City of the Sun (28 page)

Mickey’s ears perked up.

“Without my husband, there isn’t much for me to do here in Cairo. I’ve decided I might as well make myself useful, so I’m leaving for Jerusalem next week to help in the administration. They are desperately short of secretaries and support staff.”

“The Arabs and the Jews are at each others’ throats there,” White said. “There is nothing but trouble in Palestine. If your husband were here, I’m sure he’d warn you to be careful.”

“You needn’t worry on my account. Nothing will happen to me.” The countess daintily dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin.

“Palestine is a lot quieter now than it was before the war,” General Meyer commented.

“Probably because Churchill has mollified the Arabs with the latest White Paper restrictions,” Mickey said, thrilled that the conversation had turned this way.

“I’m afraid restrictions is no longer an appropriate term,”
Madame Cattaoui corrected him. “There is now a complete ban on immigration.”

What do you know! The lady-in-waiting had been eavesdropping on their conversation, and from the flush of her cheeks, he saw that the subject was an emotional one for her.

“It’s a temporary expediency,” White said. “The loyalty of the Arabs has to be gained at any price, or we risk their forming an alliance with the Nazis.”

“I’m afraid that alliance has already been forged,” Mickey said. “Isn’t the Mufti of Jerusalem in Germany with Hitler as we speak?”

“Exactly,” Madame Cattaoui nodded in agreement, resting a soft hand on his arm.

“If we don’t put a freeze on Jewish immigration right now, we risk a full-scale Arab revolt, and where would that leave us?” White asked.

“But where does this leave the Jews?” Mickey retorted. “Nobody wants them.”

“Including your own president,” the British officer fired back.

“Now in all fairness, President Roosevelt—” Meyer started to say.

“In all fairness,” the countess interrupted, “it is not right that exceptions are being made for members of the British staff here to be transferred to Palestine, while they won’t allow even the Jews who work closely with them on high security matters to emigrate there. If the Germans arrive here, they would undoubtedly be the first ones to suffer.”

“How can this be?” Mickey asked, turning to Madame Cattaoui for an explanation. “The Jews here are major contributors to the war effort,” he gestured around the room. “Surely the British ambassador—”

“There is nothing Ambassador Lampson can do,” Madame
Cattaoui interrupted. “The Palestine administration categorically refuses to relax its rules under any circumstances.”

“The king will protect the Jewish people in the unthinkable event that Rommel takes Egypt,” the prince said.

“But how long will he be able to do that?” Mickey asked. “I know Jews can count many Arabs as friends, but in the mosque Hassan al-Banna of the Muslim Brotherhood is winning over the hearts of more and more Egyptian people every day.”

“That will be the day, when the Egyptians turn against us!” Madame Cattaoui answered. “It will never happen. They are our greatest allies.”

“Absolutely,” said the prince. “Did you hear about the Egyptians who risked their lives by saving thirteen German Jews and smuggling them into Palestine?”

“No. When did that happen?” Mickey asked, trying to sound casual.

“Just before the war broke out,” Madame Cattaoui responded. “This is off the record, of course. An Egyptian policeman told his surgeon at the Jewish Hospital in Alexandria that there were thirteen Jews being held hostage offshore aboard a German freighter. I don’t remember all the details, but between the surgeon and the policeman and his fellow friends on the force, they created a ruse to get the refugees off the ship and arrested by the port authorities. The refugees were then transferred to the prison in Port Said, and from there they were put on board a police patrol boat and taken to a fishing vessel that carried them outside of Egyptian waters and on to Haifa.”

“What an exciting story!” the countess exclaimed.

“I should point out,” the prince added, “that many Egyptian policemen and their families are treated by Jewish doctors at the Jewish Hospital in Alexandria. There is a lot of goodwill there.”

“When the authorities found out, the Egyptians received only a slap on the wrist. Everyone closed their eyes. Even the British authorities in Palestine did not pursue the incident,” Madame Cattaoui went on. “That would not be the case today.”

“But Jews today must be finding ways to get in,” said the countess.

“You tell me how,” Madame Cattaoui responded. “Bribes don’t work anymore.”

“Can they buy visas on the black market?” Mickey asked.

“Oh, you journalists!” the countess said, giving him an affectionate tap on his head. “You look for intrigue everywhere.”

Mickey forced a smile, but registered Madame Cattaoui’s body tensing slightly. As an intimate of the queen, she had to be wary of reporters. He wanted to strangle the countess.

“Let’s talk of brighter subjects,” Madame Cattaoui said, turning to the prince.

“One more question, if you don’t mind my asking, madame?” Mickey said, alarmed that he was losing his chance to pursue this line with the lady-in-waiting and deciding to take a gamble.

“As you know, madame, I’m writing about the Jews of Egypt,” he started. “And I’m interested in the role of Zionists in Egypt today.”

Madame Cattaoui looked into his eyes. She crossed her arms, guarded.

“I know that the Zionist organizations were disbanded, essentially by the Jewish community itself, in the face of intimidation by Arab zealots. But I’m sure that the Zionist dream of a Jewish homeland still exists and that people are still working for the cause,” he pressed on. “Can you give me some guidance about how I might find such people who are still active? The world needs to be informed about the tremendous pressure being felt by the Jews here and in other parts of the Arab world as a result of British policy in Palestine.”

She hesitated for a moment. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you, and you shouldn’t be so quick to judge us,” she finally responded. “I would like to point out that the well-to-do German Jews in your own country lobbied the State Department to restrict Jewish immigration to America, and they didn’t face the pressures that my brethren here do. No one is bombing Jewish homes in New York, as far as I know.” She turned to the prince.

The game was over. He would get no more from her.

As the yacht glided through the darkness and the suffragis began serving coffee and tea, Mickey could see faint firelights on the banks of the river through the dining room windows. Madame Mosseri had invited everyone to the dessert table, and some diners were already lighting cigars, reclining in their chairs, satiated and happy. Others were table-hopping, greeting friends, or dancing. At Mickey’s table half of the guests had left, including Madame Cattaoui. It was safe now for Mickey to go find Maya without being rude.

“I think the king’s men are up to no good. All three are Italians, his best friends, you know,” the countess whispered as he prepared to excuse himself. “Really, what kind of king has an electrician, a barber, and the keeper of the royal kennels as his best friends!”

Mickey watched one of the king’s Italian cronies put a green goblet in front of the king and bring his fingers to his mouth, kissing the tips of them as if to say, “Delicious.” The king laughed in response. The behavior seemed juvenile but harmless.

“For the past half hour his friends have taken turns bringing these goblets to the king. I don’t trust them. Who knows what could be in that drink?”

Indeed, there were a great many goblets in front of the king, but Mickey couldn’t care less. From the corner of his eye he spotted Lili
passing by. She smiled at him and with a jerk of her head indicated the back wall. Mickey didn’t need to be told twice. He placed his napkin on the table and pushed back his chair.

“Pardon me,” he said, bowing to the countess. “I have to say hello to a friend.” He fastened his jacket and straightened up as he navigated the crowded tables. He picked up a dessert plate from a suffragi along the way and nodded to Randolph Churchill, who was dying of embarrassment as the large woman seated next to him, undoubtedly soused, hung around his neck. “You save a dance for me, good looking,” Sally shouted. Kirk was seated at the last table at the end of the room. He stood up and motioned Mickey to a corner.

“How’s it going?” Kirk asked.

“Blood is thicker than water,” Mickey said. “Yvette Cattaoui is not going to talk about her brother, but I did learn a few things.”

“Good. I can’t wait to hear the details.” Kirk lowered his voice. “Mickey, I’m worried about Dorothy. She is not here. This is very unlike her.”

“Maybe she got a better offer,” Mickey said, sure that Dorothy would have some amusing explanation for her absence.

Kirk pursed his lips and nodded, but it was clear he wasn’t convinced. Mickey patted him on the shoulder and moved on. He rounded the corner to the lemonade stand, and there she was … with the king casually leaning on her counter. Two men in dark suits stood nearby, the king’s bodyguards, he assumed. Maya was nervously pouring from a pitcher into the king’s goblet, her eyes lowered, her face tense. Suddenly all the shenanigans at the king’s table made sense: The king’s pals had discovered a pretty girl for the king. Now he had come to check her out for himself. Not so fast, you son of a bitch, Mickey thought.

“Brought you some dessert, darling,” he told Maya, who looked up at him with relief. “You must be starving, working so hard. Mickey Connolly, US press, Your Majesty,” he said, turning to the
king and extending his hand. The king did not take it, but with the palm of his hand stopped the bodyguards who were already stepping forward.

“I was thrilled to see you on the front cover of
Time
magazine not long ago,” Mickey continued. “They did a splendid report on your wedding. I think you’ll find that you have a lot of fans in America.”

An irritated expression passed over the king’s face. “Really? I thought Americans were not too fond of kings. Except for King Kong,” he joked, looking at Maya to see if she laughed.

She didn’t.

“Oh, no, Your Majesty. We all thought you looked quite dashing,” Mickey said.

“The king was very kind to invite me to his private gathering tomorrow night, darling,” she said, her voice thin. “But isn’t your friend arriving from London?”

“Precisely. But very kind of you, sir.”

Farouk did not respond and picked up the glass Maya had poured him. He took a sip. “I must compliment my friends on their excellent taste,” he declared.

“Here you are!”

Riri Charbit, the king’s mistress appeared. She grabbed him by the arm. “Madame Mosseri is just about to announce your surprise.” She nodded apologetically to Mickey and Maya before tearing Farouk away and parting the small crowd of curious onlookers that had suddenly formed.

“Saved by the bell,” Mickey said.

“I don’t believe what just happened!” Maya exclaimed, covering her cheeks with her hands, flustered. “He was making me terribly uncomfortable. All I could think about was how some of the girls described his bedroom downstairs. There’s a mirror above his bed, and explicit paintings of men and women … you know …”

“I’ve heard. Let’s go look,” he said with a grin.

“No!” she said, elbowing him. “And don’t get any ideas.”

“Who said I don’t already have some?” he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

She looked at him, arms crossed.

“Just teasing, just teasing. Whenever I think of you, you’re always fully clothed! Swear to God.”

“I’m sure,” she said, shaking her head in mock disapproval.

Madame Mosseri’s voice came over the loudspeaker announcing gaily, “You are all invited to the upper deck for fireworks, courtesy of His Majesty.
Et la fête continue
.”

The news was greeted with cheers, and a brouhaha ensued as the guests began to migrate toward the upper deck.

Maya saw Lili emerge out of the crowd with a young man in tow. He had chubby cheeks and his dark, shiny hair was combed into a wavy pompadour.

“Maya, this is Fernando Lagnado.
Mon amoureux
, my sweetheart,” Lili proudly announced.

“And you are the famous cousin from Damascus!” he said with a gallant bow. “Lili told me you’ll be chaperoning us next Wednesday.”

“Next Wednesday?” Mickey said, looking expectantly at Maya.

“I was going to tell you,” she rushed to explain.

“We’ll be double dating,” Lili said with a wink.

“In that case we might as well start getting to know each other. I’m Mickey Connolly,” he said, extending his hand to Fernando. “Let’s go find a good spot to watch the fireworks.”

“I’ll need to find my aunts first,” Fernando said.

Mickey frowned. “Don’t bring them along. We’ll have more fun just the four of us.”

Lili gave Mickey a grateful smile and linked her arm around Fernando’s.

“I just want to let them know where I will be,” Fernando said. “So they won’t worry. It won’t take long. I’ll join you upstairs.”