"Captain, there is risk and there is risk. What is life itself if not risk? Without risk what man can call himself alive?" Mirza Nuruddin thought of his own risk at this moment, how his offer of help to the English would immediately be misconstrued by the entire port. Until the plan had played through to its ending. Then the thought of the ending buoyed him and he continued, his voice full of solicitude. "I can suggest a strategy for unlading your ironwork at the river mouth in reasonable safety, after your frigates have been lightened of their wool. With an experienced pilot, you can sail along the shoreline, south to the bar, and anchor under cover of dark. Barks can be waiting to unlade you. If the lead and ironwork are ready for unlading, perhaps it can be completed in one night. You can unlade the smaller frigate first, return it to the cove you call Swalley, and then unlade the other vessel. That way only one frigate is exposed at a time." As Hawksworth and Elkington listened, Mirza Nuruddin outlined the details of his offer. He would hire whatever men were needed. He normally did this for foreign traders, and took a percentage from them-- as well as from the meager salary of the men he hired. And he already had a pilot in mind, a man who knew every shoal and sandbar on the coastline. As Hawksworth listened his senses suddenly told him to beware. Hadn't Shirin told him to trust his intuition? And this scheme was too pat. This time his guts told him to dump the lead in the bay and write off the loss. But Elkington would never agree. He would want to believe they could unlade and sell the lead. His responsibility was profit on the cargo, not the risk of a vessel. So he would take this final risk. Perhaps Mirza Nuruddin was right. Risk exhilarated. He smiled inwardly and thought again of Shirin. And of what she had said about trusting his instincts. Then, ignoring them, he agreed to Mirza Nuruddin's plan. And the Shahbandar produced a document already prepared for their signature. CHAPTER ELEVEN "Now we will begin. As my guest, you have first throw of the dice." Mirza Nuruddin fingered the gold and ivory inlay of the wooden dice cup as he passed it to Hawksworth. Then he drew a heavy gurgle of smoke from his hookah, savoring the way it raced his heart for that brief instant before its marvelous calm washed over his nerves. He needed the calm. He knew that any plan, even one as carefully conceived as the one tonight, could fail through the blundering of incompetents. Or betrayal. But tonight, he told himself, tonight you will win the game.