Judas Country

We should have thought of Aziz bringing a second man -another bodyguard – if the next step was to 'ask' us again. For those sort of games you need two.

But it didn't make much difference. As they froze in the doorway, Ken was up on his feet, the Smith held in both hands and sighting down it at Aziz's belly. 'Step inside and tell your friend to close the door.'

The new bodyguard was taller, leaner, older, but his sports jacket and trousers had the same greasy shabbiness of Pietro's suit. Some sort of caste system, I suppose. He glanced at Aziz, who told him something – the right something, since he pushed the door shut and just stood there.

Ken said: 'Tell him to give his gun to Roy. And if he wants to try and be clever, that's fine with me.'

Aziz passed it on, part of it, anyway. I walked across behind Ken and took the second gun. This cove was a little more humble about his personal artillery: all he had was a standard Colt Police.38 with a six-inch barrel, which was very much more my idea of a gun to hold if the voting got noisy. Not too easy to conceal, but they don't bother too much about that in Beirut anyway.

Aziz was staring puzzled at Pietro, who was still curled up and if he wasn't quite sucking his thumb, he might as well have been. 'What happened to-'

Ken said quietly: 'You locked me in.' The Smith was back pointing at Aziz's middle.

He may have gone a bit paler. 'I assured you it was only a temporary-'

'You locked the door.' Ken's voice was still quiet but his hands were white on the gun.

Aziz said: 'But of course, it was only-'

'You locked the door.'

'I amtelling you-'

'You locked the door.' The statement had gone beyond meaning, now. Aziz twitched his head side to side, looking for help, a way out, just an explanation.

I said: 'Hold it, Ken. Let me talk to him. I'm loaded, too.'

For a long moment Ken just stared fixedly down the gun at the fat man's stomach. Then he let his hands drop. Aziz let out a shaky breath.

I said: 'We'll be leaving soon, so you'd better organise a car to get us down the hill.' I jerked my head at the telephone. 'We'll have to trust whatever you tell them, but you'll come out to see us off, so if you want to arrange a shoot-out…' I shrugged.

Aziz nodded and went to the phone and gave a few brief orders, looked up at me.

'When we're out of here,' I said, 'You're back in charge again. What sort of deal are you offering Mitzi now?'

His thin face ran through a kaleidoscope of expressions: relief, suspicion, amusement. Then he spread his hands. 'Just as before: a fifty-fifty share, as I arranged with Professor Spohr, when you find the sword. But meanwhile, I must have the document for security.'

Ken snapped: 'You'll get it shoved up-'

'Hold it, hold it.' Then I shook my head at Aziz. 'No, I'm sorry. I might have voted for that before, but then you changed your way of doing business. You got a bit too crude and insensitive…'

He winced; that must be one of the worst insults you can hand a French-angled Lebanese. Let him suffer.

I went on: 'I think we're prepared to accept that youdid back the Professor-'

'I can prove it,' he said. 'Of course, the documents are not here, but…'

'Let's just say we accept it. And so, when and if Miss Spohr finds the sword, she will make sure you, are fully refunded and, on top of that, properly rewarded.' I looked at Mitzi. 'Okay?'

At that moment, her ideas about proper rewards were running to lighted matches under fingernails, but she managed a brief grunt of:'Ja.'

I looked to Aziz and he looked back almost pityingly. 'You cannot expect me to accept that, when I have the original agreement signed by Professor Spohr which-'

'I haven't seen that agreement,' I said, 'but it must at least imply a conspiracy to commit a crime in another country, namely Israel, and namely the illegal export of an antiquity. In a Beirut court you might get that agreement to stand, you being the Aziz ben Aziz, and you might even make it binding on the Professor's heirs. But outside of Beirut, and depending on the texture of the paper, I very much advise you to use it to wipe your arse.'

There was a long strained silence broken, at last by Ken's chuckle. 'You been studying for the Bar while I was away?'

'Only in them.'

Aziz said coldly: 'Do you expect me to trust you, then?'

I shrugged. 'We had to start off by trusting you.'

Ken said: 'Confucius he say: when pistols come in door, trust jump out of window forgetting trousers.' So he really was feeling calmer. But I still didn't want to leave him alone with Aziz.

'The car should be ready by now,' I said. 'Go and collect Eleanor.'

He looked doubtful, or maybe disappointed. 'Can you manage…?'

'Of course. Get weaving.'

He went out. Aziz and the new boy looked at me, and after a time Aziz asked: 'Why was your friend so very angry?'

'Yesterday morning he came out of jail after two years. Every day they locked the door on him. So then you did, too.'

'Mon Dieu.'He went a bit paler. "That was, as you say, insensitive of me. But what else could I do?'

'If you can't think of another way of doing business then you'd better get usetfto being on the wrong end of a gun.'