Siro by David Ignatius (classic novels to read .txt) 📗

“CI makes mistakes. So do case officers.”

“Come on, Alan. You know what I’m talking about. You’ve recruited dozens of people. Don’t you just know when someone is for real?”

“Sometimes. But sometimes you get so caught up in a case that you lose your judgment. It’s called ‘falling in love with your agent.’ ”

“That’s a cheap shot.”

“Is it? Then explain to me why you’re so determined to do this.”

“Because it matters to me. And it’s the right thing to do.”

“Did you sleep with him?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just what it sounds like. Did you sleep with him?”

“That’s an outrageous question. But the answer is no.”

“I only ask because you’re acting so strange. Something has happened to you. You’re different.”

“What’s different is that I’m trying to get serious about my job. And for some reason I can’t understand, that bothers you.”

“Let’s make love,” said Taylor gently.

Anna paused. She was flustered. Her seductive bravado had been punctured by Taylor’s questions.

“What about you?” she asked. “Have you slept with anyone since we were together?” She wished she hadn’t asked the question the moment the words were out of her mouth.

“Yes,” said Taylor.

She took a deep breath. “Do you feel guilty about it?”

“No. Why should I? It was just recreational sex. It doesn’t change the way I feel about you. I can pretend to feel guilty if you want.”

“Fuck you.”

Taylor sat down beside her on the bed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “The last thing I wanted to do tonight was argue with you.”

He put his arm around her. She was going to remove it, but let it stay.

“Tell Stone you like my operation,” she said.

“Okay,” said Taylor. “If that’s what it takes to get you in bed.”

“Tell him you think it’s the best idea anyone’s had since Allen Dulles.”

Taylor smiled. “Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

“I need a drink.”

Taylor handed her the glass of whiskey. She finished what was left and poured some more. As she drank it down, it occurred to her that she had never felt more like a whore.

“Now you can take off my clothes,” she said.

It took Taylor far less time to remove Anna’s ensemble than it had for her to put it on. He pulled the garments hurriedly from her body, pushing her dress up, pulling back the flimsy brassiere, peeling the panty hose from her legs and tugging her tiny panties so hard they bit into the soft flesh between her legs. And then he was on top of her, only half undressed himself. Usually his lovemaking was gentle, but now, for the first time, he was rough with her. He pushed into her hard, and when she cried out, he pushed in hard again. He turned her over on her hands and knees and entered her from behind, slapping her bottom with his open hand as he went in and out. He made love angrily, like a man who had something to prove. And Anna, for her part, did something that she had never done before with Taylor. She faked an orgasm.

Taylor left a few minutes after they had finished. He mumbled something about going home to change clothes. Otherwise, neither said very much. What was there to say? Taylor drove home to his apartment in Arnavutkoy and slept a few hours.

The next morning, before returning to Bebek to meet with Stone, Taylor stopped by the consulate to check the overnight cables. One cable in the stack caught his eye. It was addressed to Amy L. Gunderson, from the chief of the European Division. The cable ordered her to return to London immediately or contact her case officer at the embassy there. Taylor wondered for a moment what he ought to do. But there wasn’t any real question in his mind. He drove to the hotel in Bebek as quickly as he could and knocked on Stone’s door at eight-fifteen.

The old man looked somewhat more composed than he had the night before. “You’re early,” he said.

“You had better read this,” said Taylor. He handed the cable to Stone, who read it carefully, paying special attention to the time, date and routing by which the message had been sent.

“I’ll handle this,” he said evenly. “This isn’t a time to be worrying Miss Barnes. She has a lot on her mind.”

He took the paper in the palm of his hand and crumpled it into a ball.

“I’ll need that back,” said Taylor. “For the files.”

Stone handed the wad of paper back to Taylor. “It was never received.”

Taylor nodded.

Anna knocked on the door a few minutes later. She didn’t look at Taylor. “Good morning, gentlemen,” she said.

“Good morning, my dear,” replied Stone. He was at his most courtly. “Sleep well?”

“Just fine.”

“We haven’t much time, I’m afraid. Your plane leaves at ten-thirty, mine at noon. So let’s finish our business. Are you still keen on this Armenian operation?”

“Yes,” said Anna. “Very keen.”

“What about you, Alan? Do you have any reservations? You sounded a bit skeptical last night.”

The room was silent for a moment. Taylor looked at Anna, but she was avoiding his glance, gazing instead out the window, toward the Bosporus.

“I don’t have any problem,” said Taylor. “If Anna wants to do it, it’s fine with me.”

“That leaves me,” said Stone. Anna turned back from the window and looked the old man in the eye. “I’ve given it some further thought overnight and I think your project makes a good deal of sense. It’s quite enterprising on your part. Certainly it will put your man in some jeopardy, but as you say, he’s asked for our help. All we’re doing is satisfying his request. So I wish you good luck.”

“Thank you,” said Anna. Her face was flushed. She had won, but she felt no sense of release.

“When will you see the Armenian again?”

“When I get back to Paris.”

“Well then, you can tell him that your friends at the foundation have agreed to support this worthy venture in international communications—and that we will supply him with one prototype, one only.”

“He’ll be pleased.”

“No doubt. Now, Alan, I want you