He looked up at Marco as if judging his reaction. And then he gave a belly laugh.
“But you’re rock solid.”
“Only as good as your healthy family. Family is everything. But they are all leaving. They can see the writing on the wall. The ones who want to stay don’t work. I find myself supporting more and more of them every year. It is not a sustainable situation.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. It’s what I choose. I want to go out on top! I don’t need to watch it all fall into the ocean. I don’t want to know who will inherit my throne. I will be the last Sultan of Bonin. And then, I’d like my family to do something good with it, in memory of me.”
Marco was touched with his kindness and the fact that he’d been entrusted with an important secret he had to keep.
“Shannon and I will not say a word to anyone. But thank you for honoring your promise. Considering the circumstance, you didn’t have to do it. You could have told me.”
“Nonsense! I’m not dead yet.” He stared at a road worker holding an orange sign that read STOP. “Does he do that all day. Doesn’t he get hot?”
“They have rest breaks, and they drink a lot of water.”
“Stop, stop please,” he shouted to the driver, who had been given the go ahead to proceed.
“Pardon?” asked the driver.
Before Marco could intervene, the Sultan asked, “Do we have any bottled water with us?”
“Yes, there are several in the chest at your feet.”
“Excellent. You wait right here.”
The Sultan opened the lid and picked up four bottles of water, opening the door to the Suburban and nearly tripping on his gold pajamas, ran to the man with the orange sign and presented them to him. The road worker looked at the Sultan as if he was a green man from Mars. Marco and Shannon couldn’t tell what he was telling the worker, but he waved and came back to the car. A long line of cars behind him started honking.
“Sir, you must be strapped in before I can go,” said the driver.
“Marco, help me with this.”
Marco attached the belt, and the entourage was allowed to proceed.
They pulled up to a massive pink stucco home on a triple lot facing the beach and gulf beyond. One by one, the passengers were dropped off. Marco helped the Sultan up the steps, which he had difficulty with. At the top, he wheezed and took a moment to catch his breath.
“I’m not sure this house will work for me,” he said.
Marco kicked himself for forgetting about the elevator on the backside and informed him of it. “It goes between all three floors. There’s a beautiful pool out this way too. And”
The two front doors swung open, and Khalil and Absalom were standing in their bare feet inside on the marble tile floor. They both wore their favorite Jams shorts and Florida-themed tee shirts. Absalom’s orange shirt had a big green alligator on it with the word, “SNAP” on the front.
“My boys!”
Both came to him and took turns giving him a hug.
“Father, we have shorts for you too.”
“Oh, this doesn’t have to happen. Let me get my breath and look at this place first. We can talk about beach attire later.”
“But you must. It’s tradition. You’re in Florida now.”
“Not in front of the women,” he whispered.
Everyone could hear squealing as the ladies were let out of their cars, chattering with each other and with their servants. The drivers stood to attention, stoically attending to their needs. Luggage was pulled out of a large white van that was filled to the top with various bags belonging to the different wives and their party.
The Sultan walked to the living room and examined the beach and bay below. “This is fantastic. And the pool is beautiful, such a lovely color! I wish I’d brought the grandchildren!”
Marco rolled his eyes and looked at Shannon.
“I think you’ll be happy here. We have provided a cook for you,”
“Oh no, we cook our own food—”
“Well then, you will show her how you cook. We have arranged for a couple of catered dinners, and our chef has two helpers who will go to the store for you to get anything you like, within reason. Bear in mind, we don’t have a large Indian population, so you might not have all the things you had at home.”
“Then I will eat like a person from Florida.”
“We call them Floridians.”
“Yes Floridians. I will eat like one of those.”
Marco smiled, and had him shown to his bedroom, explaining he had some logistics to attend to.
“Well, that went well,” Shannon said as their driver brought them back to their new offices.
“He does this to me every time, always springing things on me. But we’re used to it.”
Inside the new building, Rhea approached him with a grim look on her face.
“Sorry, Boss, to bring up some bad news. But the Nigerian government is refusing to allow Karin Atkin’s plane to land. She was to have an appointment with the Minister of Culture tomorrow morning.”
“What’s going on?”
“Shall I get Senator Campbell on the line, sir?”
“Please.”
Shannon followed Marco into his office, but then grabbed a notebook from her office, checking in with her assistant. She had several calls from Paul Vijay, who was Karen’s pilot. Listening to them all, they got more and more anxious. The last one was alarming. She ran to Marco’s office while she listened.
“Shannon, Marco has to get the Senator involved in this. The control tower is demanding that I land, and we are to be escorted by military police and have notified that the plane will be confiscated. I am not allowed to leave Nigerian airspace without involving their military, and you know what that means.”
Marco was on speaker phone with Senator Campbell.
“What do you mean they’ve changed their minds, Senator?”
“If you ask me, it’s a shakedown. Karen will have funds, right? You usually send her carrying millions.”
“She does. But only to pay for advance work, contractors to begin the bidding and ordering process, underground and road crew, and all the planning staff, who, I might add, have already approved this development.”
“My guess is they’ll take a few million. Your cost of doing business has just gone up.”
“But normally, this is negotiated by a State Department rep, someone from the government. I’ve never been told I’m not allowed to land a plane previously approved for a meeting with a public official without that official making contact. I need more authority than an air traffic controller!”
“Marco, Paul has a message you need to hear,” said Shannon.
“Hold on, Senator, let’s listen to this from the pilot, which just came in,” Marco said and played the message.
“Shit,” was all Senator Campbell said. “Sounds to me like they’ve had a coup. I’ll have to get with State and find out. And you better get prepared for a rescue mission in case our government gets gutless. You understand?”
“Only too well. Please let me know. I’ve just greeted the Sultan and his wives here in Florida. Got the kids here greeting him. I’ve got the whole kingdom it sees.”