It was all a polite fiction. The Hawiye chief, Abdulahi was his name, didn't actually ransom anyone himself, nor did he have the slightest objection to groups of his underlings seizing infidel shipping. In fact, he sent them out to do so and then maintained, for form's sake, that he was only acting as an intermediary for the return of the crews. This face-saving arrangement was workable, but far from ideal.
"I know, sayidi. And I have spoken to my superiors at length on the subject. They've finally agreed to a more . . . regularized, arrangement."
At last, thought Abdulahi. Protection money. Or "Danegeld," as my instructors in Anglia would have called it.
"Here is what I propose," said Abdulahi. "Your firm will inform me in advance of when it will have a ship passing within this area. You will pay me an amount based on cargo—"
"The displacement," interjected the Helvetian. "My principles are not going to accept allowing your people aboard to inspect cargos. Besides, we could not really be sure they even were your people without you meeting every ship."
"Fair enough," Abdulahi agreed. "Displacement. That can be checked objectively. Moreover, it has a direct, if uneven, relationship to crew size, and therefore ransom potential, as well as docking fees, which likewise bears on money carried in the ship's safe. This is fair and simple enough."
"In any case," the Hawiye pirate lord continued, "You will pay a reasonable fee—yes, we will have to agree on what constitutes 'reasonable'—in advance. I will use the money to pay off the pirates who infest our coast."
"They will, of course, be free to attack the ships of other firms," added the Helvetian. Which is absolutely necessary to us or those firms will be able to ship cheaper than we can.
"Naturally."
"The question remains, however, can you control the pirates."
Abdulahi simply laughed.
6/10/466 AC, Zioni Embassy, Ciudad Balboa
The Jewish Brigadier, Yonatan Bar El, laughed aloud. "Yes, Duque," he answered. "I do rather understand the problems inherent in the Legion using Zioni equipment in Arab lands. Even your friends—and we in Zion are amazed at some of the friends you've made—wouldn't, just as you say, know whether to support you or shoot at you. Still, you must admit, our Chariot is a tank infinitely superior to the Volgan dreck you've been using."
"The Volgan stuff is better than you admit, Yoni," Carrera replied. "After all, don't you use every piece of Volgan equipment you can get your hands on, after a quality rebuild."
"We do," the Jew admitted.
"Well, we have a substantial, if not quite controlling interest, in the Kirov tank factory. They do a quality initial build. We're pretty happy with our equipment, with a few exceptions."
"Which exceptions," the Zioni inquired. Maybe there was a sale to be made after all.
"Lighter but longer ranged artillery would be nice. Small arms are acceptable but . . . " Carrera shrugged eloquently.
"But the Volgan Bakanovas don't really have the range you would like."
"They lack range," Carrera admitted. "They lack penetration—"
Lourdes, wearing a long, silk sheath dress interrupted. "Patricio, Mrs. Bar El asked me to her family quarters. Do you mind if I slip out for a few minutes?"
The other half of the sales team, Carrera thought, answering, "Not at all, miel. I'll still be here when you return."
Lourdes pecked chastely at Carrera's cheek before turning to sway away. Yoni Bar El's eyes followed for just as long as politeness permitted, while thinking, Yum.
"We have a new small arms system in Zion . . . " he said, once he could tear his eyes away from Lourdes' seductively swaying posterior.
"I know. We've looked at the SAR-47. Not interested."
"Yeah . . . our troops don't like it either." It was Bar El's turn to shrug. "Though I expected them to like the grenade system that goes with it."
"Now that looked to have promise," Carrera agreed. "But what we really want is something that takes advantage of all the recent developments in small arms: super fast burst rates to make burst fire practical—the Bakanova has that, but only for two rounds, a cartridge firing a bullet with really superior ballistics, combustible casings, electronic ignition, integral limited visibility sights."
"It's funny, isn't it?" the Zioni observed. "There really are a number of major . . . oh . . . possibilities out there, and nobody seems interested in pursuing them. You would think that the FSC—"
"That much I don't really understand myself," Carrera said. "I served in the FS Army for quite a long time. The rifle my troops were last issued wasn't any better, really, than the rifle I'd been first issued. And it was a twenty-year-old design then. But they don't seem able to come up with a new one. This would be fine if the old one were great. But it wasn't."
"In any case," Bar El said, "we've blown our small arms design budget on the SAR-47 and we're stuck with it. And it's not a bad weapon, really. But now, we've got our designers reduced to making oversized pistols for Columbians with penis envy."
It was Carrera's turn to snicker. Then he turned serious. "You know, Yoni, I still do have money for small arms development. Maybe we could arrange something."
15/10/466 AC , The Base, Tribal Trust Territories, Kashmir,
"A superb arrangement, Abdulahi," said Mustafa ibn Mohamed ibn Salah, min Sa'ana. The news was enough to launch Mustafa up from his usual misery to something like hope, maybe even happiness.
The years had been unkind to Mustafa. Naturally tall and vigorous, disaster heaped upon disaster has shrunk him, even as a lingering illness weakened him. With good news so hard to come by, the news brought by Abdulahi was welcome indeed.
Communications for the movement were never secure. The only way to be certain of a secret was to carry it in person. Even the infidel press could not balance out that inferiority, though they tried. And using couriers, too, had its problems, as any number of mujahadin grabbed without cause or warrant from airplanes and airports around the globe could have testified. It was infuriating, and—Mustafa had to admit—unexpected, for the infidels to fail to follow their own rules. It was worse when the Kosmos weren't able to shriek, scream and nag their own governments into compliance in their own suicide.
"It is superb, Sheik. And it can only get better. This one heathen shipping company will be off limits, for a good price. But that doesn't reduce our righteous plundering. It only means we can concentrate on those who have not yet agreed to pay this maritime Yizya. This will increase the pressure on them to come to an arrangement with us. And each one that does submit increases the pressure on those who have not. One by one they will bow."
Abdulahi laid down a thick briefcase and opened it. Inside, Mustafa could see, were stacks of large denomination bills; Tauran lira, Federated States drachma, masu of Yamato, Volgan gold rubles, Helvetian escudi . . .