Twisting the barrel to cause the antenna to shoot out, April said in a low voice, "Calling Section Two."
After a moment Alexander Waverly's voice said, "Yes, Miss Dancer?"
"I just arrived at the oasis, sir. I haven't had an opportunity to look for Mark Slate yet. There are four rather large buildings and one smaller one near the oasis. Beyond them is a partially completed steel tower somewhat resembling an oil tower."
"Part of the launching pad," Waverly said. "Mr. Slate already described the physical setup in one of his reports before he was taken. Is Maxim Karsh there?"
"Yes, sir," April said. "He finally seems satisfied that I'm harmless, because he knew I was coming and my room isn't bugged."
"Good. Report back as soon as you learn what happened to Mr. Slate. And keep on the lookout for that Moslem prayer medallion."
"Yes, sir," April said. Then, hearing approaching footsteps, she added hurriedly, "Someone is coming," and twisted the barrel of the fountain pen to make the antenna disappear.
April had dropped it back into her bag and was touching up her lipstick when Konya appeared with a steaming earthenware jug balanced on her head.
"This is only the hot," the girl said as she decanted it into the bathtub. "You must wait until I also bring the cold."
ELEVEN
THE GIRL FROM THE OUTSIDE
April Dancer had no opportunity all afternoon to find out what had happened to Mark Slate. She did her best by suggesting after lunch that she would like to see the oil-drilling operation.
"It's too dangerous while drilling is going on," Ranjit told her. "If they happened to strike a gusher while we were nearby, the whole tower might blow up in the air and come down on our heads."
April couldn't decide whether to resent his considering her stupid enough to swallow this, or be pleased that she had convinced him she knew so little about oil-drilling operations.
The sheik suggested a ride on the desert.
"I don't have any riding clothes with me," she said.
Ranjit had a surprise for her. He had accurately estimated her measurements and had brought back from London a complete riding habit in anticipation of her visit. April had no choice but to agree to the ride.
They spent the entire afternoon on a horseback ride across the desert. It was insufferably hot, and April got the peculiar impression that the sheik had insisted on it as a kind of test of her ability to be a desert queen. Since she had no desire to make him lose interest in her at this point, she managed to pretend that she thoroughly enjoyed the ride. The sheik was quite obviously impressed by April's ability to tolerate the oppressive heat. Apparently, the girl remained cool and collected.
They reined in their horses atop a tall sand dune which gave them a view of the endless waste for several miles.
"I find beauty in the desert," the sheik said. "But perhaps it is because I was born and grew up here. Most westerners see only the sand and feel only the heat."
That was all April could see and feel, but she said with enthusiasm, "There is beauty in it, Ranjit. I really love it."
Ranjit was obviously delighted with April's reaction.
It began to cool by the time they got back to the oasis at six. When April Dancer entered her room at last, she found Konya preparing another bath.
"I saw you ride in," she said. "I knew you would want to freshen up after your hot ride."
April stripped off her riding habit, bathed quickly and put on a cool white dress. She joined the sheik in the main room of the tent at a quarter of seven. The only other person present was the Arab guard just inside the entrance to the tent.
The sheik took both her hands and smiled down into her face. "Now that you have seen my home, have you come to any decision?"
She glanced at the Arab guard. "I would rather not discuss such a personal matter in front of people, Ranjit," April said in a low voice.
"Orkhim? He sees and hears only what I wish him to. Otherwise he is blind and deaf."
He tried to take her into his arms, but April twisted away. With a touch of frost she said, "I don't make love in front of an audience, Ranjit."
"Excuse me, my dear," the sheik said with a formal bow. "I was carried away by your beauty. But I would really like an answer one way or the other."
"I haven't had time to think" she protested. "You only asked me yesterday."
"Did I?" he asked wryly. "It seems eons ago. Perhaps I haven't been aggressive enough. I know that Americans have a different way of thinking than we do."
April cocked an eyebrow at him. "And, yes, perhaps this is neither the time nor place to discuss it," Ranjit said with a glance at Orkhim. "His presence doesn't bother me, but it obviously does you. Suppose I drop by your quarters later tonight, where we can talk in privacy."
When she did not reply immediately, he smiled at her. "I said talk. Surely you're not afraid of me?"
April examined him with pursed lips. "Not as long as you understand that this American girl doesn't have loose moral values." Then she decided to change the subject. "I thought Mr. Karsh was dining with us."
"He should be along any minute," the sheik said. Raising his voice, he called, "Orkhim, look over toward the administration building and see if Mr. Karsh is on his way."
As the guard left the tent, Ranjit said, "He's been chief of my guards since I was a young man, shortly after my father died. He's Konya's father, you know."
April was surprised. She had been under the impression that the guard was rather young, because his beard was coal black and he had a powerful build. She looked at him more closely when he came back in and realized by the lines in his face that he was past middle age.
"He is not yet in sight, your highness," Orkhim reported.
At that moment Maxim Karsh was already in the tent, but he hadn't entered by the main entrance. He had come in by the rear way and had slipped into April's room.
Taking a small device from his pocket which resembled a jeweled shirt stud, except that its base was about the size of a half dollar, he unscrewed the jeweled head. At a point where the wall tapestry was divided, he thrust the base behind it and forced its pointed tip through the material into the center of a cluster of jewels. When he screwed the head back on, it merely looked like one more jewel.
After examining his handiwork critically, he slipped back out the rear way and rounded the tent to the front entrance.
"Sorry I'm late," he apologized to the sheik. "I was held up by an emergency problem." He bowed to April. "Good evening, Miss Dancer."
The sheik touched the small gong which served as a signal for Konya. When the girl appeared, Ranjit said, "You may tell Agri we are ready for dinner."
The dinner, surprisingly, was not Mossagbahan food, but New York steak, and it was delicious. Wine was served to April and Karsh, but in deference to the religion he had confessed to April he followed in form only as a social control mechanism, Ranjit took none.
Conversation was light until, near the end of the meal, the sheik asked Karsh how progress on the "oil rig" was coming.
With a sharp look at April, Karsh said, "I don't think we should bore Miss Dancer with shop talk."
Assuming her best rattle-brained manner, April said brightly, "Don't mind me. I know nothing of the oil business, but shop talk never bothers me. I love to hear men talk business even when it's over my head."
"Daytime is for business," Karsh said definitely, looking pointedly at the sheik.
"As you wish," Ranjit said with a shrug. "Your mess steward mentioned needing supplies, however. Does that come under the heading of shop talk?"
Apparently it didn't, because the comment caused Karsh to remember he had a list in his pocket from the mess steward.
Producing it, he asked. "Can you send your plane for these tomorrow."
"Of course," Ranjit said. He reached across the table for the list.
"Wait a minute," Karsh said. "I need a couple of personal items I may as well add on."
Ta
king out a fountain pen, he added a few words to the end of the list and passed it across to Ranjit. The sheik thrust the list into his pocket without looking at it. Karsh, who had finished eating, continued to toy with the pen.
"When is Lin Yang due here?" the sheik asked.
April pricked up her ears. Lin Yang was director of the Mideast for THRUSH.
Maxim Karsh frowned and shot a side glance at April. Looking amused at his caution, Ranjit said to April, "Lin Yang is an oil expert Mr. Karsh is calling in for consultation."
Karsh glared at him, then apparently decided the girl couldn't possibly know who Lin Yang was and it was too late to suppress his name anyway.
"The message didn't say," he said shortly.
Suddenly, to her horror, April saw a small chromium antenna protruding from the end of the pen Karsh was toying with. Neither he nor Ranjit had noticed it.
In the Communications room at U.N.C.L.E. headquarters in New York Randy Kovac was monitoring the central communicator. Suddenly a strange voice came over the audio band assigned to Mark Slate.
The voice had an Oxford accent and was saying, "Have you ever met Lin Yang?"
A guttural Slavic voice answered shortly, "No."
"I haven't either," the first voice said. "It should be quite an experience if all I've heard is true. He's supposed to be a brilliant man."
Then April Dancer's voice intruded, saying, "May I see that pen for a moment?"
After that there was silence. The teen-age on-the-job trainee listened for several more moments, then rushed toward Mr. Waverly's office to report the strange reception.
At the oasis, April had plucked the pen from Maxim Karsh's hand at the same time she made the request overheard by Randy. She twisted the barrel as she did so, causing the antenna to disappear.
As Karsh stared at her in surprise, she said in explanation, "I have one just like it."
In demonstration she lifted her bag from where it lay on the chair next to her and produced her own pen. "See, they are just alike," she said, holding her own up alongside the other. "Where did you get yours, Mr. Karsh?"
"A gift, I think," he said laconically, holding out his palm for its return. "I've had it a long time."
April had no choice but to give it back. Dropping her own pen back into her bag, she returned the bag to its former position.
A moment later Konya came to clear the dishes from the table. When she had brought coffee, she stood waiting next to the sheik until he glanced up.
"Yes, Konya?"
"Will I be needed any more tonight, your highness?"
"Why? What do you want to do?' Konya merely blushed.
"Ah, our lovely Konya has finally found a lover," the sheik said indulgently. "You never had eyes for any of the local men. You haven't taken up with one of the infidel workmen, have you?"
"No, your highness. He is a Mossagbahan."
"Then run along while the moon is still bright," Ranjit said with a negligent wave of his hand. "Tell Agri she can clear the coffee cups later."
"Thank you, your highness," Konya said with a small curtsey, and ran from the room.
The sheik glanced toward the sentry at the door. "I hope Orkhim didn't overhear that. He's rather strict with the girl, but it's time she had a lover."
April looked toward the door.
The immobile sentry gave no sign of having overheard the conversation.
Konya went straight to her own quarters, slipped a shawl over her shoulders against the cool night air and exited from the rear of the tent.
Making her way to the edge of the oasis, she waited until the guard patrolling the front side of the buildings had his back to her, then sped across the moonlit space to the near side of the administration building.
The man she knew as Abdul the merchant was waiting at his barred window.
"I could not get back to the machine shop today, Abdul," she said breathlessly. "I am sorry, but I was busy during the lunch hour. The sheik brought a rich American lady to visit and I had to prepare her bath,"
"It doesn't matter," he said. "I won't need a hacksaw blade now. I saw the lady arrive. I want you to take a note to her."
Konya gazed at him with a mixture of surprise and jealousy. "Would not such a fine lady be offended to receive a note from a poor tribesman?"
"I'm not exactly a poor tribesman," he informed her. "I told you I have friends in America. I know the lady well. She'll help us both to escape from here if you do as I say and don't ask questions."
"All right," she agreed, but she couldn't suppress a pout.
Although Moslem women are used to unquestioning submission to their men, they are as femininely capable of jealousy as women anywhere.
He passed a slip of paper between the bars to her.
TWELVE
NO MAN’S GIRL
The guard changed at eight. Ten minutes after Konya was dismissed by the sheik, Orkhim was relieved from duty. He went straight to his tent, leaned his rifle in a corner and walked outside again, where his wife Adana was tending a pot over a small fire.
"The meat will be ready in a minute," she said.
"The meat can wait," he said grimly. "Woman, why have you not told me that your daughter has a lover?"
She looked up at him. "My daughter? And is she not your daughter also?"
"Answer me!"
"I know of no lover Konya has," Adana said. "Since she moved to the big tent, she no longer has time for her mother. Will you eat?"
"Not until I settle this," he said, and strode off into the darkness.
He searched every secluded nook of the oasis, his heavy black beard bristling more and more angrily each time he found some secret place empty. He startled bachelors by abruptly jerking back tent flaps and peering into their tents. He covered every bachelor tent on the oasis and found every one home.
Konya was nowhere to be found. Orkhim was stalking back toward his own tent when he spotted a slim, shawled figure darting toward the oasis across the moonlit stretch of sand between it and the foreigners' buildings.
He was waiting in the shadow of an enormous palm tree when the girl started to slip by.
Konya gasped when he suddenly stepped from behind the tree and snatched hold of her wrist.
"Where have you been?" Orkhim demanded.
"Just for a walk, father," she said fearfully.
Holding her wrist with his left hand, he backhanded Konya across the face with his right. "You lie! You have been with your lover!"
"No, father," she said, trying to pull away. "I have no lover."
"I heard you confess it to the sheik!"
"I did not. It was his highness who used the word lover, not I."
Orkhim twisted Konya's wrist and she winced. "Do you deny you have been with a man?"
"Only a friend, father. Not a lover."
"Aha. A friend, you name him.
And you came from the direction where the infidels live. Have you taken up with an infidel?"
"No, no, father. He is one of us and a true believer."
"Lying wench! Nothing but infidels live in the wooden building." He bent her wrist until she was forced to her knees. "Name the dog!"
"Please," Konya said. "There is one living in the wooden building who is not an infidel"
He stared down at her, then slowly released her wrist. "The Kadar? The man who calls himself Abdul the merchant?"
"Yes, father. I only go to him to talk. Mr. Karsh keeps his door locked and his window is barred, so we do not even touch."
Orkhim frowned. "Why is he treated like this?"
Still on her knees, Konya said, "Mr. Karsh does not understand our ways. He still believes Abdul is a thief. I do not think his highness knows he is locked up at night."
"Hmm. Does this Abdul have any wives?"
"No, father."
"Does he own sheep or goats?"
"I have not inquired."
"Well I will inquire. If he is a merchant, as he says, he must own something. Merchants
are some-times rich."
"I do not think he is rich," Konya said. "But he is educated. He has been to school. He knows how to read and write."
Orkhim was impressed. Like most illiterates, he tended to be awed by education. The prestige of having a son-in-law who could read and write would be great. Far greater than merely having a daughter with these accomplishments.
As a matter of fact, the latter was something of a disadvantage. It sharply limited her matrimonial prospects, because men were uncomfortable with a woman who was their intellectual superior.
Reaching down, he pulled Konya to her feet.
"Why did you not tell me of your interest in this man, my daughter'?" Orkhim asked in a kindly tone. "Such things should be arranged by your father even before you speak to the man. I will speak to the sheik tomorrow."
"But we are only friends, father," she protested. "Abdul is not looking for a wife."
"Every man should have a wife. An educated man should have an educated wife. Not as greatly educated, perhaps, but enough so that he will not find her dull. Don't worry. Your father will arrange it. I will also protest to the sheik about my future son-in-law being locked up like an animal. He will be freed tomorrow and your mother and I will take him into our tent until the wedding."
"Please, father. You will embarrass me. He doesn't want to marry me."
"How could you know?" Orkhim asked reasonably. "He and I haven't discussed it yet. The sheik will furnish the dowry, of course, since I am chief of his guard and you are a favorite of his. I shall ask for three horses, ten sheep and ten goats. No man is going to refuse a dowry like that."
"Father," she wailed. "I don't want you to arrange anything.
"Be still, child. I know what is best for you. Now I must leave you, because your mother has my meat ready. I will speak to the sheik in the morning."
He moved on toward his tent.
After glaring after him in exasperation, Konya continued on toward the rear entrance to the big tent.
Maxim Karsh took his departure at eight-thirty. A tall, angular Arab woman with a lantern jaw came to clear the coffee cups. When the sheik addressed her as Agri, April realized she was the cook.
The Sheik of Araby Affair Page 7