kind of deal on with the Arabs,” Chuck reported to the CIA.
“Was there any mention of arms?” asked Chuck’s connection.
“Talk of jet planes and missiles, I believe.”
Max had arranged for A’ben Fizel to meet Princess Leigh-Cheri when she returned from Hawaii. Chaperoned, of course. Tilli and Max would accompany their daughter and Fizel to a basketball game. Seattle Supersonics versus the Houston Rockets. In the Kingdome.
“Said something about battle in the kingdom.”
“I’ll be damned,” swore the agent. He whistled. “This is bigger than we thought.”
To her Chihuahua, whose shivering little frame she had dressed in a purple wool sweater with fur at the collar, Queen Tilli complained. “Baskeetboll. Baskeetboll. You might haf known no Arab vud vant to attend zee opera.”
38
“YOU’RE CRYING.”
“I am not.”
“My mistake. You aren’t crying. You aren’t out of breath, either. That’s fortunate because this club doesn’t admit women with pants. Is that a pun in my pocket, or am I just glad to see you? Something’s wrong.”
Leigh-Cheri merely sniffed. “Have you got a tissue?” she asked.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll find you something. Come on in.”
Leigh-Cheri stooped and entered the cabin. She ripped a length of toilet paper from the roll that Bernard fetched from the head. She blew her nose, a signal for all tears to return to their homes and families.
“Well, I see you’re still here.”
“I am definitely here. But that’s no reason to cry.”
“I wasn’t crying. I’ve had a bad day. Another one. One in a series of bad days. I’m not complaining. Bad days are my bag. They’re time-consuming, however, and I’m a busy girl. I only stopped by here because I understood you’d been busted.”
“Oh? You turned me in?”
“No, damn you, I didn’t. Cops have busted somebody for bombing the Pioneer. Just a stab in the dark, a wild guess, I know, but I thought it might be you.”
“I’m hurt that you’d think such a thing but delighted that you came by to check. It is my privilege to report that if being uncaged is being free, then I am as the birdies in the blue.”
“Then who did the police arrest, I wonder?”
“I fear that there’s been an international, or rather, an interplanetary incident. The police have seen fit to incarcerate our guests from the faraway world of Argon.”
“No kidding? Really? How did it happen, I mean, why them?”
“Because an anonymous caller tipped off the cops, who subsequently found two sticks of dynamite in their rented Toyota. Hmmm …”
“Bernard!”
“Shhh. I’m trying to imagine what an Argonian driver’s license looks like. One of them would have had to have a driver’s license in order to rent a car.”
“Bernard, that was your dynamite.”
“Are you sure?”
“But two sticks. You had three.”
“Go ahead, tell me I’m selfish. Call me a bum Christian. I can’t help it. I couldn’t bring myself to give it all away. One never knows when one might need some.”
She tried to respond as if he’d made a perfectly ordinary remark. She took a slow, calming breath. “What are you trying to say? With your dynamite, I mean?”
“Say? Dynamite didn’t come here to teach. It came to awaken.”
“Do you think dynamite can make the world a better place?”
“A better place than what? Argon?”
“You evasive bastard. I’m trying to understand you, and you won’t give me a straight answer.” Her small sunburned fist, in frustration, crumpled the soiled toilet paper with which she’d dabbed her eyes and blown her nose.
“Maybe you’re not asking the right questions. If all you’re interested in is making the world a better place, go back to your Care Fest and question Ralph Nader—”
“I fully intend to go hear Ralph. Ralph Nader, I mean.” She blushed, feeling, perhaps, that she’d betrayed a secret onanistic intimacy.
“Good. Do that. But if you’re interested in experiencing the world as
“Was there any mention of arms?” asked Chuck’s connection.
“Talk of jet planes and missiles, I believe.”
Max had arranged for A’ben Fizel to meet Princess Leigh-Cheri when she returned from Hawaii. Chaperoned, of course. Tilli and Max would accompany their daughter and Fizel to a basketball game. Seattle Supersonics versus the Houston Rockets. In the Kingdome.
“Said something about battle in the kingdom.”
“I’ll be damned,” swore the agent. He whistled. “This is bigger than we thought.”
To her Chihuahua, whose shivering little frame she had dressed in a purple wool sweater with fur at the collar, Queen Tilli complained. “Baskeetboll. Baskeetboll. You might haf known no Arab vud vant to attend zee opera.”
38
“YOU’RE CRYING.”
“I am not.”
“My mistake. You aren’t crying. You aren’t out of breath, either. That’s fortunate because this club doesn’t admit women with pants. Is that a pun in my pocket, or am I just glad to see you? Something’s wrong.”
Leigh-Cheri merely sniffed. “Have you got a tissue?” she asked.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll find you something. Come on in.”
Leigh-Cheri stooped and entered the cabin. She ripped a length of toilet paper from the roll that Bernard fetched from the head. She blew her nose, a signal for all tears to return to their homes and families.
“Well, I see you’re still here.”
“I am definitely here. But that’s no reason to cry.”
“I wasn’t crying. I’ve had a bad day. Another one. One in a series of bad days. I’m not complaining. Bad days are my bag. They’re time-consuming, however, and I’m a busy girl. I only stopped by here because I understood you’d been busted.”
“Oh? You turned me in?”
“No, damn you, I didn’t. Cops have busted somebody for bombing the Pioneer. Just a stab in the dark, a wild guess, I know, but I thought it might be you.”
“I’m hurt that you’d think such a thing but delighted that you came by to check. It is my privilege to report that if being uncaged is being free, then I am as the birdies in the blue.”
“Then who did the police arrest, I wonder?”
“I fear that there’s been an international, or rather, an interplanetary incident. The police have seen fit to incarcerate our guests from the faraway world of Argon.”
“No kidding? Really? How did it happen, I mean, why them?”
“Because an anonymous caller tipped off the cops, who subsequently found two sticks of dynamite in their rented Toyota. Hmmm …”
“Bernard!”
“Shhh. I’m trying to imagine what an Argonian driver’s license looks like. One of them would have had to have a driver’s license in order to rent a car.”
“Bernard, that was your dynamite.”
“Are you sure?”
“But two sticks. You had three.”
“Go ahead, tell me I’m selfish. Call me a bum Christian. I can’t help it. I couldn’t bring myself to give it all away. One never knows when one might need some.”
She tried to respond as if he’d made a perfectly ordinary remark. She took a slow, calming breath. “What are you trying to say? With your dynamite, I mean?”
“Say? Dynamite didn’t come here to teach. It came to awaken.”
“Do you think dynamite can make the world a better place?”
“A better place than what? Argon?”
“You evasive bastard. I’m trying to understand you, and you won’t give me a straight answer.” Her small sunburned fist, in frustration, crumpled the soiled toilet paper with which she’d dabbed her eyes and blown her nose.
“Maybe you’re not asking the right questions. If all you’re interested in is making the world a better place, go back to your Care Fest and question Ralph Nader—”
“I fully intend to go hear Ralph. Ralph Nader, I mean.” She blushed, feeling, perhaps, that she’d betrayed a secret onanistic intimacy.
“Good. Do that. But if you’re interested in experiencing the world as
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