Edge of Danger Read Free

three years, the second in two, and they were well on their way to the third. George and Michael were named joint managing directors of Rashid Investments, and young Kate Rashid, now with her Oxford MA, became Executive Chairman. Any businessman who thought her simply a lovely young woman in an Armani suit and Manolo Blahnik shoes was swiftly disabused of the notion.
    Paul himself preferred to remain a shadowy figure, behind the scenes. He spent much time in Hazar with the Bedu. To the Rashid, he was a great warrior, who would appear every so often to roam the desert by camel; to live in the old Bedu way in the Empty Quarter, guarded by fellow tribesmen burned by the fierce sun; to eat dates and dried meat with them.
    Often he was accompanied by his brothers, or by Kate, who scandalized the locals with her Western
    ways, but no one could deny her, for by now her brother was a legend with more power than even the Sultan in Hazar, to whom he was a second cousin. It was whispered that some day he would be voted Sultan himself by the Council of Elders, but for now the old Sultan still held power, his chief strength the Hazar Scouts, a contingent of soldiers officered by British volunteers.
    And then came the night when at an encampment at the Oasis of Shabwa as he was seated by a blazing fire, a Hawk helicopter came roaring in and settled in a cloud of sand.
    Camels and donkeys milled around, children cried out in delight and women scolded them. Michael, George and Kate emerged in Arab dress, and Paul greeted them.
    ‘What is this, a family reunion?’ Kate said, ‘We’ve got trouble.’ He took her hand, led her to the fire and waved to one of the women to bring coffee.
    Kate nodded to Michael. ‘Tell him your bit first.’
    Michael said, ‘We’ve cracked three billion.’ ‘So we finally made it.’ Paul turned. ‘I’d be happier about it if I wasn’t waiting for the bad
    news. Go on, Kate. I only have to look at your face to know if the weather is bad, and I’d say it’s raining.’
    ‘Have you seen the Sultan recently?’
    ‘No, he’s been on a pilgrimage to the Holy Wells.’
    ‘The Holy Wells? That’s a laugh. His only pilgrimage was to Dubai to meet with American and Russian government and businessmen. They’ve agreed on joint exploration rights in Hazar -without us.’
    Paul said, ‘But they couldn’t possibly do it without Bedu cooperation. And they can’t get that without us.’
    ‘Paul,’ Kate said, ‘they can and they have. The Sultan’s sold us out. You know how much the Americans and Russians have disliked dealing with us. Well, now they’ve cut us out. They’re going to walk all over us - and walk all over the Bedu in the process. Without us, those damned oilmen are going to drill wherever they please, and the Arabs can go to hell.’
    Paul said, ‘Is this true, Michael?’
    Michael nodded. ‘They are going to rape the desert, Paul. And there’s not a damned thing we can do about it.’
    Paul nodded thoughtfully and stirred the fire. ‘Do not speak in haste, Michael. There are always things that can be done - if one has the will.’ ‘What do you mean?’ George asked. ‘Not now,’ said Paul. He turned to Kate. ‘Do you have the Gulfstream at the air force base in Haman?’ ‘Yes,’ Kate said.
    He drew her up and kissed her on the forehead. ‘Have a good night. Tomorrow we will speak.’
    He nodded to his brothers, and they all rose.
    Kate turned and began to walk away, and it was
    then that it happened. Beyond, from the shadows,
    a Bedu emerged screaming, a curved jambiya raised
    above his head, running straight at them, with Kate
    in his way. Paul’s guards were caught momentarily
    unaware, their AK-47S at their feet, coffee cups
    in their hands, and it was Paul Rashid who flung
    himself forward, knocked his sister to the ground
    and pulled a Browning from his waistband. He
    fired four times quickly and the assassin was driven
    to the sand.
    There was another shrill cry and a