Free The Pirate by Harold Robbins

It is a very complex problem.”
    “It is not complex,” Salah said heavily. “Mark my words, in time you will all see what I tell you is true. Then, we will unite to destroy them.”
    Samir looked at his other son-in-law. “What is your opinion, Omar?”
    The young doctor cleared his throat with embarrassment. He was inordinately shy. “I am not political,” he said. “So I really do not think of these matters. In the foreign universities of England and France where I studied, there were many professors who were Jews. They were good doctors and good teachers.”
    “I also,” Samir said. He looked at Baydr. “I trust you have made no plans for tomorrow.”
    “I am home,” Baydr said. “What plans do I need to make?”
    “Good,” Samir said. “Because tomorrow we are to have dinner with his excellency, the Prince Feiyad. He wishes to celebrate your eighteenth birthday.”
    Baydr was puzzled. His birthday had passed some months before. “Is his excellency here?”
    “No,” Samir said. “He is in Alayh, enjoying a holiday from his family and duties. We are invited to join him tomorrow.”
    Baydr knew better than to ask the reason. His father would tell him in his own good time. “It will be my pleasure, Father,” he said.
    “Good,” his father smiled. “Now shall we rejoin your mother and sisters? I know they are waiting eagerly to hear more of your stories about America.”

CHAPTER 7
    Alayh was a tiny village in the mountains thirty miles from Beirut. There was no industry, no trade, no farming. It had only one reason to justify its existence. Pleasure. Both sides of the main street that ran through the center of the village were lined with restaurants and cafes which featured Oriental dancers and singers from all over the Middle East. Western tourists were discouraged and seldom if ever seen here. The clientele were the rich sheiks, the princes and businessmen, who came here to escape the rigid moralities and boredom of their own world.
    Here they could indulge in all the things that were not acceptable at home. They could drink the liquor and taste the foods and delights that strict Muslim law forbade them. And perhaps most important was the fact that here they were anonymous. No matter how well one man knew the other, he did not recognize him or speak to him unless invited to do so.
    It was after ten o’clock the next evening that Samir’s limousine rolled to a stop in front of the largest cafe on the street. In keeping with his importance, Prince Feiyad had taken over the entire establishment for the night. It would not be proper for him to mix with the casual visitor. He was absolute monarch of a thousand-square-mile piece of land bordering on four countries, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Syria and Jordan. That his land infringed somewhat into each of these countries did not matter because it served a useful purpose. It was to his country that each could come with impunity and in safety to work out disagreements and problems between them. Baydr’s grandmother was the sister of Prince Feiyad’s father and as cousins to the royal family the Al Fays were the second most important family.
    It was to Baydr’s father that the Prince had given the rights to all public utilities. The electric and telephone companies were owned by Samir and in return the family had built schools and hospitals where free care was provided for all who sought it. They had been rich to begin with, but with the grants they had grown even richer almost without effort.
    It was a great disappointment to the whole family that the Prince had no male heirs to whom he could pass the throne. He had married a number of times and always performed his duties. And as each wife failed to produce the required heir, he had divorced her. Now, sixty years old, he had long ago decided that if it was the will of Allah that he should have no direct heir, he would see to it that his cousin would provide one for him.
    It was for this reason that eighteen