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“Mercantile does it sometimes,” Vanner said. “Those are from Bank Suisse, though. I don’t have the codes to open up the accounts, but those are four different accounts in Bank Suisse containing any number of dollars.”

“Or none,” Mike said. “If they were selling something, there could only be starter cash in them. You can open one with a hundred euros.”

“But that is where the money was going, presumably,” Vanner said. “The ‘big money’ this Mikhail guy keeps babbling about. The Chechens confirm that there were ‘special weapons’ involved, but they don’t know what. The rumors range from MANPADs to nukes.”

“Find out from our buddy Mikey who else this Sergei guy might use for a contact,” Mike said, finishing off his breakfast. “In the meantime, I’m going to go round up one of the girls and screw myself to sleep.”

“No rest for the donkeys, huh?” Vanner asked.

“I didn’t say you had to do it right now,” Mike pointed out. “Let him sweat a while. Without painkillers.”

Chapter Six

“Crap!” Mike suddenly muttered, stopping his stroke.

“Kildar?” Jana said, writhing under him. “Kildar, you’ve stopped.”

“I know,” Mike said, propping himself up on his elbows. “I told Genadi that I’d meet with some of the elders this afternoon. In about thirty minutes, in fact. Damnit!”

“Surely after last night, they won’t mind if you cancel,” Jana said, humping into him. “You have time.”

“But I didn’t tell them I was canceling,” Mike said, sourly. “That means they’ll be here, come hell or high water. I was so bent on getting it in I forgot.”

Firefights always made him horny. He’d been told that was a natural reaction and as a SEAL he’d learned to suppress it, to an extent. But under the current circumstances there was no particular reason to. Which was why as soon as he’d gotten done with Vanner and breakfast, he’d gone to the harem, literally grabbed Jana and dragged her upstairs.

He’d already come once but he could feel at least one more in there and he’d been heading for it happily, with the intent of following it with about twenty hours of sleep, when he remembered the meeting.

“We’re going to have to cut this short,” Mike said. “Sorry.”

“You are the Kildar,” Jana said, shrugging. “And it is not as if I have not had mine…”

* * *

“Father Kulcyanov, Father Mahona, Genadi,” Mike said as he entered the parlor, “it is good to see you again. Oleg, long time no see.” When he saw Oleg he was especially glad he hadn’t cancelled; the kid had been out on ops for a week and had a “murthering great” skirmish in the morning. The least the Kildar could do was show up after all that.

The meeting was being held in one of the three small parlors in the caravanserai. One had been set aside more or less permanently as a “recreation room,” read bar, for the trainers. The second was commonly used by the harem girls. This one was for when Mike had a small number of guests to entertain. Such as the elders, all of whom could easily fit in the comfortable room.

The room overlooked the gardens by the harem quarters. When Mike had arrived, the gardens had been suffering from decades of neglect. The somewhat inexpert care of the Keldara yardsman hadn’t gotten them back to any condition of glory, but they were much better than when he’d arrived. The roses were coming along well and they filled the room with scent.

He’d taken a very fast shower and his hair was still wet. He hoped it wasn’t as obvious that he’d just jumped out of bed. However, given the way that the Keldara talked amongst themselves, if not to outsiders, he was pretty sure they knew damned well where he’d been. He hoped they wouldn’t take it as an insult. He was only a few minutes late, after all.

“You gentlemen asked for this meeting,” Mike said, sitting down on the couch and pouring a cup of tea.

“Kildar,” Father Kulcyanov said formaly. “We come to speak of the customs of the Keldara.”

Father Kulcyanov was not the oldest of the Family leaders, but he was acknowledged as the senior for all matters of protocol and custom. He was, in fact, the high priest of the Keldara’s ancient worship. A tall man, he was clearly shrunken from his original growth with clear signs of cardiovascular failure. Once he must have been as large as Oleg, perhaps bigger, and he had been one of the few Keldara to fight in the “Great Patriotic War,” WWII, from which he had returned with a chestful of medals.

“I am always observant of the customs of the Keldara,” Mike said, carefully. In fact, he had trampled all over a few, but only when it seemed the only way to accomplish what had to be accomplished. In one case, he’d trampled all over their fear of debt by taking a girl with a burst appendix to the hospital in Tbilisi. He wasn’t about to let the girl die just because the Keldara couldn’t afford the cost. He’d unknowingly trampled all over another by taking her friend, Lydia, Oleg’s fiancée, along as a chaperone. It turned out that for an unmarried female he couldn’t have picked a worse one.

That had, he thought, been smoothed over. But the presence of Oleg argued against it.

“As you know, Oleg Kulcyanov is fasted to Lydia Mahona,” Father Kulcyanov continued. “There is a problem in that regard. It involves bride price.”

Mike looked at Genadi. The farm manager had been a Keldara before being forced off the farm by his predecessor. However, he hadn’t just been tossed off the farm but formally cast from the Families. The move had been forced on them by his predecessor, but it put him in a good position from Mike’s perspective; he knew the customs but was no longer bound by them. And he could generally talk freely about them without offending the Keldara since he was no longer one of them.

He was also a graduate of the University of Tbilisi and had thought long and hard about the customs so he had an understanding that often eluded both Mike and the Keldara.

“It’s a dowry,” Genadi said. “It’s a long held and very serious custom, but it has a purpose. It’s generally fixed at a year’s income for the male. In the first few years of setting up a household, there’s a strong loss of income from both sides. The bride generally becomes pregnant quickly and there are household items that are needed. The male also tends to have a fall off of quality of work.”

“I’m going to need Oleg at high function this year,” Mike said. “But I get your point. How much do you need?”

“This is not a situation where the Kildar can simply gift the bride and groom,” Father Mahona said, grimacing. He was one of the younger elders and he and Mike had a very good relationship. So if he was that blunt, Mike probably was in a minefield. “Bride price is a very personal item. If you gifted Lydia without recompense then it would, effectively, make her your bride. Oleg could never marry her in that condition.”

“Not gonna happen,” Mike said, looking at Oleg who was looking very unhappy. “Oleg, where do you stand in this?”

“I will let the elders explain, Kildar,” Oleg said. The guy looked really unhappy.

“Okay, first things first,” Mike said. “Oleg is my top team leader. I’m cognizant of the customs of the Keldara, but anything that reduces Oleg’s functionality or loyalty is out the window.”

“This will reduce neither, Kildar,” Oleg said, definitely, looking Mike in the eye. “This is a long-held custom and one that binds the Keldara. The custom they wish to speak of binds the Keldara to the Kildar. And you are both my commander and my friend. I am in support of it.”

“What custom?” Mike asked, cautiously.

“The Kardane,” Genadi said, grimacing. “In Western cultures it would be called the ‘droit de seigneur.’ ”