by Jos Henry
prefer a beer sir?'
The offer was a pleasant surprise. Thomas liked a couple of beers at the end of a long day but he expected to go absolutely dry while in Arabia. Certainly a place like an Excursion Inn would conform to the letter and spirit of the laws of the land; beer must be legal.
'Yes thank you.'
A short while later the sandwich and beer were served. With raised spirits Thomas filled his glass. The beer tasted strange almost watery. He put the glass down and picked-up the can. It said "beer"; below beer it said "0.5% alcohol". He would go absolutely dry while in Saudi Arabia.
In the morning Thomas picked-up a local English language newspaper at his door went down and ordered breakfast. He found articles in the paper remarkably devoid of discontent with the government. Western politicians would be envious.
He finished breakfast put aside the paper and looked at his watch,
'20 to eight.'
He finished his coffee and went to the lobby to wait for his lift. He hoped someone would pick him up as planned. Mr. Emilio's last words the previous evening weren't reassuring,
"... People just describe the place dey want to go to."
It might turn out a memorable morning if no one showed up. He imagined himself driven through every Riyadh street and lane by an ebullient taxi driver thankful for the godsend of a fare unfamiliar with the city before finally arriving at the office. However Mr. Emilio did show up although a bit later than expected.
On entering Areltrade's reception area Thomas immediately noticed a Photograph of the King centered high on the wall flanked by that of the Crown Prince on his right hanging slightly lower and slightly lower again that of the Deputy Crown Prince on his left. Otherwise except for a 5 gallon plastic cask of drinking water the reception area looked like any other. A scratched-up wobbly low table with a pile of out-dated crumpled industry magazines with coffee rings waiting chairs and a reception desk; a man staffed the desk. Thomas would see no women in offices during his trip. Not even in Western company offices.
'Ah! Thomas! I'm so happy to meet you finally' said Herr Gunther slightly loud as he smiled and walked briskly towards Thomas.
'It's high time we meet; welcome to Riyadh' he continued as they shook hands.
In a more normal tone he asked,
'How was your flight? Uneventful I hope. And how is the Excursion Inn?'
'Yes uneventful but tiring never the less. The hotel is very comfortable; thank you for changing it.'
Except for the absence of lederhosen Gunther turned out exactly as Thomas imagined most German expatriate operators: Fortyish, tall, lean, blond with blue eyes.
'Ah! Gut! Well I hope you had a good rest. We have a very long day. Let's talk in my office before we go. Emilio send Danni.
'Danni is the tea boy; you will have spice tea. Sit.'
Gunther's comfortably sized office was elegantly but sparsely furnished. A mahogany desk and credenza set at one end, a medium brown leather sofa and two matching guest swivel chairs facing the desk. The polished surface of the desk was completely bare except for a telephone, a note pad and a Mont Blanc pen. Gunther sat in his comfortable high back chair. After a half-hour talk during which the phone didn't ring and neither Mont Blanc nor note pad came into play Gunther said,
'All fine.'
He slipped the Mont Blanc in his shirt pocket.
'Now we go to see Sultan; he expects us.
He shouted at his open door,
'EMILIO BRING THE MONTECH FILE.'
'I want to bring that with us just in case. Come!'
He walked briskly towards the door and grabbed the file from Emilio "en-passant".
Gunther and Thomas went off to meet Sultan in a less than fresh Mercury Grand Marquis hard top with opera roof. Herr Gunther was proud of his Grand Marquis even if the sun had burned off the paint gloss and the small opera roof on the back was slashed. The air conditioner worked fine which was a blessing that Thomas took for granted. A bit past 8:30a.m. the temperature was already 40°C.
A nervy insecure British receptionist/secretary received them in the top floor lobby of Sultan's head office. He welcomed Gunther as a commiserative colleague and announced their arrival on the intercom. Within a minute a buzzer sounded to proclaim their leave to proceed into the inner sanctum.
They entered a large lounge-like corner room. A row of tall, slender windows filled both outer walls and offered a superb view of a great area of Riyadh. The old part of the city and the new were easily distinguishable: The architectures of the different eras clashed dramatically melding where the new encroached on the other's dominion.
The other two walls of the room displayed Sultan's collection of colourful camel riding blankets antique scimitars daggers with scabbards long guns and other Bedouin trappings. Thomas liked anything to do with culture, history and artefacts; the display fascinated him.
Sultan dressed in traditional white ankle-length thawb with a red and white ghutra covering his head, crowned with an igaal, entered and joined them by the collection.
He was a chubby medium height man in his mid-thirties with a faint smile, moustache and goatee. He wore western shoes and socks as most of the business class preferred. They ruined the picture.
'Salaam Thomas; welcome to Saudi Arabia. I am pleased to see you in person. I've heard much about you.'
'Thank you, likewise. I've been admiring your fascinating collection' said Thomas as they shook hands.
A proud always gracious host Sultan delightedly took a few minutes to relate some of the more interesting anecdotes connected with the artefacts. His family lived in the desert until the early 40's and most of the items were theirs. In the 20's his grandfather fought alongside Abdulaziz ibn Saud in the latter's push to unify most of the Arabian Peninsula under one ruler—him. Then came the West with buckets and so forth to carry away the oil and his father and grandfather rode their camels out of the desert and started a trading house to supply the oil companies.
'The rest is history.'
He let Thomas take several pictures and handle some of the items; he then got down to business.
He and Thomas sat at each end of a burgundy leather sofa and half turned towards each other; Gunther went to a matching armchair near Thomas.
'I understand this is your first trip to Arabia. How are you getting on in Riyadh so far?'
'It's an interesting city; it's very different from what I've ever seen.'
'I'm sure you will enjoy your stay. Gunther and his people will make sure you are not inconvenienced.'
'That's a strange thing to say.'
Thomas made a mental note to stick close to "Gunther and his people".
'I'm pleased our groups had some productive dealings together' continued Sultan as he moved-on to business matters.
'Yes, but we anxiously look forward to a greater volume in the near future.' Thomas thought he might as well take up the topic of slow sales now.
'Like you I feel most hopeful. Inshalla we will do great business together.'
'By God's will indeed if that's an indication of his deep personal commitment.
'One particular project I'm interested in is the planned railway extension to the gulf. We have a lot of experience in DC power for system signals and hump yard retarders. Do you think we might do anything on that project?'
Sultan had a vague guess of what railway signals were but none at all of what hump yards or retarders might be.
'We hope to get some business from the project. My uncle is very involved at the top level. However he has many sons. We will see.'
Sultan nudged the discussion along towards the financial aspect of the relationship. Administration of money was of greater interest to him than the actual generating of it. That was Gunther's problem.
'We find it arduous paying your invoices before we invoice our clients; maybe you can help us. Would you be in a position to offer terms more favourable than letters of credit payable at sight?
'
'Terms can sometimes be altered. It would depend on circumstance. Are you able to suggest other arrangements that would achieve essentially the same end?'
'How would it be if you offered us ninety day open terms? 'What?' ... With a maximum dollar limit of course. ... Such more favourable terms 'more charitable' Thomas thought, would make transactions easier for us.'
'I bet they would.'
Sultan paused between sentences to give Thomas time to react. He didn't.
Thomas felt uncomfortable in such delicate discussions. He finally broke his silence and said,
'The terms we offer Areltrade are already generous compared to those of payment prior to shipment we offer others in the same circumstances.'
'Yes; we are very grateful to you but some people in the organization feel you do not have faith in them. These are their words of course.'
Sultan's blunt comment was unexpected. He carelessly gave Thomas an opportunity to give a frank reply if he wished. This time it was Thomas who returned a sloppy serve.
'I'm sure I could trust Gunther and Areltrade with my very life (Symbolically no doubt). It's the bankers you see (Ah); they refuse to accept a foreign receivable as collateral (Perfectly true); not even from customers in the United States just an hour away from our shop (Also true). Our line of credit would be reduced by the amount of the foreign receivable (and here was the splinter in the banister). It would be difficult for us to support this kind of cumulative financial burden. Maybe I could accommodate Areltrade a different way?'
Sultan chuckled as he rose and