"Very well, then," he finally said with a sigh. "Let's make the attempt. When do you suggest?"
Bob shrugged. "As soon as possible. We need to find a reasonable excuse to get you to the departure corridor... How would you feel about inspecting the new roadworks in Al Khazar? A decision you made suddenly. You start this afternoon, and as your car passes by the airport, you stop. I will have the plane ready for takeoff. We'll say you want to inspect the works from above, you understand? We take off and vanish! Of course, we can't take luggage with us. Everything must be done without any preparation."
"There is nothing I want to take with me. Except for one thing..."
He smiled, and his expression changed, making him a completely different person. He was no longer the modern, conscientious young man raised according to Western standards – that smile revealed all the tribal cunning and craftiness that had helped so many generations of his ancestors survive.
"You are my friend, Bob, and I will prove it to you." His hand slipped inside his shirt, and when it reappeared, he was holding a small pouch made of soft wild goat leather, which he extended towards him.
"This?" Bob wondered, furrowing his brows.
Ali took it back in his hands, opened it, and spread its contents on the table. Bob held his breath for a moment and then whistled softly.
