Beirut - An Explosive Thriller by Alexander McNabb

Author:Alexander McNabb
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: spy thriller, international thriller, thriller adventure, thriller books, thriller espionage, thriller actiion, middle east thriller, thriller lebanon

Marcelle Aboud tossed back the rest of her drink and flung her glass on the floor, her eyes flashed at the wide-eyed barman as she stood. ‘Clear it up, you idiot.’

Ghassan Maalouf sipped his Caipirinha delicately. Nathalie tried not to feel out of place. She knew her dress was elegant and complemented her slim figure and full bust, was perhaps even a little too daring. She had checked her makeup and it was the best she could do, the red lipstick contrasting with her fine skin and black bobbed hair, a touch of colour on her cheeks and her green eyes framed with mascara. She wore diamonds, borrowed from the ambassador’s wife, an elegant lady in her fifties who had declared herself Nathalie’s surrogate mother. She clutched an Hermès evening bag that had likewise been pressed on her by her new companion. Yet she felt like an intruder, a dowdy little sparrow in the opulence of the Casino du Liban and its outré occupants. They swept by in a tide of silk and tumbling hair and pumped-up breasts, chattering parties of fleshy-lipped brilliant white smiles on the arms of dark-suited, swarthy men with blue-shadowed chins and male pattern baldness.

Nathalie had watched as Maalouf won and then lost five hundred dollars at roulette. He walked her through the gaming room to the bar afterwards, acknowledging the attention of the many people who greeted him or stopped him to offer their wishes. Always deferentially, Nathalie noted.

Maalouf’s rumbling voice brought her back to earth, to her seat at the table in the elegant salon. ‘You are not drinking.’

Nathalie smiled and lifted her glass to her lips, the cold, sweet aniseed flowing over her tongue. ‘It is very kind of you to invite me to join you here. I had not visited this place before.’

‘But you lived in Lebanon.’

‘As a child. This is not a place for children, Monsieur.’

Maalouf chuckled, his merry eyes looking her up and down. ‘Absolutely not. You certainly are no child now, though. You are every piece as beautiful as your mother was.’

‘You are a flatterer.’

He shook his head, his expression becoming serious. ‘No, the truth. It is important to be aware of the difference between these as it is to be aware of the difference between love and hate. Both are too close, so some subtlety is required. But truth is important.’ He studied her face.

She held his gaze. ‘Then let us practice, Monsieur. What do you seek, precisely?’

His white-whiskered face broke into a smile. ‘Ah, so the interrogation begins. Are you, I wonder, as effective as your mother was? Are we to anticipate the same mixture of intellect and persistence?’

‘You said you knew her. Did you know her well?’

‘Yes, since before she met your father. She was a famous beauty, but you know this. She was well known here.’ He gestured at the opulent bar, taking in the whole hillside complex of concert halls, gaming rooms, bars and restaurants overlooking the bay north of Jounieh. ‘In better times.’

Nathalie’s face clouded.

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