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Israel was offering to sit down and discuss peace with the Palestinians as soon as the Palestinians honored a cease-fire agreement. The Palestinians for their part refused to abide by a cease-fire agreement until they had it in writing that Prime Minister Goldberg would close and relocate every Jewish settlement in the West Bank. Prime Minister Goldberg flat-out refused such a request and the violence continued. Both the Russians and the Chinese were suspicious about the timing of the bomb scare that shut down the UN, and both were vowing to make sure the French resolution was voted on first thing in the morning.

The president was getting a great deal of pressure from the secretary of state and his chief of staff to bring the French into the fold on the entire matter. Rapp had just spoken to Kennedy on the secure satellite phone and she had reassured him that although the president was tempted, he was going to honor his commitment of twelve hours.

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David tipped the driver and declined the man’s offer to carry his lone bag to the yacht. He stood for a long moment at the beginning of the pier and looked toward the hulking white ship. It seemed as if all of his strength and energy were being sucked from him. He did not look forward to seeing Omar. He desperately wanted information; he just wished there was a way to get it without having to sit down for a royal audience.

Reluctantly, he put one foot in front of the other and started for the white yacht. He was barely halfway there when he spotted Devon LeClair standing in the open gangway at the side of the ship. High above on the bridge David could see men in white uniforms moving about. He knew from previous visits that the ship was always more active at night. That was when Omar entertained, when he held his hedonistic parties after he’d returned from the discos and the casinos. The casinos in Cannes didn’t even open until eight in the evening. The high rollers like Omar rarely showed up before midnight.

David secretly hoped Omar was gone and Devon could tell him what was going on, but he doubted he would be so lucky. Omar would want to hear all the details of his trip to America, especially the car bomb in Washington. That had been Omar’s idea. At first David had said no. There were too many things that could go wrong, too many innocent bystanders who could be hurt. Omar persisted though. He’d badgered him for months and had thrown larger and larger amounts of money at him. He threatened to pull out of the entire operation, and send David packing. He pointed out that the brutal murder of the Saudi ambassador would put the crown prince in a position of sympathy. Omar explained that he had been preaching to his brother for years to stand up to the Americans and that when the time was right he would be there in his ear telling him what to ask of the Americans when they apologized for the shocking international incident that had taken place on their soil.

Everything hinged on the Americans. They had the veto power and they alone could stand in the way of the creation of a Palestinian state. Omar explained that international pressure wasn’t enough. They needed economic pressure on their side and they needed the American president to feel guilty over the death of Crown Prince Faisal’s favorite cousin. It wasn’t enough to simply show the world once again that Israel was run by thugs. The world already knew that. Killing the Palestinian ambassador would rally the UN to their cause, but would it be enough pressure to forestall a veto by the United States? Possibly not.

David didn’t like the idea of putting so much into his plan and coming up short. Omar was right and like everything else in his princely life he eventually got his way.

As he approached the gangplank he asked himself again what could have possibly gone wrong. They had thought of everything, but somehow th

e Americans had delayed the vote.

He forced himself to smile at Devon. “Good evening.”

“You look tired,” was all the Frenchman said in response.

“Thank you,” replied David with feigned sincerity. “And you look marvelous as always.”

Devon frowned at him from behind his glasses. “The prince is waiting for you in his private salon.”

David nodded and stepped into the ship.

“Leave your bag, and I’ll have someone put it in a stateroom. I assume you’re staying the night.”

“I suppose.” David dropped his bag and headed down the passageway in search of his benefactor.

When he reached the lavishly decorated private salon he was pleasantly surprised to find only Omar and his ever-present bodyguard Chung. This was where Omar usually entertained the call girls and prostitutes that he kept around for his perverse sexual pleasures. As with almost everything Omar commissioned, the room was overdone. Too many pillows, too many Persian rugs on the floor, too many silk panels on the walls and too much chiffon draped from the ceiling. The place looked like some kind of a cross between a desert harem and a whorehouse, which on second thought was probably exactly the look Omar was after.

Before David got far, Chung stepped forward, his eyes checking out the assassin from head to toe. David opened his suit coat and did a three-sixty so Chung could see that he was unarmed. It amused him slightly that Chung had stopped frisking him. It would have been very easy to hide a small-caliber pistol in the waistband of his underwear. There had been times lately where the thought had crossed David’s mind. Omar disgusted him more and more. David knew what his own cause was, but with Omar it wasn’t so clear.

At first the prince had espoused with great passion his belief that there was no more important Arab cause than Palestinian statehood. David had listened to Omar speak glowingly of his commitment to the Palestinian cause, and David had believed every word of it. That had been more than two years ago, and since then he had learned a great deal. First and foremost he’d learned that Omar didn’t really care for anything other than his own pleasure. And sometimes his own pleasure involved watching other people suffer. Omar’s feigned love of Palestine was the thin outer veneer of a sadistic hatred of Israel. Where David dreamt of a free Palestinian state as an end, Omar dreamt of a free Palestinian state as the beginning of an end … the end of Israel.

In an unusual gesture Omar stood. He not only stood but he smiled. He held out his arms like he was a father greeting his favorite son. Before David knew it he was being pulled in. It was part of the other side of Omar. His mood was infectious, whether he was up or down, he brought everybody with him like the tide. Right now he was up, and David couldn’t help but grin.

“Come here,” Omar’s voice bellowed. “You have succeeded.”

David allowed himself to be hugged even though he didn’t feel like he’d succeeded.

“You have done marvelously,” roared Omar as he patted David on the back. “Have you seen the tape?” asked Omar as he released him.

“No. I’ve been on a plane all day. I have no idea what’s happened. What is this I hear about a bomb threat at the UN?”

Omar deflected the question with a flip of his wrist. “That is nothing. Only a delay tactic by the Americans. Come, you must see the videotape.” Omar forced David over to a chair in front of a large plasma TV. “Sit … sit … I command you. When we are done we will go to the casino and then the discothèque for some women.”

David reluctantly dropped into the chair and watched as Omar picked up a remote control. “What is going on at the UN? Why didn’t they vote?”

“There was some bomb scare, but do not worry. The vote is going to take place first thing in the morning and it is going to pass.”

David eyed Omar suspiciously. “How do you know it will pass?”

“I just talked with my brother. I’ve been talking to that poor excuse for a man all day. I think he actually cried when he found out Abdul had been blown up.” Omar stopped fiddling with the remote for a second and looked at David with his most incredulous expression. “Can you believe that a grown man would cry over such a thing? My brother is a fool.”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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