Beyond The Limit (5 page)

As Pete sat down next to the powerful tribal leader, Cali waited patiently.

Pete understood that ordinarily women were not allowed in the same room with men when business was conducted. For whatever reason, Hesam didn't object to her presence. In addition to her normal construction clothing, Cali wore a dark green silk scarf that matched her eyes perfectly.

She murmured a greeting in Pashto to the sheik, who beamed in return. Her husky voice sounded lyrical, and Pete was impressed with her fluid delivery of the language.

Cali came forward and bowed deeply to Hesam. She handed him a small wooden box. “Figs from Bahrain, my lord. I hope you and your family enjoy them.”

“Ahh,” Hesam said, eagerly reaching for the carved box. “Figs. Thank you.”

Smiling, Cali answered, “You're welcome, my lord.” She turned and reached for the second gift from her foreman, Ray Billings, who had come in on her heels.

Hesam was clearly delighted when he opened the long, rectangular oak box and saw the Comanche war ax. For five minutes, Cali politely answered his many questions about the piece.

“Sit here, next to me,” he finally urged her, pointing to the pillows on his left. That, too, was considered a position of honor. He asked Billings to sit to Cali's left, and treated him with equal graciousness.

Cali noticed how Ahmed positioned himself in front of the tribal warlord to translate for Pete. The damned interpreter had screwed up the entire protocol and she was furious with him. Hesam could speak English, but perhaps not so much so that they could carry on a coherent conversation. She knew Ahmed felt strongly that she, as a woman, should not be in here conducting men's business.
Tough shit
. He could glare all he wanted at her and it wasn't going to do him any good. Cali wasn't easily intimidated by such men. Besides, she'd just scored some important points with Hesam by bringing him the figs and the war ax.

In her opinion, Ahmed had not served Major Trayhern's interests at all. Pete had forgotten to tell Hesam that his gift was coming in another week or so, but the translator had bungled the important protocols in regards to this meeting. Why had Ahmed screwed her and Pete like that? Was he ignorant of local customs?

Her dark side looked at other possibilities. Did Kerwin Elliot want Major Trayhern to fail? Was giving him an inept translator a setup of some kind? If Trayhern failed, could Elliot put someone he wanted in this important post, instead? Or was Elliot's choice of Ahmed predicated solely on political connections?

Frustrated, Cali said nothing. She disliked politics, yet it was a daily part of her job. And since she had nothing to say about the assignment of a translator for the major, she kept her mouth shut. She was in enough hot water with him right now and didn't want to bring Ahmed's inadequacies and failed protocols to his attention. Trayhern might think she was just causing trouble. Grimacing inwardly, Cali sat watching Ahmed, her lips compressed.

Hesam set down the box bearing the war ax and addressed Pete in Pashto. “I'm honored to meet you, Major Trayhern. How is your family? Are they well?”

Cali knew this dialogue was a familiar one to anyone in the Middle East. Good manners dictated that two conversants always inquire about the health of family members, first. No serious talk was ever broached until the family was discussed in adequate detail. She listened to Ahmed translate.

“The sheik welcomes you, Major Trayhern.”

Pete nodded and smiled at Hesam. “Tell him, Ahmed, that I'm pleased he would see us. And thank him?”

“Of course,” Ahmed murmured, then turned and rapidly spoke in Pashto.

Cali scowled as she heard him say, “The major is here on business, my lord.”

What the hell was the man doing? Cali almost interrupted. Seeing Hesam frown and stroke his goatee, she felt her gut clench. Not following correct protocol was a huge faux pas. Should she say anything? Maybe Ahmed was just nervous.

Staring at the profile of the young man, she got an uneasy feeling once more, and she wasn't one to ignore her instincts. Kerwin Elliot had said Ahmed was one of the best translators, so this didn't make any sense at all.

The door opened, and they all looked up.

“Ah, my wife, Ladan, Major,” Hesam said as a slender woman dressed in a flowing gray gown with a gold-and-red sash around her waist entered.

Ahmed translated, “It is his wife. She brings us sweetmeats and coffee. That is all a woman is good for. Servant duties.”

Cali glared and bit back a retort. If Ladan knew English, she didn't indicate she'd heard Ahmed's scathing remark. Hesam's wife was the epitome of hospitality. The major stared at Ahmed, opened his mouth and shut it. Obviously from where Cali sat, she could see the Marine didn't like Ahmed's statement. Hesam, too, scowled momentarily and then replaced the look with a private one. Ahmed's crack was an insult, pure and simple, and he could ruin their budding relationship with one remark.
Damn
. Ladan had an oval face and light brown eyes that flashed in welcome. Her black hair was tastefully woven in a single braid down her back.

After his derogatory comment, Ahmed stared at Hesam's wife as she brought in a shiny brass tray filled with delicacies. Behind her, two younger women carried smaller trays.

“And, Major, my two very beautiful daughters, Kimiya and Haleh,” the sheik announced with pride and a welcoming smile.

“These two are the daughters,” Ahmed said, his voice full of distaste.

Cali moved restlessly, anxiously watching what unfolded. The girls, both tall and slender, had dark brown hair and lively, sparkling sable eyes. One wore a blue gown and the other a pink one. When Pete got to his feet, out of deference to them, the sheik looked puzzled. Ahmed said nothing.

“Uhh, you don't need to stand up,” Cali murmured to Pete. “Just sit there. Hesam's wife and daughters will give you first choice of the food, but you should turn it down and ask her to serve Hesam. That's protocol.”

Ahmed glared at Cali, and she glared right back. She'd be damned if Pete would be led into another rude and awkward situation, where Hesam could get really pissed off and throw them out because of continued botched protocols. He was a man of great power and didn't suffer fools gladly.

As if sensing his faux pas, Pete quickly sat down. The sheik's wife smiled graciously at him and knelt before him with the tray of dates, figs, yogurt and freshly fried goat meat.

Pete held up his hand and smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Hesam, but please serve your husband first.” He gestured toward their host, who sat proudly.

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.

 

C
ALI WAITED UNTIL
A
HMED
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.