"Your Highness, I am almost ready to implement your plan." David referred to it as the Prince's plan even though it was his own.

"There are many things to be done, and as we've discussed there is little room for error."

The Prince set his drink down and shifted forward in anticipation.

"How close are we?"

"Close."

"Close," repeated the Prince with irritation in his voice.

"Don't tell me 'close." I want details."

"You have all the details you need, my Prince," David replied in an even voice.

The Prince struggled in his sea of pillows to straighten up and in frustration barked, "Do I need to remind you who you are speaking with?"

Casually, David took off his sunglasses and placed them in his breast pocket.

"I will never forget what you have done for me and my people, my Prince. You are one of the few who truly care, and among those few you are the greatest of our heroes. But we have been through this before, and for your own good there are certain things you are better off not knowing."

The seemingly heartfelt homage appeared to calm Omar for the moment.

"Come sit by me and whisper these things in my ear. I release you of your worries. I will decide what I am better off not knowing."

David did not move.

"My Prince, once I tell you, there is no taking it back. If things go wrong you could be implicated."

"I thought you were taking care of that."

"I am, and that is why I cannot stay here today and enjoy your gracious hospitality. I need to get to Amman for a meeting. A meeting that will throw the dogs off your trail if things don't go the way we've planned."

Omar plucked another pastry from the mound and took a large bite. With a red filling oozing from the corners of his mouth he asked in a quiet voice, "When will it start?"

While David pondered how much he should tell him, a servant stepped forward and handed the Prince a steaming white hand towel.

The Prince cleaned his lips and jet black goatee and then tossed the towel to the deck.

David watched the servant pick it up and then said, "The action will start very soon, my Prince."

"How soon?" Omar asked eagerly.

"Soon."

"Within the month?"

David shook his head.

"Sooner."

"In weeks?"

Smiling just slightly he answered, "Within the week, my Prince."

The Prince clapped his hands together and nodded enthusiastically.

"This is good news. This is wonderful."

As the Prince reveled in the news, a nubile young woman with flowing blond hair stepped onto the deck wearing only a sheer robe.

She approached the Prince and ran her fingers through his hair. In French she asked him why he had left her. Omar pushed her away, telling her to go lounge in the sun until he was done. The woman stuck out her lower lip and walked past David, giving him a flirtatious wink.

The Prince watched her with great interest and said, "David, turn around and look at her. She is perfect."

David looked over his shoulder just as the statuesque woman undid her robe and let it fall to the floor. The view was not bad. A pair of white thong panties were all that she wore. David admired her curves as she raised her hands above her head and stretched. Turning back to the Prince he smiled and said, "Very nice."

Omar had a lascivious grin on his face.

"There is another one just like her. If you stay tonight, you can have them both."

Yeah, and I'll bet you'll tape the whole thing, David thought. In addition to a fetish for taping his visitors, there were other things that worried him even more about the Prince, but he did not want to dredge all that up right now.

"Your offer is very kind, but I have too much to do, and besides I need to keep my mind clear."

The Prince nodded knowingly.

"When you are done then. I will present them to you as a gift."

David smiled graciously, but didn't say what he was thinking. That he would prefer to find his own women. Women who didn't need to be paid-women who hadn't been defiled by the Prince's diseased sex organ. Getting back to more important matters he said, "There is something you could do for me at present."

"And would that have anything to do with money?" asked Omar with a stern look.

Not the least bit embarrassed, David replied, "Of course. You know how things are among our Arab brothers. As long as they get paid they are happy."

"What about the cause?" snapped the Prince.

"Isn't that enough?"

"For a select few, yes. The martyrs and the true believers, but they are not the type we want involved in this. As I've told you, we need professionals, not people who will simply blow themselves up."

"But I thought you said the martyrs are part of your plan."

"They are," answered David in a slightly irritated voice.

"They will act like livestock spooked by a fire. They will be driven into action by rage, not by any orders that I give them."

Omar thought about this for a moment and then asked, "How much more do you need?"

David help up all his fingers and for the first time in all his negotiations with the Prince he knew he would get exactly that much and not a penny less.

"Ten million," scoffed the Prince. He began shaking one of his chubby fingers in the Palestinian's direction.

"You have become far too greedy."

The Prince was a billionaire many times over, easily one of the hundred richest men in the world. Ten million was a pittance, but it was still the most David had ever asked for in a single sitting.

"My Prince, you are a man who understands value. My services do not come cheaply, and what I am about to embark on for you and my people will change the course of history."

"Five million."

David stood and joined the Prince on the couch. With a sideways glance he noticed Chung moving closer in case he was needed. In a hushed voice, David said, "Prince Omar, what is the one thing in this whole world you would take the most pleasure in?"

The Prince's eyes lit up at the question and David could tell he was going through a lengthy list.

"My Prince, think of the subject at hand.

What we are about to embark on."

Omar smiled with a hateful lust in his eyes.

"To see Israel destroyed."

"Exactly, my Prince. Ten million dollars is a pittance, and for it I will give you a front-row seat to the self-destruction of the Zionist state."

Omar grabbed David's hand and squeezed it.

"Half now and half when you are done. Tell Devon where you want the money wired and it will be done. Now, be on your way, and give me the gift I have waited a lifetime for."

The silver-haired gentleman appeared to have his nose buried in the European edition of the London Times. A soft breeze blew across the water, seagulls played above and the lines slapped out their rhythmic notes on the tall mast of the sailboat. To all outward appearances, Alan Church looked to be enjoying retirement.

First observations with such a man, though, were always a bit tricky.

The seventy-one-year-old Brit had spent the majority of his years trying to give people the right first impression-or the wrong one, depending on how you looked at it.

Alan was a mechanical engineer by training, but even that was only half true. He spent his twenties and thirties working for a large British energy conglomerate, and again this was only part of the story. During that time he traveled to the world's smaller and poorer nations in an effort to bring them hydroelectric power. It seemed for those two decades that Alan could be found wherever things were the nastiest, usually in a country where the transition from one ruling group to another was taking place and not in a peaceful democratic way. Most of those halcyon days, as he now somewhat sarcastically called them, were spent on the continent of Africa.