Sami al-Qasr stared at himself in Fiona Normanton’s bathroom mirror. Did he look like an evil man?
He carefully applied the grey hairs to his face with theatrical glue; then the false irises, the thickened eyebrows, the silver earrings. He tried a selection of spectacles.
It was a perfect day: a gentle breeze was blowing eastwards from Bodega Bay, all the way to the clear, bright contours of the Sierra Nevada.
Leanne Gresham had turned the crimson Mercedes coupé off Highway 80 at Sacramento and was now speeding north in the direction of Yuba City, halfway to Paradise.
Sherman Beck’s eyes lingered on Leanne’s copper-tone nails resting lightly on the steering wheel. They followed the line of her browny-green worsted jacket to her shoulders, where her hair danced like a young Jackie Kennedy’s. Beck admired her mature, sexy look. He admired the Egyptian-style gold necklace circling her graceful neck, the impeccable match of her copper-coloured blouse, open to the third intriguing button.
She turned and smiled at him. He looked at her brown eyes, the finely plucked eyebrows and the pale-lilac eye shadow.
‘You ain’t so bad lookin’ yourself, Agent Beck.’
‘I’m sorry I was just…’
‘California dreamin’?’
‘Is it OK?’
Leanne looked hard into his eyes, found something she trusted and smiled again. ‘Yeah. It’s OK.’
Beck placed his hand just above her knee and gently squeezed.
‘You know, Sherman, I’m not sure this interview thing with al-Qasr has been properly thought through.’
‘I guess Kellner places a lot of faith in your intuition, Leanne. Anyhow, while you’re having your appointment with the evil doctor, our internal security people are gonna give his place a last sweep. Kellner’s agent reckoned he was still hiding stuff.’
‘D’you think al-Qasr suspects?’
‘I’d be surprised if he didn’t suspect something. But we’ve made it very clear to him that if he wants Israeli assassins kept from his door he’s got to accept the downside.’
‘Hmm… Maybe he doubts how long his protection’s gonna last.’
‘Yeah. We better move fast.’
‘You’re right.’ Leanne moved her right hand off the steering wheel and placed it gently on Beck’s. Beck felt something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
She drew her slender fingers though her hair. ‘But I don’t see why he’s left the decision to me as to when or whether to bring al-Qasr in. It seems he can’t make up his own mind. That’s not good, Sherman.’
Beck took a deep breath. ‘I guess he kinda wants affirmation. I guess he wants your support. He’s afraid if we bring him in too soon, we’ll lose good leads. But if we leave it too late… We gotta know who he’s been talkin’ to, and what he’s been saying. Personally, I gotta say I admire Kellner’s choice.’
She squeezed his hand. ‘It’s a tough one. But I don’t feel like seeing al-Qasr today.’
‘What do you feel like?’
She looked at her watch.
The car skidded into a lay-by, next to an empty picnic site. She pulled the handbrake and turned, wide-eyed, to Beck. ‘Make a move.’
His hand glided up her leg onto the silk of her blouse, over her breasts to cup her neck and bring it towards him. They kissed, excitedly, as nervous as first-timers. His heart beat faster, his hand touched her chest, unbuttoned her blouse clumsily, determinedly. He slid the blouse over her shoulder, revealing a classy black bra. He kissed her breastbone. Her skin reddened. She pulled her jacket off and grabbed Beck’s face, covering him with kisses.
Beck’s hand followed the line of her hip and soon found itself beneath her skirt. Leanne’s breathing became passionate, heavy, free. Beck felt her leg, the fine silk stocking. His finger caught beneath the lacy suspender.
A voice came over the short-wave radio. ‘ISF time check. Over.’
Beck’s body fell back into his seat. ‘Take it, Leanne.’
‘That’s OK, honey, it’s over.’
Beck laughed, resignedly. ‘Before it even began.’
She grabbed the mike. ‘Beck and Leanne. Over.’