Bad Company by Jack Higgins Read Free Book Online Page B

“What a remarkable young woman you are, Kate. I accept, of course.”
    “No contract, no handshake?”
    “My word.” He raised his glass. “To you, my dear, and to the future.”
    They clinked glasses and drank. She nodded to Guiliano, who came forward to refill, and then she sat back, watching the Baron calmly. She knew everything about him, or at least thought she did. He intrigued her, everything about him, and she enchanted him: not in some silly superficial way, a seventy-six-year-old man falling for a beautiful young woman. It was just that everything about her was so remarkable.
    “To the future, you say?” She smiled. “So now we come to it. Your interests in the Russian oil fields are not enough. You seek oil concessions in the Dhofar.”
    It was a statement. He said, “Alas, to no purpose. The Russians have tried, the Americans, even a British consortium.”
    “So now, by coincidence, we have Max von Berger of Berger International coming to Rashid hoping to meet my brother to broker a piffling little ten-million-pound arms deal.”
    Von Berger hadn’t enjoyed himself so much in years. He laughed again. “I surrender completely. I thought if I met your brother, it might make a difference.”
    “Then why didn’t you say so? You’re interested in the Dhofar and development. So are we. You want to discuss this with Paul? I’ll arrange it. We’ll fly in a company Gulfstream to Hazar – say, ten tomorrow morning? We’ll go up-country by helicopter to Shabwa Oasis in the Empty Quarter, and my brother will see you there. Does any of this seem acceptable?”
    “Only that if I was forty years younger, I’d have been at your feet.”
    “Oh, very nice, especially coming from the pick of the SS. So it’s a date. Now, as our business here is concluded, what about taking me somewhere nice for dinner? The Ivy would be acceptable. All those awful celebrities makes it so interesting.”
    And Max von Berger, filled with excitement, pushed himself up and clicked his heels.
    “Lady Kate Rashid, the pleasure is all mine.”
     
    The following day, the Rashid Gulfstream landed in Hazar at the military base, a relic of British imperialism. A Hawk helicopter was waiting and Kate led the way to it, von Berger following. He hadn’t felt so alive in years. So much of the time on the flight from Northolt had been spent in conversation and on about every subject under the sun. He was totally fascinated by her.
    The flight in the helicopter was noisy and uncomfortable, as it carved a way through the great heat, bouncing in the thermals over the vastness, the desolation of the Empty Quarter. Evening was falling, the huge sand dunes stretched to infinity, or so it seemed, and von Berger loved it, all of it. Age seemed to have slipped away from him.
    And then, in the distance, in the gloom, there were fires, and finally, the Hawk swept in over the vast Shabwa Oasis and hovered. It was a great pool surrounded by palm trees, herds of camels and goats and an enormous encampment; women, children and men, all Bedu, milling around.
    The helicopter landed, the engine stopped. The pilot opened the door and stood to one side. “Here we are then, Baron.” Kate smiled. “If you would follow me.”
    She was wearing a khaki bush shirt and slacks. Now she pulled on a headcloth and stepped out. The crowd had stepped back and Rashid warriors ran forward with rifles, making a line. The silence was almost total, except for the snort of a camel and the plaintive bleating of the goats. Then down the lane came Paul Rashid, a dramatic figure in headcloth and black robes.
    He held out his arms. “Little sister.” Kate ran to him for his embrace.
    The crowd erupted, the noise deafening. Paul Rashid turned to von Berger and held out his hand. “You must excuse their enthusiasm, Baron. My sister has a special place in their hearts.”
    “I find that perfectly understandable.”
    Rashid’s grip tightened, then he leaned forward and kissed von