Harsh Oases by Paul di Filippo Read Free Book Online Page B

for the pair with only a driver and luggage—was winding away slowly uphill, their occupants looking quite conscious of the ridiculous image they presented. I smiled broadly at al-Qasiini when he glowered back at me. It was perhaps not the wisest thing to do, but I couldn’t resist.
    Back in my office, I sent for Tanager. He took a while to arrive, and when he did, looked sort of beat. I knew he had spent a rough night tending a rowdy crowd intent on celebrating the successful landing of the unmanned Mars Rover. (I doubted that half the celebrants even knew whether Mars was in the solar system or not, but the motto of the Hesperides was: “If it hasn’t happened before, it’s a reason to party.”)
    “The Major and his group have arrived. I’m not sure how long they plan to stay. I guess it all depends on when he’s needed in Washington for the negotiations. In any case, we’ve got to be a little sharper while he’s around. I don’t want any of his bozos trampling our other residents or their guests.”
    Tanager nodded wearily, and, feeling sorry for him, I said, “I’m sorry about being shorthanded, Bert. I’ll press headquarters about sending us someone fast. But we can’t take just anyone. We tried that last time, and you know what happened.”
    “I understand,” said Tanager, and left.
    The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully. I was just getting ready to leave for the day when a visitor let himself in. I had been half expecting this man, or someone of his ilk.
    “Hello, Dick. How’s life with the NSA? What’re you up to lately?”
    Rangley smiled wryly. “I can’t answer that, Leon. Besides, you know those initials stand for ‘No Such Agency.’”
    I had known Rangley since my days with the LAPD, when we had worked together on various cases of national importance, and we had been going through this identical ritual exchange of dialogue ever since.
    “I assume you’re here about the Major.”
    “Of course. I just want to impress on you, Leon, how important Zaid and his country are to us. If it was up to me, we’d have him stashed away out of the public’s eye in a safe house somewhere. But he is the head of his nation, and he’s stubbornly insisted on buying this house and spending his time here. It’s this reputation the Hesperides has as a playground of the rich. It’s irresistible to someone like Zaid, who’s hardly ever left his own country before, and is out now to flaunt his new stature and the global importance of his nation.”
    I was as aware of the Mideast situation as any ardent newsbuff could be, but I tried to probe Rangley now for his insider’s view. “Is the unification of North and South Yemen really that crucial? It’s not as if they’re big oil producers or anything .…”
    Rangley looked uneasy, and it flickered across my mind that I had said something important. But for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what. I filed the notion away for later.
    “It’s true they don’t have any petro-resources,” he said. “But the chance to bring South Yemen out of the Soviet sphere is too vital to pass up, in and of itself. The Russians have their hands full consolidating their hold on Greece, and battling the Turkish-Afghani incursion into Kazakhstan. They’re quite willing to relinquish South Yemen as a client-state, now that Zaid has made overtures of unification. But the whole process has to be conducted with the utmost delicacy. Zaid’s the linchpin. He seems to be popular in both his native North and neighboring South, and he’s acceptable to not only our government but also the Russians. Without him, the whole scheme fails. We have to keep him safe and happy.”
    “I’ll wait on him hand and foot.”
    Rangley said dryly, “That won’t be necessary. He has enough retainers. Just make sure he doesn’t break his fool neck diving or something, and we’ll be happy.”
    “Okey-doke.”
    Rangley had been holding a package wrapped in brown paper all this