The Practical Spy
Page 5
CHAPTER FIVE
That evening Orson told the King that Saul’s cell seemed secure.
“He will be well fed, has access to a shower and a TV. If anything happens to him, more heads will roll than just his. The guards are well aware of my wishes,” the King affirmed.
“It’s not like wretched solitaire, but he is penned up and alone. So let’s let him stew there for a few days. Someone might tip their hand, or Rubin might spill all the beans. I suspect the latter. Now to my mission.”
“Yes, the Arab Coalition. You already know something about it. It’s a union of all the Arab countries, and I use the term Arab loosely. The Sudan, Ethiopia and Turkey are not your typical Arab nations and maybe others. But we are united. Israel will have no land entry or exit. Of course they have the Med. We have no real navy. And they have air transport. If things get tough we may at some point attempt to down a passenger plane as an example.”
“You think simply tightening a land net around Israel will bring them to seriously consider a two-state solution on equitable terms?”
“Not entirely. I have had telephone contact with the White House, but have not revealed our total plan. The plan involves demolishing a large office building in central Tel Aviv.” He hesitated and then added, “With adequate warning of course.”
Orson smiled. “That’s a fairly good start. Any follow up?”
“Certainly. Another serious explosion to be kept secret for now.”
“Somehow I feel I have a role in this caper. I am not a bomber.”
“I simply want you to carry the official message to your president. I’ll give you two letters. One for the president, another for our embassy in Washington so they won’t feel left out.”
“Why not simply go through your embassy?”
“It just doesn’t seem punchy enough. I want you to convince the president to lay low. America has no dog in this fight. Don’t send aircraft carriers and marines to bail out Israel.”
“There is a large and affluent Jewish population in the States, King.”
“Yes, I know. Very influential. No politician dare mention that there might be a Jewish lobby for fear of reprisal from that non-existent lobby. Even born-again Christians love Israel. But the fact is, Orson, that half the Jews in the States and half the population of Israel would welcome peace, welcome a two-state plan with secure borders.”
“What about the 350,000 Israelis in settlements on the West Bank?”
“We are not asking Israel to withdraw to the pre-1967 ceasefire line. There would be land swaps. This is not a one-way street. And we know it would be hard to sell any peace agreement to the Israeli people, that is, any peace agreement the Arab states would approve.”
Rather than go into all the myriad of questions and details, Orson simply asked, “When does the squeeze begin?”
“You’re the first step. You and the letters. Can you leave tomorrow?”
“Of course. By the way, there are those reasonable people who do not back a two-state solution. They believe it’s untenable and that the entire area will simply blend into one state at some future date. That it’s inevitable. How does that grab you?”
“Very well. I wish I had that sort of vision. But until then, one must try. Drop by for breakfast at seven. Bagels, lox, good coffee and you get the letters.”
The bagel was good and Orson loved lox. He was soon in one of the royal cars being driven through central Riyadh on the way to the airport. At a busy intersection, stopped for a light, he saw a small group of angry citizens apparently assaulting a woman in western dress.
He told the drive he was getting out of the car.
“No,” the driver exclaimed angrily. “Orders are for the airport.” The light changed and the car moved forward.
Orson, seated in back, grasped the driver’s neck in a chokehold and said, “Stop or you die.”
The car stopped and Orson ran toward the crowd. The young woman had been knocked to the pavement and was being kicked by a veiled Saudi. Orson pushed the assailant aside and was about to help the young woman to her feet when an enraged Saudi man charged him shouting something in Arabic.
It had been some time since Orson had an opportunity to really slug someone and he relished the moment, striking his attacker full in the face with his big hard fist. Blood spurted and the man fell back on the pavement, his head plunking down like a ripe melon. No one else approached the two as he helped the woman to her feet and walked her to the car.
“My things,” she said, gasping for air. Orson glanced back. The small carry-on she had been dragging was in pieces, its contents looted by the crowd.
“Nothing left,” he said, helping her into the back seat. Climbing in next to the driver, he said, “Back to the palace.”
“No,” the driver replied. “Ordered to the airport.”
Orson brandished his blood stained fist in the driver’s face. Back at the palace, Orson helped the woman up the stairs to his old room and asked, “Why in the world were you walking on the streets of Riyadh with your head uncovered. You must be insane.”
“I just arrived. I have a job teaching English. The driver dropped me at the wrong hotel. I was told my hotel was just two blocks away. I have a scarf in my luggage, or rather had a scarf, but I thought I could walk two blocks. Wasn’t I wrong.”
“You’ve got that right. What’s your name?”
“Betty Dumbach. I graduated from college not long ago. This would be my first real job.”
“Ok, Betty. Stay here. There’s a robe in the closet. You’re in the King’s palace. You’ll be placed under his protection. I’m off on a mission.”
“The King of Saudi Arabia?” she questioned, wide eyed.
“Yes, King Saudi. No more questions. You can watch CNN.”
With some difficulty, Orson made his way to the King’s office and finally confronted the surprised monarch.
“Orson, what the hell are you doing here?”
Orson poured out the tale of woe, followed by the statement, “You people are savages.”
“We do have our customs. And you’re well aware of them.”
“So was the young lady, but she thought she might walk two blocks in safety. If you’ll place her under your protection, I’ll be off to the airport.”
“Certainly. So you’ve saved a fair maiden in distress. I hope she is a beauty and will be properly grateful.”
“She is of average demeanor.”
“I don’t think that’s the right word, but I get your drift. I’ve often wondered whatever caused you to choose this life of wild roving and adventure.”
“Not as wild as you might think. I calculate risks with care. When I was young, we had a painting on the wall of our dining room. It was of a sailing vessel being driven under in a fierce storm at sea. My great-grandfather was said to have been the captain. A caption underneath read: ‘With Not One Man of Her Crew Alive, What Put to Sea with seventy-five.’”
“That was your inspiration?”
“You’re the first to know about it. I grew up with that painting and those words. How could such a thing have a lasting impression? I even longed to be one of those crew members.”
“I’m touched, Orson. I’ll look after fair maiden. Make certain she has a grounding in local customs. Cover her entire body if necessary. She’ll be here when you return. Godspeed.”
“And good fortune to you, King. If a tree doesn’t fall on us, we’ll live ‘til we die.”
“Well, said, Farewell old friend.”