Tag: cia

The Circle

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excerpt

Ibrahim comes and leads him away as Emily is busy talking to Mara and three
other women.
“Come with me, son. I’d like you to meet a couple of important people.”
“Gentlemen, this is my son, Talal, from the United States,” he addresses a
group of men standing together in a small circle. “Talal, this is the Minister of
Finance whom you met before, Omar Salem, the Minister of Transportation and
Tourism, Khaled Al Marsi, and the Minister of Natural Resources, Omar Bin
Housein.”
They all shake hands with Talal and exchange the customary greetings.
“He’s a chemist,” the Minister of Finance says to the other two, referring to
Talal.
“Now, here is one person I would like to have working for me,” Omar Bin
Housein says.
“We’d all like to have the generation of educated people with us now at this
time when our country needs them the most. You are the people who will take
charge of our future. I welcome you back to Iraq anytime, young Talal,” the
Minister of Transportation and Tourism says.
Ibrahim tells them all, that although Talal is coming back soon, he needs him
as well, so they had better not become too aggressive in recruiting him for their
ministries.
“But, of course. After all, this is one of your orphans, isn’t he, Ibrahim?”
Omar Salem asks.
“Yes, he’s one of my seven sons.”
“When I’m back, I’m sure there will be plenty of work to be done, and
gentlemen, I’m not about to disappoint any of you,” Talal says with a light laugh.He
notices Emily is trying to get his attention, so he excuses himself and goes to her.
Omar Bin Houseing bows slightly to his host. “My dear Ibrahim, your Talal is
a very fine young man. You must be very proud of him.”
“I’m proud of all my orphans, my friends. Yet, the one I’m most proud of is
my beloved Hakim, whom you’ll meet soon.”
“I hope he comes very soon, Ibrahim,” the Minister of Finance says.
“Yes, he will.” Ibrahim is assertive in his tone.
Emily is on the far side of the big room enjoying the attention she gets from
Mara, who introduced her to her closest friends. At one point, Mara tells Emily,
“You’re my invited guest, my dear, and it’s my privilege to present you to my
friends and other visitors; after all, you may be here for a longer period the next
time and these women, whom you have met today, will also consider you a
friend when you return.”
“I just hope I haven’t taken you out of your way, Mara.”

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Jazz with Ella

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excerpt

The atmosphere on the airplane was like the aftermath of a party gone wrong—at which the host had done something embarrassing or insulted esteemed guests. He or she is mortified but defiant, and secretly the other guests have enjoyed the spectacle while publicly shaking their heads and frowning.
As the victim of a wrong, Professor Chopyk refused to meet Jennifer’s gaze as she and Volodya shuffled down the aisle to their seats, a few rows removed from the others. It was just as well because she could barely contain her sense of relief at the moment. She was as mortified as the embarrassed host for having drawn so many people into this conspiracy, but she couldn’t help feeling jubilant that it had turned out so well. Just Canada Customs left to hurdle—and that would be far easier.
Lona arrived next and settled by the window with a magazine on her lap, looking smug and ignoring them. David was grinning from ear to ear, visibly relieved. Ted appeared nervous and uncomfortable. Hank winked. The twins were oblivious as usual. Maria, just one row over in an aisle seat, gave Jennifer and Volodya the thumbs up.
No matter, they had done it—left the Soviet Union. Volodya would be free. She pictured him in Canada listening to live gospel music for the first time—an expression of awe and gratitude on his face. In Vancouver, she would take him to the Hot Jazz Club, an after-hours dive off Broadway, or they would dance together on the sprung floor of the Commodore on a Saturday night. Somehow they would find work—she didn’t expect to be given much gainful employment in the Russian Department after this escapade was over. Maybe she would work in a nightclub—or write a novel and forget about Russia.

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The Circle

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excerpt

Emily cannot see where his eyes are looking, but she knows men well; they are all
the same, most of the time. Yet, now a younger man with sad eyes has made her
heart melt; this younger man has managed to make her feel like a young woman
again. Talal is the man for Emily; Talal is her man and she’s willing to go anywhere
he wants to go because she’s so much in love with him.
Talal turns to her side and opens his eyes. Emily is on her back and the gardener
walks to the other side of the grounds. Talal leans over and puts his hand on her. She
squirms for a bit as his touch awakens her flesh to the warmth of his palm.
She turns her head to him, smiles, and says, “You are awake; for a while you
looked like you were asleep.”
“What a beautiful, warm day; pity we have to go and leave it behind,” Talal says.
“I know. Back home, right now it’s getting colder.”
“Well, we can always hope to come back here some time soon; what would
you think of that, my love?”
Silence falls between them for a few moments. Emily feels the warmth of the
sun on her back and sees the brightness all around; the birds are very busy
singing in the beautifully kept yard. These are all things she would like to have
around all the time, and her answer comes at the right time.
“I would love to come back here sometime soon, honey.”
“What if we stayed here for a longer time next time, sweet Emily?”
“I would love to come here with you, my love, and stay as long as you like; a
week, a month, two months, however long.”
He smiles back at her; he leans closer and kisses her lips softy.
“Do you mean you could go wherever, as long as we were together?” he
whispers to her.
“Yes, I could, my sweet Talal,” she says, kissing him.
The rest of the day goes by in peace and serenity and sunshine. They have a
light lunch with Ibrahim and Mara and later in the afternoon come back and
sit to enjoy the warmth of the sun a little longer before getting ready for the
party.
Ibrahim and Mara take their customary siesta for an hour. Then they get
involved with the last preparations for the party; they want everything to be
perfect for when the guests start arriving.
Rassan is the busiest person of all. He has to coordinate the shopping, the extra
cooks hired for the night, the servers, the coat-check people, and everybody else
who will help make the party flow smoothly. He enjoys doing all this, and since he
has been with Ibrahim and Mara for a long time, knows exactly what they want
and what is expected of him. He never disappoints them.

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Jazz with Ella

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Ivan Nikolaevich, the second rate agent. Still, she wanted the director to know that she had been correct in her suspicions.
“Da, da, yes, of course,” nodded the functionary, pawing through his desk drawer searching for something. The man’s an idiot, she thought. This is the quality of worker who stands guard over the country! Saints preserve us, as my old grandmother used to say. Finally, the man produced another form, this one on blue paper. “In order to use the official phone line, you must fill in this form.”
“Phone him now!” Natasha raised her voice in hopes that the supervisor would hear her and look out his door. “I’m not filling in one more form!”
The man’s expression did not change but this time he abandoned the new form, picked up the receiver and asked her for the number. After some dialling, waiting and dialling again, he announced that he could not get through. He replaced the receiver quietly. “The supervisor will attend to your complaint tomorrow,” he told her.
Natasha struggled to control her breathing. “Tomorrow WILL BE TOO LATE. She’s passing through the line now; I can see her from here.” Indeed, Lona had already slipped through the passport control while they had been on the phone. The young man’s face creased in a troubled frown. “Very well, comrade. I will take the name of the tourist and her flight number and pass it on to the customs officials myself.”
Now we’re getting somewhere, Natasha thought. “I’ll go with you,” she said aloud. She took a certain perverse pleasure in being in on the moment of discovery. Of course the poor fool Chopyk would be angry with her…
“I’m sorry, comrade, that will not be possible,” the guard replied. “It is not permitted to pass through that door into the airport again. You must leave by the fire exit.” He gestured at a door on the far side of the room. “It is a regulation. Thank you and good day.”
Natasha drew herself up to her full five feet, four inches, cast one more withering glare at the man, and stalked toward the fire exit and out of the lives of the tour group from Canada.
“Documents, please.” Jennifer watched as Lona, standing in front of her, tensed at the command. She could feel her own apprehensiveness growing as she waited, her toes behind the yellow line. This first barrier marked Passport Control was a preview to the inspection room.

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The Circle

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excerpt

It’s evening in Baghdad and Ibrahim is in his study talking to Rassan about what
they have to attend to the next day. Ibrahim is not feeling his best since the morning
and wonders why. He has finished taking the new drugs, it’s not the
side-effects that are bothering him, but he has not been his regular self since this
morning. Something is bothering him and he doesn’t know what.
The week has gone by. Talal and Emily have taken another trip to Falluza,
where Talal visited his family once more as promised and met with Aesha’s
fiancée and his grandfather. Emily had the opportunity to see the condition of
his family home; Talal showed her exactly where he found the charred bodies of
his mother and father in the spring of 2004, and she now has a better
understanding of what it means to lose both parents at the same time and Talal’s
reason to hate. She knows it comes to everybody quite naturally when they get
hurt. She loves Talal dearly and loves the idea of helping him in whatever way
possible, but she doesn’t know how. She only knows she wants to stay with him
as long as it lasts, no matter what.
They don’t plan to go anywhere for the next few days unless they go with
Rassan when he goes to do his shopping for the party Ibrahim has arranged for
Wednesday. They’re to leave for Los Angeles on Friday afternoon. Most of their
time is spent relaxing in lounge chairs in the sunshine, gathering rays, as Talal
says, or getting some tan, as Emily calls it. She looks forward to showing off her
tan to Cathy when they return home. She’s already a bit brown; somewhat darker
than the day she came to Iraq. Talal has warned her several times not to stay in
the sun too long, but she doesn’t listen to him; fortunately, the sun is not as
strong this time of year.
They have had their dinner a couple of hours earlier and are sitting on the
balcony enjoying the peaceful sounds of the night which is approaching slowly
like a dark shroud, covering the plains and sand dunes one by one. A feeling of
peace takes over the whole area; this is the peace that everyone wishes for and
wants to keep for the rest of their lives.
“Well, my sweet Emily, what’s on your mind?”
“Oh Talal, this has been the most beautiful holiday of my life. It truly has
touched me in a variety of ways; it is a different world here and a different way of
life. I just cannot express it in words.”
“Then you are happy we took this trip?”
“More than happy, I’m elated. I love you so much.”

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Jazz with Ella

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Ivan Nikolaevich, the second rate agent. Still, she wanted the director to know that she had been correct in her suspicions.
“Da, da, yes, of course,” nodded the functionary, pawing through his desk drawer searching for something. The man’s an idiot, she thought. This is the quality of worker who stands guard over the country! Saints preserve us, as my old grandmother used to say. Finally, the man produced another form, this one on blue paper. “In order to use the official phone line, you must fill in this form.”
“Phone him now!” Natasha raised her voice in hopes that the supervisor would hear her and look out his door. “I’m not filling in one more form!”
The man’s expression did not change but this time he abandoned the new form, picked up the receiver and asked her for the number. After some dialling, waiting and dialling again, he announced that he could not get through. He replaced the receiver quietly. “The supervisor will attend to your complaint tomorrow,” he told her.
Natasha struggled to control her breathing. “Tomorrow WILL BE TOO LATE. She’s passing through the line now; I can see her from here.” Indeed, Lona had already slipped through the passport control while they had been on the phone. The young man’s face creased in a troubled frown. “Very well, comrade. I will take the name of the tourist and her flight number and pass it on to the customs officials myself.”
Now we’re getting somewhere, Natasha thought. “I’ll go with you,” she said aloud. She took a certain perverse pleasure in being in on the moment of discovery. Of course the poor fool Chopyk would be angry with her…
“I’m sorry, comrade, that will not be possible,” the guard replied. “It is not permitted to pass through that door into the airport again. You must leave by the fire exit.” He gestured at a door on the far side of the room. “It is a regulation. Thank you and good day.”
Natasha drew herself up to her full five feet, four inches, cast one more withering glare at the man, and stalked toward the fire exit and out of the lives of the tour group from Canada.
“Documents, please.” Jennifer watched as Lona, standing in front of her, tensed at the command. She could feel her own apprehensiveness growing as she waited, her toes behind the yellow line. This first barrier marked Passport Control was a preview to the inspection room.

https://draft2digital.com/book/3562892

The Circle

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excerpt

The next morning they wake to a knock on their door around nine. It is another
very bright, warm morning with the sun up on the horizon, setting the sky on
fire, like the fire they shared last night. Birds of various sizes and colors fly over
the area chirping and speaking erotic words and sighs as if suddenly an abundant
peace has spread over the world, as if everyone has forgotten about the war
games and their aftermath.
Emily puts on a pair of shorts and t-shirt; she’s still under the spell of the
previous night’s excitement with the pleasure of being on top or on her side or
under Talal, and all that rocking of the boat all night long every time another
boat went by. But it’s this brightness that mostly amazes her, and she cannot
believe her eyes which are shielded behind sunglasses, not only to protect them
from the sunshine but so that they won’t reveal the secrets of what happened the
previous night beneath the spell of the waves. Could anyone live here for a long
time? She wonders when she remembers the exchange between Talal and
Ibrahim yesterday. Yes, she would love to live here for a long time, with Talal
going up and down the gulf seeing all this beauty and enjoying one another the
same way as last night. Then a new voice comes to her and encourages her with
the statement: you can be happy any place on the globe as long as you are happy
with yourself and with the man you love. The one who dreams of a paradise far
away in a dream location has never enjoyed lovemaking the way you did last
night. Yes, she could live here for a long time, as long as Talal would like, because
her life and happiness are close to this man with the sad eyes and the sweetest
voice.
Ibrahim and Mara are already at the small table at the stern. Talal and Emily
join them for coffee and toast.
“Good morning to you,” Ibrahim says, smiling.
“Good morning, good morning,” Emily and Talal say.
“How was your sleep, my dear?” Mara asks Emily.
“It was wonderful, thank you, Mara.”
Mohamed has started cruising along the smooth water of the Gulf, taking a
southerly direction. Rassan and Abdul sit back and relax while Surnia serves
them breakfast.
They travel for an hour until they come to a place where a couple of small
bays provide plenty of area with smooth, quiet water, away from the rush of
other passing yachts. Mohamed turns off the engine and releases the anchor.

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The Circle

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“Come on, sweetheart, you need to see all this; don’t forget you won’t have
this opportunity again anytime soon.”
She perks up a bit and looks at the immense horizon on her right side with all
the sand and light; the brightness blinds her. The sun is definitely something they
have plenty of in this part of the world.
“Everything looks so bright, honey. I can’t look at this for too long because
my eyes get tired, even though I’m wearing sunglasses.”
“I know, Emily, yet you must try to see all you can,” he insists.
They’ve driven halfway to their destination when Rassan stops the car at a
small town where they’ll have lunch and the chance to stretch their legs before
they carry on. They find a small restaurant. Rassan and Abdul go inside and
check things out; when they come back appear pleased the place looks good, the
women and Ibrahim with Talal go inside. The small restaurant is filled with
travelers and there are a few other women.
Ibrahim lets Rassan order food and wine from the menu. The food will be
shared by everyone as they don’t order individual plates. Emily likes this way of
ordering as she doesn’t have to ask Talal to order things for her.
They are served on big platters and the wine comes in a carafe; Rassan fills
their glasses and they toast the health of everyone.
To Emily’s surprise, the food is very tasty, although she doesn’t know what
everything she eats is. Talal leans closer to her and asks, “Do you like the food,
sweetheart?”
She smiles at him and nods with her mouth full of delicious, creamy pate,
and her wine glass raised, ready to take a sip.
They arrive in Basra by mid afternoon when the heat of the day is at its peak.
Basra is the second largest city in Iraq with a population of 1,700,000; it’s the center
of the oil-exporting facilities in the south. There are substantial petroleum resources
and many oil wells in the area. They pump out about 150,000 barrels a day. The
fertile land around the periphery of the city produces a variety of grains, such as rice,
wheat, barley and corn. They also produce many meat and dairy products here.
During the war, the British stationed themselves in Basra and the city experienced
few effects from the war. Now, the city is completely rebuilt and in full swing with
the export of oil. In fact, most Iraqi oil wealth passes through this city.
Basra was first built thousands of years ago and was considered the cradle of
the Sumerian civilization. These days it’s called the Venice of Iraq because of its
elaborate system of canals and waterways leading to the open waters of the
Persian Gulf. The canal system is a lot more visible and functional during the
high tide, than at low tide.

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Jazz with Ella

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The galley kitchen was utilitarian and old-fashioned with a two-burner gas stove, a scarred countertop and a tiny porcelain sink. Marta peeled cucumber and kept her back to Jennifer, her posture erect.
“May I help you?” Jennifer asked. There was no answer. Suddenly Jennifer knew exactly what to say. “Is that cabbage rolls I smell?” she asked. “Mom used to make those—were they ever good.” The shoulders relaxed slightly and Marta turned, wiped her hands on a dishcloth and said with a wan smile, “Yes, they are Misha’s favourite, too.”
The conversation was polite but not warm over the dinner table although Nadya recovered some of her childish energy and rattled on to Jennifer about her school work and her friends. As soon as the dishes were cleared away, Marta directed Volodya and Jennifer to Nadya’s room, hastily vacated for the night in order to accommodate the travellers. The single bed had been made up with clean sheets for one person and a series of cushions had been placed on the floor with a quilt on top.
“I’m sorry we don’t have more beds and another room for you,” Marta said coolly. “But I think you will be comfortable in here.” Marta closed the door behind her, leaving Jennifer and Volodya staring at each other wordlessly. She turned away, wanting only to sleep and too exhausted to challenge his behaviour. He began undressing with no further comment. But as they prepared for bed, a knock on the door startled them. Misha’s head appeared around the door.
“Can I see you, Zhen? I’ll be in the living room.” Wrapping her robe around her, she glanced at Volodya and left the room.
Misha was sitting on the uncomfortable sofa. “This is where we should have started—right when you arrived, Zhen.” He patted a worn, leather-bound album. “Forgive me that I did not show you this sooner.”
Family photos, thought Jennifer. How will this help? Misha opened the album lovingly, smoothing the pages. She sat beside him. Most of the pictures had been taken in the last few years and they showed the couple at their wedding, traditional photos posed in front of the war memorial, some scenes from their trip to Sochi and many of Nadya’s childhood. Flipping through the book quickly, Misha opened it at a page of older, grainier photos. He pointed at one dog-eared print. Jennifer gasped. The picture depicted two teenagers standing together solemnly, kerchiefs around their heads, their faces forming weak smiles, their arms linked.

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Jazz with Ella

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It was delicious and she washed it down with a sip from a tumbler full of what appeared to be neat spirit. She was sitting in the family’s combination living and dining room where the ornate, antique table was laden with small plates of food. Wise in the ways of Russian dining from having partied with Ukrainians and Polish, she knew that these were only the zakuski, the appetizers, and that a more substantial meal would follow. “No, really, now I’m full up.” At least the food is dampening the effects of the vodka, she thought. “How about you, Paul?”
The man referred to as Paul looked up from a plate of bread and sausage and smiled shyly. “Thank you. You are good hosts,” he murmured.
“Your Russian is so good. Did you study long in university?” asked Marta of Paul while Misha seemed distracted and regarded Jennifer solemnly. Paul-Volodya did not reply right away and Marta was interrupted by the sound of something bubbling on the stove. The afternoon so far had been wonderful, full of affectionate hugs and cheerful toasts toward Jennifer, friendship in which she reciprocated and in which Paul had been generously included. Their daughter, Nadya, was at school but the couple promised that she would return home very soon.
After refreshment, the cousins had spoken of their own hopes to leave the Soviet Union and live in Canada. The nervousness with which they raised the topic and the intensity with which they spoke made Jennifer realize how important this move was to them. They would need help and support in Canada. She didn’t know much about Canadian immigration laws, but wouldn’t they need a sponsor? Someone from within the country—a relative who would vouch for them, promise to provide for them? She thought at first of her mother as the closest relative but had an uneasy feeling these two were grooming their newfound cousin for the role.
Yet nagging questions persisted. Were they truly related to her? She wondered at their eagerness. They seemed to have everything here: a private apartment of their own, not too big but with a balcony that gave a view of the playground opposite. Their daughter enjoyed school and Young Pioneers, they said, and they were both working, he as a technician and she as a bus driver. This last gave Jennifer pause as she tried to envision the dainty, polite Marta in the driver’s seat of a soot-black, fume-spewing bus, but she knew that the Soviet Union was ahead of the west in ensuring women joined the work force in many non-traditional jobs. Marta worked shifts so was off-duty right now…

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