Florence of Arabia (18 page)

"We need to gel this out, put it on the news."

"Whoa, whoa. Negative. Who are you, Bob Woodward? This is all off the record. No one outside the palace knows about this. They don't want anyone to know about it. for obvious reasons. You go puttin' this on TV, all hell's gonna break loose."

"Then why did you tell me?"

"So you can keep your head down. I sure didn't tell you so's you could go wavin' red flags in their faces."

"Bobby, this is why we came here in the first place."

"Yo. Flo of Arabia, listen up for a second. We did not—let me say it again—
not
come here to start a war between Wasabia and
Matar
. Are we on the same page here? I'll bet you a million dollars—which I can access, now that I know how to fix a damn slot machine—that our Uncle Sam would agree with me on this."

"May I remind you that this isn't your operation? You're along here to provide security and intelligence. And all you've managed to do thus far is shoot up a garage and alert the French secret services to our presence here. Are
we
on the same page now?"

"If you don't want to listen to me, why don't you call Uncle Sam and ask him his opinion of the situation? Inasmuch as he's payin' our salaries."

"I'll do just that. But what about the princess?"

"I'd say it's not lookin' great for the princess." "What do we know?" "Is this off the record?"

"Who are you. Deep Throat? What do we know?"

"Sounds bad. We picked up some references in the chatter to lapidation."

"L
apidalion? Stoning?"

"Thi
s wasn't exactly
the brightest thing she could ‘v
e done. Embarrass her husband, the king, in front of all his ministers? Hell, I wouldn't do that back in Alabama."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saving that Princess H
amzin is in for a real rough ride." "We can't just abandon her, Bobby." "What do you mean? She's not wor
king for us." "But this is our f
ight. This is our revolution. We started it." "Wait a minute. We didn't tell her lo
storm into her husband's meeting and give everyone the f
inger."

"Have you ever
seen
a lapidation?"

"Well, no, but what's that got to do with it?"

"I have. A video clip, anyway. She couldn't have be
en older than nineteen. Adultery
. They use small stones so it takes longer. It was awful, Bobby."

"I don't doubt it for a second, but look, Flo, we got to keep our eye on the big picture here. You go public with somethin' like this, and they're gonna know exactly how you came by the information, and this whole thing is gonna come down on your head. And they won't be throwin' small stones, either. Giant big fuckin' rocks the size of—"

"Bobby, this is the moment. This is Aqaba. We can't back down now. We can't just leave her lo die."

"Dammit, girl, what did you
think
was
going to happen? That broadcast
in' all this feminist crap into a kingdom that's still back in the fourteenth century was gonna result in some conference or somethin'? That there'd be panel discussions with everyone wearing name tags? And that they'd say, 'Oh, why, you're quite right, wise American lady, you're absolutely right, we shouldn't be persecutin' our women like this. How medieval of us! Okay, ladies, throw away your veils, this way to the drivers-license window. And just to demonstrate how liberal we're gonna b
e—we're not even gonna chop off
your little heads anymore!' Is that how
you
thought this was going to play out? This is the Middle Last! The cradle of
destabilization,
mother of all tar babies, the planet's longest-runnin' argument! Don't you understand that since the dawn of time, startin' with the Garden
of
Eden,
nothing has ever gone right here?
And nothing ever will go right here."

"Then what are we doing here?"

"From the looks of it,
fuckin' things up even worse. But at least we're consistent. That ought to be our motto: 'U.S. foreign Policy in the Middle Mast: Making Matters Worse." Flo? You there? Talk to me. Florence. Flo! Dammit, girl..."

Florence called
Laila
. "I have to see you. It's urgent."

"It's not t
he best time." L
aila said. "Gazzy s in a foul temper. He's had all sorts
of calls. Something's going on,
and he won't tell me."

"I think I know what it is, but I
don't want to explain over the phone."

"I don't think it's wise to annoy him right now by being seen together. I know it's all absurd, but we oughtn't feed this ridiculous rumor."

"It's important." Florenc
e said. "I wouldn't otherwise, C
hartwell Mall, by the Sta
rbucks. I'll be outside by the f
icus tree."

"Is this wise, darling, to be hitting the mall at a time like this?"

FLORENCE WATCHED THROUGH the mesh opening in her lace veil. The woman approaching her was dressed from head to toe in a white
ab
aaya.
She approached and stood there, looking about uncertainly. "It's me." Florence said.

"God
be praised"
Laila
said. "Look at us both. 1 feel like a guest on
Cher Azade."

They sat by the f
icus tree as the bourgeoisie, haute, middle and low of Matar ambulated past in the Muzak hush of the mall.

"I
managed to elude my bodyguards by slipping out the back of the dressing room at Ralph Lauren. They are inept. God forbid someone should actually try to assassinate me. Well, what's all this enormous urgency about?"

Flore
nce told Laila about Princess H
amzin. Laila absorbed the news in silence.

"I met her once. She's the prettiest of Tallulah's wives, not that that will help her. God, what
could
she have been thinking?"
Laila
sighed. Her head turned toward the Starbucks.

"Hundreds of years ago—perhaps a thousand—this area right here was a souk. Teeming with merchants and ships and caravans. Some of the first coffee ever drunk In Europeans passed through here. Now we have Starbucks. Thus
do we progress. Well. Firenze. I
must say, you seem to be very well informed about all
sorts of things. What else do y
ou have t
o tell me outside Starbucks? H
ave you gotten me mixed up in some sort of CIA operation after all?"

"I
don't really know who I'm working for." Florence said.

"That
smacks of evasion."

"I know how it must sound. But the truth is, I don't. There's this man who calls himself Uncle Sam—"

"I really don't want to hear this."
Laila
said angrily. "If I'm going to end up in a prison cell, I'd rathe
r not have anything they want. Y
ou might have told me, Florence."

"That's what everyone tells me these days." For once. Florence was glad to be wearing a veil. She felt tears welling up. "I'm sorry. I'd been looking for the right moment to tell you."

"It's not that I hadn't wondered."
Laila
said in a slightly softer tone. "It did occur. I mean. I'm not a fool. But it was all going so well that I concluded it couldn't possibly be a CIA operation. They always turn out so badly. And now ... So. your Mr. Bobby, then—it was him in the garage."

"Yes. It was self-defense."

"It always is. What was he doing there in the first place?" "Checking out Maliq's car. He found out it was rigged. The black smoke, the miracle, it was a fake to provide an excuse for his religious conversion." "So... we're to have a coup, then?"

"I can arrange to
get y
ou and your son out of
the country." Florence said. L
aila stood. "Thank you. but I think you've been enough help as it is."

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

F
lorence returned
t
o her office, thoroughly depressed, to the news from her
secretary
that "your uncle" had called.

"He didn't say which uncle. H
e seemed to think you'd know."

Florence did know; and she knew furthermore that it was no
t a call she wanted. She dialled,
Uncle Sam picked up halfway through the first ring, never a good start. She could hear the hissing of steam from his ears.

"What in the name of all that is holy do you think you're
doing
over there?" he spluttered.

"I see Bobby
has given you a fill."

"A fill? Is
that
what
you call it? Jumping Jehoshaphat
, you can't go revealing this information on
television!
Do you have any idea how sensitive it is?"

Florence felt a certain weariness. It occurred to her that she had spent most of her time in the government arguing. "I told Laila I'm with the government," she said.

"What? You did... what?"

"As long as vou're mad at me. you might as well be really mad." "Why would you
do
such a thing?" "I was tired of deceiving her. I think she knew anyway." "Florence," he said, his tone quite changed. "I'm pulling you out of there, effective immediately. You've done a dandy
job. But you're tired. You need
some stateside time. Better still, a couple of days in Paris or London, sho
pping—on your uncle's dime. H
ow does that sound?"

"You sent me here to start a revolution. Now you want me to go shopping?"

"Oh. for heaven
's sake, lighten up. young lady
. I'm not trying to make some big chauvinistic point. If you'd rather go to a museum, go to a museum. I'm all in favor of culture."

"That's very progressive of you."

"Florence, if you put this story about the prince
ss on the air, it will— Oh,
how do I explain?" "In English?"

"English. Very well, I'll give you a perfect English parallel. In World War Two, Churchill found out the Germans were going to bomb Coventry. But il he warned the people in Coventry, the Germans would find out the British had broken their code. So he let the Germans bomb Coventry. And people died. But he won the war."

"In other words, one has to be ruthless."

"Exactly. Exactly."

"Thank you, Uncle Sam. You've clarified the situation for me."

"I knew you'd understand. I'll send the plane for you. Gosh, you must be just knackered. And what a job you've done. What a job. Think of a week in a suite at Le Brist
ol on the rue du Faubourg St. H
onore. My favorite hotel. Sleep late, massage, the
museums
..."

"It sounds wonderful."

"I'll be there when the plane lands. I'll be the one holding a sign at baggage claim!"

"Bye, Uncle Sam."

FLORENCE
CALLED
IN
Fatima Sham and handed her the script for th
e broadcast. Fatima read it. H
er eves shot up from the script.

"I haven't
seen anything yet on this. Is it
exclusive?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Our source?"

"Reliable."

"Ah," Fatima said. "I see
."

"This could be your big break, Fatima."

"Yes. It might even lead to a job in legitimate journalism. Florence, this seems a good lime to ask." "Shoot."

"Are
we some sort of CIA operation?"

"I'm not really sure myself." Florence sighed. "That must sound terribly evasive."

"Well"—Fatima smiled—"it does, yes."

"We probably are, one way or the other. But it is also true that this girl in Kalfa is going to be killed if we don't do anything about it. And now you know everything I do."

"Oh dear," Fatima said. "And I thought we were doing such a jolly good job."

"I thought so, too. I should tell you something else. Reporting this story won't make you any friends in Wasabia. And the situation here could change. We've stirred up the adder bed. I'll understand if you'd rather not go on the air with this. I could do it myself, but that would give the other side ammunition to use against us."

Fatima looked at the script. "We can't just let them stone her to death. I'd better hit the phones, see what I can dig up." At the door
, she stopped and said, "Whatever happens, good f
or you, Florence."