"Welcome to the stranger," he greeted me. “May Allah's grace smile on you. Ah, you have returned the sheikh's property. He will be most pleased. And grateful, I assure you. Speaking in his name, allow me to offer you the hospitality of this humble abode. Food? Wine? Or perhaps one of these flowers would be best designed to slake your particular thirst."
He spoke in Arabic, and I missed a little of what he was saying, but not too much. I got the gist of it all right. I shot him a smile and whispered to Teska, still slung over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Who is he?" I asked her in English.
“Ben Kavir, the keeper of the harim."
“What should I do?”
"Accept his hospitality. He speaks for the sheikh. Take some food, or drink, or one of the girls."
"One of the girls? That would be one helluva hard choice to make!"
"Then take several. The more you take, the more flattered he will be for the sheikh. Tell him you would like to try them all."
“What do you think I am? Some kind of sex superman or something? Take them all! Well, at least you're not the jealous type.”
"You don't have to make love to all of them. At least not right away. But if you tell him you admire them all, he may leave you alone with them and then you'll have a chance to talk to them and ask about the Russian girl you seek.”
"I cannot choose among these flowers," I told the old man. "Their beauty is so great that I am filled with gluttony."
“The sheikh will be honored." Ben Kavir beamed. “I shall leave you alone to sport with them as you will while I go to inform the sheikh of the great homage you have paid his household. Please. Set down your unworthy burden on the floor and allow our beauties to entertain you as you wish." He got up and left the chamber.
I put Teska down and started towards the nearest of the girls, a blue-eyed blonde wearing a completely transparent harem costume. I never made it to her. Even as I took the first step, a giant, hairy arm fastened around my neck from behind and a sharp dagger-point nibbled at my spinal column.
“Son of a pig!" The voice was thunder and hot breath right in my ear. “It was you who stole Teska away."
"No!" I protested, finding it hard to get the words through my windpipe the way he was choking me. "I had nothing to do with it! She ran away on her own."
“You lie!" The blade bit more sharply. “She would never leave of her own volition so long as I was here."
“But I did, Abdul." Teska spoke from the floor.
"You are only trying to shield this pig. And now he shall die for daring to lust after you.”
A weird parade of thoughts flashed through my mind: Soon now, I’ll either be bleeding to death from a Syrian dagger stuck in my back, or playing sheikh to a harim full of nympho houris. At the moment, the first possibility seemed the most likely, and I was damn scared.
I felt the knife draw back and steeled myself for the impact of its plunging into my back and sucking the life from my body. It seemed a helluva way to go, killed by the pigsticker of a jealous eunuch! But a voice cracked out in the nick of time and I was saved.
“Abdul! Stop! Let him go!"
The big ape released me and stepped back. I turned around and saw the owner of the voice standing in the doorway. Sheikh Taj-ed el Atassi, without a doubt! He looked the part right down to the last inch. He stood almost as tall as his eunuch henchman. His robes were flowing white, his face dark and gleaming with small, sharp teeth, his brow high and his hair thick and curly beneath his thrown-back burnoose. He was one of the 73 most handsome men I've ever seen, and it was hard to believe what Teska had told me about his being short- changed in the penal department.
"My apologies, Mr.—?” He spoke in flawless English and waited for me to supply a name.
“Victor. Steve Victor. I was just returning your property when this big ape jumped me."
“My most humble apologies again, Mr. Victor. Abdul is prone to develop unfortunate attachments to some of my concubines. Rest assured that he shall be punished for what he has done. And now, will you join. me in some wine?"
“I could use a drink," I said truthfully.
“You are English, Mr. Victor?" the sheikh asked when we were seated on the cushions with our drinks.
"American."
"I see." He thought a moment. “I don't wish to seem unappreciative, but how is it that you have gone to all this trouble to return one of my houris to me?"
“I wanted to see the inside of your harem."
“A common curiosity, but still hardly enough to explain a ten-hour ride from Damascus. You see, my agents had informed me of Teska's presence in that city. It would only have been a matter of time before I arranged to have her picked up myself.”
“I have a particular interest in harems,” I said and went on to explain about my work and the project in which I was involved.
My explanation seemed to satisfy the sheikh. “We shall give you our fullest cooperation," he told me. “But first you must be very tired from your strenuous journey. I shall have you shown to a room at once. Would you care to select one of my passion blossoms to share your bed?"
“Thank. you no, Sheikh. As you say, I am very tired. I think I 'll skip it for tonight if you don’t mind."
"As you wish." He pulled a bell-cord and a servant appeared to take me to my room.
I was still undressing, the dawn just rising outside my window, when my door opened and a petite, sexy little Indian girl slipped into the room. "What are you doing here?" I asked her. “I told the sheikh I was too tired for any pattycake. I'm sorry. Don't get insulted, but I've had it. So don't go away mad, just go away."
"Be quiet," she said. “The sheikh didn't send me. Teska did. She asked rne about the Russian girl and when I told her what I knew, she asked me to go and repeat it to you."
“Sorry. A natural enough mistake, though. All right, tell me what you know."
“Just this. Her name was Anna. I don't know what her last name is. She was taken from here two days ago and put aboard a camel train bound for Baghdad. That's all I know.”
"That's enough. Thanks. You've been very helpful.” She slipped out as quietly as she'd come. I started to think over what she’d told me, but I didn't get very far. I was too tired. Within minutes I was sound asleep.
I slept through almost the entire day. When I finally awoke, I dressed and went directly to the sheikh. “I've been thinking,” I told him, “and to get the most out of your hospitality, I should return to Damascus for the tools—charts and graphs and notes and such—I use in my research. Would it be all right if I left here now and rode back tonight? I'd undoubtedly return in a few days," I added, lying.
"Whatever you wish, my friend. This humble house is always open to you. Return at your convenience."
He provided me with a fresh horse, and within the hour I was galloping across the desert back towards Damascus. My plan was to hop a plane to Baghdad just as fast as I could. I was on the trail of Anna Kirkov and the trail was too hot not to hit it immediately. Too much was at stake.
Whipping my horse on to greater and greater speed, I couldn't help thinking ruefully that this ride was a far cry from the wild one I'd enjoyed with Teska the night before. The very thought excited me all over again. But all the excitement earned me was a saddlesore where no rider as experienced as I am should have one!