Bennett wondered if she was as lonely as he, and decided she probably was. It was one more thing they had in common, aside from the growing physical attraction between them.
They discussed embassy gossip, regional politics, and Bennett's son. Claudia recalled a previous reference to Paul, and listened with interest as the aviator related his not entirely satisfactory story of the young man-a premature marriage and a child.
Claudia was relaxed enough to ask a personal question. "How are they going to get along like that? I mean, marriage is hard enough at any age, let alone in college. But with a child as well…"
"I've arranged a trust for them, only to be used in emergencies.
They don't even know about it. My attorney will notify them should the need arise. I guess it's best for Paul and his wife to have to make it on their own. If they do succeed, their marriage will be stronger for it." He paused, gathered his courage, and looked into her hazel eyes. "Claudia, have you ever considered marriage?"
She blinked, hesitated an instant, then felt relieved. Now we're getting somewhere. "I don't mind telling you I've had two proposals, John. I turned down both of them. The first was in college, the second a few years ago, from another foreign service officer. Neither would have worked. The first time, I was at UC Berkeley and got caught up in the excitement of the political activism, but we were too immature for marriage."
"I have a hard time imagining you as immature."
Claudia suppressed a smile. "Well, all right. He was too immature, caught up in radical politics. If he knew I'd defected to the establishment he'd demand return of the Che Guevara poster he gave me.”
"And the second guy wanted you to join him on a hardship post in Sierra Leone, right?"
"Not quite. We were both in Washington at the time. But our careers were competitive. It just wouldn't have worked." She shot Bennett a sly glance. "How about you? Ever think of remarrying?"
"Not seriously. After Elizabeth was killed in the car wreck I had my hands full raising Paul. He was in high school at the time and a little wild. He needed all my attention."
"That's about what I'd expect of you." Her tone was both admiring and sympathetic. "But surely there were plenty of eligible ladies in La Jolla."
"Oh, sure. I was out of the Navy by then but I still knew lots of women. Cruise widows we call them, wives whose husbands are at sea. Actually it was a pretty tame arrangement. I'd help them with repairs around the house and they'd fix me dinner once in a while."
Their meal arrived and Bennett cautiously tasted his entree. It was a rather bland mixture of vegetables with small portions of meat which he seasoned to his own taste.
She said, "Go ahead, silly. It's safe. It's lamb stirred into a mixture of herbs and vegetables. I'd tell you the name but you'd never remember it. Just trust me that it's what a traveler needs."
Half joking, half serious, Bennett said, "I don't remember what the Koran says about mixing cuisine. Guess I'll have to read up on it during the flight home."
Claudia leaned her chin in one hand, regarding Bennett with increased interest. "I wouldn't have picked you as a student of religion. "
"Well, normally I'm not. But when I was asked to consider this job, I studied a synopsis of the Koran and have read most of it in translation. I'm just trying to see things from the Saudi viewpoint."
"What do you make of the writings of the Prophet?" Claudia was on firm ground-she had read the Koran in Arabic twice. All one hundred and fourteen suras.
"Most of it's pretty heavy going. For me, anyway. The organization makes no sense, if I understand it right. You know-the short, easily read suras last, which I think were written first. And the imbalance between the Meccan and Median revelations. No wonder it took Muhammad twenty-one years to get all of the text. He must have hardly known which parts came in what order."
Claudia smiled. "Remember, he was beloved of God. When he was gone-"
"Yeah, 632 A.D."
"When he died in June 632," she went on, "the suras were written from memory and organized by the caliph Uthman, who had scholars prepare a definitive version. Enough people knew the writings by heart that it could be done."
They continued discussing the holy book until it was time to leave. Claudia realized Bennett's interest in regional politics had led him to an understanding of the rift in Muslim doctrine: the Shiites believing that only direct descendants of Muhammad, through his daughter Fatima, could lead Islam; the Sunnis adopting a case for individual merit, much as tribal leadership was decided. Though Shiism was the decided minority in the Arab world, it was the dominant sect in Iran. By contrast, Iraq's population was nearly evenly divided while most other nations-Egypt, Syria, Jordan, and Saudi Arabia, to name the more prominent-were Sunni.
Conversely, Bennett was impressed with Claudia's detailed knowledge of the historical Koran: the comparison between Biblical figures described in the Old and New Testaments-Noah, Moses, Abraham, and Jesus. It occurred to him that the three great religions spawned in this volatile region had as much in common as they had to dispute.
Bennett escorted Claudia home and stepped inside just long enough to kiss her decorously on the cheek. But he felt her press close against him and her hand went to the nape of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her, their mouths met, and he felt her lips part in the beginning of a long, delicious kiss. Then he turned to go.
"John." He glanced over his shoulder. "I pray that you have a safe trip and a wonderful reunion with your son. Fii arnaah illaah. Go in the care of God. "
"Masaa' il-khayr," he replied, touching her cheek. Claudia laughed appreciatively before closing the door. "Good evening" was more a greeting than a sign of leaving, but it mattered little. John Bennett offered possibilities that Claudia Meyers had not considered in years.
The morning after Bennett's flight left for Rome and New York, Safad Fatah met with two other Saudi officials. He was very un-Arabic in his direct manner.
"Our pilot training program is proceeding on schedule. The first class completed preliminary instruction this week, and two more classes have entered the same phase. It appears we shall have our hundred and fifty F-20 pilots in barely two years with the rapid curriculum. "
Tewfig al Aziz, the economics specialist, expressed cautious concern. ''That is as we expected, it is not? But how long will it take until all of those pilots are qualified for combat? And what about the maintenance personnel?"
Fatah raised a placating hand. "The instructors still insist that each pilot should have two to three years experience beyond post-graduate training. That is, after the eight months following graduation from flying school and commissioning as officers. 1 do not dispute that claim. Nor do 1 take for granted the quality of our support people. Clearly, we must continue to rely upon our contract foreigners for quite some time. But the important thing is, we should have adequate numbers of trained Saudis in flying and maintenance positions to tide us over. If relations are broken with the Americans in eighteen months, we can draw upon our own resources for pilots and many of the technicians."
Aziz shifted his tiny coffee up. "Very well. What then about the additional aircraft?"
"That is why I wished to meet so soon. His Majesty has asked me to report on our options to lease or purchase the machines currently held or ordered by other nations." He looked to the third man.
Ali Abd Musad was a forty-nine-year-old retired air force officer who had been a Saudi attache to Ankara and Rabat. Fatah had chosen him two years before for a long-term project which, in fact, might never come to fruition. But in the meantime, if the need arose, Musad's exceptionally fine contacts could prove invaluable.