Florence of Arabia (16 page)

"Oh?" Florence said, trying not to sound too interested.

"Maybe he has a question about what wine to serve with which mistress. Change of subject. Darling
, they're starting to ask me rat
her pointed questions about your Mr. Thibodeaux. I do think it would make sense if he returned from this urgent family business that seems to be occupying his time. They want to ask him some questions."

"About the shooting? Why would he know anything about that?"

"Just mention it if you speak to him."

Florence shrugged. "Sure."

shortly
before
:
six
o'clock
that afternoon, Florence's office door opened to reveal an unhappy-looking
Fetish
, accompanied by two men of the royal household whom Florence recognized as members of the royal bodyguard.

Fetish
dispensed with the usual bowing and scraping. He was in a bad mood for two reasons: die grouchiness of his emir, and having to depart Um-beseir.
Fetish
liked Um-beseir almost as much as the emir, for the reason that he was enjoying a little liaison on the side with the new talent from Paris, Annabelle. Dangerous, to be sure, but well worth it.

Florence was wanted by the emir. "Right now."

It was while she was sitting in the back of the sedan, the glum
Fetish
in the front passenger seat, that Florence's secure cell phone rang. She answered, and on the other end, she heard the welcome if problematic voice of Bobby.

"Why. Dad," she said, "how are you? I'm sitting here with Sharif
Fetish
.

We're on our way to see the emir. In the palace. Isn't it exciting? How's Mom? Is she feeling better?"

"The car bomb," Bobby said. "It was the Frogs."

"Really? Isn't that wonderful. Is she being nice to the nurses?"

"I'm on my way back there."

"No, no. I
don't think it's a good idea to move her right now." "I'll be in touch."

"Bo—" she caught herself. "Bye." She said to
Fetish
. "My mother. She's in the hospital. She's doing better."
Fetish
accepted this tiding without emotion. Florence added under her breath, "Thought you'd want to know."

LAILA
WAS
IN
the emir's office when Florence arrived. The air in the room had the distinct aroma of a recent argument.

"Leave us," the emir said to
Fetish
and various attendants.

"Florence," Laila said, "the emir has just—"

"I
will conduct this audience, thank you. just because you two are broadcasting over
my airwaves does not mean that I
will be pre
-
empted in my own tent." "Darling, no one is trying to 'pre
-
empt' you."

"Never mind, 'darling.' Now, Florence, certain allegations are being made. I shall pay you the courtesy of repeating them to you directly." "Yes, my lord."

"And never mind 'my lord.' Don't think you two fool me with these flatteries. You may spin your spiderwebs, but I am no
insect. Now. I'm going to ask y
ou straightforwardly. Are you making love with my wife?"

"G
az." Laila said, "really, this is too mortifying."

"Let her answer."

In the car on the way. Florence had rehearsed answers to "Are you with the CIA?" This questio
n she had not anticipated "Well,
no. Since you ask." "There's talk. Talk about the two of you." "Talk from who? Who has told you this nonsense?" Laila said. "It is enough that it is
being said."

"A fine standard!" I.aila said.

"Never mind standards. A rumor is circulating that my wile—the sheika—is having a thing with another woman! It's demeaning. An affront to the manhood."

"Darling. I shouldn't think your manhood is in any question whatsoever, given the workout it's been getting."

"Woman, you vex me!"

Florence said, "May I show Your Majesty a news article that appeared yesterday in
Al Matar?
It concerns this mutter—matter—of your dignity." She produced a folder from her briefcase and presented it to him. I le took it grumpily and read. The headline said:

EMIR
IS
GUIDING
FORCE
BEHIND
TV
MATAR

According to those in the know in Amo-Am
as. it is the emir Gazzir Bin H
az himself
, and not the sheika L
aila, who has guided TV
Matar
from its inception.

"It is from his vision that the programs stem," says this person. "Gazzir brilliantly understands the power of the medium, and is using it to transform the Arab world and to bring it into harmony with modernity, while preserving what is fundamental in our rich religion and culture. To be sure, this will earn him enemies, but worthy ones, and no leader can be called great who does not have great enemies. In this sense, Gazzir can be call
ed 'the New Nasser' or,
what with the current crusades being mounted against Islam by the United States and England, 'the New Saladin.'"

The story had been written by Rick, translated into Ara
bic by George, and placed in
Al
Matar by
Bobby. "Hmm," the emir said.

"Keep reading." Florence said. "There's a paragraph about Laila."

Though Sheika L
aila is the nominal head of TV
Matar, she gives full credit to her husband for conceiving and implementing the revolutionary broadcasts.

"The emir." she said in a telephon
e interview, "is a visionary. F
or him there is no present, only the nature. As head of state, he is immersed in the thousand and one details of governing his country. It's true that I had some minor experience in broadcasting, so it was only natural that he would ask me to help him. But from beginning to end, TV
Matar is the emir's achievement."

"You said this?" the emir asked. "It's there in black and white."

'What are you two she-devils up to? I demand to know."

"Helping you become the New Saladin." said Laila. "But if you'd rather just go down in history as another rich Gulf emir, say the word. It's up to you."

The emir looked at Florence. "Is this true?"

"If greatness is being thrust upon you. sire, why fight it?"

The emir stroked his goat
ee. "I had a telephone call from Kamar ak-Zaman this morning. He's secretary of the Arab League."

"Oh?" Laila said.

"They
want me lo address the conference. In Bahrain. Next week."

"Thais marvelous, darling! They've never asked you before."

"Sire." Florence said, "this is truly wonderful news. And yet I fear that your absence from the country at such a time might prove ... irresistible to certain elements."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, sire, that your brother Maliq might seize the opportunity of your absence to move against you."

T
he emir stared at Florence for a second and then laughed. "Maliq? Depose me? Please."

"Consider." Florence said. "Your brother goes from being a race-car driver to a raving
ayatollah in less lime that it t
akes to accelerate from zero to sixty miles an hour. Suddenly, all your moolahs are preaching that you are corrupt—I'm not saying they're right, mind you. Then the
French ambassador tells you that
your wife and I are having a lesbian affair."

The emir recoiled. "H
ow did you know that?"

"Simple deduction. Your Majesty. You met with him and summoned me and confronted us with this canard. Which it is. Meanwhile, the Wasabis have put t
heir military on alert and are flying f
ighter jets along the border. A car bomb goes off in downtown Amo. And now you're being lured—invited—out of the c
ountry. Call me paranoid, but it
has all t
he elements of a coup in the off
ing. By the way. you might ask M. Valmar, the next time he comes in to relay rumors about your wife a
nd me, whether any of his staff
at the embassy here are explosives experts."

"What are you saying? The
French
set of
f the bomb?"

"Your brother and the French do
get
along very well."

The emir turned lo his wife.

"It's all rather more interesting than presiding over the Switzerland of the Gulf, if you ask me,"
Laila
said. "Florence may well be right. You don't have logo address the conference. You can be the New Sa
ladin right here at home and go on getting richer off t
he advertising revenue. Saladin never had numbers
like these. And there's this: D
o you realize how long it has been since an Arab country put something on the table other than self-pity, denial, finger-pointing and
suicide bombers? For the first t
ime in centuries, an Arab country is generating income not
from oil but from an idea. In t
his
case, that women might just hav
e something to contribute to civilization other than their vaginas. Don't you see what's happening? You could be the Arab leader to lake the Middle Bast out of the Middle Ages! And
you greet this opportunity that
has landed in your lap like a plump fig by wringing your hands and accusing us of being a pair of Sapphos?"

"Clap, clap." said the emir. "What a pretty speech." He turned back to Florence. "You think King Tallulah is involved in this so-
called plot against me? He is flying his f
ighter jets along mv border. Back and forth, day and night. The desert roars with the sound of his engines. All because of your television station."

"1 don't know, sire. But historically Wasabia has yearned for a coastline."

"Would the Americans permit such a thing?"

"I can't speak for the US. government. It's true that there are more American and British war
ships of
f your coast than there are fish But after the way things have been going, it's possible that they might not
be so anxious to intervene milit
arilv."

The emir considered. "Why then would the French ambassador come in and tell me that the Americans want to overthrow me?"

"I must say" Laila said, "M. Valmar had all
sorts
of things o
n his mind today, didn't he? H
e told you that?"

"He told me that Florence is a CIA spy who was sent here to undermine my regime."

"By making you rich and the New Saladin—the moral leader of the Arab world? That's some undermining."

"Are
you a spy, Florence?" the emir asked.

"Don't you think you've accused Flo
rence of enough for one day?" L
aila interjected.

"No," Florence said. "I'm not a spy."

The emir didn't look especially convinced, though at this point, his head
was spinning. "But why would V
almar have told me that he was concerned about the possibility of conflict between
Matar
and Wasabia?" he said.

"Who knows, darling? May
be h
e wants you to buy some French f
ighter jets. Did that subject happen to come up?"

"H
e mentioned ... something."

"So."

"Whatever the case, from now on, I don't want the two of you going about in public together. It would only cause talk." "Ridiculous," Laila said.

"I'm the emir. I have to think about the dignity of
Matar
. Now you both may leave us. We have a headache."

"
DIGNITY OF
MATAR,'"
Laila said to Florence outside the office. "The three
most preposterous words in the E
nglish language. I'm sorry, darling. Looks like we won't be having any more mad, passionate sex. But if the dignity of Matar is at stake, what can one do? Honestly."

Florence was thinking about the concept of sexual abstinence. "Let me try something out on you," she said. "In case we want to take this to the next level."

CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

T
he text message on Florence's secure BlackBerry said. "Blenheim Beach
2250 hours."

Blenheim Beach was an hour's drive south of Amo-Amas. A travel magazine had once named it one of the ten most beautiful beaches in the world. It had not gone on to become one of the world's most popular beaches, owing to the fact that it was the spawning ground for the banded sea krail, one of the world's prettiest and most deadly snakes. Before being renamed for Winston Churchill's illustrious ancestor, the area had been known as Noosh al Zhikh-ir, or Eve's Lagoon. Local legend said it was the site of the Garden of Eden.