by Tony Lavely
“If I recall from Ian’s, Mr. Jamse’s, notes, this has been the biggest, indeed, the only real sticking point preventing him from signing a contract with you. And I’m sure you realize how difficult it is for me to agree to what we might call ‘a pig in a poke.’ How can we resolve this problem?”
“You could agree…” Jones said.
“I could, but when I open the bag, so to speak, I might find a particularly unappealing sight. On the other hand, you could explain just what is specifically required. Can that be done in such a way as to not… give away the store?”
“We are speaking in… how do you call it, colloquialisms? are we not?” Brody said, almost the first words the tall dark man had said.
“We are, and I apologize for starting it. Let me review: your questions of Ian when asking for his advice earlier gave both of us to believe that you are archaeologists leading a group in a large excavation. The pseudonyms you have chosen lend credence to that belief.
“Your site has not yet produced finds of note, but you are hopeful that will change. I assume you anticipate that occurring in the next few weeks, based on the urgency with which you confirmed our appointment. For myself, I posit that the site is closer to the equator than one of the poles, land based, and probably in the Middle East or India. You assured Ian that you would not circumvent the national government’s interest in anything you find, that your interest was historical and anthropological. Have I missed anything of import?”
“A succinct review, Mrs. Jamse. Everything you say except your ideas about location I can confirm. We are working with British and other museums and schools to make sure any finds are properly catalogued and the appropriate scholars have access to them.” He smiled. “I can neither confirm nor deny your suppositions about our location until you are working with us.”
For the next four hours, they continued talking around the subject while Beckie tried to decide a strategy that would save the job without requiring blind acceptance of an unknown and certainly hostile situation. She hadn’t come up with anything that pleased her enough to trial it; she called for the evening recess. When Willie returned after seeing the men to the lobby, Beckie said, “If Amy slips into that outfit she wore before and we find something enticingly slinky for Solène, do you know the local equivalent of the White Egret?”
Willie needed a second to recall the night club in Phuket; when he did, he said, “Will she be outfitted the way you were?”
Beckie gave Solène a long discerning look. “Could be,” she mused. “If she likes it. Where’s Sue when you need her? Rhetorical, rhetorical,” she said to forestall comments from both Willie and Solène.
Amy had returned wearing the wide belt of a skirt and an almost sheer top. Willie looked at her and raised his hands as if in surrender. Solène, on the other hand said, “That’s brilliant, Amy. You got another one?”
As the girls disappeared into Amy’s room, Beckie crossed to Willie and took him in a loose hug. “You should be happy they didn’t change out here. She’s really very attractive.”
“What I haven’t seen, I could guess pretty well. For all of you.”
“Well, I have no more secrets from you…”
Solène burst through the door. She had swapped her jeans and tee shirt for a skirt that was even shorter than Amy’s, though unlike Amy, she wore opaque tights under it. Violet opaque tights. The blouse was pouffy, and sheer to the extent that her freckles showed through.
Beckie had to laugh. “Amy, does Dylan know you have outfits like those?”
“You kidding? He bought the tops.”
Well, that’s not so much of a surprise, I guess. We already knew he’s a normal teenage boy. “Okay, then. Listen up, ladies. If you want to wear those shirts, we’ll stay in for the evening. If you want to go out, either bras underneath or shirts that don’t expose everything.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem, Willie. But let’s wait and see what they come back with.”
“I’ll make a couple of calls.”
He left as Solène came back in. The shirt was the same, but she had added a violet bra, to match the tights. She did a little pirouette. “Better, Mom?”
“Yes, daughter, much. Thanks.” She cast about for… “Amy! What are you doing?”
Amy stuck her head through the door, obviously partly undressed. “Changing as requested.” She looked around. “Where’s Willie?”
“Gone to make some calls, he said.”
“Oh.” She let the door swing open. “Com’on in here and tell me what you think, then.”
After two minutes allowing Amy to choose what she’d worn in the morning—it met all Beckie’s requirements—she asked, “What did you learn today?”
Amy stopped, one arm in her shirt, one out. Solène giggled, which was enough to start Amy moving again. “I think the most important thing… well, two things. First, know what you’re talking about. I could see it in everyone’s eyes and the way they watched you when you were talking, because you’d studied all of Ian’s notes and everything we were talking about when we were planning this. They were impressed, and awesome receptive. And the other thing is… listen. Listen like you mean it.” She laughed. “Not the way Solène’s listening now, pretending what we’re saying is important but really hoping Willie comes back soon to lead us all astray… You know what I mean,” she blurted just before Beckie’s attempt at a stern expression dissolved into laughter.
“Just you be careful with Willie,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “If there’s anyone on the team that loves you more than he does, and cares for you… well, other than Dylan, anyway, I don’t know who it would be. Don’t hurt him by saying something that you know is foolish.”
“He’s not mad at Solène and me for… for showing off?”
“Not likely! He enjoys female bodies as much as anyone, though he has trouble understanding why you… and me, a lifetime ago, are so willing to show ourselves off. It’s something he’s not comfortable with. But he’s okay. Ask Sue, next time you see her.” Beckie sighed at the memories. “Anyway, be ready to work tomorrow, okay?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to screw up…”
“Not a problem. I was wrong yesterday. These guys are convinced they need us, even more than I’d like their money.”
“Well, I did have an idea… No, not going to tell you now. If you want, I’ll have to think if it can really work.”
“Beckie,” Willie called from the other room. “Taxi’s out front. We have fifteen minutes to get to Moulin Rouge. It’s one of Amy’s cabarets. We’re booked for dinner and the show. I hope you youngsters can stay awake for it all.”
“Squeee!”
The dinner was excellent. And the show… “Well, Shalin,” Beckie said during the routine check-up call, “if you’ve seen it, you know, and if you haven’t, there’s really no way to describe it besides entrancing.”
Amy had had the most trouble staying awake; Beckie decided the baby must like live music.
The next morning, Beckie and Willie were at the breakfast table, discussing yesterday’s session. “One last thing, Willie. I think, unless she says no, I’ll have Amy handle the meeting this morning. I asked her to prepare her mind last night, and she said she might have a plan.”
“Hmm. You think she’s ready?”
“Not really, but I think she’s ready for a first go at it. Risk-reward, you know. And these guys… Jones and Brody, indeed. They seem like they’re at the end of their rope.”
“That’s fair. No one else will talk to them either; they let Ian know that earlier. They really didn’t think keeping the details secret was a big deal, but… Well, you know.” He glanced at the clock, then gave it a longer look. “I’d better get ready to collect them.” As he stood, he said, “Like Derek, I think Amy’s got it in her to do this, but given this is her first time in the barrel, make sure she has a fall-back along with your support.”
“Will do. Thanks.”
; When Amy finally appeared at eight, Beckie asked if she was ready to share her plan.
“Such as it is, you mean? I don’t think so. Not yet.”
“Hmm. Maybe I should keep you quiet, then?”
“Okay, but you lose the chance to test me, then.”
Beckie finished her glass of orange juice—reserving her daily single coffee for later, during the meeting—and reconsidered allowing Amy to run wild. As she’d hinted to Willie, there were good and bad sides; the good mostly to do with Amy’s education and self-esteem, and the bad dealing with the risk that she’d piss them off enough to lose the business. The risk is worth it, she decided. We need her smart, bright and sassy, and they act like they need us. Now to keep Willie happy. “Okay. But two things: first, you keep track of me all the time. If I put my hand to my mouth…” She demonstrated. “… stop and ask my opinion. Second, rather than predispose you, I’m gonna write the solution I came up with in the shower this morning on this paper; we’ll compare later.”
Amy nodded while Solène just looked, impressed? Is that what that look means? The girl had leaned back in her chair and was looking back and forth between Beckie and Amy. Beckie wanted to giggle… until she noticed me watching. The look on her face, that’s neutral… appraising, that’s it.
Willie peered through the doorway. “Are you both ready?”
“They’re here, right?” Beckie said. When he nodded, she said, “Doesn’t matter, then.” She stood and smoothed her slacks. “Let’s go.”
At the table, there was no need for renewed introductions. After a few words describing each others’ evening, Beckie said, “My partner, Ms Ardan, has a proposal she developed yesterday while listening to us come to no good resolution. I beg you to listen and weigh her… ideas carefully.” She waved Amy to the head of the table.
“I don’t think I need to move; this won’t take long.”
“Good,” the man calling himself Brody said with a grin that reminded Beckie of Sam. “We have had far too many ‘long’ statements. On both sides!”
“Allowing us, perhaps, to arrive at the point where a short statement will suffice,” Jones said. Any rebuke was tempered by his own calm countenance.
When Brody spoke, Amy had tensed in her seat. While listening to the exchange between Brody and Jones, Beckie patted Amy’s leg under the table, trying to reassure her.
Jones had turned slightly—his head, mostly—and Amy inclined her head toward him.
“Yesterday, it seemed pretty clear that both of us need a way to mitigate our risks. You…” She dropped her hand on the table in front of Jones. “… because you wish to maintain control and… access to what you consider… it would not be too much to say priceless artifacts and their environment.” She moved her hand to cover Beckie’s. “We, on the other hand, need to be sure that we are able to protect our team members assigned to your job as well as yourselves, and do so without losing our shirts.” She pushed her chair back and stood. Good girl; take the power position. “I suggest, subject to our further discussion, that we each sign a contract providing that we, Ian Jamse, Ltd, protect your work site and any other location you select, from political or illegal activities… until your work is complete. Unless you or we end the agreement sooner.”
Jones heaved his bulk around on the chair to stare at Amy, now standing behind her chair, gripping its top rail. “That sounds uncommonly like the proposition we made originally. What have you said differently?”
“The fee,” she said, and Beckie felt a flush of pleasure sweep over her. She’s got it! “The fee will be negotiated separately from the main contract. It will be based on our evaluation of the factors and risks revealed once we agree to the work. Once we understand where the work site is, and what further impediments we’ll face as we succeed. Otherwise, we’d have to ask for, say, a million euros a day, to be certain of accomplishing both your goals and ours. Paid in advance, yearly, of course.”
“Of course,” Jones said, though he had blanched.
Willie stood and shook out his arms. “Let’s take a couple minutes to reflect… And have some coffee.”
Jones and Brody both nodded; they stood and after a trip to the sideboard, took their cups to a window seat at the end of the room.
Beckie took Amy by the arm and pulled her to join Willie. While she was sure her grin said it all, she handed Amy the piece of paper on which she’d written her solution. Amy gave a sigh, of relief Beckie guessed, as the girl smiled, then handed it to Willie.
“Great minds,” he said. “I agree; it allows both of us to cover our butts. Good work, both of you.”
“Maybe we can go… out tonight, then? Joking, joking!” She said as both Beckie and Willie reacted… negatively would describe hers, anyway.
“We’ll see what might be appropriate. Isn’t Solène’s dad supposed to show up this afternoon?”
“No confirmation, but that was the plan. Sam said he left Syria a couple of days ago, so that’s something.” He tipped his head to the side. “You ready to get quit of her?”
“No, but keeping her takes it out of a short term protection job.”
“Yeah,” Amy said. “Makes it more like an adoption!”
Beckie laughed, but acknowledged Amy’s point. “It does seem like everywhere I turn, there’s a girl that I think I have to save!”
“I meant to talk about that with you,” Willie said. “Maybe on the plane back?”
“Sure. Sounds like… maybe not fun, but important.”
“I’ll remind her,” Amy said, chucking her on the shoulder. “We won’t forget.”
Four hours later, not counting the lunch break where Jones had suggested they invite Solène, “So she may not go hungry…” they had come to an overall agreement about the main contract’s terms. Things like penalty clauses, timeliness, reporting, those had all been beaten into submission, as Willie had joked.
Before signing, Jones asked for an overnight break to confirm their agreement. While Beckie was surprised—nothing in Ian’s notes had suggested these men reported to anyone higher—she agreed. The only issue was that they wouldn’t share the details until everyone had signed, so Beckie could make no progress on what she was more and more sure would be a rapid response job. “Oh well,” she said to Amy and Willie as they collected Solène for dinner—Sheikh Dalila hadn’t yet appeared, and Beckie decided he could cool his heels rather than the four of them doing so.
Just after eleven, they returned to find him quietly sitting in a private room off the lobby. RHIP, or more likely, he’s got cash for a little bribe.
Solène’s reaction to seeing him pleased Beckie to no end; the girl seemed perfectly at ease hugging him, greeting him, beginning what Beckie was sure would be an hours long description of the past three months, but he pressed his fingers gently to her lips, halting the flow of words.
“Later. We have plenty of time.” He held her away from him; looked her up and down. “No obvious trauma. Excellent! My eternal thanks to you and your team for protecting her when I was unable to do so.” He pulled Solène close again and placed a kiss atop her head.
Beckie watched for any sign of inappropriate conduct—the scene when Solène’d been introduced still weighed on her—but there was none. He lifted his head to say, “And what is your fee for saving my daughter?”
Beckie smiled. “Because you are on time, and polite, one million euros. Due under our original terms once the bill is presented. I assume the usual bank transfers will be in place?”
He was gaping at her. “That seems… an uncommon large amount, I must say.” Solène’s face was shocked. Guess she didn’t think she was that much trouble. “And should I refuse?”
“I won’t give her back.” Beckie grinned, the all-purpose evil-doing one she hadn’t used for far too long. “I can get more than that in value from her… even without her removing any clothes.” She moved around to begin to tease Solène away. “Your decision. Sam says you’re good at decisions.”
; He drew Solène back against his chest. “I like to think I am. And I am sorely tempted to keep my euros and watch as you and she make good on your threat. However, my daughter has value far in excess of that piddly amount, no matter what she does, so, yes, the usual bank transfers will suffice. With my undying gratitude.”
Beckie nodded and stepped back. Solène, on the other hand, broke her father’s light grip and clutched Beckie. “Please say I can come and visit sometime. After the baby comes? Please?”
Beckie embraced the girl, hugging her hard. The past five months had been nothing short of mind-altering, beginning with… Durban. Solène had been far less trouble than expected, far more fun than expected and more intelligent than anyone expected until they’d spent ten minutes with her. Holding her head alongside Solène’s so she couldn’t see the tears, she said, “Any time, Solène. Anytime I’m there and your Dad says okay. Be glad to have you.” She brushed her eyes before leaning back.
Solène was blinking her eyes also. “At any time we can arrange it,” Dalila said. “Thank you again.”
More hugs and tears passed before the Dalilas left, arm in arm. Beckie caught Amy and Willie and led them to their suite.
“Eight o’clock, right?”
Grumbles from Amy answered her; she smiled and closed the door behind her.