Read Online Hooked by Michael Harris, Ruth Harris - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Harris, Ruth Harris
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balanced on the whims of three powerful men: Nicholas Kiskalesi, Prince Mohammed Abd-el Sadun, and Dr. Gavin Jenkins.
She would come to wish she had never heard of any of them.
16
The sudden political activity on the obscure island of Cilek did not go unnoticed by the world’s press. Reporters were dispatched from news bureaus in Istanbul, Athens, London, Tel Aviv, and New York. The article in the September 4, 1958, issue of
Image
magazine was an accurate reflection of what was going out on telexes and teletypes the world over.
FROM PLAYBOY TO POWERHOUSE
As recently as 1957, any suggestion that Prince Mohammed Abd-el Sadun was seriously interested in the throne of Egypt would have been met with disbelief on the part of every knowledgeable observer of the Middle East. Overweight, rumored to be suffering from debilitating illness, Sadun went into hiding in Turkey on the day that his cousin, King Farouk, was expelled by General Naguib from Alexandria. Everyone agreed that Sadun would probably die in exile.
Today, however, a slim, energetic Sadun has been making ever-widening contacts throughout the Middle East. Power brokers from that area gather on the island of Cilek, owned by the billionaire tycoon Nicholas Kiskalesi and used as headquarters by Sadun.
The article went on for several pages. It documented Sadun’s hereditary claim to Egypt’s throne and mentioned the blood ties he had to the royal family of Saudi Arabia. It told of his education, his years as pampered playboy, his flight from Egypt, his years of exile in Cilek.
Above all, it concentrated on the remarkable circumstances that alone of all the Arab leaders Sadun was reported to be soft on Israel. There were no hard facts to back up this presumption, but “reliable sources” said that Sudan had made quite clear that a condition of his assuming the throne would be that he be allowed to back away from the war in Palestine on the grounds that Israel’s existence was a
fait accompli
and that money for weapons might better be spent on irrigation.
Accompanying the article were several photographs. One showed a grossly fat Sadun in a bikini with his arms around a pair of generously endowed blondes on the beach at Nice. There was a photo of Sadun with his cousin Farouk when they were both Egyptian boy scouts, one with young King Faisal II of Iraq taken shortly before Faisal’s murder in 1958, and a recent shot of Sadun on the terrace of his villa. Beside him, smiling enigmatically into the distance, was an unidentified man. His name, known only to a very few, was Sadun’s physician, Dr. Gavin Jenkins.
“I’m going to die, aren’t I?” asked Sadun. His pulse was dangerously slow, his blood pressure depressed, his respiration shallow and labored. If Sadun’s vital signs declined any further, he
would
die.
“You’re not going to die,” said Gavin. “Not as long as I’m here—”
Gavin was not about to lose the man he had brought to life and he told X to call Nicky Kiskalesi.
“But it’s not time yet,” she said. “I’ll call him later.”
“Call him!” Gavin said. ”Now!”
She feared that if she didn’t obey him, he would tell Nicky about her and Sadun. She picked up the telephone and when Kiskalesi got on the phone, Gavin picked up the extension and told him that Sadun was in critical condition.
“My bag is missing,” said Gavin. “It disappeared over night and Sadun’s going to be dead unless I give him another shot—”
“What do you need?” asked Nicky. “I’ll have the drugs flown in from Zurich—”
“Iron, thyroid, vitamins B-12 and E, testosterone, d-phenylamine—”
“You’ll have it in a few hours. How long will it take him to recover?”
“A couple of days—”
“He’ll be able to stick to his timetable?”
“Yes,” said Gavin. “
If
I get the drugs promptly—”
“Will the treatment be completed by then?” Nicky asked.
“Yes,” said Gavin. “In fact, I had hoped to have him completely
She would come to wish she had never heard of any of them.
16
The sudden political activity on the obscure island of Cilek did not go unnoticed by the world’s press. Reporters were dispatched from news bureaus in Istanbul, Athens, London, Tel Aviv, and New York. The article in the September 4, 1958, issue of
Image
magazine was an accurate reflection of what was going out on telexes and teletypes the world over.
FROM PLAYBOY TO POWERHOUSE
As recently as 1957, any suggestion that Prince Mohammed Abd-el Sadun was seriously interested in the throne of Egypt would have been met with disbelief on the part of every knowledgeable observer of the Middle East. Overweight, rumored to be suffering from debilitating illness, Sadun went into hiding in Turkey on the day that his cousin, King Farouk, was expelled by General Naguib from Alexandria. Everyone agreed that Sadun would probably die in exile.
Today, however, a slim, energetic Sadun has been making ever-widening contacts throughout the Middle East. Power brokers from that area gather on the island of Cilek, owned by the billionaire tycoon Nicholas Kiskalesi and used as headquarters by Sadun.
The article went on for several pages. It documented Sadun’s hereditary claim to Egypt’s throne and mentioned the blood ties he had to the royal family of Saudi Arabia. It told of his education, his years as pampered playboy, his flight from Egypt, his years of exile in Cilek.
Above all, it concentrated on the remarkable circumstances that alone of all the Arab leaders Sadun was reported to be soft on Israel. There were no hard facts to back up this presumption, but “reliable sources” said that Sudan had made quite clear that a condition of his assuming the throne would be that he be allowed to back away from the war in Palestine on the grounds that Israel’s existence was a
fait accompli
and that money for weapons might better be spent on irrigation.
Accompanying the article were several photographs. One showed a grossly fat Sadun in a bikini with his arms around a pair of generously endowed blondes on the beach at Nice. There was a photo of Sadun with his cousin Farouk when they were both Egyptian boy scouts, one with young King Faisal II of Iraq taken shortly before Faisal’s murder in 1958, and a recent shot of Sadun on the terrace of his villa. Beside him, smiling enigmatically into the distance, was an unidentified man. His name, known only to a very few, was Sadun’s physician, Dr. Gavin Jenkins.
“I’m going to die, aren’t I?” asked Sadun. His pulse was dangerously slow, his blood pressure depressed, his respiration shallow and labored. If Sadun’s vital signs declined any further, he
would
die.
“You’re not going to die,” said Gavin. “Not as long as I’m here—”
Gavin was not about to lose the man he had brought to life and he told X to call Nicky Kiskalesi.
“But it’s not time yet,” she said. “I’ll call him later.”
“Call him!” Gavin said. ”Now!”
She feared that if she didn’t obey him, he would tell Nicky about her and Sadun. She picked up the telephone and when Kiskalesi got on the phone, Gavin picked up the extension and told him that Sadun was in critical condition.
“My bag is missing,” said Gavin. “It disappeared over night and Sadun’s going to be dead unless I give him another shot—”
“What do you need?” asked Nicky. “I’ll have the drugs flown in from Zurich—”
“Iron, thyroid, vitamins B-12 and E, testosterone, d-phenylamine—”
“You’ll have it in a few hours. How long will it take him to recover?”
“A couple of days—”
“He’ll be able to stick to his timetable?”
“Yes,” said Gavin. “
If
I get the drugs promptly—”
“Will the treatment be completed by then?” Nicky asked.
“Yes,” said Gavin. “In fact, I had hoped to have him completely
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