Hot Chips and Sand 36-40 Second Draft Comparison

Hot Chips and Sand
Copyright © 2012 Mary Hughes
All rights reserved

“Exile? Surely you’re going back eventually? Can’t you raise an army, or convince Congress or the U.N. to help, or…?” She wasn’t quite sure what aid a deposed ruler had at his disposal, but there had to be someone who would help.

“Normally I could. But the world at large has more on its mind than a tiny country in the Middle East. By the time I could get any viable forces gathered, the protection grid will be in place and Fahrrad will be immune to attack.”

Vickie stared at him, at first not comprehending. “Cliff is going through with the deal?”

Kulinahr shrugged. “He is a businessman. Since he cannot do business with me, he will do business with Fahrrad. And probably turn a better profit. The man does not know how to bargain.”

Vickie leaped to her feet. “There are more important things than the bottom line!”

“I doubt if Cliff thinks so. Please don’t be upset on my account, Vickie. I owe Cliff my life. And I will avenge my people eventually.”

Vickie felt strangely sick, her head and heart disagreeing violently. Though she understood the business sense she couldn’t shake how wrong it felt. Assisting a cruel dictator in locking up an entire country? Unthinkable.

Power could be used, abused, or wasted. Villains abused, idiots wasted.

Heroes used their power for the greater good. She’d thought Cliff was her hero.

Where was her hero’s basic human compassion?

And admit it, Vickie. You thought you found the perfect man. Well, they only exist in fairy tales.

“Vickie? Are you all right?”

She looked up. Kulinahr’s eyes rested on her with warm concern. She coughed, covered her momentary lapse in concentration [MH1] by picking up and sipping her coffee. “Oh, sure. Just a little worried about you. What will you do now?”

“Writing letters.” He gestured at the desk. “I am not without influence. Perhaps there is still something I can do before the project is complete.”

“Which is how long?”

“Cliff estimated the project could be done in under six months, with some new machine at his disposal. Not long, but still some time.” He shook his head and sighed.

“You’re getting tired. I’d better go.” Immediately she cursed herself. She had never been one for social niceties. She stood awkwardly. “I mean, um, thanks for the coffee.”

He lifted his face to her and smiled. “Thank you, Vickie Johnston. Just talking has helped me. I will see you again.”

Back at her hotel, Vickie was left feeling unusually helpless. She’d offered Kulinahr any assistance he might need, but how much could she reasonably give? She was a project manager and software developer, not a government or even a hero. That was Cliff’s job.

She flung herself onto her bed. When she’d needed rescuing he leaped into the breach, strong, dynamic, heroic. More than that, his intelligence in coping with the situation, his gentle attitude when she had nearly broken down had impressed her to her core.

She shook herself angrily. She’d allowed herself to get carried away with daydreams, and now she was paying for it. Reality sucked.

She got up off the bed, unaware of the wet pillow she had left behind. She phoned the airline and paid an exorbitant fee to shift her departure time, returning immediately. A stiff smile on her face, she headed home.

* * * * * * *[MH2] 

The phone rang loudly in the empty room, clanging five times before the young blond man ran, cursing, through the doorway. He caught it on the sixth ring.

“I didn’t expect you to call.” He was still panting a little.

The voice at the other end was wry. “I didn’t expect to call. Something’s come up.”

“Not more bad news, I hope.”

There was a silence. The blond man waited patiently until the other voice said, “Good news, rather. I’ve solved that problem we had in staffing.”

The blond threw himself into the chair, grunting as he hit. “That was quick.”

Another pause. “I know. But it’s right.”

“If you say so. One less thing to worry about, at least. Do you want me to make arrangements?”

The line chuckled to itself for a few seconds before the answer came. “No. I’ll take care of it myself.”

After he had hung up, the blond grinned to himself. From the interest in his boss’s voice, it actually looked like two less things to worry about.

Chapter 4

Vickie had been back at work for two weeks when the meeting notice came. She read it once, quickly, then to keep her anger from making her do something stupid, she printed it out and read it again.

Nope. Still pissed. She stormed into Phil’s office. “What in the name of all the gods of logic do you think you’re doing?”

Phil Westerby, slightly balding but otherwise showing little of his rapidly‑approaching middle age, turned from the credenza where he was brewing tea. “Shut the door if you’re going to yell at me.”

She slammed the door shut behind her. “I don’t have time for a new account. I just got a handle on the Geocom database, and you know the Delmar conversion is behind because of that little escapade I had—”

“And you are my top analyst and I need you on this assignment.” Phil took his tea and seated himself calmly behind his desk. It was a signal, so, agitated though she was, Vickie sat too.

Her brain started working again. While it was true that the president of Fitzwater Software and Consulting, Jerry Fitzwater, would try to make them work twenty-six/ten if he thought he could suspend the laws of time and space—bless his money‑grubbing soul, he’d be more than happy if she took on another client—Phil usually did a better job of running interference.

Something was up.

Phil set down his tea, removed his high refraction glasses, and started polishing them, slowly and deliberately. “Have you heard of the Hawkesclyffe Computer Company?”

“Before seeing them on my already overfull client list?” She waved the printout of the meeting notice. “I know a little. Hawkesclyffe is a genius and the HCC is his hardware firm.”

“A high‑powered hardware firm. They’re growing at Moore’s law’s rate—Fortune 500 now, and if their latest chip is even close to what the engineers say it is”—Phil leaned forward and tapped his glasses pointedly on his desk blotter—“they will take over the industry.”

“Okay, so they’re important. Give them to someone who has time for them.”

He made a small noise and perched his glasses on his nose. “You don’t understand how important this is. If we become HCC’s software firm, the new HCC300 series will be bundled with our software. It will make our company one of the biggest players in the market.”

“Good, it’s important. Give it to Mel. He’s always belly aching that he can do everything better than me.”

“Can’t.” Phil smiled gently. “He asked specifically for you.”

 “Mel?”

 “No, Vickie. Sir Humphrey Hawkesclyffe. He’s got a reputation. Brilliant, egocentric, hard to please. And we want to please him, don’t we?”

Vickie groaned. She supposed geniuses only had to be nice to their loan officers, not their vendors. “Why me? I’m too young to deal with an old fart named Sir Humphrey.”

“First, he may be old but he’s known for his radical ideas. Second, even though he’s a British knight, his company is based in the United States.”

She still pictured him like Alec Guiness, slender, white haired, and carrying a walking stick. “Why did he ask for me? Why not you, or Alice, or any of a dozen higher level management?”

Phil shrugged. “Dunno. But he wants you. So you’ll be at that meeting. And your temper won’t. Got it?”

“Got it.”

---

 [MH1]Eliza asked "covered what?"

 [MH2]Eliza noted most books use 3-5 stars

Hot Chips and Sand 36-40 First Draft Comparison

Hot Chips and Sand
Copyright © 2012 Mary Hughes
All rights reserved

“Exile? Surely you’re going back eventually? Can’t you raise an army, or convince Congress or the U.N. to help, or…?” VickieShe wasn’t quite sure what aid a deposed ruler had at his disposal, but there had to be someone who would help.

“No.Normally I could. But the world at large has more on its mind than a tiny country in the Middle East. By the time I could get any viable forces gathered, the protection grid wouldwill be in place. and Fahrrad wouldwill be immune to attack. And the world at large has more on its mind than a tiny country in the Middle East.”

Vickie stared at him, at first not comprehending. Then, “Cliff is still going through with the deal?”

“Yes, of course. Cliff Kulinahr shrugged. “He is a consummate businessman. He will do business with Fahrrad ifSince he cannot do business with me., he will do business with Fahrrad. And probably turn a better profit.” Kulinahr’s mouth twitched. “Fahrrad . The man does not know how to bargain.”

Agitated, Vickie stood.leaped to her feet. “There are things that are more important things than the bottom line!”

“I doubt if Cliff thinks so. ButPlease don’t be upset on my account, Vickie. I owe himCliff my life. And I will avenge my people eventually.”

Vickie felt strangely sick. Yet another situation where, her head and her heart disagreed. No. This was worse. What Cliff proposed to do, to assistdisagreeing violently. Though she understood the business sense she couldn’t shake how wrong it felt. Assisting a cruel dictator like Fahrrad with his plans to lockin locking up an entire country,? Unthinkable.

Power could used, abused, or wasted. Villains abused, idiots wasted.

Heroes used their power for the greater good. She’d thought Cliff was her hero.

Where was unthinkable. Did Cliff lackher hero’s basic human concerncompassion?

Vickie was convinced that the more power a person possessed, the greater their responsibility. Cliff was a man of great physical strength, and, according to Kulinahr and the captain, of significant worldly power. It went completely against her grain to see him abrogate his responsibility this way.[MH1] 

And admit it, Vickie. You thought you finally found the perfect man. Well, they only exist in fairy tales.

“Vickie? Are you all right?”Kulinahr was watching

She looked up. Kulinahr’s eyes rested on her with warm concern. “Vickie? Are you all right?”She coughed, covered by picking up and sipping her coffee. “Oh, sure. Just a little concernedworried about you. What will you do now?”

“As you can see, I have been writing. “Writing letters.” He gestured at the desk. “I am not without influence. Perhaps there is still something I can do in what time I have left. before the project is complete.”

“Which is how long?”

“Cliff estimated the project could be done in under six months, with some new machine at his disposal. There may yet be time.”Not long, but still some time.” He shook his head and sighed.

He shook his head and sighed. Vickie could see he was “You’re getting tired. She stood.

“Thanks for the coffee,”I’d better go.” Immediately she said, immediately cursingcursed herself. She had never been one for appropriate response.social niceties. She stood awkwardly. “I mean, um, thanks for the coffee.”

He lifted his face to her and smiled. “Thank you, Vickie Johnston. Just talking has helped me. I will see you again.”

OnBack at her way back to the hotel, Vickie reflected on what Kulinahr had told her. She hadwas left feeling unusually helpless. She’d offered himKulinahr any assistance he might need, and left feeling unusually helpless. And Cliff. He could help, he had helped. Why but how much could she reasonably give? She was he ignoring Kulinahr’s needs?a project manager and software developer, not a government or even a hero. That was Cliff’s job.

He had seemed like a dreamShe flung herself onto her bed. When she’d needed rescuing he leaped into the breach, strong, dynamic, heroic. But moreMore than that, his intelligence in coping with the situation, his gentle attitude when she had nearly broken down had impressed her to her core.

She shook her headherself angrily. She hadShe’d allowed herself to get carried away with her daydreams about the man, and now she was paying for it. ‘Old reality intrudes again, Vickie. Give it up. Romance is not for you.’Reality sucked.

She got up off the bed then, unaware of the wet pillow she had left behind. She calledphoned the airline and told them she would bepaid an exorbitant fee to shift her departure time, returning immediately. Then, aA stiff smile on her face, she wentheaded home.

‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑

* * * * * * *

The phone rang loudly in the empty room, clanging five times before the young blond man ran, cursing, through the doorway. He caught it on the sixth ring.

“I didn’t expect you to call.” He was still panting a little.

The voice at the other end was wry. “I didn’t expect to call. Something’s come up.”

“Not more bad news, I hope.”

There was a silence. The blond man waited patiently until the other voice said, “No. Good news. Definitely, rather. I’ve solved that problem we had in staffing.”

The blonde manblond threw himself into the chair, grunting as he hit. “That was quick.”

Another pause. “I know. But it’s right.”

“If you say so. Well, that’s oneOne less thing to worry about, at least. Do you want me to make arrangements?”

The line chuckled to itself for a few seconds before the answer came. “No. I’ll take care of it myself.”

After he had hung up, the man in the chairblond grinned to himself. ItFrom the interest in his boss’s voice, it actually looked like two less things to worry about.

Chapter 4

Vickie had been back at work for two weeks when the meeting notice came. She read it once, quickly, then to keep her anger from making her do something stupid, she printed it out and read it again, slowly. It didn’t work.

Nope. Still pissed. She stormed into Phil’s office. “What in the name of all the gods of logic do you think you’re doing, ?”

Phil?”  Westerby, slightly balding but otherwise showing little of his rapidly‑approaching middle age, turned from the credenza where he was brewing tea. “Shut the door if you’re going to yell at me.”[MH2] 

She slammed the door shut behind her. “I don’t have time for a new account. I just got a handle on the Geocom database, and you know the Delmar conversion is behind because of that little escapade I had…”—”

            “…and“And you are my top analyst and I need you on this assignment.” Phil Westerby, slightly balding but otherwise showing little oftook his rapidly‑approaching middle‑agetea and seated himself calmly behind his desk. It was a signal, so, agitated though she was, Vickie sat too.

            She knew something important was up. ItHer brain started working again. While it was true that the president of Fitzwater Software and Consulting, Jerry Fitzwater, would try to make them work 26 hour daystwenty-six/ten if he thought he could. Jerry,  suspend the laws of time and space—bless his money‑grubbing soul, wouldhe’d be more than happy if she took on another client. But—Phil usually Phil did a better job of running interference.

Something was up.

Phil deliberately began polishing set down his tea, removed his high ‑refraction glasses. “The , and started polishing them, slowly and deliberately. “Have you heard of the Hawkesclyffe Computer Company is a ?”

“Before seeing them on my already overfull client list?” She waved the printout of the meeting notice. “I know a little. Hawkesclyffe is a genius and the HCC is his hardware firm.”

“A high‑powered hardware firm, sure to be . They’re growing at Moore’s law’s rate—Fortune 500 within three yearsnow, and if they keep up their phenomenal growth. And if this newlatest chip is even close to what the engineers say it is, they will take over the industry.” ”—Phil leaned forward and tapped his glasses pointedly on thehis desk blotter. —“they will take over the industry.”

            ““Okay, so they’re important. Give them to someone who has time for them.”

He made a small noise and perched his glasses on his nose. “You don’t understand how important this is. If we become Hawkesclyffe’sHCC’s software house Vickie, why, every sale offirm, the new HCC300 series will be bundled with our software bundled in. It will make our company one of the biggest players in the market.”

            Vickie made a rude noise. “Then give“Good, it’s important. Give it to Mel. He’s always belly ‑aching that he can do iteverything better than me.”

“Can’t.” Phil smiled gently. “He won’t like it. “He hates everything.” He stopped, and looked at her quizzically. “Besides, he asked specifically for you.”

 “Mel?”

 “No Vickie. Sir Humphrey Hawkesclyffe.”

            . He’s got a Vickie groaned. She knew the man by reputation, of course. Brilliant, egocentric, supposedly hard to please. And we want to please him, don’t we?”

Vickie groaned. work with. Well, she She supposed, geniuses only havehad to be nice to their loan officers, not their vendors. And you had to be self‑confident“Why me? I’m too young to start up in such a competitive industry with only your own radical, untested ideas.

            Radical. It seemed so at odds with the name.deal with an old fart named Sir Humphrey. An English.”

“First, he may be old but he’s known for his radical ideas. Second, even though he’s a British knight of some sort. But , his company wasis based in the U.S.A. She had looked into it during a job‑hunt about five years ago, when Hawkesclyffe Computers was just getting off the ground. The company, though, not its founder. United States.”[MH3] 

She had always imagined Hawkesclyffe himself to look, oh, maybe like  Alistair Cooke. Slenderstill pictured him like Alec Guiness, slender, white ‑haired, and carrying a walking stick, wing‑tipped shoes, the works.

            Why had Hawkesclyffe asked for her, then? Her research into his company was just that. She had never sent a resume, or anything. . “Why her?did he ask for me? Why not Philyou, or Alice, or any of another half‑a dozen higher ‑level management??”

Phil shrugged. “Dunno. But he wants you. So you’ll be at that meeting. And your temper won’t. Got it?”

“Got it.”

---

 [MH1]The old "abrogate his responsibility" is term paper writing. Fiction must be snappy with clear nouns and strong verbs. Thus the new "Villains abused, idiots wasted."

 [MH2]Yay, setting the scene!

 [MH3]Large chunks of exposition are like mashed potatoes without gravy or butter. I gave this information more snap by embedding it in an argument.

Hot Chips and Sand 31-35 Second Draft Comparison

Hot Chips and Sand
Copyright © 2012 Mary Hughes
All rights reserved

She hadn’t even ordered a drink when two men arrived. According to their name tags, they were with the Music Educators convention but their twin MIB suits shouted secret service. They walked with that alert power too, and when they greeted her it was with the pass phrase Kulinahr had written: “The ship is in the harbor, but the dogs only smell pepper.”

“They sneeze and run away.” She stifled a smile.

One nodded. “Ms. Johnston? Please come with us.”

She followed the twins outside to a black Mercedes saloon with smoked windows. It was almost a parody but she couldn’t quite suppress a shiver as she slid into the plush air-conditioned backseat. She half‑expected a blindfold and was grateful when the two men got in front and ignored her through the entire drive. She did not recognize any of the streets they traveled anyway, having been to Montreal only in her childhood.

The car pulled to a stop in front of a nondescript house in a quiet residential neighborhood. One man, possibly the one who had spoken before but she couldn’t be sure, turned to her.

“Knock on the door three times. Tell the person answering the door your name and your mother’s maiden name.”

Great, she thought as she got out. They’re not Middle Yemeni secret service. They’re from my bank. But as she knocked she couldn’t dampen a thrill of anticipation. A housekeeper admitted her and led her upstairs to a small room on the second floor.

The deposed ruler was alone, seated at a writing table. When he saw Vickie, he rose with a smile. “Vickie Johnston. How good of you to come.” He met her with a warm handshake.

“Prince Kulinahr. It was kind of you to see me.” She followed him to a small grouping with a settee, coffee table set with silver service, and chairs.

In some ways he looked better than the last time they had met. He was neatly barbered and his clothes were impeccable. But there was more gray at the templehis temples and when she got closer she saw the lines in his face, deep grooves that only come from fatigue and worry.

He gestured at the settee, took a chair across from her and poured them some coffee.

Vickie sat and took her tasse gratefully; it had been a long day and difficult flight. She sipped.

Her eyes snapped opened like abruptly retracting window shades. The liquid was thick and grainy, just short of chewed coffee beans in water, hot enough to scald her tongue.

“The coffee does not agree with you? Would you care for something else?”

Blinking fast, Vickie carefully swallowed. “No,” she began hoarsely. She cleared her throat. “No, this is fine. It just takes some getting used to.”

Kulinahr smiled slightly. “My English university friends also found the taste somewhat unusual. I would understand if you did not want to finish.”

Vickie grimaced and tried another sip. It was not much better, but now she was determined. “No, it’s good.” She sipped again. “You went to a Western university?”

“Yes. Education is prized in my country, and all members of the royal family attended Oxford University in England. Each of us was assigned their course of study. My brothers were set to work at engineering, finance and education. My cousin studied medicine, and is now director of the main hospital in Misr.” His pride shone in his smile.

“And you ran a country. Impressive family.”

Kulinahr’s smile faded and he put his cup down. “Yes. Ran. I no longer govern my people.” His jaw clenched. “They are in the hands of that madman, Fahrrad. And I trusted him. I believed him. I made him my guest!”

Vickie set her own cup aside. “What happened?”

“It began less than a year ago. As a small country trapped between many larger ones, we always have our share of external problems. But suddenly we began to have internal issues as well—bombings, kidnappings, and acts of horrible violence right on the streets of Misr.”

“That’s terrible. Did you find out who they were?”

“They said they were freedom fighters, trying to liberate the oppressed in my country. I was furious. Who had I oppressed? They were an affront to my pride.” Kulinahr sighed, and looked into the small cup in his hand. “I now think their purpose was to distract me from my true enemy.”

“Who was…?”

“Fahrrad.” Kulinahr’s jaw worked. “Hafez Fahrrad was well known for eliminating terrorist threats in his own country of Kalifad. As that is just across my border, I was particularly aware of his reputation. I sent an emissary to him, to ask for his assistance. I should have known… I should have seen…the man was a dinosaur in his own country. Decades past the age of perestroika, Fahrrad is a staunch Stalinist.”

Vickie grunted. “Did you know that then?”

“Yes. I did not worry, however. I thought our country was far too progressive to give him a handhold. But I did not take his desperation into account.” Kulinahr fell silent, his eyes fixed on some point deep within.

Odd, she thought. He’s a modern day ruler, yet put him in a galabiyya and keffiyeh and he looks like somecould have come straight out of a book on the ancient patriarchs must have looked. The more things change…

When the job had first come up, and Vickie had researched Middle Yemen. Driven by, she’d discovered it was Kulinahr’s ambition to eradicate poverty and ignorance among his people, that raised the nation had risen from a poor, squabbling country to one of peace and prosperity in just a few decades. She considered it Which, from Fahrrad’s point of view. The rising prosperity of his neighboring country at the time, probably looked like a cash cow just over thehis backyard fence. “How did it happen, then?”

Kulinahr sighed again. “I’m not saying he completely took me in, but he painted a very pretty scene of a repentant Communist. And though my citizen’s militia is very good, they cannot be on watch all the time.” Kulinahr shook his head, as though he still could not understand it. “All he had to do was help us keep guard while we waited for the security system to be designed and built.”

“Security system?” Vickie’s ears pricked. That sounded like the project that had started all this. Fahrrad had also been looking for a security system.

Vickie had known the new account would be trouble from the moment she was assigned to it. Never in her wildest dreams, however, did she imagine how much trouble.[MH1] 

Col. Hafez Fahrrad was the name on the cover letter. She had done her usual thorough research and had discovered he was presently the dictator of a Middle East dot on the map, Middle Yemen by name, recently coming to power in a particularly bloody coup.

In person he was a slight man in an overdesigned uniform and a too-big hat, with small dark eyes and a tidy mustache.

At their first meeting, in her company’s conference room, Fahrrad had stood as if transfixed, eyes flat and glassy. “What an unusual color for hair. It is like a sunset.” He reached out to touch a curl.

She automatically slapped his hand away. She still could see his expression, his eyes sparking with anger.

But he controlled himself, and actually smiled, with a toothy, gold capped grin. He gave a slight bow in apology.

Vickie knew weaseling when she saw it. Trying to get back in her good graces to get a better price for his system. “So what is it you’re looking for, Colonel?”

“I wish to implement a security system. Shall we sit?” He took a chair, then patted the one next to him coaxingly.

She stayed on her feet. “I’m not sure we can help you. Here at Fitzwater Software and Consulting, we generally work in database design and implementation.”

“Yes, so my advisor said. He also said that what I want is not so different, is it, my dear?”

Terms of endearment in the business environment grated on her. If Fahrrad hadn’t been a client, she’d have made an issue out of it. As it was, she asked politely, “And what do you wish to make secure?”

His slow, sensual grin had not endeared him to her at all. It really looked more like a leer, ruler of a country or not.

“Your government’s headquarters?” she prompted. She remembered from her reading that Fahrrad had infiltrated the palace and slaughtered all the people loyal to the Prince Kulinahr in the coup. The world thought he’d killed the Prince himself and she supposed at the time that he’d want security to make sure no one pulled the same trick on him.

“Not my headquarters, my dear. For the entire country.”

Her legs wobbled under her and she found herself sitting next to him. The tech for building security was  commonplace. But a whole country…? “Wouldn’t you be better asking your military about this sort of thing?”

He brushed at his mustaches. “Ah, no. We are a small country with little in terms of development resources. But you and your company have just the combination of initiative and experience that I am looking for.” He took her hands and held them tightly. “I’m sure we will work well together.”

She managed to squirm her fingers out of his hands and had to steel herself against shaking the ick off them. “I’ll have to check with the vice president of development on this, Col. Fahrrad. Unless you’d like to speak with her yourself?”

“No, sweetheart, I’d rather with you.” Again that oily grin. “Such beautiful, unusual hair.”

She shuddered even now, remembering it.

Two days later, as she left work, men had kidnapped her. They hadn’t said a word, but they didn’t have to. Their guns spoke for them quite clearly. She knew better than to get into their car but with four of them grabbing her and carting her off she didn’t have much choice. She tried to not be a complete victim; as they dragged her past the clipped hedges she struggled briefly, chucking her briefcase surreptitiously into the nearest bush. She hoped it would alert someone, anyone that something serious had happened to her.

She only started suspecting the Middle Yemen connection when her kidnappers broke their silence. Only one spoke English. She didn’t recognize their native language but she overheard a conversation punctuated quite frequently by Col. Fahrrad’s name.

And then they had arrived in that place of sand and sweltering heat and dank buildings, and produced that skimpy teddy, which they had requested, quite nicely if you didn’t consider the rude manner in which they had pointed at her and  the guns they had used to point with, that she put on. Then they had burned her own clothes.

“Hey, I might need those,” she protested.

“Not with the Colonel, Madam,” the bilingual one answered.

They went into the city to celebrate, leaving one guard behind. Maybe they thought she wouldn’t attempt escape since she was nearly nude. Well, she was modest, but she valued her life more highly than modesty.

The remaining kidnapper was relieving himself in the next room, and she simply let herself out. She snuck down the stairs.

And saw the other three men, just entering the lobby, carrying food and drink. Apparently they’d only gone out to get it.

She dove behind a large sculpture that looked like a curled up triangle. For a moment it seemed as if the men hadn’t seen her, but an old woman coming down the stairs stopped and pointed at her, eyes bugging from under her veil. Desperately Vickie put finger to lips, hoping the sign for shh translated. It must not have because the woman started yelling at her.

The three kidnappers came running. Vickie had then begun the flight which had brought her to that truck of a man. To Cliff.

“We are a small country,” Kulinahr  was saying. “Surrounded“We are a small country surrounded by three much larger countries. I think the best way to protect our interests is through technology rather than manpower. A defense net may not have worked for a nation so large as your United States, but for us, it is more feasible.” He sighed a third time, and sat in the chair opposite herback, shaking his head. “Ah, to explore our land for oil without fear of invasion. To release my people for peaceful pursuits… Well, you can of course see the advantages.”

Vickie nodded and picked up her coffee again. It was a little easier to drink now that it had cooled.

Kulinahr rose and started pacing. “That is how I met Cliff.”

She frowned. “In connection with Fahrrad?”

“No, in connection with our defense. He came to me and proposed a system unlike any I’d seen, a marvel of advanced technology. Moreover, he wanted to build the component manufacturing plant in Middle Yemen. In one stroke, we’d double our protection and our revenue.”

“Cliff is a businessman?” Vickie’s mouth fell open. “But…but I thought he was an international spy or something.”

Kulinahr’s cheeks folded in a smile. “He has some rather, ah, unexpected skill sets. He knows things no mere businessman would. He warned me that Fahrrad intended to overthrow me. Alas, I did not believe him.”

“If he knew Fahrrad was plotting against you, why didn’t he do something?”

“He did. He saved my life.”

“Yeah, but couldn’t he have done something about Fahrrad?” Vickie shifted uncomfortably on the couch. The dictator’s chilling smile, his constant reaching for her hair, still plagued her.

“I don’t believe you understand how much he did just saving my life. Fahrrad brought his own guard with him. They are, like the Colonel himself, ruthless. The entire palace staff…friends and allies…was murdered.”

“I’m so sorry.” Impulsively Vickie put down her cup and took Kulinahr’s hands. Though she’d read the coup was bloody, she hadn’t understood the personal cost. Now she could see the cost through the sheen of unshed tears in Kulinahr’ eyes and the slight tremble in his voice. Her heart went out to him and she pulled him into a brief hug.

“Thank you.” His eyes were bright with unshed tearsHe blinked, and one tear trickled down his cheek. He dashed it away.[MH2]  “If not for the bravery of my personal servant and, of course, Cliff, I would not have made it out of the palace alive. As it was, I had to remain constantly on the move in the desert highland to avoid capture. It was only later that I could return to the city long enough to stow away on board that ship.” He slid hispatted her hands out of hers and patted hers briefly before rubbing his eyessitting back. “Now I am in exile.”

---

 [MH1]For reasons of grounding the reader, I moved this earlier.

 [MH2]I showed her sympathy here by taking his hands, but the small fillip of showing got lost in the dialog. Important emotions Important emotions should be given enough words to equal their importance.

Hot Chips and Sand 31-35 First Draft Comparison

Hot Chips and Sand
Copyright © 2012 Mary Hughes
All rights reserved

She hadn’t even ordered a drink when the two men arrived. According to their name tags, they were supposedly with the Music Educators convention. but their twin MIB suits shouted secret service[MH1] . They walked casually overwith that alert power too, and when they greeted her it was with the pass phrase Kulinahr had written.

: “The ship is in the harbor, but the dogs only smell pepper.”

“They sneeze and run away,” she replied, stifling.” She stifled [MH2] a smile.

One nodded. “Ms. Johnston? Please come with us.”

She followed them outthe twins outside to a black Mercedes saloon with smoked windows. How camp, she thought, althoughIt was almost a parody but she couldn’t quite suppress a shiver as she slid into the plush air‑-conditioned interiorbackseat. She half‑expected a blindfold, but and was grateful when the two men got in front and ignored her through the entire drive. She did not recognize any of the streets they traveled anyway, having been to Montreal only in her childhood.

The car pulled to a stop in front of a nondescript house in a quiet residential neighborhood. One man, she thoughtpossibly the one who had spoken before but she couldn’t be sure, turned to her.

“Just knockKnock on the door three times. Tell the person answering the door your name and your mother’s maiden name. Good‑bye, Ms. Johnston.”

‘Oh, wonderful,’ Great, she thought Vickie. ‘as she got out. They’re not Middle Yemeni secret service. They’re from my bank.’  But as she got out of the car,knocked she couldn’t dampen a thrill of anticipation. This was, after all, more exciting than anything that had happened to A housekeeper admitted her for a week. ‘Getting spoiled, Vickie?’

She followedand led her instructions to the letter. A computer programmer had to be detail oriented, and she took pride in her ability to break down and memorize complex tasks. This was a piece of cake. Even that man Cliff would be proud of her, if he ever saw her againupstairs to a small room on the second floor.

She was perfectly aware by now that Cliff had made a lasting impression on her. Ten days of constant intrusion on her thoughts had convinced her. Every male she saw, every man she met was held up to the image of Cliff. And found lacking.

Vickie even found herself comparing him on a point‑by‑point basis with her ex‑fiancee, Ron. Only the fact that she didn’t have enough information about Cliff kept her from trying to call him, despite her experience with Ron[MH3] . She had her excuse all ready. She had never thanked him for rescuing her, after all. He didn’t need to know how much, at the time, she had resented it.

But she didn’t know how to get in touch with him. Heck, she didn’t even know his last name. But Kulinahr knew Cliff.  She had to get that information from Kulinahr.

The deposed ruler was alone, seated at a writing table in a small room on the second floor.. When he saw Vickie, he rose with a smile. “Vickie Johnston. How good of you to come.” He met her with a warm handshake.

“Prince Kulinahr. HowIt was kind of you to see me.” He looked well, better than the last time they had met. He was neatly barberedShe followed him to a small grouping with settee, coffee table set with silver service[MH4] , and his clothes were impeccable. Perhaps there was more gray at the temple. chairs.

When she got closer, however,In some ways he looked older,better than the last time they had met. He was neatly barbered and his clothes were impeccable. But there was more careworn. Thengray at the temple and when she got closer she saw the lines remained, the deeper folds and in his face, deep grooves that only come from fatigue and worry. He indicated that she should sit

He gestured at the settee, took a chair across from her and poured them some coffee.

Vickie openedsat and took her tasse gratefully; it had been a long day and difficult flight. She sipped.

Her eyes in surprise.snapped opened like abruptly retracting window shades. The coffeeliquid was thick and grainy, andjust short of chewed coffee beans in water hot enough to scald her tongue[MH5] .

“The coffee does not agree with you? Would you care for something else?”

Blinking fast, Vickie carefully swallowed. “No,” she began hoarsely, blinking fast.. She cleared her throat. “No,” she tried again, “, this is fine. It just takes some getting used to.”

Kulinahr smiled slightly. “My English university friends also found the taste somewhat unusual. I would understand if you did not want itto finish.”

Vickie grimaced and tried another sip. It was not much better, but now she was determined. “No, it’s good.” She sipped again. “You went to a Western university?”

“Yes. Education is prized in my country, and all members of the royal family attended Oxford University in England. I went during the turbulent sixties, which probably accounts for my progressive bent. Even in those ancient halls the new ideas were felt.” Vickie nodded, starting to see a new side of KulinahrEach of us was assigned their course of study. My brothers were set to work at engineering, finance and education. My cousin studied medicine, and is now director of the main hospital in Misr.” His pride shone in his smile.

“Each member of my family was assigned their course of study. My brothers were set to work at engineering, finance, education. My cousin studied medicine, and is now director of the main hospital in Misr,” he said proudly.

“And you run… ran a country. Impressive family.”

Kulinahr sadlyKulinahr’s smile faded and put his cup down. “Yes. Ran. I no longer govern my people.” His jaw clenched. “They are in the hands of that madman, Fahrrad. And I trusted him. I believed him. I made him my guest!”

Vickie put downset her own cup aside. “What happened?” she encouraged him.

“It began less than a year ago. As a small country trapped between many larger ones, you understand, we always have our share of external problems. But suddenly we began to have internal issues as well—bombings, and kidnappings, and acts of horrible violence right on the streets of Misr. Terrorists.”

Vickie’s eyes widened. “What did they want?”

“To distract me from my true enemy.” “That’s terrible. Did you find out who they were?”

“TheyKulinahr sighed, and looked into the small cup in his hand. “Oh, they said they were freedom fighters, trying to liberate a particular sect of peoplethe oppressed in my country. I was furious. Who had I oppressed? They were an affront to my pride.” Kulinahr sighed, and looked into the small cup in his hand. “.”

“But you don’tI now think that’s what they really were after.”their purpose was to distract me from my true enemy.”

“No.”Who was…?”

“So how did Fahrrad enter the picture?”

.” Kulinahr’s jaw worked. “Hafez Fahrrad was well known for eliminating terrorist threats in his own country of Kalifad. As that is just across my border, I was particularly aware of his reputation. I sent an emissary to Fahrradhim, to ask for his assistance. I should have known…I should have seen…the man was a dinosaur in his own country. Decades past the age of perestroika, Fahrrad is a staunch Stalinist.”

“And he came?”

Kulinahr sighed again. “Yes, of course. You see, I knew he was having problems in his Kalifad. They have entered a period of enlightenment, following somewhat the lead of their parent country into the age of peristroika. Fahrrad, of course, was a staunch Stalinist[MH6] .”

Vickie grunted. “Mixes like oil and water.”“Did you know that then?”

“Yes. So I knew he would come. I did not worry, however. I thought our country was far too progressive to give him a handhold.”

“Well, that makes sense. If he was already having trouble just from new‑style Communism, I can imagine he’d sink like a stone in a market economy.”

“I did not . But I did not take his desperation into account.” Kulinahr fell silent. Vickie watched as his face grew more careworn. , his eyes fixed on some point deep within.

Odd, she thought Vickie. A ruler in. He’s a modern day ruler, yet he looks like some of the ancient patriarchs must have looked. Plus caThe more things change…

Vickie thought back briefly to what she When the job had read in her research.first come up, Vickie had researched Middle Yemen, until the coup, had been driven by Prince. Driven by Kulinahr’s ambition to eradicate poverty and ignorance among his people. He had taken his , the nation had risen from a poor, squabbling country to one of peace and prosperity.

Now the coup seemed to make more sense to Vickie. Obviously Fahrrad felt the rising level of  in just a few decades. She considered it from Fahrrad’s point of view. The rising prosperity in Middle Yemen could mean of his neighboring country probably looked like a cash, to fund Fahrrad’s private war. “Why cow just over the fence. “How did you believe himit happen, then?”

“First, becauseKulinahr sighed. “I’m not saying he completely took me in, but he painted a very pretty scene of a repentant Communist. Second, becauseAnd though my citizen’s militia is very good, but they cannot be on watch all the time.” Kulinahr shook his head, as though he still could not understand it. “I thought perhaps Fahrrad couldAll he had to do was help us keep guard while we were waitingwaited for the security system to be designed and built.”

“Security system?” Vickie’s ears pricked. That sounded like the project that had started all this. Fahrrad had also been looking for a security system.

“Yes. Since

Vickie had known the new account would be trouble from the moment she was assigned to it. Never in her wildest dreams, however, did she imagine how much trouble.[MH7] 

Col. Hafez Fahrrad was the name on the cover letter. She had done her usual thorough research and had discovered he was presently the dictator of a Middle East dot on the map, Middle Yemen by name, recently coming to power in a particularly bloody coup.

In person he was a slight man in an overdesigned uniform and a too-big hat, with small dark eyes and a tidy mustache.

At their first meeting, in her company’s conference room, Fahrrad had stood as if transfixed, eyes flat and glassy. “What an unusual color for hair. It is like a sunset.” He reached out to touch a curl.

She automatically slapped his hand away. She still could see his expression, his eyes sparking with anger.

But he controlled himself, and actually smiled, with a toothy, gold capped grin. He gave a slight bow in apology.

Vickie knew weaseling when she saw it. Trying to get back in her good graces to get a better price for his system. “So what is it you’re looking for, Colonel?”

“I wish to implement a security system. Shall we sit?” He took a chair, then patted the one next to him coaxingly.

She stayed on her feet. “I’m not sure we can help you. Here at Fitzwater Software and Consulting, we generally work in database design and implementation.”

“Yes, so my advisor said. He also said that what I want is not so different, is it, my dear?”

Terms of endearment in the business environment grated on her. If Fahrrad hadn’t been a client, she’d have made an issue out of it. As it was, she asked politely, “And what do you wish to make secure?”

His slow, sensual grin had not endeared him to her at all. It really looked more like a leer, ruler of a country or not.

“Your government’s headquarters?” she prompted. She remembered from her reading that Fahrrad had infiltrated the palace and slaughtered all the people loyal to the Prince Kulinahr in the coup. The world thought he’d killed the Prince himself and she supposed at the time that he’d want security to make sure no one pulled the same trick on him.

“Not my headquarters, my dear. For the entire country.”

Her legs wobbled under her and she found herself sitting next to him. The tech for building security was  commonplace. But a whole country…? “Wouldn’t you be better asking your military about this sort of thing?”

He brushed at his mustaches. “Ah, no. We are a small country, surrounded with little in terms of development resources. But you and your company have just the combination of initiative and experience that I am looking for.” He took her hands and held them tightly. “I’m sure we will work well together.”

She managed to squirm her fingers out of his hands and had to steel herself against shaking the ick off them. “I’ll have to check with the vice president of development on this, Col. Fahrrad. Unless you’d like to speak with her yourself?”

“No, sweetheart, I’d rather with you.” Again that oily grin. “Such beautiful, unusual hair.”

She shuddered even now, remembering it.

Two days later, as she left work, men had kidnapped her. They hadn’t said a word, but they didn’t have to. Their guns spoke for them quite clearly. She knew better than to get into their car but with four of them grabbing her and carting her off she didn’t have much choice. She tried to not be a complete victim; as they dragged her past the clipped hedges she struggled briefly, chucking her briefcase surreptitiously into the nearest bush. She hoped it would alert someone, anyone that something serious had happened to her.

She only started suspecting the Middle Yemen connection when her kidnappers broke their silence. Only one spoke English. She didn’t recognize their native language but she overheard a conversation punctuated quite frequently by Col. Fahrrad’s name.

And then they had arrived in that place of sand and sweltering heat and dank buildings, and produced that skimpy teddy, which they had requested, quite nicely if you didn’t consider the rude manner in which they had pointed at her and  the guns they had used to point with, that she put on. Then they had burned her own clothes.

“Hey, I might need those,” she protested.

“Not with the Colonel, Madam,” the bilingual one answered.

They went into the city to celebrate, leaving one guard behind. Maybe they thought she wouldn’t attempt escape since she was nearly nude. Well, she was modest, but she valued her life more highly than modesty.

The remaining kidnapper was relieving himself in the next room, and she simply let herself out. She snuck down the stairs.

And saw the other three men, just entering the lobby, carrying food and drink. Apparently they’d only gone out to get it.

She dove behind a large sculpture that looked like a curled up triangle. For a moment it seemed as if the men hadn’t seen her, but an old woman coming down the stairs stopped and pointed at her, eyes bugging from under her veil. Desperately Vickie put finger to lips, hoping the sign for shh translated. It must not have because the woman started yelling at her.

The three kidnappers came running. Vickie had then begun the flight which had brought her to that truck of a man. To Cliff.

“We are a small country,” Kulinahr  was saying. “Surrounded by three much larger countries,. I think the best way to protect our interests is through technology rather than manpower. Perhaps aA defense net suchmay not have worked for a nation so large as your United States is investigating. If I had the protection of such a device, I could , but for us, it is more feasible.” He sighed, and sat in the chair opposite her. “Ah, to explore our land for oil without fear of invasion,. To release more of my people tofor peaceful pursuits, and, well… Well, you can of course see the advantages.”

Vickie nodded and picked up her coffee again. It was a little easier to drink now that it had cooled. Kulinahr rose and started pacing. Vickie watched him, understanding the need for him to unburden. Talking for Kulinahr seemed a cleansing, a catharsis. He turned.

Kulinahr rose and started pacing. “That is how I met Cliff.”

Vickie said a mental prayer. At last!

“Cliff She frowned. “In connection with Fahrrad?”

“No, in connection with our defense. He came to me and proposed a defense system unlike any I’veI’d seen. And it had one added advantage. He said, a marvel of advanced technology. Moreover, he would be ablewanted to build the component manufacturing plant in Middle Yemen. In one stroke, we would have doubledwe’d double our protection and our revenue.”

“Cliff is a businessman, then?” Vickie sat forward, startled. “?” Vickie’s mouth fell open. “But…but I thought he was an agent, or an international spy or something.”

Kulinahr’s cheeks folded in a smile. “He ishas some rather, ah, eclectic. It’s true that Cliff was the one whounexpected skill sets. He knows things no mere businessman would. He warned me that Fahrrad intended to overthrow me. Alas, I did not believe him.”

“CliffIf he knew Fahrrad was plotting against you? Why, why didn’t he do something?”

Kulinahr smiled. “He did. He saved my life.”

“Yeah, but couldn’t he have done something about Fahrrad?” Vickie shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “Couldn’t he have done something about Fahrrad?” The dictator’s chilling smile, his constant reaching for her hair, still plagued her dreams.

““I don’t believe you understand how much he did just saving my life. Fahrrad brought his own guard with him. They are, like the Colonel himself, ruthless. The entire palace staff…friends and allies…was murdered.”

“I’m so sorry.” Impulsively Vickie watched intently as Kulinahr paused, hisput down her cup and took Kulinahr’s hands.

“Thank you.” His eyes brighteningwere bright with unshed tears. “If not for the bravery of my personal servant and, of course, Cliff, I would not have made it out of the palace alive. As it was, I had to remain constantly on the move in the desert highland to avoid capture. It was only later that I could return to the city, long enough to stow away on board that ship into.” He slid his hands out of hers and patted hers briefly before rubbing his eyes. “Now I am in exile.”

---

 [MH1]The original "supposedly" is almost an omniscient narrator telling us these weren't music educators. The new "their twin MIB suits shouted secret service" is much more from Vickie's point of view.

 [MH2]Tag or action to identify speaker. Rarely need both.

 [MH3]Backstory!

 [MH4]I'm getting better at setting a scene. Lots of my earlier work seems to take place in some cloud somewhere :) Unless it's totally alien, just a few details will clue the reader how to fill in.

 [MH5]The great thing about close POV (in the character's head) is that you can make things really colorful.

 [MH6]The really interesting thing is how much has changed in the real world since I wrote this, and how much hasn't. I don't imagine a lot of people remember peristroika but there's still conflict in the Middle East.

 [MH7]Aaaand moving around scenes again to get the most impact.