Berger on each cheek.
“Excuse the familiarity, but witnessed by my people, this makes you special, too. Inviolate, you might say. Word spreads easily in the Empty Quarter, better than on a computer. You will always be safe here.”
To von Berger, it was so familiar. It was like Holstein Heath, the Darker Place, the special relationship with his people. He was very moved.
“You make me proud, my Lord.”
Rashid turned to the crowd. “This is Baron von Berger, my friends.”
The crowd raised their voices, the camels wheezed, everything was in motion. Kate turned to von Berger. “Just go with the flow, and remember from now on you are the guest of every Bedu in the Empty Quarter.”
“So, a little hospitality would be in order,” Paul Rashid said. “First, you must refresh yourself after the journey, then we eat.”
“And then comes business,” Kate said.
“Enough for now.” Paul Rashid turned and led the way through the crowd.
The Baron was taken to a richly furnished tent, with carpets and hangings. A canvas bath was provided, two young men on hand who spoke English and attended his every need.
Later he was taken to a larger tent, filled with people eating and sitting on cushions in the traditional way, women bringing in food of many kinds from the cooking tent: stews, roasted lambs, an absolute feast. Von Berger sat between Rashid and Kate.
Rashid said, “I trust you understand. My people expect this. They have their traditions, Baron.”
“Max,” von Berger told him. “Please call me Max.” He reached for a dish of some sort of lamb chops a woman offered, took one with his bare hand and tried it. “Delicious.” He turned to Paul Rashid. “One old soldier to another: I was in the Winter War in Russia and this is infinitely better.”
Paul Rashid smiled. “Then enjoy, my friend.”
Much later, they sat, the three of them, by a blazing fire, guards sitting close by, drinking coffee, AK47s across their knees.
Rashid said, “So, this Yemeni arms affair. Of course we’ll broker it for you. No big deal. But let’s be frank. What my sister said to you was true. This Yemeni thing is nothing to you, we know that. What you are interested in are oil concessions in the Empty Quarter perhaps and certainly in the Dhofar.”
“Absolutely. I know that the Russians are after it, the Brits, the Americans, but your influence with the Bedu confounds them all.”
“That’s true.”
There was silence. The Baron said, “Would you happen to have a cigarette?”
“Of course. I’ll have one with you.” He called in Arabic, a youth ran forward, and cigarettes were provided, and a lighter.
“They got me through the Winter War, these things,” the Baron said.
“And me the Gulf War,” Rashid replied. “We have much in common.”
Von Berger turned to Kate. “Listen to what I say. I would value your opinion.”
“Of course.”
“Right. If I try to obtain concessions in the Dhofar, the great powers would put in place as many roadblocks as they could. Even now, the Russian government isn’t happy with my holdings in their country. Any extension of my power would displease them.”
“That would seem obvious,” she said.
“And the Americans have always distrusted me. The Hitler business never goes away.” He turned to Rashid. “You, on the other hand, they are stuck with. That intrigues me. Why haven’t you used those concessions in the Dhofar?”
Rashid drank his coffee. “Tell him,” he said to Kate.
“Cash flow,” she said. “Rashid Investments is worth billions, but it’s all tied up. Capital investment, mainly. I don’t need to tell you that oil exploration is an expensive business.”
“But if you had the resources, you could go ahead in the Dhofar. America and Russia could do nothing.”
She looked at him calmly. “We’d need a lot of money. And I wouldn’t want it tied up by the banks.”
“What she means is we’d need something like one billion in cash,
“Excuse the familiarity, but witnessed by my people, this makes you special, too. Inviolate, you might say. Word spreads easily in the Empty Quarter, better than on a computer. You will always be safe here.”
To von Berger, it was so familiar. It was like Holstein Heath, the Darker Place, the special relationship with his people. He was very moved.
“You make me proud, my Lord.”
Rashid turned to the crowd. “This is Baron von Berger, my friends.”
The crowd raised their voices, the camels wheezed, everything was in motion. Kate turned to von Berger. “Just go with the flow, and remember from now on you are the guest of every Bedu in the Empty Quarter.”
“So, a little hospitality would be in order,” Paul Rashid said. “First, you must refresh yourself after the journey, then we eat.”
“And then comes business,” Kate said.
“Enough for now.” Paul Rashid turned and led the way through the crowd.
The Baron was taken to a richly furnished tent, with carpets and hangings. A canvas bath was provided, two young men on hand who spoke English and attended his every need.
Later he was taken to a larger tent, filled with people eating and sitting on cushions in the traditional way, women bringing in food of many kinds from the cooking tent: stews, roasted lambs, an absolute feast. Von Berger sat between Rashid and Kate.
Rashid said, “I trust you understand. My people expect this. They have their traditions, Baron.”
“Max,” von Berger told him. “Please call me Max.” He reached for a dish of some sort of lamb chops a woman offered, took one with his bare hand and tried it. “Delicious.” He turned to Paul Rashid. “One old soldier to another: I was in the Winter War in Russia and this is infinitely better.”
Paul Rashid smiled. “Then enjoy, my friend.”
Much later, they sat, the three of them, by a blazing fire, guards sitting close by, drinking coffee, AK47s across their knees.
Rashid said, “So, this Yemeni arms affair. Of course we’ll broker it for you. No big deal. But let’s be frank. What my sister said to you was true. This Yemeni thing is nothing to you, we know that. What you are interested in are oil concessions in the Empty Quarter perhaps and certainly in the Dhofar.”
“Absolutely. I know that the Russians are after it, the Brits, the Americans, but your influence with the Bedu confounds them all.”
“That’s true.”
There was silence. The Baron said, “Would you happen to have a cigarette?”
“Of course. I’ll have one with you.” He called in Arabic, a youth ran forward, and cigarettes were provided, and a lighter.
“They got me through the Winter War, these things,” the Baron said.
“And me the Gulf War,” Rashid replied. “We have much in common.”
Von Berger turned to Kate. “Listen to what I say. I would value your opinion.”
“Of course.”
“Right. If I try to obtain concessions in the Dhofar, the great powers would put in place as many roadblocks as they could. Even now, the Russian government isn’t happy with my holdings in their country. Any extension of my power would displease them.”
“That would seem obvious,” she said.
“And the Americans have always distrusted me. The Hitler business never goes away.” He turned to Rashid. “You, on the other hand, they are stuck with. That intrigues me. Why haven’t you used those concessions in the Dhofar?”
Rashid drank his coffee. “Tell him,” he said to Kate.
“Cash flow,” she said. “Rashid Investments is worth billions, but it’s all tied up. Capital investment, mainly. I don’t need to tell you that oil exploration is an expensive business.”
“But if you had the resources, you could go ahead in the Dhofar. America and Russia could do nothing.”
She looked at him calmly. “We’d need a lot of money. And I wouldn’t want it tied up by the banks.”
“What she means is we’d need something like one billion in cash,
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