He approached the sheikh, introducing himself in the little Arabic he knew. “Peace be unto you, and welcome.”
The sheikh responded likewise, his Arabic rough and guttural, a peddler’s tongue, which marked him as one of the obscenely rich.
“Tamani Al-Thani,” he said, before switching to English, thank heavens. “What does a man have to do to get a drink around here?”
An Al-Thani. Good God. The Qatari royal family. He’d nailed it. The Al-Thanis made the Al-Sauds look like paupers by comparison. Controlled nine percent of the entire English equities market. Owned half of London, including Harrods, the former U.S. Embassy in Sloane Square, and the Park Lane Hilton. Oil reserves of twenty-five billion barrels. And loads of natural gas. It was his lucky day.
Lester escorted him to the bar. “What may I offer you, Sheikh?”
“Jack Daniel’s. On the rocks.” Tamani Al-Thani lifted his drink. “Where the hell’s Tarek? He told me I had to come to this thing.”
Perfect English, but of course. Probably went to Andover or Deerfield, one of the elite academies where the richest one percent sent their offspring to inoculate them against the lower classes.
“Did he? I believe Mr. Al-Obeidi is in Zurich at the moment. I hope you aren’t inconvenienced.”
“I’ll catch up to him sooner or later. He told me about the new fund. Said something about you having an interest in investing with us. I run my family’s natural gas concessions.”
Not his country’s.His family’s.
Hadrian pulled a face, not impressed. “I’m afraid Indonesia is a bit overweighted in the energy sector. We’re looking to diversify.”
“Pity. Between you and me, we’re about to announce a new find. Biggest yet. We’re looking for partners to develop it. Tarek was certain you’d have an interest, Lester. You know, get in on the ground floor, so to speak.”
“Hadrian, please.”
Al-Thani ignored him. “Mentioned that Minister Sukarno would most likely come aboard as well. Oh well…up to you. Perhaps another time.”
The Qatari finished his drink and grunted a command to his wife.
“Don’t be hasty,” said Hadrian. “HW is always interested in a profitable venture.”
“Don’t make me twist your arm.”
“Not at all. If Tarek suggested I should take a look…”
“In fact, I may have some documentation in my suite.”
“You’re staying here?”
“Royal Suite. Cramped, but it will do. Why don’t we have a look? I think you’ll find it quite remunerative. Make my visit worthwhile. Keep Tarek out of the doghouse. You’ll be back in ten minutes.”
Hadrian checked the room. He was due to give a speech at seven, just something off the cuff. He looked at his phone, wondering once more why the hell Kruger hadn’t checked in, finding it impossible to imagine something had gone wrong—who could stop a man likehim?—then thinking there was just time to hear the sheikh out. If he was a close friend of Tarek, he had to be crooked as the day was long. New gas fields. Ha! Maybe he was even telling the truth.
“Shall we, then?” said Tamani Al-Thani.
“After you.”
The three got off at the seventy-third floor. The sheikh led the way into the suite, his obedient wife bringing up the rear. They walked through one room to the next, arriving at a sprawling sitting area big enough to hold the Glastonbury music festival. Cramped indeed.
“Sit down. Get yourself a drink,” said Al-Thani. “Be right back.” The sheikh disappeared into the bedroom.
Hadrian dropped into a quilted armchair. The sheikh’s wife sat nearby, facing him. Frankly, he was surprised she was present. Then again, Qataris prided themselves on being quite modern in certain respects, the abaya notwithstanding.
“Enjoying your stay?” he asked the woman. “First time in Singapore? Amazing city, isn’t it?”
The woman didn’t respond. He caught a flash of her eyes behind the gauzy veil. It was nice to know that there was a human in there. It was hard to tell much about her figure. At least she wasn’t one of those beasts of burden you so often saw trailing behind her husband. As big as camels some of them.
He heard the door to the bathroom open, adjusted his posture. This was business. Back to being vice chairman of the most profitable investment bank in the world. If Al-Thani wanted him as a partner, Hadrian damn well planned on driving a hard bargain.
