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Chapter 4
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2021-01-15 05:32:31Yeo had to tell Ilina. He even looked forward to observing her response.
Would she pity him enough to open her heart? Would that same violet shimmer play in her eyes once more?
Or would she maintain the same cool demeanor that she always met him with?
It was her eyes that struck him the first time he saw her in Tehran.
She was covered in a turquoise sari. Her iris eyes looked out from the long silk scarf that partially covered her face.
In a single flash, she turned toward him and locked eyes with him. The thick black eyelashes closed over them and she turned back to the silver bowl she was examining.
As she moved through the marketplace, she occasionally stopped to gesture gracefully and bargain with the seller. But she did not have the manner of a native.
The woman’s bearing and statuesque appearance seemed European to him. She seemed a stranger here, much like himself.
Yeo followed her through the market at a discreet distance, until she had circled the market and stood in front of him.
“You may walk with me to my hotel,” she said.
He had a meeting with the Shah, a company to buy, but negotiations had stalled.
He was overdue at headquarters. His father was starting to worry. But nothing mattered now.
“I’d be happy to,” he said in the same even tone.
It was an erotic moment for him. Her bold approach left him defenseless, tripped by a primitive impulse that bypassed logic, formality, simple cordiality—any set of civilized impressions that he might have approached a woman with in the past.
After a few days together, he stopped asking himself why he was so addicted to her.
Those moist, sultry eyes never lost their impact.
And her voice was just as sweet.
But he soon found that the sweetness of her voice and the moisture of her eyes were only a lure.
The ferocious beast that greeted him at the gate to her heart concealed some bitter wound, the nature of which she never revealed to him.
She seemed to cherish, not only the pain it caused her, but the pain it caused him.
He had not recalled these moments in years, as he sat in the back of the town car, on the way to her villa, overlooking Lake Como.
Yeo checked his cell.
In coded language, Chuck informed him that the Israeli operation had come off flawlessly.
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He found her in the garden, leaning over some plants.Her passion for gardening began after Roland’s death. She spent the entire afternoon in the sun. It kept her free from the shadows of her thoughts, at least for a time. She once had friends who came in the afternoon and sat on the veranda over lunch.The rest of her time had been spent painting in the studio on the third floor, looking out on the lake.
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She brought the platter heaped with feta cheese, tomatoes, and red onions and set on the table on the veranda. She sat down beside Yeo and poured herself a glass of wine.They began to eat.“Do you like my tomatoes?” she asked after a while.“They are better than last summer,” he told her.
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Yeo flew back to New York.He called a meeting of the board members and the full management team. Chuck Maitland had delegated authority to the people he knew he could rely on.Pulling a tight-knit organization together, sworn to silence, everyone acting like a CIA suddenly converted to gentleness and love for human kind, required a lot of discretion.And even more trust.
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He had fucked up 9/11. It was right in front of his eyes and he blew it.Dink could never stop whipping himself for this oversight.In retrospect, the hints were clear, but there was nothing solid enough to go running upstairs to Shroud.In the aftermath, informational interference created so much chaos and distorted feeling that Dink’s blindness was never addressed, in spite of the fact
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Dink walked down the stony corridor, with rough-hewn stone walls on either side of him, the rugs as soft as down beneath his feet.Lighting emanated from the ceiling, from small lamps set back in the stone.It was assumed there were cameras behind the lights.Timers dimmed and brightened the tiny lights throughout the day so the ocular muscles would move, allowing the stiffs to blink occasiona
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Sony Boy was sitting in the gold lame chair, dressed in blue sequins and six-inch heels.She wore her hair piled in twirls on top of her head like some cotton-candy courtesan in the court of Louis XIV.Dinkleberry liked to think of Sonny Boy’s style as Gaudy Chic.She always said the fuchsia streaks in her long black hair were a leftover from her days of turning tricks on the streets of
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Yeo went to the intercom and discovered that Chuck Maitland was waiting downstairs to take him to dinner.They walked over Fifth Avenue.It was a balmy New York evening and everyone was out on the streets.They walked downtown to Chinatown.
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