CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Yardage to the Green
For an unauthorized airport, Khalid's was tastefully decorated and sported a restful passenger lounge. The stucco work, a light cream color displayed under soft lighting, was classical in motif and handsomely complemented the authentic art deco design. Kamir guided me to a cushioned chair and provided me with tea, then disappeared out the door addressing himself in his native language. Across the oblong room, a bench stretched the length of the wall. Above it, a set of a narrow windows looked out on the alleyway airstrip, where a team of aspiring baggage handlers could be heard offloading the contents of the little plane that did. Relaxed and rested, I took in stride the ringing of my phone.
"Baron, I'm almost in Tunis."
"Pat! How in the world --"
"Don't ask. No time to tell the story. Bridgework, Moeziz and Brat are on my trail. You have got to find the flash drive immediately and leave for Paris."
"Paris already? But if I get this CerebStix, I'll be ahead two to one. It won't matter --"
"It does matter! The Paris flash drive contains a command function to activate the Tunis flash drive. The Tunis flash drive contains a command function to activate the Machu Picchu flash drive. Ergo, the Machu Picchu lights up the Mount Rushmore."
"And Mount Rushmore activates Paris. A tautological chain of activation it would seem."
"Redundant security at its finest."
"Each one padlocking the next."
"Except," Pat's voice took on a tone of urgency, "Chip/Silly claims he can reprogram the Paris drive to open itself and commence operations."
"But that only gives him one quarter of the puzzle, friend."
"And that's all he wants, Baron! He's dumping Bridgework, but Bridgework doesn't know it yet."
"For crying out loud, why can't they stay they keep their transgressions united?" I winced at the thought of having to rake through the sludge of Chip/Silly's crackpot mind to plot his apprehension. "Now I've got two financial rogues to deal with! Where's Angel?"
"She, Ethelene and Stinky are headed to Paris under the control of Chip/Silly and the Holsteins. His offer is to trade them one on one for each of the outstanding drives."
"Stinky equating to Machu Picchu. Angel being Tunis."
"If you take control of Tunis before Bridgework."
"And Ethelene swapped for Mount Rushmore."
"Should Bridgework decide she's worth it."
"Got it, Pat. Look me up when you arrive."
"Where are you? Get me some directions. Hurry."
"No directions needed, sport. Simply ask around for Khalid the airport owner and gandora distributor. That will connect us in no time." I just finished fitting the adaptor to my cell recharger and plugging it into the sole wall outlet when the door shot back, allowing entrance for nine intimidating men. I stood quickly to greet them, only to find myself the objective of six shiny swords and three modern handguns.
"Horn! A polite greeting and smile would be sufficient, eh what?" Karim's arrival was a welcomed sight. "I introduce you to Khalid." Behind him entered a giant of a man, wearing the neutrally stern expression of a high school principal and a gandora emblazed with the Seattle Seahawk crest, its shoulder piping corresponding to the team's steel blue and dark navy ornamentation.
"Your appearance brings great honor to the Emerald City, sir," I said, bowing while keeping my eyes forward on the impressive exhibition of weaponry. Straightening up, I found myself looking another six inches higher to make eye contact with the extraordinary gentleman.
"Yesterday I brought honor to the state of Minnesota."
"Go Vikings!" Karim fist-pumped the air, drawing a stony scowl from his leader. "Hey, it's been our best seller over the past six weeks."
"Tomorrow will be the day for Chargers of San Diego."
"Go Bolts! Air Coryell, eh chum?" Karim's effervescence was a bit too upbeat, suggesting at the moment our lives, if not in grave danger, were at the two-minute warning mark.
"Baron von dek Horn at your disposal." I extended my hand graciously.
"But never the New Orleans Saints."
"It's a shame, actually --"
"'T'is more the pity," Karim added, "I told Khalid of your brilliant plan."
"My plan? Please, I shouldn't take all the credit, Khalid. You see, it was our thinking, your young cousin and I, that we should --"
"You ruin my reputation! My reputation is money! Money is my business! Business is my gandoras." Khalid swung around wildly, scattering his posse against the wall.
"Another quadrilateral dilemma. Ironically, I too have a problem related in a four way sense --"
"Tough toenail," Khalid shot back, unconcerned with anything but the Saint gandoras. "Explain yourself in one minute or less."
"Alright then. We decided --"
"It was all Horn, Khalid. All Horn."
"That in order to dominate the French gandora market, we needed a barb to hook our prospective francophone clientele, to wit delving into the heart of their culture. What better avenue than that of the fleur de lis, I ask? Not only do you have a readymade audience awaiting you in Morocco, thereby saving on shipping and distribution costs, but may I suggest you consider direct export to the homeland of Marseillaise itself? Certainly, for what these fine garments could bring at retail, you would fleece any Parisian and their fellow countrymen at a cost more than covering the necessary transportation expenditure. A sample pricing strategy might be to double your markup and add fifty percent. That would remove any and all sting from the deal."
I read Khalid's enigmatic expression as one of doubt and opted to quickly retreat to my fallback and rally point position.
"Which leads into the second part of our campaign. I apologize for not having prepared a PowerPoint presentation. I want you to consider the North American market for obvious reasons, foremost the vertical export trading company that would derive income from likeminded expansive traders such as yourself. Also, you should explore the diversification this would bring your product line. The Boston Celtic Shamrock. The Baltimore Oriole. The famed Detroit Red Wing --"
"Detroit Rock City!"
"Are all additional possibilities which are readily achievable with your production processes and methods presently in place. Certainly I don't have to point out the increase in customer base that such a move would bring. My goodness, the gandoras would literally sell themselves, wouldn't they?"
"Excuse, please," one of the more reasonable backbenchers raised a hand, "but what of apparel licensing and marketing rights to team logos?"
"Excellent question, my good man, one I'm glad you asked. It just so happens all such copyrighted material can indeed be licensed. The long and short of it is this. Everything is, in today's sporting world, for sale."
"But who could help us with this?"
"I would be glad to serve as your intermediary, indeed. My counsel Justin Minge and his firm, Bollocks, Bonk and Minge, are just the very legalese people needed for all potential litigious matters. It would bring great pleasure for me to make an introduction on your behalf." Without checking my watch I smiled, perfectly confident on having come in under the sixty second corporate presentation guideline.
"We can make him pay for the gandoras, Khalid," Karim offered, hedging his bet. "And make another order of them again for him, if it would please you."
"You would help us exploit United States' consumer?" Khalid projected an odd look in his eye. "Sell our goods in Great Satan's playground?"
I hesitated for a moment. "I would prefer to think of this as a purely capitalistic arrangement. You're providing jobs for your fellow citizens, aiming to make a profit for the risk you take. I am merely opening a door for you to walk through, helping the small business owner succeed, as it were."
"What do you want in return?" His voice was deep and ominous. "There is no free lunch here or in Trowbridge. This I know firsthand."
"Now that you mention it, I do have a list of items requiring assistance," I sai
d, tapping a finger to my chin as if in serious contemplation. "I have a riddle in need of a solution, which will then lead me to a missing item. There is a friend of mine coming to visit Tunis whom I need to be in touch with. Finally, I'm seeking direct transportation to Paris immediately upon the completion of these tasks."
"That is all?"
"Actually, no. I could stand to take some Saints gandoras with me for advance sales, yes? Kind of get the ball rolling, so to speak. Greasing the necessary skids."
"Karim," Khalid turned to the younger man, "did you plan all this?"
"Some of it, I suppose," he shrugged. "I thought he was a boffo chum from Trowbridge, so I liked the old bean."
"This is a good plan," Khalid nodded slowly, narrowing his eyes, "a very good plan."
"Of course, I did recruit Horn over Kamal's objections, Khalid. I'm always looking out for good sources of business."
"Kamal did not like the old bean?"
"He did not think any of it a good idea, Khalid." Karim looked at me to provide underpinning for his tale. "Kamal, he said, 'Send Khalid the Saint gandoras. Let Khalid the bigshot deal with problem, just like he does with coffeemaker in the morning.' I said no. Let me find savvy Western man to pave way for solution. Horn showed up immediately like the good sport he is."
"Is this true, Horn?"
"Yes, to an imprecise extent." Eyeing the pleading Karim, I realized it was time to hitch myself to his rising star and hopefully land on both feet in Paris. "Karim possesses a keen mind for promotion and sales. I really don't see how you would operate successfully without him."
A lengthy animated confab ensued, one which ably illustrated the minute disparity between celebration and savagery. I sat as a party of one in the bleachers, uncertain as to which side was winning and for whom I should be cheering. The good part of an hour passed, during which time Karim's behavior ranged from dancing an uncultivated jig to later dropping on his knees sobbing hysterically when a Saints gandora was brought in for review and modeling. The proceedings came to an abrupt conclusion upon Khalid's final statement, which again presented difficulty interpreting which emotion -- and what action -- had triumphed during the discourse. Silence fell upon the room as all eyes turned toward me.
"Here," Karim said, looking somber yet resolved as he tossed me a Saints gandora. "Wear this. You are now walking billboard."
"Thank you, I suppose." I traded off the old gandora Karim had procured in Oujda for the new one, much to my delight well-made and comfortably fitting.
"Khalid agrees with us. He agrees with your terms. He grants you two requests."
"With all due respect," I said, adjusting the robe, "I believe there were three conditions on my part."
"Is true, Horn. And one has been fulfilled."
With that, the door on the far end of the room thrust open. There stood Pat Aundybach looking, with the exception of a black eye, no worse for his travels. "Baron!"
"Pat, my boy! So good to see you!" We heartily shook hands.
"Enough reunion," Khalid interjected. "Now to solve puzzle." He summoned forward one of the bystanders who, with his black-framed glasses, bore a passing resemblance to a well-tanned Buddy Holly. "Hasan. Here, now."
"Hasan is our puzzle master," Karim said reverently. "He is champion. Brilliant, I say there's a good fellow. He solves New York Times crossword in matter of minutes. Does Sunday version with ink pen, no less. Speak your strange code to him."
"Very well." I gave Pat a look of relief, reluctant to converse with him for fear of upsetting the prevailing positive vibes. "Final drive. Carthage links. Tunis."
Karim translated the passage, taking much longer than expected, then patted Hasan on the shoulder. The intellect, in turn, began a pace of the room with his eyes focused on the ceiling. Occasionally, he stopped and withdrew a small sheaf of paper from his pocket, scribbling down a thought before resuming his abbreviated walk. After several minutes, he grabbed Karim's shoulder and whispered into his ear.
"You seek more than one item?" Karim asked.
"Yes."
"Is the one who sent you to find it," Karim said, struggling for the correct words, "would that person be athletic?"
The pleasant imagery of the night spent with Angel in her cabin on the Gangrene filled my mind. "Very much so."
Karim relayed my answers to Hasan. In an excited outburst, Hasan pushed Karim into Khalid and announced in rapid fire his findings to the room, swinging his arms in unison at the floor.
"Quickly if you want your item!" Karim announced. "Khalid does not have all day for you!"
"Where are we off to?" I gathered up my bags, feeling adrenalin flooding through my veins. "What must we do?"
"We, my good friends, have a tee time."
Baril de Singes [Barrel of Monkeys] Page 48