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Authors: Katharine Kerr
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“Well, no need to go into all of that.”
“There’s not, no. You actually make me think of Ariel Sharon, not Shakespeare.”
That got me a genuine smile. “Thank you,” he said. “That’s very flattering.”
“I’ll never mention the play again.”
“And I’ll try to stop making an ass of myself.” He frowned down at the floor. “I’m honestly surprised I reacted the way I did.”
I metaphorically bit my tongue to keep myself from bringing up
Midsummer Night’s Dream
. “It’s getting late,” I said instead. “We’re both kind of tired.”
“True.” He looked up, back to his usual controlled self. “Almost time for bed. I’m going to go take a shower, I think.”
“Good idea.” I grinned at him. “I’ll come take one with you.”
And, as I figured, the logical development from that activity calmed both of us down.
Monday morning arrived too soon, and with it e-mail, the timesink from Hell. When I logged on, I found a ton of it, most of it about administrative details. One e-mail, however, stood out from the rest.
It arrived on my non-TranceWeb e-address from AOS14. “I would very much like to meet with you about a matter of some interest to those you work for. Would you be willing to discuss a link between our respective agencies? We can offer you the police and justice capabilities you lack.” That was all it said. It was enough.
I logged off, got up, and charged into the bedroom, where Ari, dressed only in a pair of baggy gray shorts, was changing into his workout clothes. He caught my mood and took a step back, which put him up against the bedroom wall.
“You bastard,” I said. “You’ve blown the Agency’s cover. You made some kind of report about us to Interpol, didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t.” He sounded perfectly sincere. “They had rumors of your existence before I entered the picture. Why else would they have sent me to your State Department in the first place?”
“They sent you to the State Department, not direct to us.”
“Yes, thanks to the rumors, and where did State send me? Oh, come now! I wouldn’t be here if my higher-ups knew nothing about the Agency. They couldn’t assign me to an entity they’d never heard of.”
“That’s true, but when did the rumors become recognized fact?”
His face never changed, but his SPP winced.
“It’s one thing,” I went on, “to send an agent to a point of contact within the State Department in the hopes saidcontact can link him to someone farther along the line. It’s quite another to know all the details.”
“Who says they know all the details?”
“You’re weaseling, Nathan.”
He picked up his T-shirt from the bed and put it on before he spoke. “I’m going downstairs to do my workout.”
I shut the bedroom door and leaned against it with my arms crossed over my chest.
“I can carry you,” Ari said. “If I wanted to just move you to one side, I could.”
“Not if you were ensorcelled.”
He sighed and began to study the pattern on the blue paisley bedspread. I could read a resigned sense of defeat in his Qi as well as his SPP. He looked at me again.
“Will you forgive me?” he said. “I was under orders to file that report. It’s only accessible by two people, the two I phoned about AOS14.”
“One of them told AOS14.”
He blinked a couple of times. “Oh,” was all he said.
I considered what to do next. Step One: raise hell at the Agency, which would raise hell with State, which in turn would raise hell with Ari’s superiors. Step Two: announce I could no longer work with Mr. Nathan, who had proven himself untrustworthy. Step Three: wave good-bye to Ari as he was hauled back to Israel by the outfit he worked for. Step Four: hear that he’d been killed in Iran because he’d returned there to spy for Israel one time too many.
Love really sucks when it gets in the way of your job. I considered what other course of action lay open to me. Step Two would be: hear what
“There’s not, no. You actually make me think of Ariel Sharon, not Shakespeare.”
That got me a genuine smile. “Thank you,” he said. “That’s very flattering.”
“I’ll never mention the play again.”
“And I’ll try to stop making an ass of myself.” He frowned down at the floor. “I’m honestly surprised I reacted the way I did.”
I metaphorically bit my tongue to keep myself from bringing up
Midsummer Night’s Dream
. “It’s getting late,” I said instead. “We’re both kind of tired.”
“True.” He looked up, back to his usual controlled self. “Almost time for bed. I’m going to go take a shower, I think.”
“Good idea.” I grinned at him. “I’ll come take one with you.”
And, as I figured, the logical development from that activity calmed both of us down.
Monday morning arrived too soon, and with it e-mail, the timesink from Hell. When I logged on, I found a ton of it, most of it about administrative details. One e-mail, however, stood out from the rest.
It arrived on my non-TranceWeb e-address from AOS14. “I would very much like to meet with you about a matter of some interest to those you work for. Would you be willing to discuss a link between our respective agencies? We can offer you the police and justice capabilities you lack.” That was all it said. It was enough.
I logged off, got up, and charged into the bedroom, where Ari, dressed only in a pair of baggy gray shorts, was changing into his workout clothes. He caught my mood and took a step back, which put him up against the bedroom wall.
“You bastard,” I said. “You’ve blown the Agency’s cover. You made some kind of report about us to Interpol, didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t.” He sounded perfectly sincere. “They had rumors of your existence before I entered the picture. Why else would they have sent me to your State Department in the first place?”
“They sent you to the State Department, not direct to us.”
“Yes, thanks to the rumors, and where did State send me? Oh, come now! I wouldn’t be here if my higher-ups knew nothing about the Agency. They couldn’t assign me to an entity they’d never heard of.”
“That’s true, but when did the rumors become recognized fact?”
His face never changed, but his SPP winced.
“It’s one thing,” I went on, “to send an agent to a point of contact within the State Department in the hopes saidcontact can link him to someone farther along the line. It’s quite another to know all the details.”
“Who says they know all the details?”
“You’re weaseling, Nathan.”
He picked up his T-shirt from the bed and put it on before he spoke. “I’m going downstairs to do my workout.”
I shut the bedroom door and leaned against it with my arms crossed over my chest.
“I can carry you,” Ari said. “If I wanted to just move you to one side, I could.”
“Not if you were ensorcelled.”
He sighed and began to study the pattern on the blue paisley bedspread. I could read a resigned sense of defeat in his Qi as well as his SPP. He looked at me again.
“Will you forgive me?” he said. “I was under orders to file that report. It’s only accessible by two people, the two I phoned about AOS14.”
“One of them told AOS14.”
He blinked a couple of times. “Oh,” was all he said.
I considered what to do next. Step One: raise hell at the Agency, which would raise hell with State, which in turn would raise hell with Ari’s superiors. Step Two: announce I could no longer work with Mr. Nathan, who had proven himself untrustworthy. Step Three: wave good-bye to Ari as he was hauled back to Israel by the outfit he worked for. Step Four: hear that he’d been killed in Iran because he’d returned there to spy for Israel one time too many.
Love really sucks when it gets in the way of your job. I considered what other course of action lay open to me. Step Two would be: hear what
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