Bennett shoved his notebook back in the map case. To hell with paperwork. I'm gonna fly.
In the backseat, Lawrence felt the stick wobble in the familiar "I've got it" signal, and turned loose. Up front, Bennett tapped his gloved fingers on the controls, softly humming "Back In the Saddle Again. "
Claudia Meyers entered the charge d'affaires office in the U.S. Embassy and sought out a volume on the shelf. She found Title 37 U. S. Code and methodically searched through it. Leonard Houston, the charge, had been called away and asked her to cover his appointment this afternoon. Claudia frequently covered for her superior, and in moments she found the section she wanted. She read it twice and marked it. There was no problem, but the procedures had to be observed.
Ordinarily the State Department would not have sent the daughter of a Jewish father and Catholic mother to a position in an Islamic nation, but Claudia Meyers was accustomed to breaking precedent. She had been programmed early for success, and attendance at a Catholic school with very high academic standards had prevented her from taking on a strictly Jewish identity.
Claudia's language ability had won her a succession of positions and the admiration of her superiors. She had learned French at home and was professionally fluent in Arabic. Though religious observance was not part of her upbringing, a shrewd early career move had brought her competency in Hebrew. Thus, she was well suited for Middle East assignments.
Her Anglicized surname, changed three generations ago from Meier, her creamy complexion, and her blond hair belied her more immediate heritage. From a distance she looked a decade less than her actual age of thirty-eight. Only closer could one see the tiny laugh lines either side of her hazel eyes.
There was another reason she was here. Claudia Meyers had requested Riyadh. She knew the Saudi capital was only growing in importance, and she had calculated three years ago that this would be a good career move. Having served in State for almost fifteen years, she had enjoyed the life-styles of Washington and Paris. Now she tolerated the medieval attitude toward women, which still included slavery, in exchange for experience.
Claudia picked up the dossier on Houston's desk and flipped through it again. She gazed at the official photograph of the former naval officer with the usual background of the American flag. He was dressed in a dark blue uniform, wearing the hat featuring what military men called scrambled eggs, and he bore six rows of decorations. She scanned the bare facts of the man's career, which she assumed had been successful by military standards. A fighter pilot, apparently, one of the glamour boys.
Claudia was not fond of military men-overbearing, egocentric macho types, mostly. She had dated a few embassy guards and attaches over the years and two or three had been charming. At least they were preferable to overbearing, egocentric wimps who populated most of the world's embassies. But on the whole, she found the talk of "force structures" and "tasking" deadly dull. There had been no man in her life since she had left the United States and arrived in Arabia, and she did not expect to search for one at the expense of her career.
The intercom buzzed. "Mr. Bennett to see you," said the receptionist.
As the door opened Claudia stood up and crossed the floor to meet her visitor.
John L. Bennett had changed into a lightweight summer suit with a yellow shirt which offset his tan. Claudia appraised him at a glance: five feet ten, graying hair, well built. They shook hands and he was impressed with the strength of her grip. He noted the Phi Beta Kappa key on the simple gold chain around her neck. Then he thought of the three yellow stars on Devil's helmet. We all keep trophies, he thought.
Bennett appreciatively observed Claudia's willowy frame and her beautiful legs. He decided that men would remember her bearing, her manner, and her husky voice rather than her face.
Claudia was unprepared for Bennett's cheerful nature. She wondered if he was always in such a good mood. The tan, the startling gray eyes, and the strong white teeth made a favorable impression. When she released her grip and invited him to sit down, she noted the creases on his face and across the bridge of the nose.
"I flew in from Bahrain," he said, taking a chair.
"Yes, I know." What was he getting at?
"Oh, I noticed your look at my face. I saw the same thing in the mirror when I was changing. The oxygen mask has to fit tight and it always leaves a mark for a little while."
"Then you didn't come by commercial airline?"
"Oh, no. I'm a fighter pilot. We hate to leave the driving to somebody else."
Claudia relaxed more. Bennett's comment provided a logical entry to the business she had to discuss with him. She was a firm believer in first impressions, whether good or bad, and Bennett made a good first impression. His easygoing manner, his infectious smile, and his appearance combined to put her at ease. Claudia was conscious of an immediate attraction to this man. He was not at all what she had expected of… what? A mercenary?
Mr. Houston had implied that the meeting with Bennett was more to placate the Israelis than to conduct actual business. Edward Lawrence was meeting with the U. S. air attache while Bennett saw Claudia, so clearly State was covering the bases in response to pressure from elsewhere. But Claudia found she was enjoying the session.
From experience, she had expected Bennett to be defensive in discussing his dealings with the Saudis or to present a blustering facade. But he did neither. Instead, he answered her questions with a directness that she found refreshing.
"Commander, I've reviewed the facts of your contract with the Saudi government and there is no problem. I merely wish to confirm our understanding of the situation."
"I understand, Miss Meyers. Go right ahead."
Claudia folded her hands on the desk and learned forward. She was a student of body language and noted that Bennett leaned toward her as well. "You are helping the Saudis build an air defense force which-if you'll excuse the expression-will be separate from but equal to their existing air force. Is that correct?"
"Yes, that's right." He briefly explained the king's concern about maintaining the sophisticated aircraft already on hand, and their vulnerability to foreign embargo of parts and mechanics from the West.
"What do the Saudi Air Force leaders think of this situation? Aren't they likely to be jealous of you and your people?"
"That's one of the things Ed Lawrence is discussing with the air attache," explained Bennett. "But I can tell you that the king has guaranteed my organization a free hand, clear of rivalries and intraservice politics." Bennett thought for a moment, wondering how far to carry his discussion with this diplomat. What the hell, he thought. If she's any good at her job she'll already know the facts. "I would not have taken the offer under any other circumstances. You see, service politics is one reason I retired from the Navy. I don't want to fight that battle again-in any language." He laughed, then added, "With any luck, I won't have to do so. Inshallah. "
Claudia shared the humor, secretly surprised and pleased that the aviator possessed a knowledge of Arabic philosophy. But there was something of the hunter about this man. In a strange way-new to her-it was an appealing quality.