Redback. Lindy Cameron

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СКАЧАТЬ to his ear. 'I'll get a flight out there in the morning,' he said.

      'Good. I'll be in touch with the details when you get there.'

      The Client disconnected without further ado. Dargo pocketed his phone and turned his attention to his food.

      Chapter Thirteen

      Café Baba, Peshawar, Pakistan

       Tuesday 5.15 pm

      Majid passed the huqqa back to the only other patron who'd spent as long as he had in this place today. The old man, barely disturbing his recumbency on the day bed by the wall, reclaimed the water pipe and gave a toothless smile.

      Majid pondered the man's existence: could he not walk at all, or did his days have no purpose? Had he already lived his life to his satisfaction, or was he burdened by it? Was he happy or oblivious? Was he lazy or had he simply become adept at stillness?

      Majid's own impetuous nature had lately been tempered by a new patience derived from his studies, but he had yet to master the stillness of self-containment. Barely on the threshold of understanding its value, he couldn't claim it as a quality, but he did enjoy the personal control its practice seemed to be giving him.

      For instance, today he would simply wonder about the old man. Tomorrow, if they were both here again, he would engage him in conversation to seek answers. For Majid this was indeed a liberating approach, for if he had no need to return here tomorrow, then he would simply continue to wonder.

      All of this of course depended on what happened in the next little while. He had been told to wait each day until six; and wait he had, and would, until the Emissary came or Kali told him otherwise.

      From the age of three, Ashraf Majid had shared everything in life, whether mundane or significant, frivolous or serious, with Bashir Kali. Their lives were forever entwined in love and trust, blood and honour. Soon, when they married each other's sisters, their families - their sons - would also be bonded in heart, spirit and blood.

      It was Kali who had first met the Emissary while training in Morocco, and on his return home had introduced his beloved friend to the new way. For six months now they had both been following Rashmana, the Words of Kúrus, and now Majid too was to meet the Emissary. If the introduction went well, the friends would be given the go ahead for their first Trust.

      The Emissary, by Kali's account a most inspirational man, had in his turn been personally inspired by the greatest of teachers: Dárayavaus himself.

      Majid was confident. He felt in his bones that he and Kali would rise together through the ranks to stand with the Emissary before the great Dárayavaus. They would strive for the highest of honours that could be bestowed on a man: the right to sup at the table of his Inner Circle.

      Room 55, Grand Hotel Cravat, Luxembourg

       Tuesday 2.15 pm

      'You are such a beautiful boy.'

      'Not any more, Ilia. I believe I'm quite the man, now.'

      'So you are, sweet one. And you are my man. Yes?'

      'Oh yes forever, if you'll have me.'

      Ilia Dushenka smiled at the reflection of her latest conquest in the gilt-framed mirror. He was sprawled naked and unashamed on the huge bed he'd paid so handsomely for and in which they'd been making love for two days.

      Conquest? She tried not to laugh out loud at the word she'd used for such an easy victory. Justin West, like all the visiting American college boys, was so like a puppy, so like the lap dogs her crazy mother used to pamper.

      Ilia had chosen Justin because he was pretty, because he had money, and because she knew who his father and great-uncle were. She could just as easily have seduced either of his friends though, or even his sexy young stepmother. Now she would have been an interesting diversion. But this time Justin was the one; the latest in a succession of fresh virginal toy boys. They were not meant to last; which was just as well, as it was not good to get too attached.

      'Do not be too eager with your promises,' she said. 'You will soon grow tired of me.'

      'Never. And I am already growing eager again, Ilia,' he announced, fingering his penis as an offering. 'Come back to bed and I will show you.'

      'You will miss your train, Justin.'

      'I've got hours yet,' he said, with a delicious pout.

      Ilia smiled. 'Your stepmother and friends will not like it if you keep them waiting.'

      'Do I look like I care?' he asked, already doe-eyed as he stroked himself and got to his knees.

      Ilia laughed and joined him on the bed, turning her back to him and spreading her legs so he could enter her from behind. His thumbs stroked the intriguing tattoos of stone-carved Greek statues that graced her lower back, on each side of her spine. 'To keep her body strong', she had told him.

      'You will come with me then?' he asked, thrusting into her.

      'Yes,' she breathed, gripping the sheets.

      'I meant to Paris,' his right hand squeezed her nipple, 'on the train,' he said, finding a rhythm that was perfect for them both at this angle.

      'Yes. I will catch it from near my place. And we will go to Paris together.'

      'Excellent,' he said, slapping his groin into her arse and discovering again what heaven really was. 'Fu…fucking, excellent.'

      Khyber Hotel, Peshawar, Pakistan

       Tuesday 5.25 pm

      'Pass me a cola Bamm-Bamm,' Mudge requested.

      'Why do you call me that? It's really irritating.'

      'Gawd, you don't like being called anything today. What's up your clacker?'

      'Nothing, Mudge. And it's the not knowing that's irritating; not the name.'

      'Well you only had to ask, you didn't need to be irritated all this time.'

      'Well?'

      Brody, out on the balcony, took a break from scoping the narrow street, pinched the bridge of his nose and squinted at his companions. They're both fuckwits, he thought, at a loss as to how he came to be stuck here with them. Granted Mudge was his best friend, but that was only half a good reason.

      'Okay,' Mudge began, using the edge of his bed to whack the top off the drink bottle. 'Your name's Dwayne, right? Same as The Rock, you know, the actor. Only he's a Johnson not a Kennedy.'

      'And?' Kennedy said after a few seconds silence. 'So?'

      Mudge rolled his eyes as if his explanation had been enough. 'Well duh. We couldn't call you The Rock coz it's already taken by a Dwayne, Dwayne. And you'd have had your Agency buds send us to Gitmo if we'd chosen Pebbles, right? So, you get Bamm-Bamm.'

      'What's wrong with calling me Dwayne?'

      'Um,' Mudge began, 'nothin mate, if you don't…'

      'We СКАЧАТЬ