Beautiful assassin by Michael C. White

Author:Michael C. White [Michael C. White]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Policier
ISBN: 9780061691218
Published: 2010-03-22T19:37:11+00:00

Dear Lord, lest I continue in my complacent ways, help me to remember that somewhere someone died for me today and help me to remember to ask, Am I worth dying for?

“It is quite a beautiful prayer, Mrs. Roosevelt.”

“Yes, I think so too. If this terrible war has taught us anything, it’s that we owe so many for our own lives. But enough of the war for now. I’d love to see some of your poetry sometime, Tat’yana.”

“Perhaps,” I replied vaguely.

We talked for a while more. Mrs. Roosevelt was an affable woman whose agreeable demeanor and ready smile put people immediately at ease. Several times she tossed her head back and laughed out loud, girlishly and without the least self-consciousness. I noticed too how she’d often rub the sapphire ring on her finger, almost unaware she was doing it.

“That is a very lovely ring you have, Mrs. Roosevelt,” I told her. “Did the president give it to you?”

She glanced down at it pensively. “No. A very dear friend gave it to me.”

At the end of our meeting, she said, “Franklin and I are having a few people over tonight for dinner. He would very much like for them to meet you, my dear.”

When I hesitated, she said, “Don’t worry, we’ve already worked it out with Ambassador Litvinov. You’re to come to dinner tonight and then stay over as our guest.”

“I am to stay at the White House?” I said.

“Yes. Franklin and I would be delighted to have you.”

“It is indeed a great honor.”

As we were heading back downstairs to join the others, Mrs. Roosevelt was met by a balding man with glasses. She excused herself for a moment and went off to talk to this man.

Captain Taylor said to me, “I am deeply sorry about your losses.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“It’s hard to imagine losing my entire family. You are very brave.”

“Not so brave really. We all do what we must, no?”

He seemed as if he would say something more, but instead he nodded and smiled sadly. He was tall, well over six feet, with narrow, slumping shoulders and a lean frame that his crisp uniform hung loosely on, as on a scarecrow in a field. His slender face was boyish-looking with light freckles sprinkled over his cheeks like cinnamon. He had pensive, hazel-colored eyes, and a mouth that was almost too full for his slender nose, so that his lower lip bunched itself together and drooped just a bit, giving him a slightly pouty expression.

“Hopefully you’ll have a chance to have some fun while you are here,” he offered. “I could show you around a little.”

“I doubt I shall have any time for fun, as you put it.”

“That’s a shame. If I can do anything for you, anything at all, please let me know,” he said, smiling, but with a lingering look I couldn’t quite read. Perhaps, I thought, it was just that I was unused to Americans’ ways.

“Thank you, Captain,” I said.

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