(Persons with incompatible assumptions and ethics should not mix. Now and then they try it anyway...and now and then, they get a response that differs radically from their notions about their places in the world)
Kevin Conway noticed Hajj al-Siddiqui’s entrance to the Onteora Aviation Christmas party before anyone else, and was unable to look away from him thereafter. The Saudi, whose attendance no one had expected, scanned the throng, found Marwan Sayyat, OA’s only Muslim employee, standing alone along its edge, and moved unerringly toward him. Sayyat greeted the Saudi with something halfway between a curtsey and a bow. The two moved well away from the rest of the personnel, as if to preserve the privacy of their unit of two.
“Kevin?”
“Hm? Oh, sorry, Tanya. Something wrong?”
“That’s what I was going to ask,” Tanya Taliaferro said. Her expression wasn’t exactly alarmed, but there was more in it than a casual inquiry into her boyfriend’s state of mind.
He grinned down at her. “Oh, nothing.” His gaze moved immediately back to the two Muslims, who were conversing with unusual animation and a wealth of dramatic gestures. “I just didn’t expect our visitor to put in an appearance.”
But I didn’t expect Marwan to be here, either. First time in eight years.
“He was invited, wasn’t he?” Tanya sipped at her cola. “Mr. Forslund would hardly have neglected to do that.”
“I imagine not. Still...”
He was groping for another topic of conversation when Emil Deukmeijian came through the doors behind them with a hardshell guitar case and a gleam in his eye. The crowd parted to let him pass, and he headed straight for Louis Redmond, who was hunched over the buffet table searching for God alone knew what in a platter of vegetables and dip.
Louis turned, saw his Tactical colleague approaching with the instrument, and threw his eyes to heaven in mock despair. Around them, coworkers familiar with their routine tittered at the byplay.
“Don’t I ever get a break from this, Emil?”
Deukmeijian thrust the guitar case at him and dragged a straight-backed chair to the front of the throng. “Shut up and earn your dinner.”
The crowd laughed.
Conway caught Tanya by the arm and pulled her toward the front of the gathering. “Come on. You don’t want to miss this.”
“Miss what?”
“Trust me.”
Around Louis the clapping was building steadily. His expression of dismay slowly softened to a grin.
“All right, all right.” Louis seated himself, pulled an old Guild acoustic guitar out of the case and settled it on his thighs. “I don’t know any modern songs, though.”
Deukmeijian snorted. “No excuses, choir boy. Make ‘em sing!”
Louis shook his head in resignation and began to tune.
Tanya nudged Conway. “Whose guitar is that?”
“His. He leaves it here, practices at lunch most days.”
Her eyebrows rose, and she turned to watch with heightened interest. The crowd pressed forward around them.
“Any requests?” Louis called out.
A voice from the far end of the room shouted back “Something from after 1900!” The crowd laughed again.
Louis shook his head. “You guys should know better. All right, here goes nothing.” He brushed his fingers lightly over the strings, a motion curiously like a caress, and began to play.
It was a thing of angular elegance. It stepped in light circles of three and four, beckoning and retreating, one measure, two, and then Louis’s soft voice rose to match it.
“Sally free and easy, that should be her name,
“Sally free and easy, that should be her name,
“Took a sailor’s loving, for a nursery game.”
The young engineer’s face was wreathed in light, the strange glow Tanya sometimes perceived around him that it seemed no one else could see. She pressed further forward, pulling Conway with her.
“Oh the heart that she gave me, was not made of stone,
“Oh the heart that she gave me, was not made of stone,
“It was sweet and hollow, like a honeycomb.”
Louis lowered his head and cycled the melody through two simple variations, four measures. Conway’s heartstrings vibrated in sympathy.
“Think I’ll wait till the sunset, see the ensign down,
“Think I’ll wait till the sunset, see the ensign down,
“Then I’ll take the tideway, to my burying ground.”
He gave the melody a final contrapunctal spin and lowered his voice still further.
“Sally free and easy, that should be her name,
“Sally free and easy, that should be her name,
“When my body’s landed... hope she dies of shame.”
One bare cycle over the strings, and silence.
The applause was sudden and vigorous. Louis bowed his head and waited for the approbations to die out.
“Thank you.”
Tanya nudged Kevin and whispered, “He didn’t do this last year.”
Conway’s face clouded in recollection. “Events, love. There was other stuff to deal with, remember?”
A pang went through her, and she nodded.
“Is that new?” someone shouted.
Louis shook his head. “Thirty years old at least. Written by an Englishman named Cyril Tawney. Ready for the old stuff?”
The response was a wordless shout of assent.
Louis nodded and began to pick again. This melody was more regular than the first. It sang of sunlight, a joyous romp over an open meadow, and an enveloping warmth.
“Oh the summertime’s a comin’,
“And the fields are sweetly growin’,
“And the wild mountain thyme blooms around the purple heather,
“Will you go, lassie, go?
“For we’ll all go down together,
“We’ll pull wild mountain thyme,
“From around the purple heather,
“If you’ll go, lassie, go.”
The melody circled and rang in the great room.
“I will build my love a bower,
“By yon clear, crystal fountain,
“And around it I will sow all the flowers of the mountain,
“Will you go, lassie, go?”
Louis closed his eyes and let his fingers tease that timeless paean to youth and love from the strings in endless revolutions. He tipped back his head, his lips parted, and his sweet, soft baritone became a thing with wings.
“If my true love will not go,
“I shall surely find another,
“Who’ll pull wild mountain thyme from around the purple heather,
“Yes we’ll go, lassie, go,
“And we’ll all go down together,
“To pull wild mountain thyme,
“From around the purple heather...
“Will you go, lassie go?”
A measure to relax, a measure to conclude, and it was done. The crowd erupted in mind-numbing applause, stomping and cheers.
Tanya pulled Conway through the crowd, to the forward edge. Louis noticed. His eyes twinkled; he nodded minutely toward them and continued playing.
“It is a blasphemy,” al-Siddiqui said.
“The entire event is a blasphemy,” Sayyat replied. “The entire company is a blasphemy. Have you not seen? The sexes commingled, women in lascivious dress, haram food in the cafeteria, and no breaks for prayer! It has surely earned God’s wrath.”
The Saudi turned away from the infidel performer and fixed an interrogative gaze on his companion. “Why, then, do you labor here? Why not at a company run by one of the Faithful?”
Sayyat shook his head ruefully. “I tried, my brother. There are none in Onteora. Indeed, I could find none within two hundred miles.”
“Then move! A servant of Allah must not take friends—or orders—from among the infidels!”
Sayyat started to reply, caught himself, and returned his eyes to Louis Redmond.
I must take care to keep him away from Fatima.
His beloved was almost ready to return to the fold from which the infidels had seduced her. She could not and would not speak ill of Louis Redmond, nor of Emil Deukmeijian, whose affections she still craved. Yet she had spoken more than once of the fear and disorientation that had accompanied her apostasy from the Prophet’s Holy Way. Her sole hope of relief lay in her return to the One True Faith. But...not yet, may Allah make it so. Not quite yet. It was still too soon for Fatima Ozgal to learn of his plans for her. Any of them.
“We must put a stop to this,” al-Siddiqui said, far too loudly. “No matter the cost.” Though a dozen feet separated them from the rest of the celebrants, dozens of heads turned toward them with stares of inquiry.
“Brother, please!” Sayyat whispered. “We are two among many, and in no way prepared for anything but talk. There will be a better time.”
“Allah wills it!”
Onteora Aviation’s Administration Building cafeteria, though filled by more than seven hundred persons, immediately became silent. Sayyat turned to find that the two of them had become the focus of every eye in the huge room.
“Excuse me,” said a soft baritone voice. “Don’t care for the music?”
Louis Redmond stood before them, guitar in hand. His attention was fixed on al-Siddiqui.
Al-Siddiqui’s face twisted into a mask of hatred. Sayyat stepped between them at once.
“There is no need for this.”
The little engineer shook his head. “I think there is, Marwan. Mr. al-Siddiqui—“
“I am cousin to a king, infidel! A member of a royal house!”
“Oh?” Louis’s eyebrows rose. “But we’re in America, not Saudi Arabia. Well, I suppose I should be polite to you anyway. Your people would insist that an American visitor there conform to local laws and customs, wouldn’t they?”
Al-Siddiqui said nothing. His grimace remained in place.
“I thought so,” Louis said. “Why are you here, surrounded by all these infidels and our revolting practices?”
“I am the emissary of the defense minister of my country, and you will show me the proper respect!”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Louis said. “All the respect you deserve and quite a lot more. Please note that no one is keeping you from leaving. If you need help finding your way out, I’m sure Marwan will be happy to assist you.” He smiled, returned to his chair, and settled the guitar on his lap once more.
“Apologies for the interruption, ladies and gentlemen. Anyway, I’d say it’s time for a few Christmas carols, wouldn’t you?”
The crowd roared in approval.
Louis nodded in acknowledgement and began to pick.
“Oh come, all ye faithful,
“Joyful and triumphant,
“Oh come ye, oh come ye, to Bethlehem...”
A thunder of voices joined with Louis’s in song. Al-Siddiqui snarled and started forward. Sayyat took hold of the Saudi’s arm and jerked him back.
Tanya was incredulous. “Where does all that brass come from?”
Conway grinned. “You know him. He’d face down an invading army with one slightly raised eyebrow and a sneer of contempt.” He chuckled. “I wouldn’t lay any bets on the outcome, either.”
The party had recovered its spirits at full intensity. Louis swung from one traditional carol to another. The volume and gaiety of the crowd rose with each one. At the far edge of the gathering, al-Siddiqui and Sayyat had hunched toward one another and were conversing with apparent urgency. Now and then Sayyat glanced toward Louis, who was apparently unaware.
“Kevin?”
“Hm?” Conway turned to find the tall, husky figure of Emil Deukmeijian standing behind him.
Deukmeijian indicated the two Muslims with his eyes. “I don’t like the way this is trending.”
Conway shrugged. “Who does, Emil? Not much to be done about it at the moment. Marwan’s got as much right to be here as I do, and Anders Forslund invited al-Siddiqui here himself.”
“All the same,” Deukmeijian said, “we should try to be ready, don’t you think?”
“Ready for what?”
“Anything.” Deukmeijian glanced again at the Muslims. “It’s an awfully nice party. Shouldn’t we try to make sure it stays that way?”
Conway looked hard into the big software engineer’s eyes, smiled, and nodded. “Tanya, wait here, would you please? Emil and I will be back in a little while.”
Sayyat stiffened as a large hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed. He straightened and tried to shake off the offending digits, but failed. He turned partway to find Kevin Conway smiling at him.
“Merry Christmas, Marwan. The two of you looked a bit lonely, over here all by yourselves. Terrible thing to behold on Christmas Eve. So we decided to bring you a little seasonal cheer.” He presented Sayyat with a small cup of yellowish fluid.
Emil Deukmeijian had Hajj al-Siddiqui in exactly the same grip. The Saudi’s face had mottled with outrage.
“If the two of you would be so kind as to come with us,” Conway murmured, “I think we can show you a better time than you appear to be having here.”
“We will stay where we are,” al-Siddiqui growled. His eyes darted toward Deukmeijian. “And you will remove your unclean hand from my person!”
“Oh, I think not,” Emil drawled. “That young fellow with the guitar you were talking to a little earlier? Happens that we think a lot of him. So does everyone else in this room. We’d take it badly if you were to do anything that might get him upset. And he gets very upset at any criticism of his singing. So we thought we’d let you know about that beforehand.”
Emil’s fingers closed powerfully on al-Siddiqui’s shoulder. The Saudi’s face went dead white, and he started to slump to the ground. Emil quickly caught him and held him up.
“A bit too much Christmas cheer, Mr. al-Siddiqui? And so early in the evening, too. I thought your sort didn’t drink. Well, it takes all kinds. As long as you’re going to stay, we’ll just stay here with you and make sure everything remains copacetic until you’ve had enough. That okay by you, Kevin?”
Conway smiled ferally. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
Sayyat wilted.
“What was that all about?” Tanya said as Conway returned to her side.
He shrugged. “Call it a peacekeeping measure.”
“You really thought—“
“No, love. Emil did, though. I was just backing his play.” Conway looked toward the departing Muslims. Deukmeijian was herding them through the cafeteria doors.
Mission accomplished. Good work, Emil.
“They don’t play nice,” he said. “The Middle Eastern ones bring their attitudes with them wherever they go. They’re Allah’s chosen people, and the rest of us are infidel scum: too happy, too free, and too ignorant of our lowly status. So they feel they have the privilege of abusing us, even in our own country. It doesn’t take a lot for that attitude to come to the surface.”
He looked toward the front of the gathering, where Louis was packing up his guitar to groans of disappointment from his audience. “They can just barely bear to deal with the rest of us as if we were actual human beings. But there isn’t a man among them worthy to tie Louis’s shoelaces, they know it as soon as they look at him, and it gets them in a really tender place. The ones who’ve been in this country for a while have enough sense to restrain themselves. Most of them, most of the time, though there’s no telling what they’ll do when enough of them get together. But the ones fresh off the tarmac from places where their kind reign unopposed?” He shook his head. “Emil had the right idea. If the Saudi had dared to try anything with Louis...”
Tanya wrapped an arm around him and snugged herself into his side. Her expression had become solemn. “They don’t belong here, do they?”
“No,” Conway said. “They don’t.”
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Kevin Conway noticed Hajj al-Siddiqui’s entrance to the Onteora Aviation Christmas party before anyone else, and was unable to look away from him thereafter. The Saudi, whose attendance no one had expected, scanned the throng, found Marwan Sayyat, OA’s only Muslim employee, standing alone along its edge, and moved unerringly toward him. Sayyat greeted the Saudi with something halfway between a curtsey and a bow. The two moved well away from the rest of the personnel, as if to preserve the privacy of their unit of two.
“Kevin?”
“Hm? Oh, sorry, Tanya. Something wrong?”
“That’s what I was going to ask,” Tanya Taliaferro said. Her expression wasn’t exactly alarmed, but there was more in it than a casual inquiry into her boyfriend’s state of mind.
He grinned down at her. “Oh, nothing.” His gaze moved immediately back to the two Muslims, who were conversing with unusual animation and a wealth of dramatic gestures. “I just didn’t expect our visitor to put in an appearance.”
But I didn’t expect Marwan to be here, either. First time in eight years.
“He was invited, wasn’t he?” Tanya sipped at her cola. “Mr. Forslund would hardly have neglected to do that.”
“I imagine not. Still...”
He was groping for another topic of conversation when Emil Deukmeijian came through the doors behind them with a hardshell guitar case and a gleam in his eye. The crowd parted to let him pass, and he headed straight for Louis Redmond, who was hunched over the buffet table searching for God alone knew what in a platter of vegetables and dip.
Louis turned, saw his Tactical colleague approaching with the instrument, and threw his eyes to heaven in mock despair. Around them, coworkers familiar with their routine tittered at the byplay.
“Don’t I ever get a break from this, Emil?”
Deukmeijian thrust the guitar case at him and dragged a straight-backed chair to the front of the throng. “Shut up and earn your dinner.”
The crowd laughed.
Conway caught Tanya by the arm and pulled her toward the front of the gathering. “Come on. You don’t want to miss this.”
“Miss what?”
“Trust me.”
Around Louis the clapping was building steadily. His expression of dismay slowly softened to a grin.
“All right, all right.” Louis seated himself, pulled an old Guild acoustic guitar out of the case and settled it on his thighs. “I don’t know any modern songs, though.”
Deukmeijian snorted. “No excuses, choir boy. Make ‘em sing!”
Louis shook his head in resignation and began to tune.
#
Tanya nudged Conway. “Whose guitar is that?”
“His. He leaves it here, practices at lunch most days.”
Her eyebrows rose, and she turned to watch with heightened interest. The crowd pressed forward around them.
“Any requests?” Louis called out.
A voice from the far end of the room shouted back “Something from after 1900!” The crowd laughed again.
Louis shook his head. “You guys should know better. All right, here goes nothing.” He brushed his fingers lightly over the strings, a motion curiously like a caress, and began to play.
It was a thing of angular elegance. It stepped in light circles of three and four, beckoning and retreating, one measure, two, and then Louis’s soft voice rose to match it.
“Sally free and easy, that should be her name,
“Sally free and easy, that should be her name,
“Took a sailor’s loving, for a nursery game.”
The young engineer’s face was wreathed in light, the strange glow Tanya sometimes perceived around him that it seemed no one else could see. She pressed further forward, pulling Conway with her.
“Oh the heart that she gave me, was not made of stone,
“Oh the heart that she gave me, was not made of stone,
“It was sweet and hollow, like a honeycomb.”
Louis lowered his head and cycled the melody through two simple variations, four measures. Conway’s heartstrings vibrated in sympathy.
“Think I’ll wait till the sunset, see the ensign down,
“Think I’ll wait till the sunset, see the ensign down,
“Then I’ll take the tideway, to my burying ground.”
He gave the melody a final contrapunctal spin and lowered his voice still further.
“Sally free and easy, that should be her name,
“Sally free and easy, that should be her name,
“When my body’s landed... hope she dies of shame.”
One bare cycle over the strings, and silence.
The applause was sudden and vigorous. Louis bowed his head and waited for the approbations to die out.
“Thank you.”
Tanya nudged Kevin and whispered, “He didn’t do this last year.”
Conway’s face clouded in recollection. “Events, love. There was other stuff to deal with, remember?”
A pang went through her, and she nodded.
“Is that new?” someone shouted.
Louis shook his head. “Thirty years old at least. Written by an Englishman named Cyril Tawney. Ready for the old stuff?”
The response was a wordless shout of assent.
Louis nodded and began to pick again. This melody was more regular than the first. It sang of sunlight, a joyous romp over an open meadow, and an enveloping warmth.
“Oh the summertime’s a comin’,
“And the fields are sweetly growin’,
“And the wild mountain thyme blooms around the purple heather,
“Will you go, lassie, go?
“For we’ll all go down together,
“We’ll pull wild mountain thyme,
“From around the purple heather,
“If you’ll go, lassie, go.”
The melody circled and rang in the great room.
“I will build my love a bower,
“By yon clear, crystal fountain,
“And around it I will sow all the flowers of the mountain,
“Will you go, lassie, go?”
Louis closed his eyes and let his fingers tease that timeless paean to youth and love from the strings in endless revolutions. He tipped back his head, his lips parted, and his sweet, soft baritone became a thing with wings.
“If my true love will not go,
“I shall surely find another,
“Who’ll pull wild mountain thyme from around the purple heather,
“Yes we’ll go, lassie, go,
“And we’ll all go down together,
“To pull wild mountain thyme,
“From around the purple heather...
“Will you go, lassie go?”
A measure to relax, a measure to conclude, and it was done. The crowd erupted in mind-numbing applause, stomping and cheers.
Tanya pulled Conway through the crowd, to the forward edge. Louis noticed. His eyes twinkled; he nodded minutely toward them and continued playing.
#
“It is a blasphemy,” al-Siddiqui said.
“The entire event is a blasphemy,” Sayyat replied. “The entire company is a blasphemy. Have you not seen? The sexes commingled, women in lascivious dress, haram food in the cafeteria, and no breaks for prayer! It has surely earned God’s wrath.”
The Saudi turned away from the infidel performer and fixed an interrogative gaze on his companion. “Why, then, do you labor here? Why not at a company run by one of the Faithful?”
Sayyat shook his head ruefully. “I tried, my brother. There are none in Onteora. Indeed, I could find none within two hundred miles.”
“Then move! A servant of Allah must not take friends—or orders—from among the infidels!”
Sayyat started to reply, caught himself, and returned his eyes to Louis Redmond.
I must take care to keep him away from Fatima.
His beloved was almost ready to return to the fold from which the infidels had seduced her. She could not and would not speak ill of Louis Redmond, nor of Emil Deukmeijian, whose affections she still craved. Yet she had spoken more than once of the fear and disorientation that had accompanied her apostasy from the Prophet’s Holy Way. Her sole hope of relief lay in her return to the One True Faith. But...not yet, may Allah make it so. Not quite yet. It was still too soon for Fatima Ozgal to learn of his plans for her. Any of them.
“We must put a stop to this,” al-Siddiqui said, far too loudly. “No matter the cost.” Though a dozen feet separated them from the rest of the celebrants, dozens of heads turned toward them with stares of inquiry.
“Brother, please!” Sayyat whispered. “We are two among many, and in no way prepared for anything but talk. There will be a better time.”
“Allah wills it!”
Onteora Aviation’s Administration Building cafeteria, though filled by more than seven hundred persons, immediately became silent. Sayyat turned to find that the two of them had become the focus of every eye in the huge room.
“Excuse me,” said a soft baritone voice. “Don’t care for the music?”
Louis Redmond stood before them, guitar in hand. His attention was fixed on al-Siddiqui.
Al-Siddiqui’s face twisted into a mask of hatred. Sayyat stepped between them at once.
“There is no need for this.”
The little engineer shook his head. “I think there is, Marwan. Mr. al-Siddiqui—“
“I am cousin to a king, infidel! A member of a royal house!”
“Oh?” Louis’s eyebrows rose. “But we’re in America, not Saudi Arabia. Well, I suppose I should be polite to you anyway. Your people would insist that an American visitor there conform to local laws and customs, wouldn’t they?”
Al-Siddiqui said nothing. His grimace remained in place.
“I thought so,” Louis said. “Why are you here, surrounded by all these infidels and our revolting practices?”
“I am the emissary of the defense minister of my country, and you will show me the proper respect!”
“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Louis said. “All the respect you deserve and quite a lot more. Please note that no one is keeping you from leaving. If you need help finding your way out, I’m sure Marwan will be happy to assist you.” He smiled, returned to his chair, and settled the guitar on his lap once more.
“Apologies for the interruption, ladies and gentlemen. Anyway, I’d say it’s time for a few Christmas carols, wouldn’t you?”
The crowd roared in approval.
Louis nodded in acknowledgement and began to pick.
“Oh come, all ye faithful,
“Joyful and triumphant,
“Oh come ye, oh come ye, to Bethlehem...”
A thunder of voices joined with Louis’s in song. Al-Siddiqui snarled and started forward. Sayyat took hold of the Saudi’s arm and jerked him back.
#
Tanya was incredulous. “Where does all that brass come from?”
Conway grinned. “You know him. He’d face down an invading army with one slightly raised eyebrow and a sneer of contempt.” He chuckled. “I wouldn’t lay any bets on the outcome, either.”
The party had recovered its spirits at full intensity. Louis swung from one traditional carol to another. The volume and gaiety of the crowd rose with each one. At the far edge of the gathering, al-Siddiqui and Sayyat had hunched toward one another and were conversing with apparent urgency. Now and then Sayyat glanced toward Louis, who was apparently unaware.
“Kevin?”
“Hm?” Conway turned to find the tall, husky figure of Emil Deukmeijian standing behind him.
Deukmeijian indicated the two Muslims with his eyes. “I don’t like the way this is trending.”
Conway shrugged. “Who does, Emil? Not much to be done about it at the moment. Marwan’s got as much right to be here as I do, and Anders Forslund invited al-Siddiqui here himself.”
“All the same,” Deukmeijian said, “we should try to be ready, don’t you think?”
“Ready for what?”
“Anything.” Deukmeijian glanced again at the Muslims. “It’s an awfully nice party. Shouldn’t we try to make sure it stays that way?”
Conway looked hard into the big software engineer’s eyes, smiled, and nodded. “Tanya, wait here, would you please? Emil and I will be back in a little while.”
#
Sayyat stiffened as a large hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed. He straightened and tried to shake off the offending digits, but failed. He turned partway to find Kevin Conway smiling at him.
“Merry Christmas, Marwan. The two of you looked a bit lonely, over here all by yourselves. Terrible thing to behold on Christmas Eve. So we decided to bring you a little seasonal cheer.” He presented Sayyat with a small cup of yellowish fluid.
Emil Deukmeijian had Hajj al-Siddiqui in exactly the same grip. The Saudi’s face had mottled with outrage.
“If the two of you would be so kind as to come with us,” Conway murmured, “I think we can show you a better time than you appear to be having here.”
“We will stay where we are,” al-Siddiqui growled. His eyes darted toward Deukmeijian. “And you will remove your unclean hand from my person!”
“Oh, I think not,” Emil drawled. “That young fellow with the guitar you were talking to a little earlier? Happens that we think a lot of him. So does everyone else in this room. We’d take it badly if you were to do anything that might get him upset. And he gets very upset at any criticism of his singing. So we thought we’d let you know about that beforehand.”
Emil’s fingers closed powerfully on al-Siddiqui’s shoulder. The Saudi’s face went dead white, and he started to slump to the ground. Emil quickly caught him and held him up.
“A bit too much Christmas cheer, Mr. al-Siddiqui? And so early in the evening, too. I thought your sort didn’t drink. Well, it takes all kinds. As long as you’re going to stay, we’ll just stay here with you and make sure everything remains copacetic until you’ve had enough. That okay by you, Kevin?”
Conway smiled ferally. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
Sayyat wilted.
#
“What was that all about?” Tanya said as Conway returned to her side.
He shrugged. “Call it a peacekeeping measure.”
“You really thought—“
“No, love. Emil did, though. I was just backing his play.” Conway looked toward the departing Muslims. Deukmeijian was herding them through the cafeteria doors.
Mission accomplished. Good work, Emil.
“They don’t play nice,” he said. “The Middle Eastern ones bring their attitudes with them wherever they go. They’re Allah’s chosen people, and the rest of us are infidel scum: too happy, too free, and too ignorant of our lowly status. So they feel they have the privilege of abusing us, even in our own country. It doesn’t take a lot for that attitude to come to the surface.”
He looked toward the front of the gathering, where Louis was packing up his guitar to groans of disappointment from his audience. “They can just barely bear to deal with the rest of us as if we were actual human beings. But there isn’t a man among them worthy to tie Louis’s shoelaces, they know it as soon as they look at him, and it gets them in a really tender place. The ones who’ve been in this country for a while have enough sense to restrain themselves. Most of them, most of the time, though there’s no telling what they’ll do when enough of them get together. But the ones fresh off the tarmac from places where their kind reign unopposed?” He shook his head. “Emil had the right idea. If the Saudi had dared to try anything with Louis...”
Tanya wrapped an arm around him and snugged herself into his side. Her expression had become solemn. “They don’t belong here, do they?”
“No,” Conway said. “They don’t.”
==<O>==
