I flipped to the dossiers on the people who would be traveling with Sherima. There were two; a.bodyguard and a companion. An entire staff would be hired for her after she selected an estate.
The first folder covered the bodyguard, Abdul Bedawi. He looked like Omar Sharif, except for the nose, which had a prominent bridge that gave him a typically Arabian hook. “He was personally selected for the job by Hassan,” Hawk said. “The man was a former palace guard who saved Hassan’s life during the last assassination attempt. We don’t have too much on him except that he became the Shah’s personal bodyguard after that and supposedly is very loyal to him — and to Sherima. We hear he protested when Hassan assigned him to the ex-Queen and sent him away, but finally did as he was ordered.
“Abdul is supposed to be strong as a bull and an expert in judo and karate, as well as being a crack shot with every kind of weapon. He might come in handy if you get in a pinch. But don’t trust him. Don’t trust anybody.”
Hawk handed over the next folder with a little smile, saying “I think you’ll like this part of the job, Nick.”
I saw what he meant as soon as I looked at the picture stapled to the inside cover. The girl was nuzzling the mane of the white stallion. Her reddish blonde hair made its own mane as it fell well past her slender shoulders, framing a beautiful face accented by high cheekbones. Her lips were moist and full, and her large hazel eyes seemed to laugh at someone or something in the distance.
The body that went with that face was even more magnificent. She was wearing a black turtleneck sweater, but its bulk couldn’t hide the curves of ripe, full breasts, high and almost straining to be set free. Slim-cut black and white checked slacks set off a narrow waist and outlined her graceful hips and long shapely legs.
Hawk cleared his throat with a prolonged ahem. “When you’re finished looking at the picture, you might take a look at the rest of the dossier,” he said. Dutifully I moved on.
Each of the accompanying sheets was headed Candace (Candy) Knight. The first contained the basics. Although she looked about twenty-three, she was actually approaching thirty. Like Liz Chanley, she was Texas-born, and her widowered father had been one of the oilmen who had gone with Chanley to Adabi, to undertake exploratory drilling operations. I was beginning to understand Hawk’s choice of wardrobe for me. Candace Knight’s father and Bill Chanley had been close friends, and Candace had become good friends with Sherima.
The dossier told of another assassination attempt on the Shah; like Abdul, Candy’s father had saved the Shah. But unlike Abdul, his heroism had cost Candy’s father his life. He had thrown himself in front of the gunman. Hassan, apparently, never forgot it. Knowing that the young girl had no mother, he practically adopted Candy into the royal household. Her friendship with the Queen, I figured, eased that transition somewhat.
Candy Knight had no family left after her father’s death. She was unmarried, and according to the report, apparently devoted to Sherima. After the divorce, the Shah persuaded Candy to accompany her to Washington.
He set up a half-a-million-dollar account for the young woman in Zurich at the same time that Sherima’s account was established.
According to observations in the Shah’s household, Candy had always appeared cold toward Hassan, despite his many material and human kindnesses toward her. Our investigator in Sidi Hassan reported that Candy was rumored to have once been in love with Hassan.
I began to close the folder, planning to read over the entire thing again more thoroughly back in my hotel room.
“No, wait,” Hawk said. “Take a look at that last part.”
“The Unconfirmed section?” I asked, flipping the dossier open again. “But the Unconfirmed parts in most dossiers are generally nothing more than speculation from—”
I cut myself off when my eyes fell on the first few paragraphs of Candace Knight: Unconfirmed. The memo went into considerable detail on the subject’s sex life.
“A little less drab than the rest of the report, wouldn’t you say, Nick?”
“Yes, sir.” I flipped back for a second to the photograph of the young woman whose private life I was reading about.
Obviously, the writer didn’t want to come right out and say it, but from the collection of gossip and rumors he’d put together, it seemed that the hazel-eyed young woman, confidante to the former Queen of Adabi, was a nymphomaniac. Local gossip had it that Candy had worked her way through a veritable legion of Americans employed by the oil companies in Adabi, and had gone on to service most of the men attached to the United States Embassy in Sidi Hassan.
The investigator was polite enough to note that Candy’s overly active sex life began shortly after the death of her father and Sherima’s marriage to the Shah, and to speculate further that perhaps it was as a consequence of these events that she went in search of some outlet for her feelings.
A final paragraph reported that during the last year and a half, she had seemed to curtail her sexual activities, at least to AXE’s knowledge.
“Quite thorough,” I said.
“Think you can handle it, N3?” Hawk asked.
“I’ll do my best, sir,” I answered, trying not to smile.
Chapter 4
Since my cover was being a trouble-shooter for a Houston-based oil company with worldwide interest, I spent my second day in a briefing session on the oil business. The first half of the day was spent in backgrounding; the second in being quizzed about what I had learned. My memory banks work pretty well, and I was sure I had passed when Hawk summoned me to his office about ten o’clock that night with a smile on his face.
“Well, Nick,” he said. “Briefing tells me you’ve done pretty well. How do you feci about it?”
“Quite honestly, sir,” I told him, “I’d like to have a couple more days. But I think I can handle it.”
“Good, because there just isn’t any more time. Sherima and the others arrive from London about noon tomorrow. Now, we’re pretty certain that nothing can happen to her for a day or so. The Sword’s plan, the way we figure it, is to let her get settled in at the hotel and make some contacts; then he will set up an assassination to throw suspicion on the CIA.
“The Secretary of State already has talked to Sherima in London. She’s been invited to his home for dinner. Abdul Bedawi will be driving her to the Secretary’s home in Alexandria. That will tie up the two of them for the evening and leave the Knight girl on her own.”
“And that’s where I come in,” I said.
“Right. You will make contact early in the evening. I want you two to be good friends. Good enough so that it will be a simple matter for you to meet Sherima and, because of your obvious affection for Candace Knight, have an excuse to stick close to them. Right?”
“Yes, sir. How long will I have?”
“The Secretary will see that dinner drags on pleasantly. Then, when it is time for Sherima to start back, her car will have a little trouble getting started. Nothing extensive and nothing that could possibly arouse Bedawi’s suspicions.”