The Cairo Affair by Olen Steinhauer

Author:Olen Steinhauer [Steinhauer, Olen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Thriller, Suspense, Mystery
ISBN: 9781250036131
Google: yb-OAgAAQBAJ
Amazon: 1250036135
Barnesnoble: 1250036135
Goodreads: 17934481
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2014-03-18T05:00:00+00:00

3

With a cup of scorched Maxwell House beside him, John sat at the terminal and wrote up his report on Ricky’s meet. Since the fiasco in Pakistan with Raymond Davis, Harry had been demanding multiple-perspective reports on everything, including simple meets, and as he wrote he continually noticed movement in his periphery. The office was restless, uncomfortable and itchy, which he supposed was what diplomatic murders did to people.

Stan spent much of the afternoon on the computer, and when John checked in to find out what was needed, or if he could glean something to pass on to Harry, Stan told him to relax a little. “Go get some lunch. Take it easy.” Was he trying to get him out of the office? Or was it simply that Stan could sense that John was still working at about fifty percent?

When he returned from lunch, Stan’s office was empty, though after a while he emerged from Harry’s, looking distracted. Stan sat at his desk and made a couple of calls, and as he talked Harry passed by, heading for the elevator, and gave John a knowing nod. Soon, though, Stan was grabbing his coat and heading out as well. Maribeth sent an SMS asking if he was coming to Derek’s show. He texted back, “Gotta teach English,” and she didn’t bother replying.

It occurred to him, as he stared at the blank screen of his phone, that Maribeth Winter was the only person in Cairo he really felt comfortable with. It was her directness—unlike his co-workers, she never misled. To her, facts were facts, and they were there to be shared. She welcomed him into her bed, but that didn’t stop her from telling him exactly what she thought of his self-destructive behavior. She was, he realized, the best thing about Cairo, and his stomach ached when he considered the ways in which he would surely ruin what they had.

Mrs. Abusir arrived late, leaving John to spend twenty minutes feeling less and less comfortable at Steaks, inside the Nile Plaza Four Seasons. The restaurant was overpriced, decorated with black-and-white photos of luxurious city scenes, and the Tuesday night crowd was choked with foreigners. Tonight was the steak-and-sushi buffet, and its aroma was making his stomach groan loudly enough that he feared others could hear it. His discomfort was useful for distracting him from other things, like Jibril Aziz, Stan Bertolli, and Harry Wolcott. Maribeth sent him a message: “These paintings are dreadful.”

Then Mrs. Abusir arrived. She was a large woman in the sense that she was as tall as John, and a few years older. She was heavy as well, but given her height the weight gave her real presence when she walked into the restaurant, unaware of her tardiness. She wore a lavender hijab on her head, but her ankle-length skirt and long-sleeved blouse were entirely Western. She smiled and shook his hand with both of hers and said that she was excited by “the prospect of my English to sound American.

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