The Fist Of God by Frederick Forsyth

Author:Frederick Forsyth
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-03-24T02:29:35+00:00

"I am sorry I disturbed you, Fraulein. But thank you for your help."

She was walking out of the park, back to her desk to finish her lunch, furious with herself. Conversations with young men in parks--whatever next? On the other hand, he was only a foreign student trying to learn about Viennese opera. No harm in that, surely. But enough is enough. She passed a poster. Of course; the Vienna Opera was staging The Magic Flute in three days. Perhaps it was part of the young man's study course.

Despite her passion, Edith Hardenberg had never been to an opera in the Staatsoper. She had, of course, roamed the building when it was open in the daytime, but an orchestra ticket had always been beyond her.

They were almost beyond price. Season tickets for the opera were handed down from generation to generation. A season's abonnement was for the seriously rich. Other tickets could be obtained only by influence, of which she had none. Even ordinary tickets were beyond her means. She sighed and returned to her work.

That one day of warm weather had been the end. The cold and the gray clouds came back. She returned to her habit of lunching at her usual cafe and at her usual table. She was a very neat lady, a creature of habit.

On the third day after the park she arrived at her table at the usual hour, to the minute, and half-noticed that the one next to her was occupied. There was a pair of student books--she did not bother with the titles--and a half-drunk glass of water.

Hardly had she ordered the meal of the day when the occupant of the table returned from the men's room. It was not until he sat down that he recognized her and gave a start of surprise.

"Oh, Gruss Gott--again," he said. Her lips tightened into a disapproving line. The waitress arrived and put down her meal. She was trapped. But the young man was irrepressible.

"I finished the program notes. I think I understand it all now."

She nodded and began delicately to eat. "Excellent. You are studying here?"

Now why had she asked that? What madness had gotten into her? But the chatter of the restaurant rose all around her. What are you worrying about, Edith? Surely a civilized conversation, even with a foreign student, could do no harm? She wondered what Herr Gemutlich would think. He would disapprove, of course.

The dark young man grinned happily.

"Yes. I study engineering. At the Technical University. When I have my degree, I will go back home and help to develop my country. Please, my name is Karim."

"Fraulein Hardenberg," she said primly. "And where do you come from, Herr Karim?"

"I am from Jordan."

Oh, good gracious, an Arab. Well, she supposed there were a lot of them at the Technical University, two blocks across the Karntner Ring. Most of the ones she saw were street vendors, awful people selling carpets and newspapers at the pavement cafes and refusing to go away. The young man next to her looked respectable enough.

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