Prince Harry Boy to Man

Part 11: Harry Discovers A Stowaway

"What was that all about then?" asked Mustafa when Harry came back to his seat.

"Can't tell you. Top secret."

"Oh."

Here Harry turned to Mustafa, made eye contact, and leaned in close to his face. "Like you should already know. Mr. MI5, MI6 and whatever other of the intelligence services you did two whole years with."

Mustafa closed his eyes and leaned back into his seat with a weary expression.

"Like you could've told me, mate. Instead of letting me make a fool of myself in front of the col."

"I'm not admitting. Or denying."

"And what's this about all the funny languages you speak? Dairy? Pesto? Do you teach me a few words? No. It's like you wanna see me hang. You don't tell me nothing." He said "nuffink." Harry slumped back into his own seat.

Here Mustafa couldn't stop himself from giggling. "All right. All right. I'll teach you a few words. Salaam aleicum. Say that when you meet someone."

"What's that?"

"Peace be with you."

"Salaam aleicum," repeated Harry.

"Wa-aleicum salaam," replied Mustafa. He reached up and put his hand on his heart.

"What's that mean?" demanded Harry. "Don't steal my camel and I won't steal yours?"

"I'm amazed at your cultural sensitivity, sheikh. Emir. Caliph. Seyyed Harry."

"What's all that?"

"Empty terms of rank. Insincere flattery."

"Now we're getting somewhere," laughed Harry. "Let's take it from the top. Salaam aleicum," he said to Mustafa. He put his hand on his heart.

"Sorry to interrupt," said a smooth-faced American in camouflage fatigues standing in the aisle. "Do you mind if I introduce myself?"

Harry and Mustafa both looked up. It wasn't extraordinary for someone their own age to interrupt them without a prior introduction, but it was more American than British. Harry was inclined to be friendly the moment he heard the accent. He'd had nothing but an elaborate cold shoulder from fellow Brits so far. They all seemed to be going out of their way to make it hard for him. He was prepared for a bit more easiness and informality from a Yank. "Hey buddy!" he said. "Show me the love." He held up his fist to be punched. "Right on."

Cindy looked down at his fist with dismay. She'd never mastered the intricacies or meanings of fist punches. She was wary of making mistakes. She gave his fist a light touch with the knuckles of her right hand. "Hi. But it's really your friend I want."

Harry's face fell.

"What me?" said Mustafa.

"Yeah. I heard you're going to do some liaising with the Afghans. You know? Down on the ground? When we get there? I want to do a story on you."

"What?"

"Oh sorry, I'm Sandy Reed. CNN." She cleared her throat because that's what she'd heard guys do when they talked to each other. "I'm embedded with the unit from Fort Benning."