‘And how would he do that?’
‘He is planning a major speech in which he will attack the role of the Sudan government in subversion here in Chad.’
‘A major speech.’
‘Yes.’
‘When?’
‘Soon.’
‘You and the others must be working on the text already.’
‘Absolutely.’
Tamara chose her words carefully. ‘The White House will be hoping that this situation isn’t going to escalate. We don’t want to see the region destabilized.’
‘Of course, of course, we feel the same, it goes without saying.’
Tamara hesitated. Did she have the nerve for what she had in mind? Hell, yes. ‘It would be a great help to President Green if she could see a draft of the speech in advance.’
There was a long pause.
Tamara guessed that Karim was startled by the audacity of the request, but he was also thinking how useful it could be to get the Americans’ approval.
She was amazed that he was even thinking about it.
Eventually, he said: ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ and turned away.
Tamara looked around and saw a riot of colour. The room was now packed, with the women competing to be the brightest. The French doors were open so that people could go outside to smoke. Desert Funk were playing a rhythmic African version of cool jazz, but the roar of conversation in Arabic, French and English drowned out the band. The air-conditioning struggled to cope. Everyone was having fun.
Shirley appeared by her side. ‘You didn’t give Tabdar much time, Tamara.’
That was perceptive. ‘He was in a hurry to tell you Happy Birthday.’
‘You were all over him a couple of weeks ago, at the Italian embassy reception.’
Now that Tamara thought about it, she had talked to Tab for a long time that evening, though it had been mainly about Abdul. Had she been falling for Tab then, without knowing it? ‘I was not all over him,’ she said. ‘We were discussing work.’
Shirley shrugged. ‘As you wish. I expect he’s done something to offend you. You’ve quarrelled.’ She looked hard at Tamara, then said: ‘No, wait – it’s the opposite! You’re pretending. You’re covering it up.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Have you slept with him?’
Tamara did not know how to answer that. She would have to say yes and no, which would only call for further explanation.
Shirley looked flustered, which was unusual for her. ‘How rude of me to ask. I’m sorry.’
Tamara managed to put together a coherent sentence. ‘If it was true I wouldn’t tell you, because then I’d have to ask you to keep it secret from Nick and Dexter, and that wouldn’t be fair to you.’
Shirley nodded. ‘I get that. Thank you.’ She saw something across the room. ‘I’m being summoned,’ she said. Tamara followed her gaze and saw Nick beckoning her from the entrance. Standing near him were two men in dark suits and sunglasses. They were plainly bodyguards, but whose?
Tamara followed Shirley across the room.
Nick talked urgently to an aide. As soon as Shirley reached him, he took her hand and moved to the door.
A moment later the General walked in.
Tamara had never seen Chad’s president in the flesh, but she recognized him from photographs. He was a broad-shouldered man of about sixty with a shaven head and dark skin. He wore a Western-style business suit and several chunky gold rings. A group of men and women followed him in.
He was in an affable mood, smiling. He shook hands with Nick, refused a glass of champagne offered by a waiter, and handed a small gift-wrapped parcel to Shirley. Then he began to sing, in English: ‘Happy birthday to you . . .’
His entourage joined in with the second line: ‘Happy birthday to you . . .’
He looked around expectantly, and more people took the hint, singing: ‘Happy birthday dear Shirley . . .’ The band found the key and joined in.
By the end everyone in the ballroom was singing: ‘Happy birthday to you!’ Then they applauded themselves.
Well, Tamara thought, he certainly knows how to dominate a room.
Shirley said: ‘May I unwrap my gift?’
‘Of course, go ahead!’ said the General. ‘I want to make sure it pleases you.’
As if she’d tell him otherwise, Tamara thought.
She caught the eye of Karim, who was giving her a knowing look, and she realized what the gift was.
Shirley held up a book. ‘This is wonderful!’ she said. ‘The works of al-Khansa – my favourite Arabic poet – translated into English! Thank you, Mr President.’
‘I know you’re interested in poetry,’ said the General. ‘And al-Khansa is one of the few female poets.’
‘This was such a clever choice.’
The General was gratified. ‘Mind you, she’s a bit gloomy,’ he said. ‘The poems are mostly elegies to the dead.’
‘Some of the greatest poetry is sad, though, isn’t it, Mr President?’
‘True.’ He took Nick by the arm and turned him away from the group. ‘A quiet word, if I may, ambassador,’ he said.
‘Of course,’ said Nick, and they began to speak in low voices.
Shirley took the hint and turned to those around her, showing everyone the book. Tamara did not reveal her role in the choice of present. She would tell Shirley one day, perhaps.
The General talked to Nick for about five minutes then left. The party became even livelier. Everyone was thrilled that the country’s president had shown up.
Nick looked a bit solemn, Tamara thought, and she wondered what the General had said to him.
Bumping into Drew, she told him about her conversation with Bashir. ‘I didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know,’ she said. ‘Of course, he could make something up, but that’s an inevitable consequence of having embassy parties.’
Drew said: ‘Thanks for letting me know. I don’t think we need to worry.’
Drew’s fiancée, Annette Cecil, was by his side. She was part of the small British mission in N’Djamena. She said: ‘We’re going to the Bar Bisous afterwards. Do you want to come?’
‘Maybe, if I can get away. Thanks.’
Tamara caught Shirley’s eye and saw that she looked downcast. What could have happened to spoil her birthday party? She went over to Shirley and said: ‘What is it?’
‘You remember I told you that the General had agreed to support President Green’s UN resolution about arms sales?’
‘Yes – you said Nick was very pleased.’
‘The General came here to say that he’s changed his mind.’
‘Shit. What brought that on?’
‘Nick kept asking that question, and the General kept giving evasive answers.’
‘Has President Green done something to offend the General?’
‘We’re trying to figure that out.’
Another guest came and thanked Shirley for the party. They were beginning to leave.
Karim approached Tamara. ‘Your gift suggestion was a big success!’ he said. ‘Thank you for your advice.’
‘You’re welcome. Everyone was so excited when the General arrived.’
‘I’ll see you later in the week. We have a date for coffee.’
He was leaving, but she stopped him. ‘Karim, you know everything that happens in this town.’
He was flattered. ‘Perhaps not everything . . .’
‘The General won’t vote for President Green’s UN resolution, and we can’t figure out why. He supported us at first. Do you know why he changed his mind?’
‘I do,’ said Karim, but he did not volunteer the explanation.
‘It would be so helpful to Nick to know.’
‘You should ask the Chinese ambassador.’
That was a clue. Karim had weakened a little. Tamara pressed the point. ‘I realize that the Chinese are against our resolution, of course. But what kind of pressure could China bring to make a loyal friend switch sides?’
Karim rubbed the thumb of his right hand across the fingertips in the international gesture for money.
Tamara said: ‘They bribed him?’
Karim shook his head.
‘What, then?’
Karim had to say something now, otherwise it would look as if he had only been pretending to know. ‘For more than a year now,’ he said carefully and quietly, ‘the Chinese have been working on a plan for a canal from the Congo River to Lake Chad. It will be the biggest infrastructure project in the history of the world.’