“Never,” said Tariq. “Something to commemorate his role in securing the agreement. It’s a treasure. He will never forget it.”
The emir squinted to read the stenciling on the crate. His mouth twisted. His eyes narrowed. He nodded. Decision made. “Even I haven’t seen a bottle this large. Agreed. We will open it to celebrate the signing of the accord.”
“Do you think?” said Tariq, a little excitement in his voice, but not too much.
“I’ll insist,” said the emir enthusiastically. It was his idea now. Let anyone suggest otherwise! “It will be televised, of course. There will be an audience. I’ll make sure Jabr helps him to open it. My son, the future emir, alongside the French president to usher in a new era of peace and prosperity in the Middle East. The name of our country will be synonymous with the cause of diplomacy and progress. Yes, I’ll give it to the president.”
“I’ll be there,” said Tariq.
“I’ll make sure there is a place saved for you in the audience,” said the emir.
“Has the exact location been announced?”
“The Salon de la Paix, next to the Hall of Mirrors. I’m told many treaties have been signed there. A historic location for a historic event. Your name will be on the list. Just yours.”
Tariq shrugged, sighed painfully. “Father, please. I cannot leave her behind. She is visiting from America. It is good for our image.Remember old King Hussein and Queen Noor of Jordan. She was American too.”
“A rich American,” said the emir. “A blue blood. And your woman?”
“An example of the new generation,” said Tariq. “She is hardworking, intelligent, and independent.”
“Spare me, my son,” said the emir, eye to eye with Tariq. “Anyone can see why you keep company with her.”
Tariq bowed his head. A father was always correct, was he not? “And so?”
The emir smiled. He patted Tariq’s shoulder, one man to another. The Al-Sabahs knew a thing or two about desire. “Fine. But she must dress like a princess.”
“You have my word, Father.”
“So then,” said the emir, raising a hand, signaling for his SUV door to be opened. “We must be off. First we must visit your brother at the conference. Shake hands with all our friends, old and new. Profess our goodwill.”
“Give Jabr my congratulations,” said Tariq.
“You will give them to him yourself, as is your duty,” said his father.
Tariq bowed once more, his jaw clenched. It would be the last time, God help him. “I will see you at Versailles,” he said, kissing his father, then helping him into the vehicle. He stepped back and took a few pictures as the champagne was loaded into the rear bay. The doors slammed. Engines came to life. The armada drove out of the carriageway.
Tariq remained in the courtyard until all the cars had departed, hand high, a smile on his face. A great event, indeed!
The moment they disappeared, the hand fell, the smile vanished. He ran up the stairs and into the house and ducked into the alcove. He closed the door behind him and placed a call. “It’s on its way,” he said.
“We were beginning to get worried,” said Yehudi Rosenfeld.
“I’m sending you a picture.”
“So it worked,” said Rosenfeld, a few seconds later.
“Did you have any doubts?”
“A wise man always has doubts,” said Rosenfeld. “And Colonel Attal?”
“You’ll hear back from me shortly.”
“If you’re not up to the task, we can find someone who is.”
“I don’t foresee any problems,” said Tariq. “If you happen to see my father at the Élysée Palace, feel free to mention to him and my brother what a fine idea it is to toast the agreement with their very own champagne.”
“I’ll be sure to,” said Rosenfeld.
