cousin's husband. It must be nice to have a hobby.
Harrington raised the glass. It does make the time go by faster. As a matter of fact, Penny darling, I think it's turned out that I enjoy California better than you or Stephie.
Stephie snorted. I'm surprised you remember we're in California. You've been potted every day since we got out here.
I can't wait for winter, Harrington said. They tell me it doesn't snow in Southern California. It's quite warm, actually, even in January and February.
You haven't been out of the house more than three or four times, Penny said. Who did you meet that told you they have mild winters?
Mercedes told me, he said, referring to their full-time Mexican maid.
Speaking of Mercedes, where is she? Penny asked. I want a sandwich.
Harrington replied, She went on a liquor store run for me.
Why don't you give her your liquor wants on regular shopping days? Stephie asked. They sell the stuff in the grocery stores here. That way, she wouldn't have to go out three or four times a week. The poor girl could pick up your weekly liquor needs in one trip.
I don't like to plan ahead, Harrington said. And variety is the lice of spife. Ha! I mean, spice of life.
God! Penny exclaimed. Whatever she buys for you will have the same effect. You'll get drunk on your ass. What difference does it make what you drink? Just tell her to pick up a half-dozen bottles each of vodka and vermouth.
Harrington took another sip of his martini, then pulled out the pick and stripped an olive off between his teeth. I shall require much more vodka than vermouth, darling Penny.
You'll be dead before you're thirty-five, Stephie said.
And you'll be the rich Widow Gilwright, Harrington responded. Think of all the money you'll have.
I can't wait, Stephie said, grinning at Penny.
But even if I die at thirty-five, I'll still live longer than Chad, Harrington said. If he has a death wish, he should find a more pleasant way of getting killed than in some horrible war somewhere. Why pick such an uncomfortable and possibly painful way to leave this mortal coil, as Shakespeare referred to this miserable world? There is an abundance of alcohol and drugs to do the job in a nice, peaceful, civilized manner.
You wouldn't understand, Penny said, so I'm not going to even discuss Chad with you.
I'm having a little trouble understanding him too, Stephie said.
Harrington was curious. Now what could Chad Murchison have done that has confused and disturbed you so?
The other day Penny and I were out at the beach, Stephie said. We saw a mob of military guys running around in groups. Each bunch was holding a big rubber boat over their heads. God! They must have weighed a ton!
Harrington raised his eyebrows. How odd!
Penny interjected, And they were just about exhausted. They would run into the surf, jump in the boat, and row out. Then turn around and come back. They must have done it a dozen times. All this time, some other guys were yelling very angrily at them. Each time those miserable boaters returned to the beach, the ones who must have broken some rule or something had to do push-ups.
And the water is cold here! Stephie exclaimed. They were wearing jackets and pants and boots, but the poor guys were shivering like a blizzard was blowing. They looked like they were about to die!
I'm about to die from just hearing about it, Harrington said with a smirk. Who were they? A bunch of apes from the San Diego Zoo?
We asked a couple of women who were next to us on the beach, Penny said. They told us those guys were volunteers for the SEALs. That was part of their training.
God! Stephie exclaimed. It really blew my mind when I thought of Chad doing that.
One of the women told us her husband had been in SEAL training but quit, Penny said. She said he was in the middle of something they called Hell Week. Evidently, those guys do all sorts of hard training with very little sleep and no mercy shown to them. She said her husband just decided it wasn't worth it. Evidently, most of the guys volunteering for the SEALs don't make the grade.
Harrington was silent for a moment before speaking again. I'm having a problem picturing skinny Chadwick Murchison not only going through such torment, but actually successfully completing the awful program.
He's not skinny anymore, Harrington, Penny said. Whatever the SEALs did to him was beneficial. I mean, like, spiritually as much as physically.
Harrington drained the glass, then refilled it from the shaker.
And you want to marry him? They must have turned him into an animal!
He is, Penny said with a smile. A hunky animal!
Yeah! Stephie exclaimed. Show me his picture again, Penny!
I wish I had known that was what it took to win your heart, Penny dearest, Harrington said, miffed by his wife's admiring remarks about Chad. I would have become a SEAL myself. It would have been worth the pain and agony to have your heart as Chad has it.
I don't think you appreciate what we've just told you, Harrington, Stephie said. You would have lasted about a minute and a half out there.
If that long, Penny added. You should have seen those guys.
Harrington looked around. How long is it going to take Mercedes to fetch my liquor?
.
UNREO CAMP
WEST-CENTRAL AFGHANISTAN
DR. Pierre Bouchier and his relief and education organization were back in business. After going to Kabul, they went through a complete refitting and received a half-dozen new personnel to replace those who had departed. With the reorganization taken care of, the UNREO team had been dispatched to the high desert to set up a camp to serve a new set of Pashtuns.
These people were from the Gharawdara Highlands stronghold. After the defeat suffered by the Iranian SF and smugglers, the Pashtun leader Yama Orakzai could see the handwriting on the wall. Whoever kicked the Iranians' arses would soon be kicking his. Orakzai's big plan for establishing a Pashtun nation in western Afghanistan was not going to happen anytime soon. And if he kept up alliances with a bunch of losers like the Iranians, his dreams of independence would be squashed forever. After kicking out Sikes Pasha, Captain Naser Khadid, and the Arabs, Orakzai turned to a Pashtun custom known as nanwatai.
This is an act of abject submission to a conquering enemy. The loser approaches the victor in unreserved humility, begging for forgiveness and mercy. The vanquisher is expected to be more than merciful because of this humble act; he is expected to be nothing short of magnanimous, restoring the loser's dignity and making no attempts to punish or debase him.
It was in the spirit of nanwatai that Yama Orakzai sent out peace feelers to the Afghan authorities. He wanted to take his people back to their original home site and reestablish their former lives.
The government in Kabul was relieved to react in accordance with the gesture, not so much in kindness as happiness at having this thorn in their sides removed under amicable and honorable circumstances. However, they bent the basic rules of nanwatai a bit by insisting that Orakzai make his clan an open society. He must accept the aid and teachings of UNREO, cooperate with them, and see that his people obtained all the advantages of what the foreigners had to offer. The Pashtun leader agreed to the terms with a great show of gratitude. He was even willing to turn over all heavy weaponry to the local army commander. Some rusty Soviet Dashika machine guns and 82- millimeter mortars were presented to the soldiers. This act was even filmed for local TV consumption to set an example for other warlords. Of course, the authorities were unaware of a vast arsenal hidden deep within the weatherproof caves of the former stronghold.
The government agent who monitored Orakzai's acquiescence the word surrender was never used was a veteran of relations with warlords. His name was Zaid Aburrani, and he was well known by Brannigan's Brigands. It was Aburrani who oversaw the taming of the former powerful warlords Ayuub Durtami and Hassan Khamami after the SEALs had dealt them a proverbial ass-kicking on their first mission. Now he was having an easier time of it.
