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CHAPTER FIVE
XA SHIRAQ spoke to Kozim.
‘If you wish to see a horse gallop, one
must loosen the bridle,’ he mused as his fingers tapped out a rhythmic beat on the edge of his chair.
‘True. Very true,’ Kozim agreed.
‘I have loosened the bridle.’
‘Wise. Very wise,’ Kozim assented. He had no idea what Xa Shiraq was talking about, but as this was usually the case, no great harm was ever done by admiring the sheikh’s wisdom.
‘Two details were overlooked in the operation at the Fisa Oasis Hotel, Kozim,’ the sheikh continued.
This was alarming news indeed. Kozim did not know of any operation where any detail was overlooked. Not only that, but his report to Jebel Haffa had affirmed that the operation was entirely successful. What had gone wrong? Was the fault his?
‘I have attended to both details,’ Xa Shiraq said. His fingers stopped drumming.
‘Then there’s no...o...o, ah...problem,’ Kozim said in relief.
‘Kozim, where would you look if you wanted to find a jewel, a jewel almost beyond all price?’
Xa Shiraq was always asking difficult questions. It posed a problem to Kozim. He shrugged. ‘Perhaps, in the mountains...’ he suggested tentatively.
‘Don’t be a fool, Kozim.’ It was an impatient interruption, not a cutting one. The sheikh’s black eyes held a glint of amusement as he enlightened Kozim. ‘You only find rare jewels of that quality in trash cans, Kozim.’
Kozim struggled to accept that revelation. It had to be true because Xa Shiraq knew everything. Kozim made a mental note that tomorrow he would have all the trash cans in the sheikhdom searched for jewels.
CHAPTER SIX
THE cachet blanc that Amanda had so carefully recovered from the trash can in the reception area at the Oasis Hotel, was better than Aladdin’s lamp. All she had to do was produce the magical piece of notepaper bearing the gyrfalcon crest of the Sheikh of Xabia, and not only did doors open, the red carpet was laid out for her.
What wonderful words they were!
By order of Xa Shiraq, the bearer of this note is entitled to have any request within my jurisdiction fulfilled.
A visa for Xabia from the embassy at Bejos had been produced in a flash. She was even given a complimentary first class ticket on the first available flight to Alcabab, the capital of Xabia. No customs check for her at the terminal. She was waved through, or rather bowed through, as though she were royalty.
Mocca had claimed her. He was an enterprising youth who scouted the airport terminal for foreign pigeons waiting to be plucked. In the guise of offering his services to provide any service–any service at all–he had offered himself to Amanda.
The clear-eyed limpid innocence, the fresh vitality of his olive skin, helped Amanda to come to a quick decision.
‘I need help,’ she declared.
‘There is no one better than I with help,’ he had replied with deep fervour to press his claim. Amanda had shown him the sheikh’s note of authority.
His eyes were larger than saucers and brighter than a Christmas tree when he read it. He treated Amanda with something akin to reverence. She figured she had turned out to be the plumpest, fattest, most succulent pigeon Mocca had ever plucked.
Amanda thought she needed one truck. Mocca opted for three four-wheeled drives, nineteen heavy-duty trucks and a desert cruiser.
Amanda thought she might need a little mining equipment. Seven of the trucks were now loaded with enough TNT, plastic explosive and dynamite to make a sizable hole in any mountain.
‘What about the cost?’ Amanda had asked cautiously.
‘No...o...o problem,’ Mocca assured her.
Mocca had an incredibly extensive family. It didn’t matter what Amanda requested, Mocca had an uncle or a brother or a cousin who could provide it for her.
