***
"The Lions or the Saints, Trowbridge boy?"
"Slap him again, Karim, the lazy Euro."
"He will be useful to us, Kamal. Passport is from U.S."
"U.S.? Hit him twice. Hard."
"Hey, Karim!" My diction was as mushy as a day old fast food milkshake. "What in the name of all that is holy? In the Koran, of course."
"Sorry, my good man. Wakey, wakey. Meet Kamal."
"How about a sip of cold water?" My surroundings, as I became aware of them, were cool and dark. I attempted sitting up in the padded wicker settee, blinking my eyes several times. "Yes, a refreshing fluid would do the trick right now."
"One more wakey," Kamir said, applying a resounding crack to my right temple. "Now for your water. From Switzerland. Not that French crap. Here. Catch."
The plastic bottle struck my forehead and dropped on my lap. "Kamal," I greeted the man closest to me, ignoring the water. "Baron von dek Horn."
"You," he replied, stooping lower and intently studying to my face, "are not who you say you are." He tossed my attaché down next to me. "You speak Trowbridge with U.S. address. It does not add up."
"You're correct, sir. Here's the long and short of it. My psychoanalyst, Dr. Ed Hahmennum, diagnosed me with Asparagusberger's Disease years ago. It's a uniquely Anglo Saxon condition which manifests itself in one's espousal, successful or not, of British mannerisms. Beginning in infancy, such idiosyncrasies include but are not limited to the use of accents, expressions and gestures of the Realm. I finally accepted and learned to live with the condition in my late teens."
Kamal pulled away and stroked his chin. "I hope it is rare illness."
"Extremely."
"Karim has been bitten by same bug."
"So it would seem. He's rather focused on Trowbridge, wouldn't you say?"
"Many relatives in Trowbridge. Fine city, too." Kamal's demeanor lightened for a moment. "Trowbridge is twin city of Oujda. Oujda is twin city of Oran."
"Triplets it would be then, right?" I displayed an expression of helpfulness. In researching the subject later, I discovered there indeed existed a Moroccan diaspora effectively providing Trowbridge with the second largest Moroccan population center in England. "All relative, so to speak."
"Perhaps. Still, you are a little devil who comes from the Great Satan. And you are now in the shadow of the mountain of lions."
I was also in the shadows of a well-used and seemingly active airline hangar. Several single-engine planes lined the opposite wall, while another half-dozen were strung out in a row being loaded with boxes of cargo. "I shan't burden you much longer, friend. I see that you're a busy man with much to do."
"Not to worry. You are at the top of list." He walked away with Kamir and several other associates, engaging in an energetic conversation with much random finger-pointing at the planes, the cargo and me. I sat still for a solid fifteen minutes, in complete acceptance of my fate resting with the growing group of men and their now heated exchange of opinions. I found myself rooting for Kamir who unfortunately was on the defensive side of the debate, ostensibly for bringing me to corporate headquarters. It was impossible to decipher if Kamal -- as CEO of the operation -- supported his cousin's lower-level management decision or was merely allowing the underling to roast a bit at the hands of his coworkers. Finally, the throng drifted toward me as its discussion grudgingly reached a conclusion.
"We bring our goods to market in Tunis," Kamal began, shushing those behind him who continue to speak. "To cousin Khalid, our boss."
"Yes?" I was hopeful the shipment might include me.
"Khalid is fussy with our product. He may be disappointed with what we created." Kamal grimaced at Kamir and two others. "Someone pays dearly for Khalid's sadness."
"The boss is always the most important customer, right?"
"You will be our lamb this trip, von dek Horn." Kamal smiled triumphantly, as though his problems had been resolved in Solomonesque fashion. "Kamir will serve as shepherd. If Khalid is unhappy with product, you will take bullet for us. Fired from the company!"
"But I haven't yet completed the proper application process!" My protest fell short of its mark.
"Take complaints to shop steward."