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time.” Elliot raised his thick, silver brows and held Pete’s gaze. “That’s impressive, Major. We know how much can go wrong at a job site—unexpected weather, worker tiffs, delivery delays, equipment breakdowns. So many things influence whether or not a project stays on schedule.” Elliot smiled briefly. “And Cali’s been building structures in the Middle East for the last six years. She’s actually Roland’s point person on any project in this part of the world. Cali is fluent in the major languages of Afghanistan and knows goat-grab diplomacy. So, Major Trayhern, you’re one lucky guy.”
    Nodding, Pete said, “I feel very fortunate.” That was a lie. He couldn’t, in fact, see any woman handling such a job in a place like this. Still, he was familiar with the term “goat-grab diplomacy.” It meant a person knew not only how to maneuver and survive, but to flourish in this ancient Middle Eastern way of life—an important skill to have.
    Afghanistan was an ancient tribal country struggling to bring in democracy. Women were not tolerated in positions of authority, although Pete knew that the present Afghan government was working hard to change that. Still, one didn’t take a religion-based edict that women should remain covered in a chadri from head to toe, and alter it overnight. The Taliban hadn’t allowed women to hold any jobs, preferring they remain at home, barefoot and pregnant. Pete wondered obliquely if Cali had been chosen for this assignment precisely because she was female and therefore a potential role model for local village women. Probably not, because this was a U.S.A.-sponsored project and any gender bias wasn’t tolerated.
    Still, having a woman on his team didn’t make his job easier. Pete knew that local workmen would make up the bulk of their employees. How would a male Afghan villager take to this red-haired vixen telling him what to do? Pete could see the potential problems. “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t speak any of the languages in this country. Oh, I’m a bit familiar with Farsi because of my one-year command at Kandahar, but…I know we’re going to be working in the northern provinces, where people speak Pashto, a language I don’t know. Do you have an interpreter I can use?”
    â€œOf course, Major. I’ve hand-picked Ahmed to be your translator and driver. He’s highly trustworthy and I know his family. Right now, he’s down at the motor pool getting a Toyota Land Cruiser to drive you to the site. A bright young man. His English isn’t flawless, perhaps, but he is intelligent and I’m sure he will be able to pass your orders to the Afghan workers.”
    â€œSounds good to me,” Pete said, as he checked off that question from his list.
    Cali leaned forward. “Kerwin, I’m more interested in who we’re going to be employing. Can you fill us in with a briefing of that area of Afghanistan? I have my own info, but anything you can add will help us immensely.” Her eyes locked with Trayhern’s and automatically, her skin tingled. Damn! How could that happen, when she fiercely fought the reaction? She felt a moment of panic.
    â€œBe glad to, Cali.” Elliot took six folders that had been stacked on his desk and passed them around. “This is your dossier on the region you’re going to. Ahmed will lead the convoy to Dara-i-Suf, the nearest city and your jump-off point for where the plant will be built. You will be working in the Samangan Province. The regional warlord, Sheik Baider Hesam, is the man you’ll be dealing with. Arm wrestling, more likely. I’ve already made contact with Sheik Hesam, letting him know you’ll want an audience with him as soon as possible. Because Hesam is the tribal chief of this province, nothing goes on without his knowledge or approval. His official residence is in the city,