The Pirate Read Online Free PDF Page A

finished filling Youssef’s glass and left. Youssef raised the wine. “I trust your accommodations are to your liking.”
    The big man smiled. “The best suite in the place and you ask if I like it? What I want to know is how you did it. Two weeks ago when I called there wasn’t a room available anywhere in town during the film festival. And you call one day in advance and, like magic, there is room.”
    Youssef smiled mysteriously. “Let us say that we are not without influence.”
    “I’ll drink to that,” the American said. He finished his whiskey and signaled for another.
    “Mr. Al Fay asked me to express his appreciation for your trouble in arranging to be here. He is very much looking forward to your meeting.”
    “So am I,” Vincent said. He hesitated a moment, then spoke again. “I find it almost too much to believe.”
    “What is that?” Youssef asked.
    “The whole thing,” Vincent said. “It took me more than five years to raise the money to make
Gandhi
and here you come to me with ten million dollars and ask if I am interested in doing the life of Muhammad as a film.”
    “It is not surprising to me,” Youssef said. “And it won’t be to you when you meet Mr. Al Fay. He is a man of great instincts. And after seeing your films of the great philosophers—Moses, Jesus Christ and Gandhi—what could be more natural than his turning to you, the one man who could possibly bring this great story to life?”
    The director nodded. “There will be problems.”
    “Of course,” Youssef said. “There always are.”
    Vincent frowned. “It will not be easy to get a release. There are many Jews in the film business.”
    Youssef smiled. “We will worry about that when we get to it,” he said smoothly. “Perhaps Mr. Al Fay will buy one of the major companies and distribute the film himself.”
    Vincent took another sip of his Scotch. “He must be quite a man, this Mr. Al Fay of yours.”
    “We think so,” Youssef said quietly. He studied the film maker and wondered if the man would feel the same way if he knew how carefully he had been investigated before Baydr chose him. Everything Vincent had done since he had been a child was in a dossier on Baydr’s desk. No element of the man’s private life was unknown. The girls, the women, the drinking, even his membership in the secretive John Birch Society and certain other subtly anti-Semitic groups. It was all there. Down to an analysis of why he was persona non grata in the film industry. Anti-Semitism was hard to hide in an industry as sensitive as the film business. It had been five years since
Gandhi
had been made and it had not yet been released in the Western world. And not a single new project had materialized for the man since then. He had been living on friends and promises for the last few years. And the whiskey bottle.
    Youssef didn’t tell him that Baydr had approached many others before coming to him. But they had all turned down the offer. Not because they did not agree that the Prophet was a good subject for a film, but because they thought its purpose at this time would be more propagandistic than philosophical. All of them knew better. It was the Jews they feared; the Jews had a stranglehold on the business and they were afraid to antagonize them.
    He glanced at his watch and rose to his feet. “I’m sorry but I must be off. There are some important matters that I must attend to.”
    Vincent looked up at him. “Of course, I understand. Thank you for looking in on me.”
    “It was my pleasure.” Youssef looked down at him. “The yacht will be in the bay in front of the hotel. From ten thirty on there will be a fleet of speedboats at the end of the Carlton pier to ferry you out to the boat. You’re welcome anytime after that.”
    The waiter came up with the check. Youssef signed it as Vincent rose. The two men shook hands and Youssef left the bar as Vincent ordered another Scotch.
    He noticed that Jordana’s car was gone when he