The Panther - By Nelson Demille Page 0,160

mean, for five million bucks, I’d even go to Brooklyn to meet Musa in his new deli.

Kate was looking a bit tense, so I patted her cheek and said, “Don’t forget your veil when you meet the sheik.”

Anyway, after about a half mile, Tariq turned off the road onto a goat path or something, and up ahead I could see six white SUVs parked around a stone hut. Tariq stopped, and Chet got out and said to us, “Okay, let’s go meet the sheik.”

So we threw our bags out, opened the tailgate, and jumped down.

Tariq did a U-turn and off he went, back to the road to collect the transponders for the next idiots who wanted to land on a road at night. Hopefully that would be the Otter coming back to pick us up.

The stone hut was another fifty meters up the goat trail, so Chet said to leave our stuff there, and he and Buck led the way toward the hut. Kate remembered to wrap her hijab over her hair and around her face, and Buck suggested we sling our rifles as a show of trust and respect. Hey, why don’t we just drop our rifles and walk with our heads tilted back to make it easier for them to slit our throats? Is that culturally sensitive enough?

Anyway, we were long, long past the point of no return on this one, so we strode confidently and cheerfully toward the hut, humming, “We’re off to see the wizard.”

No one was coming to greet us, so we marched right up to the hut. I would have knocked, but there was no door.

Buck entered first and called out, “As-salaam alaikum!”

No one shot him, and I heard several voices returning the greeting, “Wa alaikum as-salaam!” Did someone say, “It’s jambiyah time”?

Buck invited us to enter, and we all squeezed through the short, narrow doorway into the small hut.

The hut was lit with two kerosene lamps that hung from the ceiling beams, and around the stone walls, sitting on nice carpets, were six bearded gentlemen in white robes, wearing jambiyahs. All of them had AK-47s leaning against the walls, and in front of them were little piles of green leaves, the breakfast of champions.

One guy was resplendent in his snow white robes and jeweled jambiyah, and his head was crowned with a shiwal that looked like it was embroidered in gold. Must be the sheik.

Buck said to us, “It is customary that we all greet each man, individually, using your first name, beginning with the most senior. Follow my lead.” He informed us, “They will not stand, but that is not a sign of disrespect.” He further advised, “Kate, you just stand by the entrance. Eyes on the floor, please.”

I need a picture of this.

Anyway, Buck began by greeting Sheik Musa, the guy with the golden hat, and Sheik Musa made the intro to the guy next to him, whom Buck greeted in Arabic, as Chet greeted Sheik Musa in English, and Musa replied in Arabic, and Mr. Brenner was now calling himself Bulus, and round we went, Bedouin by Bedouin. The Arabs don’t generally shake hands, but we all nodded our heads in respect. Hi, I’m John. What’s your name again? Another Abdul. At some point in the round-robin I got confused and greeted Zamo.

Anyway, that over, the American men were invited to sit, and Buck advised Kate to keep standing near the door. So we five gentlemen squeezed in between the six Bedouin, whose deodorant had quit a few weeks ago.

Sheik Musa said something and Buck said to us, “The sheik offers us khat, but we will decline. It’s all right to say no.”

I protested, “Let’s have some khat, Buck.”

Buck said something to the sheik and he nodded, then ordered one of his guys to pass around bottled water from a crate. Brenner, who was closest to Kate, passed a bottle to her. Then someone passed a pizza-sized piece of flatbread, and everyone broke off a piece. Pass the Cipro, please. Kate took a piece of bread from Brenner, though I didn’t see how she could eat or drink without dropping her scarf and causing a ruckus. Not my problem. I was a man amongst men. Fuck Manhattan. Fuck 26 Federal Plaza. Hello Bedouin. Where’s my camera?

So with cocktails and hors d’oeuvres served, Buck addressed Sheik Musa in Arabic, and the sheik was listening intently, or he was wasted on khat, and he nodded a few times. Some of the other

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