Read Online The Pirate by Harold Robbins - Free Book Online Page B

will be a boy,” she said. “There have been nothing but boys in Salah’s family and they all say that I look just like his mother did when she was carrying him.”
    Her father laughed. “Old wives’ tales. Not very scientific but until we do find a way that is more exact, I’m willing to go along with it.”
    “I will give you your first grandson,” Fatima said pointedly, looking at her sister Nawal, whose first child had been a girl.
    Nawal said nothing. Her husband, Omar, a doctor who worked in his father-in-law’s hospital, was also silent.
    “Boy or girl,” Baydr said, “it will be the will of Allah.”
    To that they could all agree. Samir rose to his feet. “The Westerners have a custom,” he said. “The men retire to another room to enjoy a cigar. I find that very pleasant.”
    His father led the way to his study. Baydr and his brothers-in-law followed. A servant opened and closed the door behind them. Samir opened a box of cigars on his desk. He took a cigar and sniffed it with satisfaction. “Cuban cigars. They were sent to me from London.”
    He held out the box. Salah and Omar each took one but Baydr shook his head. He took a package of American cigarettes from his pocket. “I’ll stick to these.”
    Samir smiled. “Even your language is more American than Arabic.”
    “Not to the Americans,” Baydr said. He lit his cigarette and waited while the others lit their cigars.
    “What do you think of them?” Samir asked curiously.
    “In what way?” Baydr asked.
    “They are mostly Jews,” Salah said.
    Baydr turned to him. “That is not true. In proportion to the whole population there are very few Jews.”
    “I have been to New York,” Salah said. “The city is crawling with Jews. They control everything. The government, the banks.”
    Baydr looked at his brother-in-law. Salah was a heavy-set, pedantic young man whose father had made a fortune as a moneylender and now owned one of the major banks in Beirut. “Then you deal with Jewish banks?” he asked.
    An expression of horror crossed Salah’s face. “Of course not,” he said stiffly. “We deal only with the biggest banks, the Bank of America, First National and Chase.”
    “They’re not Jewish?” Baydr asked. Out of the corner of his eye he caught his father’s smile. Samir had already gotten the point.
    “No,” Salah answered.
    “Then the Jews do not control everything in America,” Baydr said. “Do they?”
    “Fortunately,” Salah said. “Not that they wouldn’t if they had the opportunity.”
    “But America is pro-Israel,” Samir said.
    Baydr nodded. “Yes.”
    “Why?”
    “You have to try to understand the American mentality. They have sympathy for the underdog. And Israel has very successfully played upon that in their propaganda. First against the British, now against us.”
    “How can we change that?”
    “Very simply,” Baydr said. “Leave Israel alone. It is only a tiny strip of land in our midst, no bigger than a flea on an elephant’s back. What harm can they do us?”
    “They will not remain a flea,” Salah said. “Refugees from all over Europe are coming in by the thousands. The scum of Europe. They will not be content with what they have. The Jew always wants it all.”
    “We do not know that yet,” Baydr said. “Perhaps if we welcomed them as brothers and worked with them to develop our lands, rather than opposing them, we would find out differently. A long time ago it was said that a mighty sword can fell an oak tree with one blow but cannot cut a silken scarf floating in the air.”
    “I’m afraid it is too late for that,” Salah said. “The cries of our brothers living under their domination are ringing in our ears.”
    Baydr shrugged. “America does not know that. All they know is that a tiny nation of a million people is living in the midst of an enemy world which surrounds and outnumbers them one hundred to one.”
    His father nodded solemnly. “There is much thinking to be done.