Read Online White Death: An Alex Hawke Novella by Ted Bell - Free Book Online Page B

for something I’d done in Moscow. She’s held captive in a KGB prison in Siberia. I can’t get her out. Her name is Anastasia. We both miss her every day.”
    Sigrid let a long time pass before responding. “For the record, Alex Hawke, you’re a very attractive man, too.”
    Hawke glanced over at her and smiled. “I’d trust you more if you started telling the truth about the damn ring.”
    “Oh, all right, Alex, just to get you to shut up about it. I kissed him. Once. Nothing more. He invited me to dinner the same day we met in Dr. Scheel’s office at the bank. I accepted his invitation. We had a very nice time. He dropped me off at my apartment. He wanted to kiss me at the door, and I let him. The next day this ring appeared on my doorstep. I tried to return it to him next morning, of course, but he adamantly refused it. He’s a very attractive man, as I said. Every woman in Zurich is in love with him. What of it?”
    “Just curious,” he said with a grin.
    “Well, now you know. I hope you’re happy.”
    “Very.”
    S igrid turned her face to the window, the image of his fleeting smile imprinted on her brain. She thought back to the evening before. She’d just been getting ready for bed. It was after ten when Blinky had called her apartment. He’d had a question about the late Leo Hermann’s responsibilities at the bank. Just before she’d hung up, she’d asked him about Hawke, what kind of man he was, what he was really like. When he’d asked her why, she’d replied, “Just curious.”
    “He’s a warrior,” he had said, after thinking a moment about her question. “Royal Navy fighter pilot, now just Commander Hawke. He delights in the gamesmanship of war and is said to be utterly ruthless, albeit in an engaging way. You have to understand, Sigrid, he’s part Machiavelli, part schoolboy. The Machiavellian side can be cruel, but the schoolboy is always waiting round the corner. And then there’s his love of this dangerous game he’s playing, that we’re all just playing; it just bubbles to the surface; the fun and audacious hazard of it all fills him with infectious delight. Sorry to go on, but he is a bit complicated, you see.”
    “And those eyes, my God.”
    “Yes. I don’t think I’ll ever meet another man like him, Sigrid. And you’re right. Such eyes that man has! My Lord, he can look right through you and see the inner workings of your immortal soul while he’s talking to you.”
    She had sighed and hung up the telephone. And, later, she’d turned out the lights, taken to her bed, and slipped into her dreams. And she had taken him with her.

 
    C HAPTER S IXTEEN
    H awke downshifted, caught second gear, and accelerated into a tight curve, the Aston’s powerful 6-cylinder motor howling, the Dunlop tires chirping as he came tearing out of the turn. They actually were running a bit late, but then, that was just an excuse. He could now see the hotel in the distance, perched beside the lake.
    They met Blinky in the Hotel de la Paix restaurant soon after his speech in the ornate gilded ballroom. Hawke found them a table in the sun-filled dining room paneled in old walnut, with tall windows overlooking the frozen shores of Lake Geneva. Full of lively chatter, clinking glasses, and busy waiters.
    Hawke picked up his menu and said, “Well done, Blinky. Most, if not all, of it was way over my head. But I’m sure Sigrid learned quite a lot. She spent the entire time taking notes, for God’s sake. And I didn’t realize you were quite so funny in public. You should be doing stand-up comedy instead of pushing chocolate on the unwary British.”
    Blinky blinked his eyes rapidly and laughed. “I have only one rule in public speaking. Don’t bore the audience. Even if it’s about something as excruciatingly boring as cybersecurity. God. I got tired of listening to myself.”
    Sigrid laughed. “I wasn’t going to say it, but I usually find PowerPoint presentations uniformly stultifying.