Do you not fear the consequences? You say they do not want war. Could that be because they expect to unhorse you through skulduggery?"
Maddas glowered. "It will do them no good."
"No?"
"My defense minister has instructions in case of my death. Deadfall commands, they are called. If I fall in battle, he is to launch an all-out attack on Hamidi Arabia and Israel."
Kimberly's violet eyes brightened like twin novae.
"You are willing to go to war dead," she pressed, "why not alive, so you may enjoy the fruits of victory?"
"Because I may be a crazy ass, but I am one smart Arab. I know the Americans will reduce all of Irait to cold, sifting ashes if I launch war." He shook his head. "No, not now. In a few years, when we have nukes, I can do what I will. I must survive until then."
Tell him he cannot survive until that day. His generals are plotting against him.
"I hear it whispered in the souks that your generals are plotting against you," Kimberly said. "They saw you vomit into the coffin of your ambassador, and took it as a sign of weakness. All of Abominadad is buzzing that you are chary of war."
"Let them buzz. Flies buzz too. I do not listen to flies either. My subjects will fall into line the moment I order them to. They know, as does the entire world, what a crazy ass I am."
Tell him they denigrate him with each hour.
"They denigrate you with each passing hour."
Maddas sat up, frowning. "They do?"
Tell him that they call him Kebir Gamoose.
"They are calling you Kebir Gamoose."
"Big Water Buffalo! They call me that?"
"They say you are a spineless hulk masquerading as an Arab."
Good touch.
"I will not stand for it!" Maddas Hinsein shouted, shaking a fist. "I will have every man, woman, child, and general in Irait executed for this!"
"Then who will do your fighting for you?"
"I have all the Arabs of Kuran as my new subjects. They will be loyal for I have liberated them from Western corruption.
"No, you know what you must do." "And what is that?" asked Maddas Hinsein sullenly, as he sank back into his bed, his arms crossing again.
Kimberly Baynes smiled. She toyed with a lock of his coarse brown hair, thinking how much like the fur of a water buffalo it was.
"You must publicly execute Don Cooder and Reverend Juniper Jackman in retaliation," she said flatly.
"I must?"
"You must. For if no one wants war, no one will attack you over a mere newsman and a failed presidential candidate."
"It would be good for my polls," Maddas Hinsein said slowly.
"Your people will respect you again."
"As they should," Maddas said firmly.
"Your generals will not seek your head."
"My head belongs on my shoulders," Maddas shouted, "where it should be-housing the keen brain that will unite all of Araby!"
"Your path is clear, then."
"Yes, I will do this."
Kimberly laid her blond head on Maddas Hinsein's shoulders. It needed support anyway. "You are truly the Scimitar of the Arabs, Precious One."
The big gamoose is putty in your hands, my vessel.
"I know."
"What is that, my sugar date?" Maddas murmured.
Kimberly smiled sweetly.
"Nothing. Just talking to myself."
Chapter 43
The water roiled and bubbled. Harold Smith could discern the rust flecks swirling in the water lapping at the foot of the stairs like a disturbed subterranean sea. They made him think of glinting specks of blood.
The bubbling grew agitated and a diver's mask broke the surface. A rubberized hand reached up to throw the mask back and pluck the mouthpiece from the navy diver's teeth. He spit twice before speaking.
"Nothing, Colonel. If there's a body down here, we can't find it."
"Are you certain?" Smith asked hoarsely.
The diver climbed to the lowest dry step. He stood up, shaking water off his wet suit like a sleek greyhound.