Deserter

Chapter 16

''Kind of you to drop by,'' Sorir growled. ''Nabil's been stopped. They have nothing on him, but they will if they find the young man they are looking for. That boy must disappear. Here, put this on,'' she said, handing Kris a bundle that shook out into a head-to-toe garment she'd seen on some women in the street. ''Off with the shoes,'' Sorir ordered. ''You must be barefoot.''

Kris reeled; Nabil and his boys had done nothing. What would the Sergeant in gray do to them? Numb, she stepped out of the shoes and took off the cap. As she slipped into the robe, she automatically checked Nelly's antenna. If I gave myself up… Nabil would not be better off. Keep marching, soldier.

''Walk like you're pregnant and follow me,'' Sorir said.

''How do you walk like that?''

''You've seen other women—'' but Kris cut her off.

''Not among the people I know.''

Sorir grabbed a five-gallon can of tomato paste. ''Here, put this in your pants.'' Kris did; it must have weighed thirty pounds. It threw her off balance and made her awkward.

''This is pregnant?''

''Close enough. Follow me.'' Sorir ducked out the back and led Kris rapidly down the alley to a small door that opened on a narrow stairway. Up the stairs was a large, unlit room. Windows high in the roof's eaves let in light to show dust motes and piles of dark cloth and large bales of brightly colored thread. In the shadows four women, well hidden by their robes, worked at their weaving, slowly adding lines of thread to three partially done rugs hanging from the walls. Three toddlers kept them company while two smaller babies lay in baskets. The place smelled of dust and cloth, women and babies. One tiny woman turned from her work. The veil of her robe hid her face, but Kris flinched from the feel of sharp eyes that missed nothing.

''So this is the one,'' a voice firm if old snapped from within the robe. ''You ask much, wife of my youngest son.''

Sorir bowed. ''I ask only what he needs. He and all of us.''

''You are sure of that?'' the elder woman said, reaching for Kris and finding her elbow after only one miss. ''Then we will do as Allah may will. You will work with Tina. She is the slowest of us; maybe you can help her. She is pregnant and can show you how you are supposed to walk. You march like a soldier.''

''I will try not to,'' Kris said, following the older woman.

Sorir turned to go but stopped after only a step. ''You are not barefoot, young woman.''

''I kicked off the loafers,'' Kris said.

''But you wear stockings. No modest woman would wear such a thing.''

Kris looked down at herself from inside the robe. Shirt and pants only overlay the armored bodysuit. It was supposed to protect her. Here, it would give her away as sure as a clown suit. Made of Super Spider Silk, no scissors could cut out the feet. ''Just a moment,'' Kris said as she undid the shirt and pants. They vanished under a pile of rags. The girdle she could put back on. The bodysuit took a while. Nelly was ticking off the eighth or ninth police cruiser to halt in the area as Kris handed over the suit.

The old woman took it, held it up to get a good look at it, sniffed, and said, ''What do we do with this?''

''Give it to Tina and tell her to wrap it around her belly,'' Sorir suggested.

''No. I will not do that to my youngest granddaughter,'' the old woman said. ''You, stranger, you wrap it around yourself. Let no one say we knew what was being done here.''

''Let it be upon me,'' Kris said, taking it back. She pulled the armored girdle back on—at least I won't get gut shot—and wrapped the bodysuit around herself, knotting it at her back. It held the can of tomato paste very well.

Sorir stood back, took a good, long look at Kris, and said, ''That will have to do. But, woman, you are too tall.''

''That's what my mother says,'' Kris said. ''Thank you for all that you have risked. I hope Nabil is safe.''

''Nabil will live as Allah wills. Just you make sure that all this is not a waste,'' Sorir said over her shoulder, leaving.

Kris turned to meet Tina. The woman sat in front of a rug. She looked up at Kris through the veil of her robe that showed nothing of her face. ''Come, stand beside me. I can pass the threads up to you, and you run them through the top of the loom. Then pass them back to me. You will save me from having to stand up so often. I and the baby will bless you for that.''

''When is the baby due?'' Kris said. There wasn't much she knew about pregnancy, but that question always seemed to pop up.

''Only another month to go. This is my first,'' the woman said. Not even the robes could hide the pride in that statement.

POLICE ARE GOING SHOP TO SHOP, LOOKING FOR YOU, Nelly said. THE COPS DOING THE SEARCH ARE NOT BEING TOLD, BUT THE OFFICERS IN CHARGE STRONGLY SUSPECT THAT THEY ARE LOOKING FOR PRINCESS LONGKNIFE.

OH, JOY. SO MUCH FOR MY COVER. HOW'S THE DATA ANALYSIS?

COMING ALONG. Nelly sounded evasive.

YOU OUGHT TO HAVE AN INITIAL CALL BY NOW.

I DO NOT WANT TO MAKE ONE CALL, THEN HAVE TO CHANGE IT.

NELLY, ARE YOU AFRAID OF MAKING A MISTAKE?

IF I TELL YOU WHAT I THINK WE FOUND, YOU WILL WANT TO SEND IT TO SEVERAL PEOPLE. THAT WILL EXPOSE US TO EVEN GREATER RISK THAN WE ARE PRESENTLY RUNNING. I WANT TO BE SURE.

AND YOU ARE NOT QUITE SURE YET THAT WHAT YOU'VE GOT IS…

LARGE NAVAL-SIZED LASERS. THREE PRODUCTION LINES OF EIGHT-INCHERS, AND SEPARATE PRODUCTION LINES FOR FOURTEEN-, SIXTEEN-, AND EIGHTEEN-INCHERS.

ElGHTEEN-INCHERS!

YOU DO NOT THINK THE PRIDE OF TURANTIC COULD CARRY A PRESIDENT-CLASS WEAPONS SUITE? Kris thought about the liner that had brought them here. Peeled of its luxury, it was a very large hull. With several feet of ice for protection and a dozen eighteen-inchers, could it stand up to the battlewagons Kris had dodged during the action at the Paris system? No question.

RATE OF PRODUCTION ON THOSE BIG MOTHERS, NELLY?

I AM WORKING ON THAT. AND REMEMBER, LASERS ARE ONLY AS GOOD AS THE POWER PLANTS BEHIND THEM. WE HAVE NOT FOUND THEIR SOURCE.

NELLY, THERE'S AN OLD SAYING; WHERE THERE'S SMOKE, THERE'S FIRE. YOU DON'T MAKE LASERS IF YOU DON'T HAVE THE POWER TO SHOOT THEM. WE'VE FOUND THE SMOKING GUN. THE DOCKS ON HIGH TURANTIC ARE CONVERTING SIXTY OR SEVENTY MERCHANT SHIPS INTO A FLEET THAT WILL MAKE IT THE NINTH LARGEST IN HUMAN SPACE

AND YOU CAN HARDLY WAIT TO TELL SOMEONE ABOUT IT.

NO, NELLY, WE WILL WAIT. FINISH YOUR ANALYSIS. THEN START CONVERTING OUR NANOS INTO SOMETHING THAT COULD FLY A FEW MILES FROM HERE AND CAL SOME FOLKS WHO NEED TO KNOW THIS.

REMOTE CALL HOME. THAT MIGHT GET THEM OFF OUR TAIL. SPEAKING OF WHICH, FOUR COPS JUST CAME INTO THE SHOP BENEATH US.

''They come,'' the old woman said before Kris could get out a word of warning. The women concentrated on their work. Kris passed the thread back and forth between herself and the young woman, working wordlessly. She tried stooping; the weight of the tomato paste can was heavy on her back. She handed the thread down, then put her right hand to her back and tried to ease the pain. The woman did her part, then reached up with the thread.

''That is what you do when you carry a child.'' Kris could almost hear the smile with the voice.

There was noise on the stairs, voices shouting, wood creaking under heavy steps. The two oldest toddlers, maybe two or three years old, rushed to the door. The third clung to her mother's clothes, whimpering. A man in a long white robe reaching to his shoes, a black vest, and a small brimless hat backed into the door. ''These women are my wife, her mother, and family. They are harem. No unrelated man may look on them.''

A strong hand shoved the man back. Three men in the gray uniforms of SureFire Security swaggered in. One child raced to the man shouting ''Pa-pa, Pa-pa.'' The man scooped him up and tried to shush him. The other child scampered for the other woman, screaming. The third toddler joined in with lusty lungs. The baskets with babies began tentatively to add to the racket. The old woman confronted the grays, hands waving under her robe like a child playing ghost under a sheet. Her voice came high and loud and fast in a flowing language Kris did not follow.

WELL, I CAN, said Nelly, AND SHE'S CALLING THOSE COPS THINGS THAT WOULD MAKE A CAMEL BLUSH BUT NOT USING ONE WORD OF PROFANITY.

''Would you shut her up,'' the man with the chevrons of a Corporal demanded of the white-gowned man.

He started talking, only adding more noise. As the uproar crescendoed to new levels, the two gray-suited men behind the Corporal flinched away.

''Ig, pat down that hen,'' the Corporal ordered, putting himself between the local man and the woman he wanted searched.

''You cannot do that,'' the man shouted.

The Corporal made to push the fellow back, but the child in his arms snapped at his hand. He yanked it out of range of the toddler's teeth.

The local man shouted something to his mother-in-law, then continued arguing with the Corporal. ''I know my rights. You infidels cannot touch our women with your lustful hands. You must call for a woman! You must. I will sue you! My son's brother-in-law is a member of the bar. I will sue!''

The old woman, meanwhile, was slapping at Ig's hands as he halfheartedly tried to follow orders.

The Corporal finally brought everything to a halt by screaming, ''All right. Stop the search. I'll call for a woman.''

The men in gray retreated to the doorway. The local man and his mother-in-law were joined by his wife as the three of them soothed the toddlers. The other woman calmed the babies. Tina and Kris worked their rug.

Five minutes later, a large, heavyset woman in security gray and sporting Sergeant stripes pushed her way through the men. ''You got a problem, Corporal?''

''Yes, ma'am. These women insist on being searched by a woman.''

''Don't ma'am me, Corporal. I work for a living. I look like Princess Longknife to you?''

''It was your beauty that dazzled him,'' came from behind the Corporal.

The Sarge elbowed the Corporal aside none to gently and reached for the tiny grandmother. She pulled up the robe a few inches, revealing small and withered feet. ''We're looking for a guy, close to six feet tall. This old biddy look big, Corporal?''

''No, Sarge.''

''Fine. You checked the man?''

''Already did, downstairs. He owns the place, and he's too fat and short to be our guy,'' he said with a nasty smile.

The local man glowered at him through heavy black eyebrows.

The Sergeant reached for the next woman. ''Now this one just might be our kid all hunched over.'' She yanked the robe up to show a toddler nursing contentedly at the woman's breast.

The Corporal tried to peel the local man off the Sergeant. The tiny grandmother got a good wack at the Corporal's knee, leaving the security man hopping on one foot and the other two guards still trying to free the Sergeant. The kids naturally helped the situation by screaming like they'd never been fed.

When things finally resolved themselves, the local man and his mother-in-law were under guard on one side of the room with two kids clinging to them. His wife was back to making soothing noises to the child under her robe, and the Sergeant gave the other mother, now changing a child's smelly diaper, a search that didn't extend past a pat on the back.

''You two,'' she said pointing at Tina and Kris and waving them away from the rest. ''Over there, now.''

Kris gave Tina a hand up. The woman stood, massaged her back with a groan, and then waddled, one hand beneath her stomach, the other on her back, to where the Sergeant pointed. Kris did her best to imitate the expectant mother. It did go easier on her back if she supported the can with a hand under it. It was impossible to tell in the dim light, but it sure looked like the Sergeant blanched. ''Put your backs to that wall,'' she ordered.

Tina did, and if anything, got her belly farther out. Kris slouched against the wall, getting as short as she could.

''Lift up your skirts. Let me see your feet.''

Tina did, using the hand beneath her belly. Again, Kris did likewise.

Visibly unhappy that nothing was solved by that, the Sarge reached for Tina. The pregnant woman seemed to half fall, half stumble into the big security woman, then screamed and fell sideways onto several bales of thread. Her robe came up, showing bare legs to everyone… and to Kris that she was not wearing anything under the robe.

''The baby, he comes!'' was drowned out as every grownup started shouting, every child screamed, and the guards, not sure what to do, backed toward the door. Kris let out a scream and went to her knees between Tina's, waving wildly and pointing.

The Sergeant bolted for the door. ''Nobody here but a bunch of crazy bitches that don't know enough not to be barefoot and pregnant.''

''You gonna help her have her baby?'' the Corporal asked as the Sarge went by him.

''What kind of a woman do you take me for?'' she snapped.

The children cried; Tina let out a few intermittent shouts to hurry them on their way. In less time than most routed armies needed to cover the ground, the guards were gone.

''What do you think you are doing?'' the tiny grandmother asked Tina as the old woman pulled the younger's robe properly around her legs.

''Practicing,'' Tina said, and let out another shout.

''That is not the way Milda taught you to breathe. And if you do, you will hurt a lot more than I did with any of mine.''

''But they do not know it,'' Tina said with an imp's voice.

The little woman swatted her granddaughter through her robe, then turned to Kris. ''Allah has smiled on us this time. How much longer must we trust in His mercy?''

''We will try to remove her as soon as we can,'' her son-in-law said, coming to her side.

''I need to be where I am going by six or seven,'' Kris said.

''No doubt you must primp for a party,'' the old woman added dryly.

''Yes, I have been ordered to be at a party tonight.''

That sparked low words among the women, but the grandmother only shook her head within her robes. ''What kind of a party is it when you must be ordered to it?''

''Only the usual type that I go to.''

''Girls, do not envy this one. She has found toil where any of you would find joy.''

A young man hurried up the stairs. Without a pause he rushed to where Tina lay. Kris did not follow the language they spoke, but she could tell the fear and endearments that filled their words. Done, the man rose and turned to Kris without hesitation as to which robe hid her.

''A cab will call for you in five minutes. It is expecting a sick man who is going to the dentist. Here.''

The man began stripping out of his vest and gown. Kris started to pull the robe over her head, but the grandmother stopped her. ''Wait until my grandson is gone.''

''But, Grandmother, she is an infidel. She has no modesty.''

''But I have modesty, and I will not have my granddaughter's husband lusting after some infidel djinn.'' Down to slacks and white T-shirt that passed for modest male attire on six hundred planets, the man shrugged and vanished back down the stairs.

Kris pulled the robe over her head, yanked down the girdle, and began working her way back into the transparent bodysuit.

''Why would a respectable woman wear such a thing?'' the grandmother sniffed.

''Because it will stop a four-millimeter bullet at five paces,'' Kris said without looking up.

''Oh,'' came with surprise and maybe a hint of acceptance. ''You fear the world so much that you need dress as this?''

''Do you not recognize her, Mother? Some of us saw her picture on the news yesterday.'' When the old woman did not answer, her daughter continued, ''She is the Princess Longknife, more wealthy than Ali Baba, more powerful than—''

''And running scared just now,'' Kris cut in as she finished with the suit and wiggled into the girdle. ''I cannot tell you how much what you have done for me today means.''

The tiny woman stood in front of her. ''Is it true that you could not find it in your heart to give the vaccine to those dying people who needed it up north? That you, who have so much wealth, have allowed all of us to live in fear of it spreading because our government would not meet your demands for more money? If that is true, you truly live in poverty.''

''Grandmother, I swear to you by every breath my father and grandfather take for the rest of their lives that they would have given every drop of that vaccine to you and the people of this world and taken not one penny in return, if someone had not stolen it from our warehouse,'' Kris said, staring into the gray mesh veil of the old woman's gown.

The woman helped Kris on with the white robe, then stooped for the vest that her grandson had dropped. ''I believe you. What blackened souls there must be in this world that they would steal from you and make you who are so powerful fear them enough to dress as you do.''

''And run around this city dragging people like you into the need to protect me,'' Kris said, putting her arms in the vest.

''Here is your hat,'' Tina said, handing it to Kris.

Kris took the moment to check on her antenna. IT WORKING OKAY, NELLY?

A BIT THE WORSE FOR WEAR, BUT GOOD ENOUGH TO KEEP UP WITH THE CLOWNS CHASING US.

As Kris settled the hat, woven from many colors, on the top of her head, the grandmother brought her a shawl. ''May Allah bless and guide you,'' she said, putting it around Kris's shoulders and leaving a Princess feeling truly blessed.

Sorir appeared at the stair door. That sparked a discussion that Nelly explained was about the bad habits and lack of manners of the security people. This upper room was not the only place where the faithful had given them a good lesson in proper etiquette. What promised to be a long conversation was cut short when Sorir stepped close and gave Kris a small sack.

''Abdul has been sent home. Here is your maid's uniform, purse, and raincoat. I have also included a proper shawl for your head. Sometimes we women wear the edge of it over our mouths,'' she said, demonstrating. ''Few would question even a maid for the Hilton who did that. May it help you today.''

She paused for a moment. ''Has all of this been worth it?''

''Watch the news tonight,'' was all Kris said. If she pulled off what she planned, even Sandfire couldn't keep what was going on in the space docks a secret.

Then again, so far, only she and Nelly knew what was going on there above their heads.

Sorir pulled up Kris's gown and used thick lengths of yarn to tie the dress and raincoat around Kris. ''Now you begin to look like a man of substance. Here, let me add some lines to that face of yours,'' she said applying Kris's makeup pencil. By the time Kris headed downstairs, even she didn't recognize herself.

But the grandmother had one more suggestion. ''You are going to the dentist. You need an abscessed tooth. Chew on this wad of red yarn. If Allah wills it, you may even look like you are spitting blood.'' Kris took it, a deep breath, and hurried down the stairs to face a day that might have finally decided to rain a bit. Fat raindrops slapped into her makeup, leaving her hoping her getup was waterproof.

But the older man was at her side, raising an umbrella. He guided her from the stairwell to the back door and into his rug shop. Hurrying her along, he talked in Arabic enough for two and had her out the front door before she had more than a second to see the piles of rugs on the floors or hanging from the walls.

A cab was blocking traffic, the young driver yelling and beckoning wildly as drivers behind him did the same while leaning on their horns. Kris had expected Abu, but there was no time to hesitate or argue. She was stuffed in the back, handed the umbrella, and the cab bounced off to more honking behind it.

The young man in the front seat seemed delighted to be moving. His windows were down, his radio blared something that might have some connection with his parents' culture, but Kris doubted they would admit it. He chomped on a mouthful of gum, keeping time with the music. When a light stopped them, he beat the wheel as if it were a drum.

He did not ask Kris for a destination.

They had gone six blocks, turning at every corner, before the man turned his head. ''None of those gray camel farts are following us. There's a roadblock four streets up. You ready to crash it?''

''Crash it?'' Kris said. What kind of crazy have they given me this time?

''You know, snake our way through this. Fake them out of their socks. I'll play the music, and you be the snake. Get you back up high where you belong.''

''What do you say we don't do anything that will get us noticed.''

''Not noticed. That's the way you want it,'' he said, going back to driving, but now beating on the wheel to the music even when they were moving. ''That's the way you get it, man of my man.''

The backup at the roadblock was two blocks long. Kris would have expected more, but there were a lot of cars parked beside the road, people with more time to spare than willingness to let the security folks paw around their vehicles. Kris leaned out the window, her head lolling against the back sill. Most cars passed the guards quickly. One or two got signaled to pull aside for a more thorough going over.

Kris ran a hand down her white gown, felt the bumps of the clothes she was wrapped in. She could not risk a pat down now any more than she could have earlier.

NELLY, DO YOU HAVE A FULL REPORT ON THAT PLANT?

DONE.

ANY PLANS FOR MESSENGERS IN YOUR DATABASE?

SEVERAL. I CAN MIGRATE SOME OF TRU'S SELF-ORGANIZING MATERIAL OUT TO THE NANOS. WITH A FEW MILLIGRAMS OF THAT STUFF, I CAN MAKE FOUR GOOD-SIZED MESSENGERS WITH HALF LEFT OVER. HOPE YOU WILL NOT NEED TO WEAR YOUR CROWN TONIGHT.

I CAN SKIP THAT. GIVE ONE MESSENGER SENATOR KRIEF'S PHONE NUMBER AND SEND IT NORTH. SEND THE SECOND ONE TO THE WEST WITH THE NUMBER OF THAT WOMAN REPORTER KLAGGATH LIKED YESTERDAY. ADDRESS THE THIRD TO MY SUITE AND SEND IT EAST. THE LARGEST GOES TO THE AMBASSADOR. SEND IT SOUTH.

ALL WILL GO TWO MILES AND FIND THE CLOSEST NET ACCESS, PATCH IN, AND TRANSMIT. SHOULD I HAVE THEM TRY TO RECOVER ANYWHERE?

NO, TELL THEM TO DISSOLVE TOTALLY, NO EVIDENCE. BUT HAVE THE AMBASSADOR'S MESSENGER ONLY GO ONE MILE.

THEY ARE GONE..

Now, if the rain just holds off a bit longer.

The line moved slowly; several more cars were hauled out and sent for closer inspection, one with its passengers at gunpoint and hands up. The air was muggy, heavy with fumes. One car tried to back out, but a gray uniform from the roadblock came running and ordered the driver back in line.

''But I need to go potty,'' came in a high-pitched plea.

The child got no mercy from the Sergeant. ''Use a bottle.''

Kris's driver turned up the music and added his palms to an already pounding bass. Still five cars back, he drew frowns from the gray-clad inspectors. Kris's moans were no longer fake. Her teeth rattled in her head, and her skull was ready to split.

Then again, her mouth was no longer dry. She hawked and spat; it came out red on the street beside her.

NELLY, HOW SOON CAN THAT CALL GO OUT TO THE AMBASSADOR?

THE MESSENGER WAS WORKING CROSSWIND. IT MAY TAKE A WHILE.

The music pounded on. The traffic moved in fits. Along the line, other cars jacked up their music, everyone on a different station. Kris leaned her head against the car door and quickly yanked it away. The door vibrated like an overheated laser.

The car ahead pulled away with a screech of tires. The cabby edged forward. The man in gray scowled down at him, then bent over and snapped off the radio. ''I've been wanting to do that for half an hour.''

''Hey, boss. Why you do dat? Dat fine music. Relax my nerves,'' the cabby said, still pounding his palms on the wheel to the now-silenced beat.

''Where you going?''

''Dentist downtown. Old fart in back, bad tooth. Hurting bad. Said he'd pay me double if I went fast. Dat before you guys made me park. You cost me, boss.''

''It's gonna cost worst if we don't find who we're looking for. Let me see your license.'' The cabby grabbed for his papers but fumbled getting the license out of the protective plastic envelope that kept it displayed for passengers. As he muddled on, there were shouts between the two security cars and the black-and-white parked beside the roadblock.

NELLY?

THEY HAVE INTERCEPTED ONE OF THE MESSAGES.

INTERCEPTED OR JUST COPIED?

I CANNOT TELL. BUT THEY KNOW THAT A MESSAGE IS OUT THAT THEY DO NOT WANT OUT… AND THEY KNOW WHERE IT CAME FROM.

The cabby finally fished out the license, but the guard only glanced at it, dividing his attention between it and someone shouting at him from one of the cars. ''What's your name?'' he said, handing back the paper and directing the question at Kris. The black-and-white took off south.

''Old fart don't speak the English good like me,'' the cabby said and fired a stream of Arabic at Kris. She groaned, held her hand to her swollen mouth, and mumbled. Her words were lost as the first car full of SureFire Security gunned by, following the black-and-white.

''Saeed ab Towaan,'' the cabby said.

''Move along,'' the man in gray said as he turned and ran to the last car left, hurried along by shouts from a Corporal.

''Wait for them to go,'' Kris whispered.

''I was planning on that,'' the driver answered, his English suddenly as good as Kris's. He waited until there was no cross traffic, then accelerated away smoothly… and punched the radio for a different station, one that Kris actually liked, once he dialed down the volume.

Several cars whizzed by them, trying to make up time for the traffic stop. The cabby settled into traffic, then glanced back at Kris. ''So, where do you want to go?''

''The elevator,'' she said, spitting out the wad of yarn.

''One quick trip to the beanstalk coming up,'' he said, signaling to change lanes. ''I assume you know what that was all about.''

''I probably do,'' Kris said.

''But Uncle Abu said you probably wouldn't tell me anything.''

''If I were you, I'd listen to your uncle,'' Kris said, fidgeting out of her vest and pulling her arms out of the gown's so she could untie the raincoat and maid uniform.

''Yeah, but old farts are always scared. When you're young, you got to live a little.'' He was smiling as he said that.

''Take some advice from a young fart. Pay attention to the old farts, and you may get to live a little,'' Kris said as she lay out her brown uniform and began wiggling out of the gown.

''So it is that bad,'' the fellow said, but his seriousness didn't stay long. ''Hey, you're the first gal to strip in my cab. Abu told me it had happened to him, but I thought he was just spinning a tale. Hold it, you're ruining the view,'' he said as Kris slipped off the seat, hiding in the foot well.

''Sorry about that,'' she said as she pulled the dress over her head.

''Oh boss, this just isn't fair. I risk my handsome young neck to help this pretty infidel gal, and I don't even get to sneak a peek.''

Kris settled the dress around her and began buttoning it up. ''Who told you life was fair?''

He eyed her in the rearview. ''At least you got good boobs.'' Kris failed to stifle a laugh. But then, if most of the women around him had been in those baggies, hers probably were the best he'd gotten a glance at. She finished buttoning up her uniform.

''That's kind of wrinkled,'' the driver said. A glance down, and Kris had to agree. If she ditched her raincoat on her way in the back, her slovenly uniform might very well get nabbed by the hotel's equivalent of a Top Kick and ordered back home. Problem was, she'd never convince the shrew that her home was the Presidential Suite.

Time to rethink matters.

Their arrival at the elevator station postponed that. Kris found herself looking at a three-digit cab bill and only a few coins in her pocket. The kid laughed as he pushed away her offered credit chit. ''Uncle Abu warned me you probably wouldn't have money for the cab. It's on him,'' he said pulling cash from his pocket. ''Here's your beanstalk fare.''

''I can't take that,'' Kris stammered.

''And I'm not running that card through my cab. Neither one of us needs the notice, and you need to get back up in the sky. We're Arab, Princess, not stupid. But you're making me wonder about your people.''

''We're not stupid,'' Kris said, taking the money. ''We're just proud and stubborn.''

''And maybe not used to living on our streets,'' the cabby said with a seriousness that belied his youth. ''I'll tell Uncle I got you to the beanstalk safe and sound. You figure you can handle it from here?''

Kris glanced up at the towering elevator. ''I've gone up enough of these. I should be able to take care of myself.''