Adbul Sa’ad clapped his hands twice sharply. In response, Nasir the eunuch suddenly materialized beneath the arching cypresses at the gateway to the garden.

“Summon Commander Bandar. Then bring Saria,” Abdul Sa’ad ordered.

The eunuch bowed and waddled hurriedly away. Abdul Sa’ad drew a frosted silver goblet from a cooler and sipped iced Sehha water. He had not forgotten Bandar’s gasp when the Scorpion’s name was first mentioned, or the fact that both Bandar and the Scorpion were of the Mutayr tribe.

According to the report from Moscow, the Scorpion had suddenly left Arabia in 1962. That was the same year that Bandar had joined the Royal Army. Something had clearly happened, but whatever it was had gone unnoticed in the general turbulence within Arabia that year.

The only hint of what had happened came from a curious remark in the CIA files dating from the Scorpion’s initiation into that organization. In response to a question as to why he left Arabia, the Scorpion had replied, “Because of a woman whom neither I nor my opponent really wanted.”

The statement had the ironic ring of truth about it. Abdul Sa’ad sensed a blood feud. His excitement grew. What made it even more delicious was that in addition to years of western military training, Bandar had been secretly trained by the KGB to a level of near perfection in the arts of killing. He had been chosen to represent Arabia in the shooting competition at the Moscow Olympics before the Arab League boycott over Afghanistan.

Abdul Sa’ad felt a sudden prickling at the back of his neck and looked up to see Bandar standing right next to him. By Allah, the man was quick, Abdul Sa’ad thought. He hadn’t seen or heard a thing and the man was suddenly there.

Abdul Sa’ad motioned Bandar down to talk. Bandar squatted Bedu-style in a single fluid motion. His body was leathery and spare, yet capable of enormous strength. Abdul Sa’ad studied his face. Bandar had a milk-white cataract in one eye. There were those who said he had the “evil eye.” He had a scar on his cheek. Not for the first time, Abdul Sa’ad wondered how he came by it.

Bandar stared back insolently with his good eye. With his curved fleshless beak of a nose and fierce look, Bandar reminded Abdul Sa’ad of a hunting falcon. But he is my falcon, Abdul Sa’ad told himself.

Unlike the rigidity of western tactics conditioned by such games as chess, Abdul Sa’ad preferred backgammon. His plans were fluid to accommodate an unexpected element like the Scorpion. In a way, it might even improve his plan, he mused.

“I have a new assignment for you on ‘the Day,’” Abdul Sa’ad said.

Bandar’s good eye began to glitter dangerously.