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I was glad to be able to duck out of the training course for a while. It was obviously going well but I’ve never seen myself as a natural teacher. Besides, I’d promised to meet up with Brad.
The lounge of the Emir’s castle was every bit as luxurious as I remembered it. I was sat comfortably on one of large leather sofas when the Emir emerged from another room and strode across to greet me, hand outstretched.
“Hey, Larry,” he boomed. “Good to see you. Been too long.”
I got to my feet and shook his hand. “Yeah, well, we’ve all been busy and I guess you have too.”
“Always busy, Larry, always busy. You know that. Not going to build a trade network over here without plenty of work.” He sat down in one of the armchairs. I took my place back on the sofa.
“So, how’s it going? The trade network?”
“Yeah, OK. Some of your British companies don’t seem to have worked out the benefits of exporting yet but we’re getting there. Too many of them think that Kushtia is some kind of third-world economy and they might never get paid.”
“Can’t you do anything to reassure them?”
“Well it’s difficult. There’s some government help on credit guarantee but that’s not the tack we’re taking. We’re spending more effort on convincing them that the risks are worthwhile; that the benefits outstrip the potential problems. The castle here has been a great help for that. I’ve got a couple of directors from a defence contractor enjoying a little Kushtian style hospitality in the castle keep at the moment. The two little Dutch dykes are putting on a show for them and they’ve got a couple of girls in traditional Kushtian costume who have been told that they had better see that these guys have a really good time. That seems to be helping.”
I smiled. “I guess that kind of thing always helps to oil the wheels.”
“Yeah, but it’s more like baby oil than Brent Crude,” Brad grinned. “It’s an uphill struggle, though. I’m not sure whether the benefits are enough to let us keep this place open in the long term.”
“That would be a shame,” I said.
Brad shrugged, “Things will work out one way or another. Don’t worry, I don’t see our requirements for your products reducing any. Hey and thanks for advice on the National Geographic article – the fuss died down soon enough apart from one thing which I want to talk to you about. That’s later though. I wanted to ask you a favour.”
“Happy to help if I can,” I said.
“Well, here’s the thing. Lauren’s getting married.”
“Terrific,” I said. “You must be very proud. I’d like to congratulate her.”
“Ah, well. That’s a bit of the problem. She doesn’t actually know yet. The Kushtian way is more, like, well, arranged than over here. The girl doesn’t get to choose like they do over here. And with me now working for the Ministry of Trade, I sort of have to do things the traditional way.”
I could imagine that Lauren wouldn’t be too impressed with the idea. “Still,” I said, “I’m told a lot of arranged marriages work out well. They just have to work at getting to know one another after the wedding.”
“Yeah, well, I guess so.” Brad seemed embarrassed by the whole thing. “I mean I didn’t really get to know her mother until after we were married. Who’d have thought she’d be the whoring, vengeful, shrew she turned out to be.” He gave a wry smile. “It’s just that Lauren’s bridegroom-to-be probably wouldn’t have been her first choice. He’s one of the leaders of the Hill Tribes, from way up in the north eastern highlands. Even in Kushtia they’re considered a bit, well, backward. He’s an old friend of my father’s and he has just been asked to become part of the Governing Council.”
“Good move for you,” I said. “and Lauren will probably think the whole hill top chief thing incredibly romantic.”
“Oh yes, it’s a good thing from my perspective,” Brad responded. “Definitely. But I’m not sure Lauren will get the romantic bit. He’s quite, he’s not, well, really her generation. There’s a bit of an age gap.”
“How bad?”
“Sixty.”
“Hey, I know a lot of sixty year old guys. They’re still able to give a girl a good time. She shouldn’t worry.”
“No, not sixty years old. A sixty year gap. He’s 78. And after 78 years in the Kushtian highlands you tend to get a bit grizzled.”
“Hmm, I see what you mean. I’m not sure how I can help, though.”
“Well, I’m not sure Lauren’s going to be real happy with the idea of going back to Kushtia with her new husband. I think Freddie said you guys have some great transport arrangements for less than willing travellers.”
I thought back to my first visit to the Prep Centre when Rick had shown me the despatch area and the way they used adapted cargo containers to air-freight product long haul. “Yeah, sure. We have these high class crates.”
“Well, I’d like to borrow one. Plus a bit of professional help to get Lauren crated up and safe for transport. Just, sort of, if things don’t work out when we tell her about going to Kushtia.”
“And when does that happen?”
“Just after we announce the engagement.”
From what I’d seen of Lauren I was pretty sure the crate would be needed. “I’m sure we can help,” I said.
“Terrific,” said Brad. “Let’s hope we don’t need it. Now, come and meet my future son-in-law.”
I hadn’t realised that Lauren’s husband-to-be was already here but I was happy to follow Brad down to meet him. He was sitting down in the bar beside the castle’s pool, dividing his attention between the wide screen TV and the girls swimming and diving in the pool. As he saw Brad and I approaching he got to his feet. He was short, bald, and weather beaten with skin the colour and texture of a walnut. He gave a phlegm laden cough.
“Larry, this is Kushnati Koresh, one of the Kushtian Council elders. Mr Koresh; Larry.” Kushnati Koresh nodded.
“Mr Koresh, I’m delighted.” He coughed again and wheezed, leaning forward on his stick. The three of us sat down. One of the girls brought us some drinks from the bar. It soon became obvious that Mr Koresh spoke hardly any English.
“Are you enjoying your stay here?” I asked, slowly.
“Arrgn,” he said with a smile that showed a mouth half filled with yellowed teeth. I took that for a “yes”.
“I expect that the countryside here is greener than you own home land?”
“Arrgn,” came the reply with another smile, this time accompanied by a hearty belch and a smell of soured yak’s milk that took my mind straight back to roadside food stalls that I’d carefully avoided in Kolin.
We hadn’t been sat down long when Lauren appeared, slouching along beside the pool. She peered at the three of us, blew a bubble of gum and then came over. Ignoring me and Mr Koresh, she spoke to her father. “I need to borrow the car.”
“Lauren,” Brad said, “say hello to Mr Koresh and Larry.”
“Yeah. Sure. Hi. Whatever.” She gave us a perfunctory wave. “Can I get the car keys?”
Brad fumbled in his pocket. “They’re in my jacket. I’ll come and find them.” He got to his feet.
“Great,” said Lauren. “Sorry to drag you away from the gimmers.” She smiled at us and stalked off.
Brad got up. “What can you do?” He shrugged his shoulders and followed his daughter.
Kushnati Koresh watched the two of them go. “Arrgn. Much to manage,” he said in a heavily accented voice. “But worth it.”
“I am sure she will make an excellent wife, Mr Koresh,” I said.
“Arrgn”. He reached inside his jacket and pulled a stained brown envelop from it. He pressed it into my hand and mimed to me that I should open it.
Inside, written in a carefully printed hand it said. “My father has asked me to write this as he does not speak English so well. He would like your help with a problem.”
I was getting used to being asked for help. The letter went on. “As part of an engagement it is usual for the bridegroom to present the father of the bride with some item of value to show his sound position and suitability as a husband for the daughter. I think the Emir has a great enthusiasm for young ladies and losing his daughter will be a blow of course. I think my gift should go some way to softening that blow. I want you to find a special girl. Someone that would bring the Emir great pleasure and compensate for the sadness he will feel in losing his daughter.”
I thought about the tantrums and temper that I had seen from Lauren and felt pretty comfortable with the idea of finding a girl that would offer some compensation. “Leave it with me,” I said, tucking the paper and the envelop in my pocket. “I’m sure that a suitable gift can be found.”
“Arrgn,” responded Mr Koresh, “
Brad reappeared “So are you going to be able to join us for the happy party?” he said. “We’re aiming to confirm the engagement on the 20th. I hope that you and Mr Clegg will be able to join us.”
“We would be delighted,” I said, but it didn’t give me much time to come up with Mr Koresh’s present to the Emir.
“I’ll get my PA to see to the details.” Brad pressed a button on a remote control handset. There was a squeal from an adjacent room and a woman came teetering in on stilt high heels. To my surprise it wasn’t Cindy. “Neat device, this,” said Brad waving the remote. “Press the button, she gets a little shock in her knickers and knows to come running.” The woman looked embarrassed rather than annoyed.
“Is Cindy not helping out in the office?” I asked.
“Nah,” said Brad. “I wanted to talk to you about that. Would you believe my lord and master back in Kushtia took a fancy to her and had me ship her out there. Very pleased with her he was but it’s left me short handed. This is one of the girls you shipped down as part of the domestic staff. Turns out she used to be a PA, so I switched her for Cindy. She’s not as cute but she’s OK,” The girl looked embarrassed, “Trouble is, Lauren wanted to carry on having use of Cindy but I couldn’t fight the top man could I? Letting my daughter have the use of Cindy had kept Lauren off my back which was sort of handy. Only trouble is Mr Koresh needs a companion while he’s here and he quite liked the look of Cindy – don’t you?”
“Arrgn,” said Kushnati Koresh with another toothy grin and a yak’s milk laden belch.
“I don’t suppose I could rent that Sarah girl again, could I?”
I said I’d see what I could do.
A squeal of tyres and crunching of gears from outside indicated that Lauren was on her way. Brad grimaced at the sound of tortured automobile. “You know, sometimes, I wish that my daughter was a little more dainty. She spends all her time in jeans and swears like a long-shore man. But what can you do?”
As Brad looked towards the window, I wasn’t certain if he was more worried for his daughter or his car. What I did notice, sitting in his open briefcase, was a copy of the fetish magazine Second Skin. On the cover was a picture of a well endowed, well corseted, young lady and the title “Burlesque Special : Newcomer Hettie Van Voom”. I nodded towards the picture. “Perhaps you were hoping for something more like that?” I said.
“Ain’t she something!” exclaimed Brad. “A bit different from Lauren, wouldn’t you say?”
“Hmm,” I agreed, leafing through the magazine at Brad’s invitation. “I don’t think Lauren could manage those heels with her trademark slouch.”
“And that much make-up wouldn’t go well with her scowl either,” Brad laughed.
It was all good fun but now I had a really good idea for Kushnati’s present. The only trouble was I wasn’t sure we could get things in line before the 20th. And Brad still hadn’t told me what the “one thing” was concerning the National Geographic article.
© 2006 Freddie Clegg
Download PDF copies of my other stories at my Yahoo
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http://groups.yahoo.com/group/freddies_tales/
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