Greg Rucka - A gentleman_s game

"Neither can I."

"I want to. I've been trying to."

"We'll be ashore soon, and then we'll go to Cairo, to the hotel. There'll be a bed there, you'll be able to sleep then."

Nia shifted, sitting upright. "Would you sit with me?"

Sinan hesitated.

"Please?"

He moved closer, took a seat on the floor. He could see her smile, and it seemed a look of gratitude to him.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

The smile faded and her look took distance. She turned her head away, as if trying to see through the walls all the way across the water to their goal.

"Nia?"

"I'm just tired, Sinan."

And then she shifted and lowered her head into his lap without a word, resting it upon his thigh and closing her eyes. He felt her hand, small and warm, take his, her fingers closing around his own.

"I'm glad you're here," she whispered.

He put his hand lightly to her head, surprised himself by gently beginning to pet her hair.

"I'm glad I'm here, too."

"I'll miss you, Sinan," she murmured. "When I go, I'll miss you."

"We will see each other again."

"I know," Nia said. "In Paradise."

He felt the weight of her head grow against his thigh as she relaxed, falling asleep.

In Paradise, Sinan thought, and he continued to stroke her hair.

Israel-Tel Aviv, 12 Ben-Yehuda Street, 2F 18 September 2310 Local (GMT+3.00) As far as safehouses went, Chace thought they could have done a lot worse, even with the four Mossad heavies keeping them under lock and key.

There was a sliver view of the Mediterranean through one of the apartment windows, lights shining off the water. There was food and beer in the refrigerator, including two steaks. The furniture was used, not terribly comfortable, but entirely serviceable. The bedroom had a queen-size mattress on a companion box spring on the floor and the bed had been made up. There was soap, shampoo, two disposable razors, a tube of shaving cream, and towels in the bathroom. The air conditioner worked, even if the radio and television didn't.

She assumed they were bugged to the gills, certainly audio, probably video, and she guessed that was why those particular appliances wouldn't function. No background noise, nothing to hide a conversation behind.

When they'd been arrested, the policemen hadn't offered any explanation, and neither Wallace nor Chace had offered any resistance. Their arrest hadn't been expected, but it wasn't directly alarming, and when they had been driven to the safehouse rather than to the police station, both had been reassured.

Once inside, two of the heavies handled the physical search, going through their bags, then their clothes. They'd been polite enough about it, careful, and had avoided the extremes in that neither Chace nor Wallace had been asked to undress. The other two had kept watch, and nobody had said anything. Then the four had left, locking them inside, and Chace was certain they were at positions next door and in the hall.

There was nothing to do but wait.

So they cooked the steaks and had them for an early dinner, then went to the bed and lay down side by side. Why squander the time pacing when sleep was available? Wallace didn't touch her, and Chace thought he was trying to be discreet, not wanting to reveal anything more to the watchers than was already known, but after lying like that for most of a minute, she decided what the hell and reached around for Tom's arm, pulled it around her waist. He rolled toward her, slipping his other arm beneath the pillow where she was resting her head, and she could feel his breath on her neck, calm and steady, and it transferred to her, and that was how they slept. • A knock on the bedroom door woke them.

"Come out, please," a man said.

They did, Chace walking stiffly, her knee giving her trouble. She hoped running wouldn't be required anytime soon.

When they emerged, Noah Landau was seated at the small square table by the kitchen, and another man, tall enough to be gangly, hair wiry and unkempt, was plugging in an old coffeepot to percolate. One of them, Landau or the other, had put an ashtray on the table, and two unopened packs of cigarettes, and a plate of dainty cookies, what looked like chocolate chip.

"Please." Landau swept an open hand, indicating the empty seats. "Join us."

"Oh, that's very nice of you," Wallace said.

They took seats, and the man making the coffee turned from his task and gave Chace a looking-over, grinning. Then he looked to Landau, said something in Hebrew, and Landau shook his head, as if the words were expected and not particularly original.

"Rude," Chace said. "Speaking like that when we can't understand."

"You wouldn't like the translation," Landau told her. "He thinks he's in love with you."

"If his coffee's any good, tell him I'll marry him."

The man laughed.

"It's Wallace, isn't it?" Landau asked Tom. "Yes?"

Wallace nodded. "Crete, seven years ago? Or is it eight?"

"Eight and a half, Mr. Wallace." Landau smiled. "I understand you retired."

"Well, I thought a holiday was in order, came to see the Promised Land."

"Hmm, sadly I think that will not be possible."

"Oh?" Wallace looked to Chace. "I told you we should have booked a package, but no, you had to insist on the Rough Guide."

"You like it rough," she said.

"I like snuggling, too."

The other man spoke again, laughed, then began pouring the coffee.

"He's still being rude," Chace said.

"He is very rude," Landau agreed. "Viktor, introduce yourself."

"Viktor Borovsky." The man set one of the cups in front of Chace and gave her an enormously amused smile. "And if you like my coffee, I will go search for a ring for you."

"Needs to be a big one," Chace said. "I'm a size queen."

Borovsky laughed. He joined them at the table, taking one of the cookies and dunking it before eating. Wallace reached for one of the packs of smokes, tore the cellophane free, then knocked two free. He handed one to Chace, took one for himself, and his actions seemed to provide some sort of permission, because by the time Chace had her lighter to her cigarette, Landau and Borovsky were smoking as well.

"Regular kaffeeklatsch, this," Chace said.

"Nothing regular about it," Wallace said.

Landau smiled at them both for a moment, then said to Chace, "You blew it."

"To which 'it' do you refer, Mr. Landau? I've blown so many things in my time."

"El-Sayd."

"Ah."

"Yes."

Wallace shot a quizzical look to Chace. "Muhriz el-Sayd, he means?"

"That's the one."

"You blew it?"

"I was supposed to kill him. He left before I could take the shot. Killed Prince Salih instead."

"You neglected to include that part," Wallace said.

"I've had a lot on my mind."

Borovsky ate another cookie, feeding himself with the same hand that held his cigarette. When he smiled, chocolate was visible on his teeth. "Please, don't mistake Noah's gruffness for disapproval. We're quite happy with the way things turned out."

"So this is about giving me a medal, then?" Chace asked. "That's why you're holding us?"

"Viktor speaks out of turn," Landau said softly. "I neither approve nor disapprove of Salih's death. If he wasn't an enemy of Israel, he certainly supported Israel's enemies. It is relevant to the discussion at hand only because Salih's death impacts your current situation dramatically."

Chace rolled the end of her cigarette along the edge of the ashtray, watching the embers. "Impacts how?"

"Come now, you know the position in which you have been placed as well as I."

"You're not going to hand me to the Saudis," Chace said.

It wasn't a question, but Borovsky took it as such, answering, "Fuck me, no. No, no, never, never in a million years, no."