I remained shaken. The Emir had been kind, but stern, and our meeting in the bunker left me no doubt as to the seriousness of the business we were becoming involved in.

Just what the fuck was Hayworth thinking? Why become a party to such affairs? It certainly was not necessary for the election process to go smoothly, at least this time around. This was, after all, a race for the United States Senate, a high office indeed, but not one that required these kinds of relationships. Yes, as I thought then.

Or maybe so. Maybe my years dealing with Washington-people had left me naive instead of experienced and weathered. I was certainly not a hardcore expert, but very involved... I had known Herbert Hayworth for just over a year, but this was enough time to know that he was a man that didn't give a flying fuck about the acquisition of enormous riches- a trait uncharacteristic of white men in business with Arab Emirs.

I shuffled with the other passengers past the stewardess, down the steps and onto the tarmac. As we walked in a shaky line towards the waiting buses that would take us into the city, a young man approached me, smiling. I recognized him from the meeting in Virginia, with the oil representatives. An aide.
"Mr. White. How nice to meet you. Please come with me. I have a car waiting. No need for the buses."
"What now?" I said, and shrugged, following him towards the small terminal building.