Book Excerpt:
Honour Among Thieves Chapter One New York February 15,1993 Antonio Cavalli stared intently at the Arab, who he considered looked far too young to be a Deputy Ambassador. “One hundred million dollars,” Cavalli said, pronouncing each word slowly and deliberately, giving them almost reverential respect. Hamid Al Obaydi flicked a worry bead across the top of his well-manicured thumb, making a click that was beginning to irritate Cavalli. “One hundred million is quite acceptable,” the Deputy Ambassador replied in a clipped English accent. Cavalli nodded. The only thing that worried him about the deal was that Al Obaydi had made no attempt to bargain, especially since the figure the American had proposed was double that which he had expected to get. Cavalli had learned from painful experience not to trust anyone who didn’t bargain. It inevitably meant that he had no intention of paying in the first place. “If the figure is agreed,” he said, “all that is left to discuss is how and when the payments will be made.” The Deputy Ambassador flicked another worry bead before he nodded. “Ten million dollars to be paid in cash immediately,” said Cavalli, “the remaining ninety million to be deposited in a Swiss bank account as soon as the contract has been carried out.” “But what do I get for my first ten million?” asked the Deputy Ambassador, looking fixedly at the man whose origins were as hard to hide as his own. “Nothing,” replied Cavalli, although he acknowledged that the Arab had every right to ask such a question. After all, if Cavalli didn’t honor his side of the bargain, the Deputy Ambassador had far more to lose than just his government’s money. Al Obaydi moved another worry bead, aware that he had little choice -- it had taken him two years just to get an interview with Antonio Cavalli. Meanwhile, President Clinton had settled into the White House, while his own leader was growing more and more impatient for revenge. If he didn’t accept Cavalli’s terms, Al Obaydi knew that the chances of finding anyone else capable of carrying out the task before July the Fourth were about as promising as zero coming up on a roulette wheel with only one spin left. Cavalli looked up at the vast portrait that dominated the wall behind the Deputy Ambassador’s desk. His first contact with Al Obaydi had been only days after the war had concluded. At the time the American had refused to deal with the Arab, as few people were convinced that the Deputy Ambassador’s leader would still be alive by the time a preliminary meeting could be arranged. As the months passed, however, it began to look to Cavalli as if his potential client might survive longer than