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

gotten a cable about you, but I can’t remember what it said. Who are you anyway?”

“Amy L. Gunderson,” said Anna. “Does that ring any bells?”

“Nope,” said Taylor. “But my memory for pseudonyms isn’t too hot.”

“I’m a NOC,” said Anna. “Based in London.”

“What’s your real name?”

“Should I tell you?”

“Sure,” said Taylor. “What the hell.”

“Anna Barnes,” she said. “I’m new.”

“So what happened, Anna Barnes?”

“I had a bad time last night with an Iranian we’re trying to develop.” Her voice was calm, perhaps a bit tired. The electricity of the previous night had flowed out of her body.

“What’s his name?”

“Ali Ascari. I had a meet with him last night in his room at the Hilton. He got drunk and abusive. I had to hit him, with a whiskey bottle. I’m afraid I may have hurt him.”

“What was he doing?”

“He was trying to attack me,” she said, avoiding the word “rape.” She spoke quietly, almost clinically. “He had a knife. I didn’t really have any other choice.”

Taylor smiled.

“What’s so funny?”

“You sound apologetic,” said Taylor. “Obviously the son of a bitch had it coming.”

“He did,” answered Anna. “But it’s sort of a mess, isn’t it? I hit him pretty hard, especially the second time. For all I know, he may be dead. God only knows what they’ll think back at headquarters. They’ll probably think it was very unprofessional.”

“Fuck headquarters,” said Taylor.

Anna smiled. “That’s easy for you to say. But I’m a new kid.”

“Go ahead. Say it.”

“Fuck headquarters.”

“Excellent. Now, I seriously doubt your man is dead. Not to take anything away from your skill with a whiskey bottle, but it takes a hell of whack to kill someone that way.”

“I kicked him, too. Twice.”

Taylor squinted at her. She was full of surprises, Amy L. Gunderson. “Congratulations,” he said. “But I still doubt you killed him.”

“That’s good, I guess.”

“Don’t be disappointed. Maybe you’ll get another shot.”

“Never,” said Anna with a shiver. “I’ve had it with this guy. I should never have met him again. I’m the wrong person. The chemistry is all wrong.”

“I’ll say,” said Taylor. Despite herself, Anna laughed. “Seriously,” he continued, “I’ll send someone over to the Hilton to ask a few questions. In the unlikely event they’ve found a dead Iranian, we’ll get you out of Istanbul pronto and try to tidy things up. If he’s gone to the doctor, we’ll find out how bad he’s hurt. If he’s sitting in his room with a hangover and a lump on his head, we’ll send up some aspirin. Whatever it is, we’ll take care of it. So stop worrying.”

“If he’s alive, he’s going to be angry.”

“Tough shit.”

“But he may want to take revenge, on the agency, or on me.”

“Does he know who you are?”

“True name? No. He knows me as Allison James.”

“Does he know you’re agency?”

“Yes and no. He knows I’m in contact with agency people in London, and he calls me ‘CIA lady.’ But he probably doesn’t think I’m the real thing. In fact, it’s probably beyond his comprehension that a woman could be a bona fide CIA officer.”

“You may have changed his mind last night,” said Taylor. “Anyway, don’t sweat it. We deal with bigger assholes than this guy every day of the week.”

Anna smiled. She appreciated Taylor’s little pep talk more than she wanted to let on.

“I’m going to need communication,” she said. “I ought to cable London and headquarters right away and let them know what’s happened.”

“No problem,” said Taylor.

“And I need somebody to go over to the hotel where I was staying before and pick up my stuff.”

“No problem.”

“And then I guess I ought to get out of here. When does the Pan Am flight for London leave?”

“In an hour. You’ll never make it.”

“I’ll go tomorrow.”

“Listen,” said Taylor. “Maybe you want some company later, after you finish your cables. You’re going to feel a little spooked, no matter how tough you are with a bottle.”

“I’d love some company, to be honest. If you’re not too busy.” She didn’t consider the etiquette of accepting his offer. Taylor was a colleague. He was initiated into the secrets of her world. Which meant she could relax.

“How about a brief driving tour of the Anatolian countryside, in a bulletproof Chevrolet?” asked Taylor. Anna didn’t answer. She just closed her lids on those radiant, blue-green eyes.

Anna finished her cables just after noon. The act of writing them, confessing to her various bosses that her jaunt to Istanbul had been a disaster, made her nervous all over again. She looked pale when she knocked on Taylor’s door.

“Good news,” said Taylor. “Your Iranian friend isn’t dead.”

“Thank God!” she said. By now, her homicidal fantasies had disappeared. Drafting her cables, she had reflected on the prospect of being tried for murder in an Istanbul court and decided it was not to her liking.

“He’s not even angry. He’s contrite.”

“You’re kidding. How do you know?”

“Because forty minutes ago someone named Ascari called the switchboard with a message for Allison James. Which is you, correct?”

“Correct. What was the message?”

“Tell Allison James thank you for the book and that Ali Ascari is very sorry. What book is he talking about?”

“It was a gift. A guide to Moslem holy places in Azerbaijan. His family is from Baku.”

“How thoughtful.”

“What did the switchboard say?”

“They told him they didn’t know what he was talking about. That they didn’t know of anyone by the name of Allison James.”

“This guy doesn’t give up,” said Anna, shaking her head.

“In this part of the world,” said Taylor, “a man doesn’t really respect a woman until she’s hit him over the head with a whiskey bottle.”

The car was ready at twelve-thirty. Taylor dismissed the driver and took the wheel. “Let’s go to Asia,” he said, gunning the car onto Mesrutiyet Street so that the tires squealed. Taylor’s sense of style was better than his sense of direction, and he got lost on the other side of the Bosporus Bridge. “It’s no use asking for directions,” he advised Anna. “Turks can’t bear to admit they don’t know the way, so