The Frog and the Scorpion by Elizabeth Lowell as Ann Maxwell

Author:Elizabeth Lowell as Ann Maxwell [Maxwell, Elizabeth Lowell as Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Action Adventure Mystery & Detective
ISBN: 9781935415008
Google: RFKBPwAACAAJ
Amazon: 193541500X
Barnesnoble: 193541500X
Goodreads: 6579204
Publisher: Busted Flush Press, LLC
Published: 1986-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

I dreamed of Sharai. The dream was blue on blue, tints and tones of blue like a silent cataract pouring over me. Only it wasn't silent. My dreams rarely are. Sometimes I suspect that I think in music the way other people think in English or French or Arabic. But there were no symphonies in my head this time, not even chamber music. This was a chorus of Za-hedis singing about the old-time religion. I tried to sing along but I'd forgotten the words and the notes themselves kept sliding away from me like water drops dancing across a hot skillet. Sharai was the soloist. She sang better than I did, but she kept getting lost in the transitions. The chorus would start another verse of "Battle Hymn of the Republic" and she would keep trying to wedge in a round of "Amazing Grace. " Every so often Rafi would kick in with "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" and really screw things up.

I woke up edgy as hell, in the kind of nasty morning temper that reminded me of why I was no longer married. The best tactic for dealing with myself in that state of mind is a couple of miles in the loose sand. Hard on the hamstrings but good for the sullen spirit. As I ran, I tried to make sense out of the chaos that was passing for thought in my mind. At the end of three miles I was out of breath and in sync with myself. Chaos had settled into some good news and some bad.

The bad news was that this little morality play was acquiring a cast of thousands. In addition to the Zahedis, I found myself worrying about Sharai. She was an extraordinary woman, strong but vulnerable in ways that I could only guess. I did not want to see her pay the price of Rafi's fanaticism.

The good news was that Rafi had given me a new weapon, whether he had intended to or not. He had confirmed that International Constructors was involved in a business deal that was questionable, if not outright illegal. I knew without checking the State Department Munitions list that any high-tech gear more sophisticated than paper clips was on the Libyan embargo list. Even if the IC connection to Al-Makr was carefully hidden, F. Robert Jarvis might be willing to help the Zahedis rather than test the thickness of his corporate cover. And I knew from Rafi that Jarvis exerted a great deal of influence over Salameh.

I decided that approach was certainly worth a try as I jogged up from the beach in a burst of self-congratulation. King David rasped his metallic little song. It was a note of discord that should have warned me. But I was too busy admiring my own cleverness at saving Sharai and the Zahedis and the whole frigging world to listen to a bad-tempered hummer.

I called Sharai and formally invited her to be my companion for the evening.

"My father told me his plan, " she said.

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