The Sheikh's Secret

by Knight, Kylie

  Kosta assured him it was minor league stuff. “Nothing like out of Tut’s tomb!” he insisted as he licked the syrup from his fingers. “These are terrific. You sure you don’t want some?”

  “I’m good. Let me think about this, all right?”

  “Don’t think too long or someone else will snatch it up. The Russians are looking at it even as we speak. Hey honey!” he yelled at the waitress and lifted his cup in the air. “Let’s have another round here.”

  No, Simon would never have invited Kosta onto the Kallisto, no matter how well he dressed.

  They drank a bit more coffee, Kosta asked the waitress if she had any galaktoboureko. “It’s this damn sweet tooth of mine,” he told her. “I guess that’s why you look so good to me.”

  “Kosta!”

  “What? I’m just complimenting a beautiful woman. You get that, don’t you honey?”

  “We don’t carry galaktoboureko,” she said. “Would you like some more loukoumades?” She was clearly not amused by Kosta.

  “No that’s all right. But if you wanted to slip me your phone number…”

  She turned and walked away, her back rigid.

  “I think I’m in there.”

  “So there’s nothing really important in the shipment?”

  “No, no, it’s all the sort of junk that collectors love, but it has no real historical value. A lot of ninth dynasty stuff. Pottery and a couple of statues.”

  Simon wondered if Kosta had any clue what the ninth dynasty was, or if he was just throwing stuff out to try to muddy the waters a bit.

  “Yeah, all right,” Simon told him. “Go on ahead. But let’s not make this a regular thing, all right?”

  “If you don’t play, you can’t win, man,” Kosta told him.

  He supposed that was true, but the idea made him uneasy. Much of what Kosta moved was simple contraband. There was a market for these things, and government interference kept people from having what they wanted. It was like bringing Cuban cigars into the United States had been, harmless, really, and giving people what they wanted.

  “I saw the Kallisto in the harbor,” Kosta observed. “You sail all the way from Halithos?”

  “I was entertaining a few friends.” He didn’t feel like saying too much.

  “You ever going to invite me onto your boat?” Simon sipped his coffee and didn’t answer. It made Kosta laugh. “Yeah, I’m the guy you don’t want you friends or family to know about, aren’t I? The one who knows your secrets.”

  “Let’s leave it as business, Kosta. It’s not good to mix the two.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I’ll transfer the money to you tomorrow. Is that soon enough?”

  “Perfect. I’ll be going down there myself to inspect the goods. I hear Egyptian girls are beautiful,” he added with what amounted to a verbal leer that made Simon want to shower. If the “import-export business” he ran wasn’t important to him on a number of levels — it not only brought in extra money, but the fact of it had made his parents proud – he’d have dropped Kosta in a heartbeat. Of course his parents had no idea that he sidelined in contraband; they thought it was on the up-and-up. They’d encouraged him, and now he was in too deep and didn’t know how to get out.

  “Let me know when the cargo is sold,” he said. He folded the paper and set it on the table.

  “Have a nice trip home,” Kosta said as Simon strode out of the cafe.

  Kosta sat for a while, staring out at the crowds traveling up and down the street in front of the cafe. He didn’t have a lot of use for most people. If women were attractive, that was fine, if men did what he needed them to do, that was also fine. He didn’t much like children of any age. He liked animals. His mother had often said how odd it was that Kosta was so horrible to other people but so nice to animals that he wouldn’t even eat meat. He told her that animals were easy, they weren’t complicated and sly the way people were, but she didn’t understand. He supposed that as long as he continued to send money to her she didn’t have to understand.

  He liked being around animals, he didn’t have to pretend around them. The cafe cat sensed that and settled itself in the chair Simon had vacated. They regarded each other cautiously, Kosta and the cat, then the cat closed his eyes, and Kosta smiled. A nap would be nice, he decided. Somewhere in the shade.

  Simon had already paid the bill, but Kosta wasn’t ready to leave. It wasn’t the waitress, he’d lost interest in her even before Simon left. He liked the smell of the place, the aroma of coffee and under it, spices and honey, and the flowers on the tables. It was a nice cafe. He’d have to come back.

  “Can I get you anything else?”

  He looked up and smiled at the waitress. “How about a small coffee with honey?”

  She stood there for a moment as if she was expecting a punchline or an insult, but he was finished with her. “And a bit of milk and honey for the cat?”

  “He doesn’t drink milk. He does like a bit of apple.”

  “Then a piece of the apple tart I saw earlier. He and I can share it.”

  He could tell that she was confused by this turn of events, and that was fine with him. He preferred that people not know who he was. It was simpler to get on in the world that way. Simon took him for a thug because that’s what Kosta wanted him to think. It made it easier to lie to Simon. What Kosta was bringing in from Egypt was not ninth dynasty trash, but some very fine pre-Islamic artifacts obtained from the Taliban, who were not averse to taking money for the things they were supposed to be destroying. They were as corrupt as their secular counterparts; you just had to make sure that you didn’t point that out to them.

  Kosta kept a close watch on the political and social developments in the Middle East. There were opportunities to be had out there if you were in the right place at the right time, with the right amount of money. And Simon was good for providing the right amount of money. As long as he got what he felt was a fair return on his money, Simon didn’t ask a lot of questions, and that’s why Kosta liked working with him. Simon was a smart guy, but he didn’t give a lot of thought to the things Kosta thought of as important. And that was fine with Kosta.

  One of the things Kosta was thinking about, quite seriously, was his relationship with Simon. It seemed to him that it was tenuous at best, and he had been wondering if it wasn’t time to change that, to improve it with a little legal cement. With Simon, there was no way in, but with Simon’s sister, Athena, who was in school in London, it was another thing entirely. He’d already done his homework and knew that Athena might be easy to woo. She was nineteen and on her own for the first time in her life, having transferred to the London School of Economics from the Athens University of Economics and Business.

  He was keeping his eye on Athena. She wasn’t a sure thing, but she might well respond to a little charm.

  The waitress brought his coffee and the slice of apple tart. He cut a bit off and put it on a napkin for the cat. “What’s his name?” he asked her.

  “Nikos.”

  “Here, Nikos, some apple for you.” He set it on the chair and laughed as the cat turned his head away. “Isn’t that like a cat?”

  The honeyed coffee made him happy. It reminded him of home. While he sipped it, Nikos jumped onto the table and began to lick Kosta’s share of the tart, making him laugh again. “You perverse little man,” he said, and scratched the cat behind the ears. Nikos closed his eyes again, but kept on licking. Kosta ate the bit of tart on the napkin instead.

  To cultivate Athena he’d have to change his look; she wouldn’t be wooed by some knuckle-dragging criminal. No, he’d have to be the worldly man of her dreams; well-dressed, well-educated (He probably had a better education than Simon did, having degrees in art and antiquities that ensured he knew exactly what he was buying. He never let on, though. When people took him for an ignorant thug, they gave him the advantage.) well-to-do, and attentive.

  When the waitress brought his check, he gave her a large tip and said,
“Sorry about before.” He didn’t explain, just apologized. “It won’t happen again.”

  “Thank you,” she said, though he wasn’t clear about whether she was thanking him for the tip or the assurance.

  He gave Nikos one last pat and strolled out into the sunlight. It was nearly time to catch his ferry to Alexandria. From there he’d travel to Cairo where he’d meet his contact and make the final arrangements.

  Kosta whistled a tune as he strolled down to the docks.

  Simon arrived home to find the house in an uproar. “What’s going on?” he asked his father who was looking more harried than usual.

  “Your mother remembered that the wedding was only a week away and she has literally nothing to wear. And I quote her.”

  “She has a closet the size of Naxos.”

  “Well apparently all the clothing in it has disappeared. She has, and again I quote, literally nothing to wear.”

  “Just stop it now. You know what I meant. I have literally nothing I can wear to a wedding.”

  “So she’s flying to Paris. I ask you,” Simon’s father said with a roll of his eyes.

  Simon patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you go along with her? In fact, I’ll come too, and we can have Athena meet us there. She is coming to the wedding, yes?” The wedding in question was that of a distant cousin, but was no less important than if it had been a closer relation. His family was like that.

  “What on earth would I do there?”

  “Get a new suit,” Simon’s mother asked sweetly. Helena Katsaros, still stunningly beautiful at fifty-two, provoked her husband to a lot of eye-rolling and sarcasm, but she always got her way.

  “I suppose I could stand to get a new one.” Nick Katsaros had aged well too, but looked more his age with a thick head of steel gray hair, and a beard flecked with white that made him look like an elder statesman. He could have been if he’d been so inclined. His influence and power were enormous, but he’d avoided political office, believing that politics and business were better left separate. And his business, building airplane parts, among other things, was the thing dearest to his heart after his family.

  “We can make a holiday out of it. Eat at that restaurant you like so much,” Simon told his father. That was always a draw for Nick.

  “All right, arrange the flight, Simon. We’ll leave in the morning.”

  Though Simon had only just returned home, he didn’t mind the thought of flying out the next day. He liked to travel, and he loved Paris. He’d had some fine times there, though that wasn’t something he’d have said to his parents. They knew he was a bit of a wild child, but not the details of his naughtiness. He didn’t think he could ever face his mother if she’d known, for example, what he’d gotten up to with Gretchen before he put her ashore at Piraeus with a kiss, and a pair of sapphire earrings that Marissa had forgotten in the nightstand when she left him.

  He phoned Nina, his parents’ assistant, and gave her the itinerary. “Not before ten though,” he begged her. “I’d like to sleep in tonight.”

  “No worries, Simon. I’ll take care of it. I’ll phone the house when I have the schedule.”

  He went upstairs to his bedroom, undressed, and slipped between the sheets. He loved his bed. Being in it made him feel like a boy again, safe and at home with family. Much as he traveled, this was better than anything, the luxury of a bed to himself in a room so familiar to him that he could navigate it blindfolded. It held so many pieces of his past, and he was comforted by each one.

  He yawned hugely and rolled onto his side, clutching the cool, crisp pillow, and looking out the window into the darkness of the gulf. There was a full moon that night, and though it was not visible from his bedroom window, it illuminated the landscape so that he could see the vague shapes of trees, and in the distance the outline of a mountain, limned with silver. When Athena came home, it would be perfect, he thought as he began to drift into sleep. The family together, that’s how he liked things to be. But of course, it was rare these days, and therefore so much more precious.

  Everything fell away, and Simon dreamed of the sea, and of the temple of Poseidon overlooking the blue water.

  The next morning, a phone call woke him. “You have an hour until we leave.” His father was always a little annoyed when Simon slept late.

  “What’s the time?”

  “Nine. Get yourself out of bed, Simon.”

  “I’m up, I’m up. Is breakfast ready?”

  “Your mother and I are in the dining room.” The connection closed and Simon groaned, and stuck one leg out from beneath the sheet. Surely that was close enough to being up?

  “Can’t fall asleep, can’t fall asleep,” he chanted, and finally it worked. He managed to sit up, then stand, then propel himself into the shower where he finally woke up properly. Why had he thought this trip was a good idea?

  He threw a few things into a bag and carried it downstairs to try to grab a cup of coffee at least before they left for the airstrip. Nina Calo was at the table with Helena and Nick, just finishing her breakfast. “Good morning, sunshine!” she said with oppressive brightness.

  “I’ll let you know when I’ve been up for a while. Please tell me there’s coffee.”

  “A bit.”

  He poured a cup and sat down.

  “You should eat something,” his mother said.

  “My stomach isn’t awake.”

  Nina got up, filled a plate and set it on the table in front of him. “Your mother is right. Eat. The plane will wait.”

  He knew there was no point in arguing so he dug into the eggs and grilled sausages, and the freshly baked bread with cheese and honey. As he ate, his appetite returned, and he cleaned the plate and had a second cup of coffee. “Thank you,” he said. “You were right. I needed that.”

  “I’m always right,” Helena said with an impish smile. “Now are we almost ready?”

  On the way to the airstrip, Nina confirmed that Athena would be meeting them in Paris, that she and Helena had an appointment with a couturier, and both Nick and Simon had appointments with their tailors.

  “What would we do without you, Nina?” Nick asked.

  “Hire someone else,” she said.

  And once they were on the ground in Paris, and Simon felt the lovely, flower-scented breezes swirling around him, he was glad he’d talked his father into this trip. He and Nick went off to the tailor as soon as they’d dropped their bags at the hotel, and after the fitting, they had a glass of wine at a nearby cafe and watched the world go by.

  “I’m glad we’re here,” Nick said. “And I’ll be honest, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”

  Simon’s good mood evaporated, When Nick got serious like this, it was usually one of those what-are-you-doing-with-your-life talks.

  “Simon… have you thought about the future?”

  “Not in the last half hour, no.”

  “Do you have any plans? What about marriage? A family? Your mother and I aren’t old, but we’d like to see our grandchildren before we die, you know?” He smoothed his mustache in a gesture so familiar that it made Simon smile.

  “Just haven’t found the right mother for my children,” Simon joked.

  “There are millions of wonderful women out there.”

  With a sigh, Simon refilled his glass. “Dad, it’s— I’m—” What could he say about this that he hadn’t already said a dozen times? And then the truth came to him. “I see you and Mom together, and how right it seems to me, and I want that. But it hasn’t felt right with anyone.”

  “It didn’t feel that way at first.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You mother and I were introduced before the wedding as a courtesy. It was expected that we’d marry. I resisted, she flat-out refused.”

  “What?”

  “It’s true. It was arranged and we both balked.”

  Simon was disconcerted by this wholly unexpected piece of news. “But you got married?”

/>   Nick laughed. “Are you asking, or…”

  “That shouldn’t have sounded so much like a question. You got married. How?”

  “She and I met secretly to plan how to get out of the situation. One thing led to another… we decided it might not be such a bad idea after all. It was a bit rocky at first, though, at least until I learned that your mother was the boss.” He grinned and sipped his wine. “That’s a piece of advice I hope you’ll heed,” he told Simon. “If you find a good woman, one who is smart and kind, let her have her way on the small things, and work with her on the big ones. You can’t ever go wrong.”

  “See? How do I find a woman like that?” Simon asked.

  “Open your damn eyes. They’re everywhere. The world is full of them.”

  “I haven’t found any.”

  “I don’t think you treat them as if you think they’re good women.” Simon’s father was rarely that blunt-spoken about Simon’s shortcomings, so this assessment was particularly damning. He withdrew from the conversation by calling the waiter over and ordering some lunch. Nick didn’t press him on anything, but he did say that he wasn’t very hungry, and was going to take a stroll. He left Simon sitting alone at the table, feeling fretful and misunderstood. There was time. If he needed to find his own way, why shouldn’t he take the time to make certain he was making the right choices?