Florence of Arabia by Christopher Buckley Page B

leveling whatever playing field he was engaged upon. When a camel race was arranged on his eighth birthday, he sneaked into the stables the night before and fed all the other princelings' camels barley mixed with charcoal, which, as anyone knows who has ridden a camel that has gorged on barley a nd charcoal, makes a camel part icularly cranky and unsubmissive. Maliq won the race and the prize. Thus began a lifetime's fascination with racing.
    As Matar's minister for sport, morality and youth endeavor. Maliq had, over the years, established the annual Matar i 500 auto rally as the high point of the social season. H e was not only the event's chairman and chief patr on, he always participated in it and, G od be praised, always won. Among the aficionados of the Matar i track, the question asked was not "Who won?" but "Who came in second?"
    There had been spectacular upsets. Gentile Fabriani. the Italian, had thrown a rod in the 389th la p and gone through the wall, Uldo Pantz, the dashing Bavarian, so tantalizingly close t o the finish line, had mysteriously blown all four tires and c ome to smoky grief in the midf ield. And when, in '99, the American Buddy Banf ield hit an oil puddle that inexplicably materialized in front of his car as he sped toward certain victory—did not the whole racing world mourn? It had gotten harder to attract top-ranked drivers lo compete in the Matari 500. Maliq had to keep raising the second- place purse to the point that it had reached rather extravagant levels.
    But the race had done much over the years to raise Matar's profile in the world. Matar was now synonymous throughout the world with fig oil, duty - free shopping, gambling and corrupt auto racing. The emir's decisio n to go along with Florence's TV Matar idea was motivated not just by the prospect of another pipeline of cash into his exchequer, but also by a desire to show the world that Matar could take its rightful place at the global table of diversified industry.
    But now, in his early forties. Maliq had begun to weary of auto races. Perha ps the novelty of winning every Matari 500 had worn off. The trop hy room in his palace was s o crowded with gold cups that it had begun to stir in him not pride but a certain ennui. Inspired in part by his exiled mother, who had taken to e-mailing him from Sanaa, he had set his sights on a higher trophy: his brother's throne.
    His brother Gazzv, the emir, was not unaware of this fact. He had kept a close eye on his half brother ever the since the day of his twelfth birthday, when the camel he was riding violently pitched him into a nettle patch.
    It was by Gazzy's assent t hat Maliq was allowed to win every Matar 500.
    He knew it would keep the young prince content and fulfilled. But it is written that a well-fed scorpion does not lose his appetit e; he only grows a larger stomach. Such was the state of affairs at the time of Florence's arrival in Amo-Amas.
    Complicating the situation were the French, who tend to complicate every situation. They knew about Maliq's ennui and designs on the throne, and had cannily been maneuvering to exploit it. They maintained an embassy in Amo-Amas, and its staff had not been whiling away the lazy hot afternoons in coffeehouses along the quays. On the contrary, they were well aware that, in the terminology of the intelligence community, Maliq presented a target of the most delicious opportunity.
    France had never really gotten over its humiliation at the hands of Churchill and his cartographers in 1922. "Revenge is a dish best served cold" may be a Spanish proverb, but as Fr Rochefoucauld put it, "How pleasant it is to cram cold dead snails dow n the throat of an Englishman." H ere was France's chance to even an ancient insult and, with any luck, inflict a little collateral damage on America.
    Over the years, France had missed no opportunity to exploit strains in the U.S.-Wasabi relationship. When America declined to sell its latest fighter jet or other frightful