Much to her surprise, after the interview Claudia noted that she had spent ten minutes more than the thirty allotted with Bennett. His grasp of regional politics and the importance of maintaining American influence in the region drew her increasing attention and admiration.
She escorted Bennett to the door and shook hands before leaving. Conscious of the pressure in his grip, she said, "I expect you'll get to Riyadh fairly often. Maybe I'll see you again."
Bennett's gaze held hers and she felt mild anger when her eyes lowered despite herself. Two strong personalities, Claudia, she told herself. That could mean trouble. Then she said, "Have a good flight back."
"These kids have come a long way in six months," Ed Lawrence said. "But do you think they're going to make fighter pilots?"
John Bennett glanced down the ordered rows of cadets. They wore neat khaki uniforms devoid of insignia except for the collar pins of the duty officers. Duty officer was a rotational assignment in each fifteen- or sixteen-man section in the first class. The duty allowed the instructors to gauge each cadet's leadership potential.
"We'll know soon enough," Bennett replied. "At least we weren't excessive in our estimates for preflight."
Lawrence agreed. Of the sixty-five students in Class One, all but two had finished the six months indoctrination and ground school, though two more were being held back for Class Two because of marginal English fluency. Some of the others were borderline in mathematics and navigation, but overall the quality was high. The IPs expected forty or more to win their wings.
The Saudi drill instructor bellowed the order in the manner of drill instructors from time immemorial. The cadets snapped to attention, saluted the reviewing stand, and momentarily remained still. Their uniformly high state of physical fitness was evident from tensed muscles, even beneath their clothes. Preflight had invested heavily in cardiovascular development with running, step tests, and weight lifting. Even swimming was emphasized.
Now, Bennett reflected, these youngsters were in the best condition of their lives. He knew they would need that advantage to meet the challenge before them.
At the dismiss order, the students broke formation and were overcome in a sea of congratulatory shouts and gestures. Friends, family members, and cadets of the two newer classes crowded around to offer good wishes.
The two Americans walked into the shade of a pavilion after standing in the Arabian sun for the previous half-hour. They had wanted to make their presence conspicuous for the graduating cadets but neither was wholly acclimatized to the forenoon heat. They accepted iced tea from the waiter and found an unoccupied corner.
Lawrence downed half his drink in one gulp. "You know, Skipper, if you want to leave for a couple weeks I'm glad to fill in."
"Yeah, I think I will, Ed. I sure appreciate your taking up the slack. I guess I still feel guilty about not being there when Paul married his girl. Now that I'm a grandfather I really should go see the kids."
General Mohammad Abd Maila walked over, immaculate in dress uniform. He had been involved with formation of the F-20 program from the start but maintained a discrete distance from administration of the force. Both Americans regarded him as a friend of Tiger Force, yet wondered at the man's apparent inability to perspire. Offering his hand to Bennett and Lawrence, he said, "Gentlemen, my heartiest congratulations. I saw the scores of your first graduating class's academic tests. Seventy percent are above our target median. I really must have our training people consult with you."
"We'll be right happy to oblige," Lawrence said.
Bennett winced. The guy talks like a Hollywood cowpoke. Who'd guess he grew up in Seattle?
"General, I will be returning home to visit my family during the next two weeks. As you know, this class will be on leave for that period. Colonel Lawrence will supervise the preflight stage for the next two classes in my absence."
The Saudi turned to examine the youngsters. ''Tell me, have you identified any of these young men as outstanding leaders?"
"Yes, sir, we certainly have. Two in particular. Rajid Hamir and Ahnas Menaf. Both are bright, well-motivated young men with excellent attitudes. They're extremely anxious to learn but they show maturity and self-reliance among their classmates. 1 would say they're the natural leaders of this class."
General Maila flashed a smile. "I am most pleased to hear of it, Colonel Bennett. You probably do not know, but Rajid Hamir is a nephew of Safad Fatah. I've known the family most of my life. 1 agree, the boy has much potential." He saluted crisply and walked away.
Lawrence looked at Bennett. "Did you know the Hamir kid was related to Fatah? 1 sure didn't."
"No. But it doesn't surprise me. Safad wouldn't want to give the impression to anyone that his nephew carried extra favor with us. It wouldn't have mattered if we'd known, of course, but I'm glad for Fatah's sake. He must be proud enough to pop his vest."
The redhead finished his iced tea. ''That's Safad's normal condition, from what I've seen."
"I wouldn't let the gentleman hear you say as much."
Bennett pondered the two cadets, both near the top of the class academically, both with considerable potential, but each so different temperamentally. Rajid, at nineteen, was shy almost to the point of being introverted. Studious and serious, he went out of his way to help classmates with academics. That alone made him popular.
Ahnas Menaf was two years older, more confident in himself.
Unlike 99 percent of Arab men, he had no mustache, but with a demeanor approaching debonair, he was admired by the younger cadets for his image. Bennett knew from academic records that the lad had ability. Time would tell whether the image fit the man.
Bennett caught the courier flight to Riyadh that evening. He had made a dinner date with Claudia Meyers; he had allowed just enough time to be with her before his departure for Rome and on to the States.
When Bennett arrived at Claudia's door she was fully prepared to go. He admired that about her. Each time he had called upon her in the previous six months-twice at the embassy and once at her apartment-she had been prepared. No shuffling of schedules, no role-playing delays to make him wait and demonstrate his desire to meet her terms.
They took a taxi to a nearby restaurant but Bennett declined a full meal. "I'm reading up on jet lag. It says you're not supposed to have much protein when traveling. Which is kind of tough on a confirmed steak-and-potatoes man."
"Surely they'll feed you on the plane."
"Yeah, I think so. By the way, I had to get an earlier flight to make connections for a nonstop from New York to San Diego. 1 leave ninety minutes earlier than planned."
"Oh… 1 had hoped we'd have more time." Her voice said as much about her disappointment as her words.
Bennett was pleased to know their rare visits meant as much to her as they did to him. A brief, awkward silence fell upon them as they studiously scanned their menus. Each felt that the other wanted to say more. Bennett had just screwed up his courage when the waiter approached to take their order. Claudia rattled off a long string of Arabic with obvious ease and the waiter bowed, then left.
Claudia smiled across the table. "I ordered for both of us. 1 hope you don't mind."
"Not a bit. Thanks. This is still new to me, you know. 1 don't get out very often-"
"Neither do I." She glanced down, then returned her gaze to Bennett. "It's awfully difficult for a single woman to develop a social life outside her profession here. I knew that when I came, but the reality of life in a Muslim country still can be a cultural shock to a Western career woman."