Evensong

Anwar watched the chest swelling and nostrils dilating. The chest filled most of his immediate field of vision. He thought, If he slugs me, I’ll just have to take it. I mustn’t disable him, not here in front of everyone, that would be stupid. But the Meatslab’s mood subsided and he stalked off. Sometimes Anwar could encourage people to do that, by particular tricks of eye contact and body language that sent out strong warning signs. He’d tried to avoid doing it here, to stay consistent with his temporary identity. Or maybe I didn’t avoid it, and that’s why he left so quickly. Or maybe...

Midnight had come and gone. It was now October 15, the first day of the summit.

He and Olivia had only nine days left together. Maybe less than nine days. Maybe a lot less. Things were coming to a climax, but also coming to an end. 

2

October 15 was moving round the earth. When it reached Brighton, it had already been in Kuala Lumpur for seven hours.

Rafiq, surrounded by unseen security, walked through the park in front of Fallingwater. He was smoking, which occasionally he did at the start of a particularly significant day. He rarely smoked more than once a day, but Arden Bierce still faintly disapproved; yet she still carried a lighter in case he forgot his.

She came up to him.

“What are you doing, smoking a cigarette?”

“By the rules of linguistics, that question’s unanswerable.”

She felt like rolling her eyes. Then she thought of all that had happened in the last few hours, particularly the news about Marek. She couldn’t imagine the effect it must have had on him.

She tried to change to a subject he might find a bit more congenial. “The Secretary-General turned up late for the eve-of-summit reception in Brighton. Late, and in a bad mood. You really did a job on him.”

“Yes, I think he’s back in his cage for a while. But he’s not as stupid as he looks.”

“Or as clever as he thinks.”

Rafiq smiled an acknowledgement. “Still, you shouldn’t have had to tell me twice about Marek’s autopsy, or the press releases, or contacting the families. I should have been on top of those things, but when I heard his body was found…”

“It’s understandable.”

“No it isn’t. In this job, the first rule is that nothing ever lets up. Do you remember the day my family was killed?”

“Of course I do.”

“There was a General Assembly debate that evening; one of Zaitsev’s predecessors, attacking my restructuring of one of the agencies. I don’t even remember which one. But the debate wasn’t postponed. Just like yesterday’s wasn’t.”

“Yes. But you won both of them. You outlasted the man who initiated that debate, and you’ll outlast the man who initiated this one.”

It was exactly the right thing to say, at exactly the right time. She always did that. She was a settled person, comfortable with herself, and she made Rafiq feel comfortable.

“When I eventually retire, which won’t be yet, you’ll be one of the contenders to take over. But not one of the leading contenders. Do you know why?”

“Tell me.”

“You’re not ruthless or ambitious enough. But what you are is good with people. They like your company.”

“Why are you telling me this, Mr. Rafiq?”

“Because it might explain what I say next. I like your company too. I’d like us to meet, socially. Have dinner or go to the theatre or something. It’s time I had a companion.”

“Are you saying you’d like an attachment?”

“Well...yes. But to start, just your company.”

“I didn’t see that coming.”

“I hadn’t planned to ask you. I mean, I had, but I’d been putting it off. And now Marek’s definitely dead, maybe I can move on.”

She didn’t reply.

“So, can we just start seeing each other?”

She paused. “I’d like to park it for a while.”

“Why?”

“Well, first there’s Anwar.”

“Anwar won’t...”

“Won’t survive the summit?”

“I was going to say won’t even notice, because of Olivia, but yes, I’m afraid he won’t survive. And neither will Olivia. They’ve got maybe nine days together.”

“If they’re together,” she said.

“Yes, it seems he never stops calling you about that. First she’d like a relationship, then not. Then he’d like one, then not. They’ve both got their heads up their asses.” He found himself fighting a temptation to add Up their own, not each other’s. He had little time for either of them. He’d never taken to Olivia, for some reason. And Anwar’s obsessions, private dark imaginings, and anal-retentive interior world were starting to get tiresome. They reminded Rafiq of what he’d once become, ten years ago. Abbas. It should be Abyss.

She was silent. Thinking that their relationship, if it happened and if that was the right word for it, might be as ambiguous as Anwar and Olivia’s.