Chapter 3 : Part of the Household

The Bentley

Back in the Bentley, Sir Patrick and Gerry headed back into town.

"I'm not sure that I understand the problem," Gerry began. "Surely we just need to explain things to the Minister, and then off we go."

"Diplomatically it's more difficult than that, I'm afraid. Let's look at it from his point of view. He's the Trade Minister, you're a Trade Envoy. A transaction occurred. You can't just turn up and say you didn't mean it. Where would that leave your credibility? No that wouldn't do at all. Even if it was likely that Kushnar would accept it." Sir Patrick was long experienced in making the outrageous seem reasonable.

"But I didn't 'trade' Suzie. I couldn't, could I?"

"No, but that's not how Kushnar would see it. You turn up with an attractive woman in tow. Of course he assumes that she is 'yours'. That's the way that their culture works, even informally."

Gerry sat back in his seat feeling glum. What made things worse was that he'd found Suzie insufferable. When it came to women, he preferred the quietly compliant Fanima to the brash and noisy Ms. Berkham. And she had known it. Even if they got her back, she probably wouldn't ever forgive him. Which might or might not be a problem, of course.

A Social Call

Kashim Kushnar was all smiles as he greeted Sir Patrick and Gerry.

"Ambassador, how agreeable. When was it we met last? The Embassy garden party, I'm sure. Your household is well I trust." Kashim Kushnar was effusive and welcoming.

"Yes, indeed. My wife and daughters are very well, thank you." Sir Patrick was cheery in response.

"So lucky! Such fine looking women."

"Thank you, Minister. Yes, I am most lucky in that respect." The Ambassador accepted the compliment with grace.

"You'll take tea?"

"Indeed."

Kashin Kushnar reached down beside his cushion and picked up a small brass bell. Its tinkling ring was answered by a dark skinned Kushtian girl clad in a golden harem costume, veiled and wearing an elaborate head dress which fell behind her to be fastened to cuffs around her ankles. Between her breasts hung a large golden disk engraved with two large letter K's, the girl's properta. The girl was small, barely five feet tall. She ran quickly to Kashin's side and fell to her knees. Kashin grunted a few guttural words of Kushtian. The girl bowed her head, leapt to her feet and disappeared.

Moments later three girls, all dressed as the first, reappeared. Each carried a small tray with an ornately engraved brass pot and a small porcelain bowl. All three were blessed with the flawless skin and taut bellies that made any woman over the age of twenty one jealous. Each was endowed with a bosom and cleavage that was likely to distract any of the men present from any deep conversation. They knelt, one beside each of the three men. "Tea, gentlemen," Kushnar announced. "Now, how can I help you?"

Diplomatic Language

Sir Patrick picked up his bowl of tea and took a sip. "I wanted to be confident," Sir Patrick began, "that you were happy Minister."