The woman bowed, murmured something in Pashto and rose. She then approached her husband with the tray. He smiled up at her and took some dates and figs.
“Please serve our honored guests, my beautiful wife.”
“Of course I will, my love.”
As if translating, Ahmed said, “You will take only a very small portion, Major. No one likes pigs.”
Cali nearly choked. When Hesam frowned momentarily, she wondered if the sheik had understood the spoken English. Ahmed had just insulted his boss, but Pete didn’t realize that wasn’t what Hesam had said.
Nodding deferentially, Pete took the same amount of food as the sheik, no more and no less. “Thank you, Mrs. Hesam. These look delicious.”
“You do not accord women any rights,” Ahmed said in a frustrated tone.
“What are you talking about? This is his wife. Why shouldn’t I be gracious and respectful toward her?” Pete demanded, completely irritated. Had Hesam called him a pig? Pete was unsure. He saw Cali react when Ahmed had used the word. Tense, Pete felt vulnerable. He wanted to ask Cali, but couldn’t afford to shame his translator in front of the sheik.
Ahmed scowled and said nothing.
“The daughters will approach with a tray of coffee and cups,” Cali murmured. “They will set it down in front of the sheik. They will offer you the first cup, but you should instruct them to give it to the sheik.”
Pete did as advised and Hesam thanked him for his generosity. After his two smiling, giggling daughters served their father, they served Pete, Cali, Ray and, lastly, the frowning Ahmed. Then all three women left, leaving the trays within easy reach of everyone.
The fragrance of burta, a dish of crushed eggplant blended with yogurt, garlic, mint, cilantro, olive oil and lemon juice, filled the air. Warm flat bread was served with it. Cali inhaled the scents of fresh spices. She waited until the sheik had filled his silver plate with the appetizer before she filled her own. Ahmed glared at her again, but she ignored him.
“So,” Hesam said after they had finished the social pleasantries, “what brings you here, Major Trayhern?”
Cali listened closely to Ahmed’s translation. “Major, the sheik wants to know why you are here.”
Pete wiped his fingers on the red linen napkin draped across his left thigh. “Please tell the sheik that we’ve come to ask for his help.”
The conversation that followed was a flowery, long-winded one to Cali. The major would speak a couple of sentences and Ahmed would translate. The sheik would ask questions, and the process would reverse. Pete got into the who, what, where, why and how. He asked for Hesam’s help in providing labor for the site.
Cali wiped her mouth and watched out of the corner of her eye for Hesam’s reaction. She’d worked with tribal sheiks before. Some were arrogant about their power and family connections. Few were greedy, but some were. Most were fair-minded and had been raised from birth to be leaders of their province or clan. Where would Hesam fall?
“Major, do you ride camels?”
Ahmed scowled. “The sheik wants to know if you ride camels.”
Pete grinned and shook his head. “No, sir, I don’t. Why?”
Instead of translating correctly, Ahmed said, “He hates the smelly, hairy beasts, my lord.”
Cali coughed. Hesam poured more coffee into the cup near her knee and offered it to her in response.
Thanking him, she sipped the thick, fragrant brew. She quirked her mouth and glanced at Ahmed, who looked back at her with hatred in his eyes. “My lord,” she said in Pashto, “for whatever reason, the translator is not sharing the major’s exact words with you. He said he’s never ridden a camel. He did not call them smelly, hairy beasts.” She held Ahmed’s dark, narrow eyes. The man looked as if he wanted to strangle her.
“Ah, good, good.” Hesam smiled benevolently at Pete, then turned and scowled at Ahmed. “You will tell the major that I invite him to ride with me tomorrow afternoon to see my herd of racing camels.” He turned to Cali and smiled. “And you, my dear, are also invited.”
Cali nodded. “I’d love to ride with you, my lord. Thank you for the honor.”
Ahmed turned and muttered the English version to the major.
Pete grinned. “Well, I’ve never ridden a camel, sir, but I’d sure like to try. It sounds like fun. Thanks.”
Cali watched as Ahmed accurately translated that message to the warlord.
“Good, good,” Hesam said, rising. “I must go, but I invite you to remain, eat, drink and then leave when you feel like it. I have pressing obligations, and we can talk tomorrow as we ride to see my racing camels. Farewell.” He shook each of their hands before he left.
CALI WAITED UNTIL AHMED left Pete’s trailer. A white Roland pickup truck, driven by Hakim, would take the translator to the trailer he shared with three other Afghan workers.
“May I come in for a minute, Major?” she asked.
Pete stood at the top of the stairs. “Sure, come on in.”
“Thanks.” Cali climbed up the steps, wiping her dusty boots before entering. She closed the door behind her and followed Pete as he ambled to the kitchen.
“Listen, I may be way out of line here, Major, but I need to say something.”
He frowned. “Of course. What is it?”
“I don’t know what’s going on with Ahmed, but he’s not translating accurately. He nearly got you in hot water with the sheik and you didn’t even know it.” Cali watched as Pete poured a glass of water and drank it. He offered her some, but she declined.
“Okay,” he said, “let’s talk about this in the living room.”
Cali sat down on the couch, her hands clasped between her legs as she leaned forward. Pete sat at the table. “Kerwin Elliot told you I know Pashto, Arabic and a number of other local languages, Major Trayhern. You can’t run a construction site too long and not learn the languages.”
“You spoke beautifully to the sheik when you entered the audience room.” Pete saw her cheeks grow pink at the compliment. Cali was captivating. And he savagely reminded himself she was completely off-limits.
“Thanks. What I need to say is probably going to upset you, but your translator made you sound like an eighth grader to the sheik. Also, he left you high and dry regarding common, expected protocols.” Cali launched into a recital of Ahmed’s many mistakes. She saw Pete’s eyes narrow, his expression grow thoughtful as she finished.
“Ahmed seems pretty intense. And I saw him glare in your direction a number of times,” Pete admitted. “I wondered why he was angry at you.”
“Because I’m a woman in a man’s world, and around here, women don’t do business with men. But Hesam knows I’m number two person on this project, and he’s smart enough to let this law go and deal directly with me.”
“Did you have similar problems in Saudi Arabia?”
“Yes, I did. Some tribal chiefs were more open-minded about this than others. In the end, they all realized I held the purse strings, and if they wanted money to help their villagers, it was through me. So they relaxed the rules and we all got along just fine.”
“Money is a language that talks to everyone and doesn’t need translation,” Pete murmured.
“You got that right. But tribal sheiks also have an obligation to their people, and they want to see them prosper. A happy village automatically increases loyalty to the sheik and his clan affiliations. Most chiefs are very political and have been trained to lead since they were children. They know they’re responsible for the happiness of their people.”
“So why do you think Ahmed translated so badly? I wasn’t happy when he inferred I was a pig, either.”
Shrugging, Cali said, “I don’t know. And I’d bet money Hesam understood Ahmed’s English to you about pigs. Hesam looked shocked at first, then angry and then I saw him cover up his reactions. You don’t call anyone a pig or infer you might be one. Ahmed was way out of line insulting you like that. Elliot swears by him. Maybe Ahmed was just pissed off that
you allowed a woman in there to talk business with Hesam and you.” She didn’t want to share her darker thoughts, since she knew she could be wrong.
“Well, that isn’t going to wash.” Pete studied her across the room. The morning sunlight slipped between the venetian blinds, highlighting Cali’s red hair. “Since you know Pashto, can I borrow your services tomorrow on our camel jaunt? I’ll leave Ahmed here, at the site. I can’t afford another screwup with Hesam.”
“No, you can’t. Our whole project begins and ends with this sheik. I’ll be happy to translate for you. But you eventually have to get another translator. I can’t do this for you full-time because I’ll have my hands full with my crews. I can’t spare any time to help you, too.”
“Understood,” Pete said. “I’ll talk to Hesam about this. Maybe he has a man in his village who knows English.”
“Not many know English out here, Major. But maybe you’ll get lucky. Or maybe Ahmed was just having a bad day.”
“We’ll see….” Pete said, and quirked his mouth. “For whatever reasons, Ahmed isn’t going to work out. I wish I knew what his motivation was in behaving the way he did.”
At that moment, Pete Trayhern looked vulnerable, and Cali found her heart opening toward him. “Don’t worry, I have a box of delicious dates from Qatar you can give Hesam for tomorrow’s meeting. Every time we are invited to his home, we must bring a gift. It’s expected and keeps good relations. I think he’s wise enough to realize Ahmed wasn’t doing you any favors today. Maybe he’ll forgive this one oversight.”
“Here’s hoping. And I forgot to tell the sheik that my official gift will be coming soon. I was nervous and forgot, but I’ll mention it to him tomorrow.”
Cali managed a small, optimistic smile. “Roland does background checking on all the major players, so how about if I lend you our file on Hesam today? You study it, and by tomorrow, you’ll have a better understanding of him and where he stands.”
“I’d appreciate it. You know, you’re turning out to be indispensable, Ms. Roland.”
“Roland Construction likes to make the owner comfortable, and part of the team,” she answered blithely. Then she felt her heart flutter when Pete sent her a dark, intense glance. It was the look a man sent his woman, not one a businessman sent his prime contractor. Swallowing hard, Cali stood. “I gotta run. I’m going to be up half the night making sure that fence is started, using local Afghan workers.”
“Okay.” Cali’s next responsibility was the fence, and Pete knew it. “I’ll pop out every now and again to see how it’s coming.” That was the owner’s job: to make sure things got done.
Brushing past him, Cali said, “I’d expect that.” She lifted her hand. “See you later?”
Cali hated to admit it, but Pete was easy on the eyes. It was so delicious, being able to absorb his handsome, craggy features without him knowing the pleasure it gave her. And that’s what it had to remain: her secret.
“You will. Send over that file on the sheik?”
“I’ll get Hakim to bring it over, plus the box of dates.”
After Cali left, Pete went to his office. He had a ton of paperwork to go through, plus his iridium satellite phone was blinking, meaning he had calls to answer. Yet as his mind went into work mode, he couldn’t erase the excitement he felt over going camel riding with Cali tomorrow afternoon. He enjoyed her company a lot more than he should.
Remembering his past, he tried to push his hope aside. Pain and loss were not things he wanted to duplicate.
CHAPTER FIVE
“I’M GLAD YOU DIDN’T allow Ahmed to come along,” Cali confided to Pete the next morning as they drove to Sheik Hesam’s village.
“He wasn’t happy about staying behind.” As he drove, Pete glanced briefly at her. When he woke that morning, he’d looked forward to seeing her. He tried not to like Cali, especially since he often fell for women who betrayed him.
“I’ll bet his pride is hurt,” she said.
“I told him I knew just enough Pashto to get by today. I have a call in to Kerwin Elliot about his credentials.” Pete slowed to maneuver the Land Cruiser through some deep ruts in the dirt road. Sparse vegetation dotted the landscape, and in the distance, he saw a boy with a large herd of sheep foraging for grass or weeds. The youth smiled and waved. Pete waved back. The Afghans were a friendly people, he’d found out during his military tour. Most were hardworking, responsible and had a deep love of the land.
“I think you were right to call Elliot to see what’s going on.” Cali felt this was a safe statement, even though she wanted to say far more. She couldn’t tell him what to do about his less-than-glorious translator. Politics always played a role in what was going on. Ahmed might be from an influential family that had ties to Kerwin Elliot.
“I’ll let you know the outcome.” Pete saw the worry in her green eyes, The fine lines in her forehead, partially hidden by those strands of red hair were evident. Even under duress, Cali was gorgeous. She had dressed casually in jeans, a blouse and work boots, but her small pearl earrings told the world she was a woman.
“Yes, well,” Cali said, “Ahmed was complaining after he left your office.”
“And you know this how?”
“Sometimes it pays to be fluent in five languages.” She shrugged. “I heard him talking to Hakim as I walked over to see my driver about some other business.”
“I see….” Pete gave her a teasing look. “I have trouble stumbling along in English.”
“That’s not true, Major. I heard you try a bit of Pashto with Hesam. I believe the sheik truly appreciated your efforts.”
“What little Pashto I know is from my time spent in the south with my company of Marines. I’ll be talking with Hesam on a weekly basis from here on out, and it’s imperative that we communicate clearly.”
“That will be key,” Cali agreed. “It’s very important not to underestimate Hesam’s power. He’s a wily fox. He’s had to be, since he’s one of the most important political power brokers in northern Afghanistan. As you know, his family has ruled this region for five hundred years. Ruled well. The people love his family, so you don’t want to be his enemy. The sheik knows a helluva lot more English than he lets on, I think. My educated guess is that he noticed Ahmed’s gaffes and isn’t faulting you for them.”
“That’s good,” Pete said with relief. He saw the village coming up. It was a busy place, bustling with women in dark robes, scarves on their heads, and men wearing colorful clothing, hats or turbans. Barking dogs chased the Land Cruiser. There were no children about except for babies on their mothers’ hips. Hesam was adamant about all children of his clan being educated, and Pete applauded that principle.
“So today I’ll be your interpreter,” Cali said brightly. “We have to patch up the disaster Ahmed created for us.”
“I’m glad you’ve volunteered,” Pete said, and enjoyed seeing her cheeks grow red.
“I’ll try to fix what was broken yesterday.”
“Knowing what I know about Afghan politics, my sense is Elliot probably owed Ahmed’s family a favor, and he got this translator job by default.”
Relief swept through Cali. Trayhern was sharp, she’d give him that. Of course, one look into those alert eyes and Cali knew he was a man with a steel-trap mind. The only mysteries left for her were his morals and values. Cali had run into her fair share of men who did backroom deals, manipulated, threatened and cheated to get what they wanted. Russ Turner had been one of them. He’d lied to her, saying he was single when all along he was married. Cali felt a wave of shame over how she’d been fooled.
Generally, she was an excellent judge of character, but her stupid, lonely heart had fallen into the trap Russ had set for her. A woman in a man’s world of concrete and metal would always be lonely. That realization had such an awful finality.
Drawing a shaky breath, Cali shoved her own personal agony aside. Was Major Trayhern like Russ? She hoped not, but it was too early to tell. So far, he seemed
to have the moral fiber and values she yearned for. She felt the major’s scrutiny. Lifting her head, she cut a glance in his direction.
“The important thing for today’s outing is to establish a good relationship with Hesam,” Pete stated. He’d felt Cali retreat deep within herself, and was unsure what that meant. “I believe we can do that.”
Cali glowed inwardly. Pete had said “we.” That showed his desire for teamwork. Then again, Russ had used “we,” too.
Tamping down the glimmer of hope, Cali replied, “That’s why you’re bringing him those dates from Qatar. Hesam will love them. I think, with that gift, he will realize you’re trying to make amends. He doesn’t strike me as a man who will throw you out unless you really cross him.”
“Good to know.” Pete parked the Land Cruiser next to a two-story dwelling made of adobe bricks. Hesam’s home looked like all the rest with its square, curtained windows, but the large door with mountains carved in the wood made the home more regal. A number of rundown pickup trucks were parked along the rutted street in front of the houses. A horse-drawn cart moved by, carrying a pile of loose hay. The driver waved to them, and Pete lifted his hand in response. Maybe it spoke highly of Hesam that he lived most of the time among his people, and not in the glittering city Dara-i-Suf, which was in his clan’s territory.
“Who knew a box of dates could do so much to mend fences?” Pete shook his head.
Cali squelched a smile and climbed out of the Land Cruiser. The afternoon was heating up after the cool desert night. All the children were in school now, and a few women walked through the village. Some carried bread in a basket, others vegetables. There was a small open market at the other end of the community. A few dogs lazed about and occasionally the bleat of a goat or the baa of a sheep broke the silence. The scents of curry, rosemary and onions were strong on the breeze, and Cali inhaled deeply. Growing up, she had lived all over the globe, wherever her father had a project to build. She’d been raised on the foods of Asia and the Far East, and loved curry, in particular.
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