Chapter 1: Inheritance

The Emir and Crown Prince Gamal were travelling together, which was unusual, in the Emir's private 747 on the way back from a trip to Monte Carlo. The chauffeur delegated to collect them at the Kobek International Airport was a little over-enthusiastic and raced along the runway after the 'plane. Air Traffic Control spotted it and panicked. The military also panicked and ordered the pilot to take off again, fearing an assassination attempt. The pilot did his best, but was short of room and as the aircraft tried to take off, it hit the lights at the end of the runway and cart-wheeled into an expensive shambles of broken and burnt metal.

The Crown Prince was dead, but the Emir lived for two days. The death of the Emir was not announced while a frantic search to locate his successor went on. There were public medical reports of him clinging on to life in intensive care long after his body was in a mortuary freezer drawer.

Fortunately Pauline had not stayed the night when David was roused, this time by an irate Master of his College, at half past six in the morning.

"I have some Police Officers, both local and from the Royal Protection Squad here with representatives of the Foreign and Colonial Office, and the Kobekistan Ambassador, two other Arab gentlemen of unknown provenance, old Uncle Tom Cobleigh and all, demanding your presence, Mr. Ransome," he said, "What is this all about? What have you done?"

David was, perhaps, a little more compos mentis at that hour than the Master who, as was his wont, had dined and supped overly well the previous evening, so he offered, "I suspect my grandfather has died."

"Grandfather, grandfather?" thundered the Master, "and who might your grandfather..."

Silence returned as the Master remembered the previous year's affair of the Prince Mahmoud Abdullah.

"Shall we go and find out?" asked David.

As they entered the house of the Master of the College, the three Arab gentlemen prostrated themselves in total silence and did not move until David said, "Please get up, gentlemen."

"Master," said the Ambassador, "The Emir, your grandfather, has died, and Crown Prince Gamal predeceased him by some days. Master, I am here to humbly beg Your Highness to come to Kobekistan and assume Your Highness's rightful throne."

The taller of the other two Kobekistanis then said, "Master, my name is Kamal Qumsiyeh. I was Head of Protocol to the Emir, your grandfather, and yet I hope you will forgive my bluntness. If we are to avoid civil war when the news of the Emir's death leaks out, then we must go to Kobekistan today. Please bring the Princess Zubeydeh with you, Master, she will be of inestimable use as a source of trustworthy information for you."

"The Princess Zubeydeh?" asked David, not recognising the name.

"The Princess Zubeydeh, your mother — she knows Kobekistan which will be useful for you," came the response.

"She may not want to come, and her husband may not want to let her," David pointed out.

"Order her to come and she will come, of course. If the husband objects, either buy her or have him strangled," suggested Kamal Qumsiyeh, causing a sudden fit of choking among the Police and the gentlemen from the Foreign Office.

David ignored their discomfort and continued, "But I don't want to be the Emir of Kobekistan. I want to stay here and finish my research."

"It is Allah's will that this happens. Master, when you are established as the Emir your actions are, of course, your choice. You don't have to stay long; then you could return and we would run the country for you."

"I will talk to my mother first," said David.

"As the Master wishes," acknowledged the Ambassador, "We will wait for the Master to speak."

Everyone trooped over to David's rooms and the party was again increased by the arrival of four enormous fierce looking Arabs armed with vicious looking scimitars. One of the British policemen said something to his boss, but it was evidently overheard by the Arabs.

"We are the bodyguard of the Emir of Kobekistan and have full permission to go armed in your country," said one of the four in excellent English, "The Ambassador has the papers. Do not worry, we will not shoot unless it is necessary."

"It was the swords that I wondered about, actually," said the policeman, recognising a fellow professional.

"They are a purely ceremonial part of our uniform. If there's any trouble we drop them. The other hand carries the gun," explained the Arab, producing a machine pistol as if by magic, in his left hand, "Nobody expects a gun in the left hand. The first shot goes below the falling scimitar and the second goes over the top."

The two men went off into a discussion about the trials and tribulations of being part of the Royal Protection Squad in the United Kingdom, as opposed to Kobekistan. David, meanwhile, was on the telephone to his mother.

"Yes, darling, of course I'll come with you. Peter won't mind too much and you will most certainly need someone you can trust," she said.

"What do you think they told me when I said I had to ask you if you would come, and if dad would mind?" inquired David.

"Oh," said his mother, laughing, "I expect they thought I would do whatever the Emir orders and that if Peter objected they could either buy me from him, or shoot him."