'cause I'm a money getter, also a honey hitter / you think you nice as me? Ha ha, you'se a funny nigga

They will gather their own gaylings and dykelings and Miss Things at the hem of their own caftans. They'll wheel the old queen out.

Brodie lent only half an ear. He was eying the wall map, comparing it with what he had seen from the chopper. He picked out the three nearest towns—Yarkand, Karghalik, and Kokyar—running north to south. Everything inside a huge semicircle bounded on the west by the Yarkand River and the southeast by the Kunlun Mountains was shaded. That must be the barbed-wire zone guarded by the army. Kokyar lay inside with more than a hundred other villages and hamlets. In this sector a narrow swath marked in red ran northeast, broadening into a shape like the flyswatter Yao was turning in his fingers. Brodie had heard traffice last night, and the map showed a road from Yarkand through Karghalik and Kokyar to the frontier, obviously a military road taking heavy traffic. Yao had laid down his flyswatter and swiveled around to point to a dot slightly west of Kokyar. We are here, if you are interested, Mr. Brodie, he murmured.

Kathe Rafferty is getting backpats and bouquets from pals learning that she has put out a shingle for hew new firm, Corporate Presence, purveying such services as publicity, event planning and fund-raising.