The Oracle Year(19)

He started to move toward the bedroom, already knowing he’d be too late. The phone cut off in midring, and he heard Miko’s voice say, “Hello?”

Hamza stopped at the bedroom door. The look on Miko’s face as she listened told him everything he needed to know about the person on the other end of the line.

“Just a moment,” she said, “I’ll get him for you.”

Her voice held the forced-calm tone she tended to use when she was struggling mightily to hold it together. He’d seen her use it when she was talking to her class, at moments where the fourth graders were on the edge of erupting into full-blown chaos.

She carefully placed the heel of her hand over the phone’s mouthpiece and turned to her husband.

“Hamza,” she said.

Still the same tone—which made him the fourth grader in the scenario.

“Meeks, listen . . .” Hamza answered. She held up a hand. He closed his mouth.

“The man on the other end of this telephone just asked to speak to His Majesty Hamza Abu al Khayr Sheikh, King of the Coral Republic.”

Hamza stared at her for a moment.

“Right, hon, uh, that’s for me. I’ll just take it in the other room.”

He held out his hand for the phone. Miko didn’t move.

“I know it’s for you, Hamza. He said his name was General Muatha Kofu.”

They stood, staring at each other. Hamza’s mouth had gone dry.

“Miko, I really have to take that call.”

“I’m sure you do. But there’s only one way you’re getting this phone. You swear right now that when you finish, you tell me what the hell is going on. You tell me what the Coral Republic is, you tell me how you got to be its king, and most importantly, you tell me what you’re doing with Will Dando. I have been incredibly patient with you, but this is it. No more.”

She hovered a finger from her free hand over the phone’s disconnect button.

“No!” Hamza said, half leaping for the phone.

Miko stepped away, giving him a disdainful look.

“Okay, Miko,” Hamza said. “Okay.”

“Swear it!”

“Dammit, Miko. I swear.”

She handed the cell phone over.

“General!” Hamza said in a cheery voice. “I apologize for the delay. I trust it did not inconvenience you.”

He left the bedroom. Miko followed him. He sat down at the kitchen table, facing a corner. Miko moved a chair and sat down directly in front of him, so close that their knees touched, an intent look on her face.

Hamza frowned, but kept his voice light.

“That’s excellent news, General. I will wire the second half of the payment to you as soon as the United Nations publishes notice of your recognition of the Coral Republic in their register. I appreciate your speedy attention to my request.”

Miko’s look changed to blank incomprehension. Hamza listened to the voice on the other end of the line. He hesitated, glanced up at Miko, then continued.

“Yes, that’s the amount we agreed on. Fifteen million U.S. dollars.”

Miko’s mouth dropped open. Hamza gave her a pleading look and held a finger to his lips, begging her to stay quiet.

“Certainly, General. The UN recognition won’t take long. Our countries will be competing against each other in the Olympics before you know it. And let me say that I am pleased, very pleased, both for myself and on behalf of my subjects that we have an ally such as yourself in Africa.”

He listened again.

“Yes, we’ll speak soon. Good-bye.”

He hit the cutoff button. Miko stared at him, her mouth still not fully closed. Hamza gave her a weak smile.

“All right, let’s get through this—honestly, I think it will be a relief. Let me show you something.”

Hamza rummaged through one of the piles of paper on the kitchen table and extracted a manila folder. He opened it and removed a glossy photograph, which he handed to his wife.

Miko looked at the photo, an aerial view of an island. It felt small, the palm trees just off the beach providing a sense of scale. A white sand beach took up most of one coast, and the rest alternated between black volcanic-looking rocks and lush green vegetation, with no evidence of human habitation.

“What . . . ?”

“That’s the Coral Republic, Miko. That’s what I was talking about with the general just now.”

Miko laid the photograph on the table.

“The general called you a king.”

“Yes. Will’s the prime minister.” He paused. “Uh, let me point out that makes you the queen.”

Miko settled her head in her hands. She stared at the photographs on the table. Behind her, the refrigerator motor clicked on with a slight whir.

“Hamza, sweetheart,” she said, “what the fuck are you talking about?”

Hamza leaned back in his chair, thinking. After a moment, he looked at his wife.

“Okay. Let me start by saying that we’re rich. Richer than we ever would have been if I’d stayed at Corman. We never have to think about money again.”

Miko blinked.

“That’s not a bad way to start,” she said.

“True,” Hamza answered. “Any chance you’d just be willing to leave it there?”

Miko gave him a flat stare.